Tag Archives: Humor

Rose’s Authentic Diary from Titanic Finally Published!

OSCARS-BEST PICTUREEntry #1: Dear Diary, oh rats! We’re boarding the largest vessel ever built and I just realized I forgot to pack Dramamine or Bonine. The weather predicts smooth waters, so hopefully it’ll be a non-issue. Sailing 1st Class is such fun! Here’s my bucket list for this trip:

  1. Learn how to fold towels into cute animal shapes like the cabin stewards do.
  2. NOT to gain ten pounds like all the other women who go on cruises.
  3. Sing, “I Will Survive!” in the Karaoke lounge.

I also hope to meet another rich guy on our deck because my engagement to Cal isn’t going so well. Anchors aweigh! (Or should that be anchors away? Hmmmm….)

Entry #2: Today I decided a good way to attract another man is to pretend to jump overboard. I’ve always had a flair for the dramatic and I’ve got a good suicide routine. Right on cue, a boy named Jack Dawson appeared and I let him talk me down from the railing to safety, when suddenly my high heel caught in my fancy gown’s fabric and I slipped overboard for real. OMG! Do you realize I could’ve actually died? Note to Self: Enroll in acting lessons once back on dry land. Who knows, I may turn out to be another Kate Winslet!

Entry #3: Found out Mr. Dawson is extremely poor. A real 3rd class citizen. Rats! Hey, I know… marrying him would be a really good way to get back at my controlling mother after all the money she’s spent on my finishing school. (I hereby promise I’m never gonna let you go, Jack!) In fact, tomorrow I’m going to flirt with him a little. I’ll giggle a lot, flounce my shoulders, tousle my hair, and then ask him to teach me how to spit like a man. Romantic sigh…

Entry #4  Apparently Jack is an artist who specializes in sketching naked french girls who recline on fainting couches, wearing nothing but large, blue sparkling pendant necklaces. But I’m gonna ask him to draw me wearing a life-vest. That’s not kinky. That’s foreshadowing.

Entry #5 Tonight we ran wildly around the E Deck, trying to elude my fiancé’s lunatic henchman who wanted to catch us. I don’t think he knows you only play Marco Polo in swimming pools. We went down below the passenger compartments and got turned-on watching workers handle the heavy equipment. By the time we climbed into this old-fashioned automobile, I knew the front windshield would steam up enough for me to leave a single, sweaty handprint. That’s the kind of thing a movie camera will zoom in on so audiences can use their imaginations. But anything you conjure up won’t be nearly as good as reality because Leonardo  Jack is a total stud. (OMG I’ll never let you go, Jack. I promise!)

Entry #6: Despite Jack being as poor as a church mouse, tonight he announced to anyone within earshot that he’s actually King of the World. I just adore a multi-faceted man. In fact, I’d rather be his whore than Cal’s wife.

Entry #6: Dear Diary, ours was a love story you could really sink your teeth into! I mean seriously it had drama, action, romance, phlegm — everything but the kitchen sink. But then they had to go and frame Jack for thievery, arrest him, and put him in their makeshift slammer. After this awful news finally sunk in, I thought, “How could they sink so low?” Then my heart sank. And all this time I believed my heart would go on and on. “Near, far, wherever you are….” But nope. My heart literally sank. And to top it off, I have this sinking feeling now like, “Maybe we’re all sunk!” 

Entry #7: Something tells me I should learn how to use an axe.

Entry #8: Oh no, Diary! The ship just bumped into a large object! Stay tuned….more later.

Entry #9: Well, apparently the boat crash was just the tip of the iceberg. Too much has happened to jot down here, but suffice it to say, (while floating on a broken ship door) I got major brain freeze when I finally realized what had to be done. It was just time for both of us to move on. That’s right Diary — I had to let Jack go. Besides, he’ll be perfect for The Great Gatsby or The Wolf of Wall Street.

Entry #10: I really liked the last name “Dawson” so I’m marrying Richard Dawson of Family Feud fame!

Entry #11: I’m 100 years old now and being summoned back to the wreckage of Titanic to see about some valuable sapphire diamond they call, “The Heart of the Ocean.” I pawned that old piece of blue glass long ago to pay for my facelift, but I’ll give them a good quote they can use for their blockbuster movie. Ready? Here goes…. “Now you know there really was a man named Jack Dawson and he saved me. In every way that a person can be saved.” That will be a dramatic ending if I die peacefully in my sleep tucked into a warm bed. Or I know! They can make the whole thing be a crazy dream I had, just like Dorothy!

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Be Careful Answering “Why Did Your Relationship End?”

break_up_ripped_photo_600X369Longtime readers may recall that I’ve had two marriages end, but they don’t know why. Actually nobody is EVER privy to the real reason(s) that a love relationship concludes — we only receive the limited information that the couple (one or both parties!) willingly imparts to us. And depending on which side of the story you hear, that will differ vastly!

The most accurate explanation is “I guess you just had to be there!”

Being acutely aware of all this, and also knowing that the question (“Why did you divorce?”) would be asked by future prospective partners once we were in the single world again, I tried to exert a little control during my split-ups. (Shocking, right? Me and “control” in the same sentence!)

ME: Let’s both be on the same page when our friends all ask us why our marriage failed.

HIM: Oh goody, let’s!

ME:  Alrighty, so we want something that’s not embarrassing or shameful for either of us…but it should be fairly compelling.

HIM: Okay so I guess, “She refused to pack my bento box for work even though she was already making our other children’s lunch-boxes for school, and besides what’s another turkey sandwich?” isn’t what you had in mind.

ME: That bento box was a fricking nightmare . . . since when is food so pretty?  No, I was thinking something more along the lines of The War of The Roses movie where both parties are equally at fault. But you never ran over my cat in your car and I never served you paté made from your dog. Ok?

HIM: Did we both end up dangling from our chandelier?

ME: Yes, that’s riveting!

So here are my suggestions for people who need to come up with acceptable justifications because the truth simply will not do.

WHY DID YOUR LAST RELATIONSHIP END?

  1. JOB RELATED — It’s pretty easy to dodge this question when a future employer inquires during an interview why your last position ended. So just borrow some basic terminology. “I was laid off when there was a merger and a major reorganization.” Or simply go with, “Micro-Management.”
  2. BLAME — Don’t be a finger-pointer. Own up and share responsibility equally like this: “He was a philanderer, an alcoholic, unambitious, and he beat me. Oh, but I had my part in it as well — I kept forgetting to pack his lunch.”
  3. LIFE HAPPENS! — For the kindly, romantic divorcing couple who sugarcoats. “We finally realized that Love just wasn’t enough.”
  4. CHEATING? — Just say this . . . “Being solely with one person is very unrealistic in this day and age when people live to be 80 years-old. Monogamy during caveman days? Piece a cake!”
  5. OFFSPRING — “He touched me first! She looked at me after I told her not to. He grabbed my ice-cream cone when I set it down but wasn’t finished.” No, that’s not your kids arguing. Those are legit reasons cited by parents (about each other) after they’ve endured having multiple children. (If you can’t beat ’em . . . )
  6. DIETING: No, don’t use the cheesy line, “I just shed 180 lbs by divorcing my husband.” Instead say how you lost 22 lbs in a month but unfortunately that triggered your spouse’s insecurities and . . . trust me you won’t get past that point because you’ll be so busy answering the question of exactly how you accomplished this incredible weight loss (carb cutting??) in great detail and nobody will ever even care about your split-up again.
  7. CANDOR:  Here’s my spouse’s phone number. I have nothing to hide. Ring her up and ask exactly why it ended. (sing to the tune of Ghostbusters…”Who ya gonna call????”)
  8. REFRAME: Again borrow the technique from job interviews when they ask you for a personality flaw and you say, “I am too perfectionistic and don’t know when to stop working.” So in this case you say, “Unfortunately my spouse had very low self-esteem and could never believe she deserved someone as awesome as me so she realized she had to leave.”

If all else fails, hold up a Bento Box (below) and say, “How’d you like to pack one of these every morning when neither of you is even Japanese?!”

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READERS:  How honest are you about why your relationship ended? Please leave me a comment responding. And if this subject interests you, I wrote more for The Huffington Post in their Divorce section right HERE.

How Mr. Brady Chose Between Carol and Shirley Partridge!

 

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Here’s the (real) story of a man named Brady,
Who was busy with three boys of his own,
They were four men living all together,
Yet this story might’ve taken a much different tone!

A chewed-up list (found in Tiger’s dog house) on the set of The Brady Bunch depicts evidence that Mike Brady used a Ben Franklin style chart to decide if he should marry Shirley Partridge versus Carol, the woman who eventually became his wife.

And here’s the story:

SHIRLEY PARTRIDGE

Pros

  1. Hair of gold! Fits into the song.
  2. The voice of a Nightingale. (Oh wait, that makes me think of Florence.) Alright, the voice of a Partridge. This girl can definitely sing! How I love Oklahoma, Carousel, and Music Man!
  3. Longer life! I can’t explain why, and even though they were both born in 1934 (and just a month apart) . . .  I just think Shirl will outlive Carol.
  4. The first television career woman! Justifies keeping trusty Alice on as our full-time housekeeper.
  5. A widow! No ex-husband to deal with.
  6. Short boyish hair, and a take-charge personality to match. Would probably wear the pants in the family, allowing me to stay in my office 24/7 pursuing architecture instead of dispensing nonsense fatherly advice.
  7. Comes with that cool bus! I couldn’t have designed the outside any better if I had been a real architect.

Cons

  1. 5 (FIVE!!) kids of her own. The Brady 8? That just doesn’t work for me. And why should her brats outnumber mine?
  2. More boys?? What am I going to do with that much testosterone? Plus that creepy stage manager Reuben Kincaid always sniffing around my wife?
  3. Entire family too forward with expressing feelings. Goes around singing, “I think I love you!” all the time.
  4. I’d have to dress in velveteen, flamboyant, pimped-out Austin Power’s type pantsuits on metal lunch-pails, which are just a bit too much — even for me. the-partridge-family-cast-photojpg
  5. Where would we store the huge, tacky bus? And it’s not like we’d drive it to the amusement park I’m drafting blueprints for. Or even to Hawaii or the Grand Canyon — which are the only vacations I’ll ever take my family on. Wasteful!
  6. Have I ever seen her baking cookies or checking on a pot-roast? Alice’d be lonely. How’s she gonna joke around with Alice??
  7. That ugly red-headed, freckle-faced kid. Could I ever pass him off as my own?
  8. That “pretty boy” David Cassidy. If ever there was a teen idol poster just waiting to happen! And Marcia, Jan, and Cindy would be all over him. Oh wait, there wouldn’t be any Marcia, Jan, or Cindy if I marry Shirley. Let’s put this one back on the Pros!

CAROL BRADY

Pros

  1. Look! She already comes as a Brady. She doesn’t even have a maiden name of her own that she’d have to change.
  2. A Lovely Lady with three very lovely girls! That way in the bathroom they’ll all share, my boys can each have someone their own age to touch…err I mean shout “touché” at after arguments.
  3. Has a short, boyish hairstyle too. Really my type!
  4. Also sorta sings. (Note: Could be in a school talent show with Marcia and sing at Christmas pageants?)
  5. Seems open-minded and might let me and my boys all get our hair permed.
  6. Reads a lot of Women’s Day magazines in bed. Fewer nights I’d have to “get busy.”
  7. If I marry her, Marcia will invite Davie Jones to the prom and a real live Monkee will come to our house.
  8. We fit just perfectly on a single staircase.brady bunch stair shot
  9. I just know it’s much more than a hunch, that our group should somehow form a family and find a way to become the Brady Bunch.

Cons

  1. She’s a real MILF and my son Greg might even wanna date her after rehearsals.
  2. Being such a homebody and always hovering in the kitchen acting “motherly” so Alice might feel replaced and pack up and leave. (This should go on Pros.)
  3. Those three girls of hers are trouble. Broken nose, annoying lisp, and obnoxious middle daughter syndrome.
  4. The few times she does sing, she manages to contract laryngitis like when she was supposed to do “Oh Come All Ye Faithful” in church. Big chicken.
  5. Unlikely to change her mind on letting my boys play ball in the house.
  6. Too many future reunion shows boxing me in…I’ll be wanting to move on with my real life and true gender preferences.

GEORGE JEFFERSON

CONS

  1. Nope. The world isn’t quite ready for this yet. Florence Henderson it is!

Note to Readers: Lest you think I make this stuff up when I run out of blogging ideas, it’s a fact that Shirley Jones (AKA Shirley Partridge) was asked to be the Brady Bunch mother but turned down the role. See HERE!

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These TV moms are just one month apart!

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Who is the right one for me?

Scarlett O’Hara’s Authentic Journal Has Been Recovered!

Gone With The WindHave you heard the news? Gone With The Wind’s petulant heroine (Scarlett O’Hara) secretly put her thoughts to paper all those years ago! And now you’re privy to see what really went through her mind back then.

Entry #1

Dear Diary, I binged during the BBQ today at the Wilkes plantation and tonight my waistline measured a whopping nineteen inches around. But oohhh Ashley — he told me he likes to see a girl with a healthy appetite. So as God as my witness, I’ll never go hungry again! Oohhh Ashley! I love him so — even though he has sort of a girly name. But then there’s that scoundrel Mr. Butler who isn’t fit to wipe his boots. Imagine hiding out in the library eavesdropping on us. He should have made his presence known, but I’m sure the white vase I chucked into the fireplace was insured. Then he looked at me as if . . . as if he knew what I looked like without my shimmy on. Creeper.

Entry #2

Dear Diary, Gah! If I can’t have that mealy-mouth Melanie’s fiancé Ashley, then I suppose I’ll take her silly old brother, Charles Hamilton. We quickly tied the knot before he went off to war. War, war, war. Fiddle-dee-dee. This war talk is spoiling all my fun. Can’t anyone around here talk about anything else important? Like bonnets. At least Captain Rhett Butler didn’t enlist, but who cares what that dirty varmint does? I’m off to stay with Aunt Pittypat in Atlanta. OMG, what kind of a name is that? But I can’t think about that right now. If I do, I’ll go crazy. I’ll think about that tomorrow.

Entry #3

Today I had a “ball at the (liberty) bell,” and then I was the “belle of the ball.” At the dance, of course. Rhett actually bid on me — $150 in pure gold! Oooh, if I wasn’t such a lady, what I wouldn’t have told that coarse, conceited man. But since I am a widow in mourning and wearing all black, I figured I should show people how to put your own suffering aside for a good cause. I even donated my wedding ring after I saw Melanie slip off her own diamond from Ashley. Oh Ashley, Ashley, Ashley. How I wish I could give you a child. But I don’t know nothin’ ’bout birthin’ no babies.

Entry #4

Dear Diary, When you don’t have a thing to wear, you must never rule out trying on the window coverings. The emerald colored drapes made a fine, figure-flattering frock and I want everyone who has been mean to me to turn pea-green with envy. You just have to make sure to lose the gold tassels — a dead giveaway. I must remember to tell Maria Von Trapp in Sound of Music to use the curtains as play clothes for those seven brats she babysits. But I’ll think about that tomorrow . . .

Entries #5 thru #186 — illegible as they were charred to a crisp in the burning of Atlanta.

Entry #187

Dear Diary. I feel so lost and rejected. Nobody wants me now — not my darling Ashley, nor Rhett, and not even Charles or Frank or Mammy or Prissy. Where shall I go, what shall I do? Dear Diary, don’t you give a damn? I know! Who needs men? I should just marry my own handsome plantation, Tara. Why, land is the only thing in the world worth workin’ for, worth fightin’ for, worth dyin’ for, because it’s the only thing that lasts. Tara. Yes! I’ll go home to Tara. Because after all . . .  tomorrow is another day. (Music rises)

Readers: What’s your favorite line from the classic movie, GWTW? 

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Zuko Marriage Ending Faster Than Greased Lightning!

Drive-InWe join the famous pair during couple’s counseling:

Therapist:  Just a quick reminder that anything discussed in this room stays highly confidential.

Sandy: Tell that to Danny here.

Danny: That’s my name baby, don’t wear it out!

Sandy: OMG seriously? Did you even listen? He said no more bragging about our love life to that hoodlum gang of yours on the football bleachers.

Danny: Yes, Miss Goody-Two-Shoes.

Sandy: Ugh. What happened to the Danny Zuko I met at the beach?

Danny: Well I do not know. Why don’t you take out a missing person’s ad? Or try the yellow pages.

Therapist: Mr. Zuko, you seem very concerned with appearing cool. Has that always been the case? (Tousles Danny’s hair with hand)

Danny: Hey! Would ya watch the hair? Ya know, I work hard on my hair a long time and then you just hit it. He hits my hair!

Therapist: I don’t think that’s the correct line for this. I’m confused.

Sandy:  He’s obsessed. (Wipes hand on husband’s oily scalp to remove her wedding ring) And you can take back this piece of tin (Throws diamond) Danny Zuko, you’re a fake and a phony and I wish I never laid eyes on you! (Stomps toward door)

Danny: Sandy! You can’t just walk out of a drive-in!

Therapist: Um, technically this is a shrink’s office. Wow folks, things sure escalated quickly. We don’t name-call in here. And we always use “I” statements. Danny, why don’t you tell Sandy how you’re feeling right now?

Danny:  I got chills. They’re multiplyin’. And I’m losing control. Cause the power you’re supplying . . . it’s electrifying.

Therapist: That sounds very familiar.

Danny: Music loud and women warm, been kicked around since I was born. Whether you’re a brother or whether you’re a mother, you’re Stayin’ Alive, Stayin’ Alive. Ever hear that before?

Therapist: Many times. Nothing shocks me these days. Even movie character swapping, which I see you like to do. It’s like wife-swapping, only more illicit. But let’s get back to your relationship. How deep is your love? I really mean to learn. Cuz we’re living in a world of fools, breaking us down, when they all should let us be. We belong to you and me.

Danny: You got it, dude. Saturday Night Fever and the Bee Gees rule!

Sandy: If you boys are quite finished? I’d like to say I knew right away Danny and I were not a good match from the moment we met. My parents invited him to tea. He said, “I don’t like tea.” I explained he didn’t have to drink tea. He said, “I don’t like parents.”

Therapist: Is that the only problem, Sandy?

Sandy: It’s Miss Sandra Dee to you. And there are other issues. He’s always crooning to his grease-ball friends, “Well she got friendly down in the sand!” I hate that expression. He’s got a one-track mind.

Danny: I did letter in track just to get inside her pants.

Sandy: Keep your filthy paws off my silky drawers. Would you pull that crap with Annette? And how about that night you tried to feel me up inside your souped-up car!

Therapist: Well sex is a very important part of a relationship.

Sandy: Tell me about it, Stud.

Therapist: (Blushing) Uh, let’s hear about this souped-up car.

Danny: Why this car is auto-matic. It’s system-matic. It’s hyyyydro-matic…why it’s greased lightn….

Therapist: I get the picture.

Sandy: I wasn’t finished. There’s another woman. Cha-Cha Di Gregorio, a bad girl from a worse neighborhood with good dance moves.

Danny: Aw c’mon Sandy. We go together like rama lama lama ka dinga da dinga dong.

Therapist: Well said. Any other compliment you might give your wife?

Danny: Ain’t nobody who can mash a cigarette into the ground and then kick me in the chest with her high heel like Sandy can.

Sandy: That’s not going to excuse all your Scientology cult stuff.

Therapist: The what now? Did I miss something?

Sandy: And the cross-dressing. He’s actually Edna Turnblat!

Danny: You can’t stop my happiness, ‘cuz I like the way I am. And you just can’t stop my knife and fork when I see a Christmas ham. And if you don’t like the way I look, then I just don’t give a damn!

Sandy: You better shape up. Cuz I need a man. And my heart is set on you!

Therapist: Well you both definitely seem “Hopelessly Devoted.” But unfortunately that’s all the time we have for this session — so you should both fly off in that magical car of yours and everyone will live happily ever after. Except I do have one final word of advice.

Sandy: What’s the word?

Therapist: “Grease” is the word. That’ll be $150 please.

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Behind the Scenes With Famous Diet/Health Gurus

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Weight Watchers: Hmmm, Where’s Oprah? Oh well, I’d like to call this monthly meeting to order please. We have lots of business to take care of. Who wants to raise the first issue of public awareness that we’d like to put out there?
Jenny Craig: I’d like to bring back the idea that three prepackaged meals a day plus one snack in a vacuum sealed bag will promote a nutritious, convenient, healthy lifestyle, and be an effective way to lose weight.
Atkins: I honestly don’t think people will swallow that nonsense anymore. Now that word has gotten out about processed foods — they know to avoid anything that comes in a box or container.
South Beach Diet: And don’t forget many of them have learned to read labels and eschew anything they can’t pronounce.
Jenny Craig:  Eschew?? My, aren’t we fancy? Well I can rename all my ingredients so they only have one or two syllables! Where exactly is South beach anyhow? South of what??
Paleo: Honestly Jenny, public perception supports the research. Everyone wants to start eating like their ancestors did in the olden days, before there was cardboard, cellophane, and Saran Wrap. You know — stuff they can gather naturally, like nuts, berries, roots, and squirrels.
Nutrisystem:  Oh shut up, you stupid Caveman. That’s never gonna trump prepared meals conveniently delivered straight to their dining room table.
Weight Watchers:  Okay folks. I’m gonna table this discussion, (no pun intended) for a moment while we shift from public awareness to public scareness. What’s up with eggs? It’s been a long time since people have panicked over them for cholesterol reasons. Is it time to put that little tidbit out there again?
Pritikin:  Isn’t there a reliable formula for us to decide when eggs are bad? Something that’s over-easy to remember and will scramble all the facts?
SlimFast Shakes: I believe it goes like this: Eggs starts with “E” and that’s the fifth letter in the alphabet which is an odd number, just like 2017. And “Odd” starts with “O” just like “Out” so eggs are gonna be OUT this year.
Weight Watchers:  Perfect, I’ll send a memo to the news channels and talk show hosts and we’ll put the fear of God back into them. Now before we change our advice about eating ‘organic’ food to eating ‘orgasmic’ food, let’s deal with this whole good fat versus bad fat phenomenon, shall we? What are we claiming is the difference again?
Atkins: Every single fat is not just good, it’s utterly fantastic. There are NO bad fats, only bad carbs.
Eat According to Your Blood Type: Well not so fast there, my Good Man. That’s only true if you’re O positive and trying to boss everyone around about carbohydrates. What about the rest of the population with types A, B, AB and . . .
Atkins: Are you stereotyping my blood?
Pritikin: Is that even a thing? And where’s Oprah and her little wagon filled with animal fat?
Atkins: Well just for the record, I definitely don’t have O Positive blood running thru my veins.
Weight Watchers: We’ll take a short break while Dr. Atkins gets a finger prick.
Atkins: Who died and left you in charge?
Weight Watchers: Uh you did, Dr. Atkins. In 2003 to be precise.
Pritikin: And rumor has it, you croaked from a massive heart attack because your arteries were so clogged with plaque. Whatya got to say for yourself now, Mr. FineFat?
Zone Diet: Lay off him. He was killed when he hit his head on the slippery pavement. Everyone knows the real culprit in our modern day diet is sugar. Ask Oprah. Where is she?
SugarBusters: (raises a Diet Coke bottle) I’ll drink to that!
Jared Fogle From Subway Sandwich Fame: So diet sodas don’t cause dementia and strokes like YouTube says? That’s great news because I’ve been telling everyone to order a Big Gulp with their six-inch turkey sub and bag of chips. That’s how I lost 245 pounds….with just six inches.
Paleo: Sure ya did, Jared. Uh, No fricking way.
Weight Watchers: We’ll take a short break while Mr. Fogle steps on a scale.
Dr. Oz: I hate to break it to you, but I recently had Dr. Gundry on my show, of The Plant Paradox Diet and it turns out that everything we thought was healthy for us like tomatoes, eggplant, beans, peppers, etc. actually contain lectins, which are pure poison to humans. Especially those nightshades.
Jared Fogle: Nobody in my family wears nightshades to sleep anymore. I think that went out with Marilyn Monroe.
Weight Watchers: Hush up, Jared. Just mind your own business and hold on tight to that six-incher of yours, ok? Dr. Oz. can this be true? If so, it’s just what we’ve been waiting for. Lectin sounds deliciously ominous and I think it just might work as the new gluten. Wonderful! Alright we’ve got to wrap up here. But before we do, are there any really oddball foods we can promote as the next big thing?
South Beach Diet: I nominate Chia seeds and Bone Broth.
Weight Watchers: Nice work! Chia seeds — the cute 1970’s little critter with the stupid jingle. And Bone Broth — which sounds like something served in a witch’s cauldron at a Halloween Party.
Jenny Craig: Are we sure about this Chia fad thing? How about ingesting pet rocks or mood rings instead? Should we consult Oprah?
Weight Watchers: Nope Jenny, I’ve made up my mind and we’re sticking with Chia seeds and Bone Broth this year. We might be able to do a public service announcement about Pop Rocks, but that’s not a promise. Meeting adjourned. Next month we brainstorm how to break it to them that taking the recommended 10,000 steps a day causes foot cancer. Now let’s get out there and cause some major mass confusion!
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Bored Blogger Turns Classic Rock Songs Into AP News Articles!

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Domestic Violence Sends Guy Into Outer-Space

(Rocket Man)

 

MARS (AP)   Mr. Elton John of Hollywood was allegedly forced to become an astronaut when his spouse packed his bags pre-flight zero hour nine AM. He was quoted as saying, “I miss the earth so much, I miss my wife. It’s lonely out in space on such a timeless flight.” But male friends who knew him well claim he’ll soon be as high as a kite. Asked why his children didn’t accompany him on the trip, John responded, “Mars ain’t the kind of place to raise your kids. In fact it’s cold as hell.” But thanks to modern technology, rather than a typical drawn-out angry divorce, John will remain a Rocket Man burning out his fuse up here alone. As for any future return flight home, John had this to say, “And I think it’s gonna be a long long time till touch down brings me round again to find I’m not the man they think I am at home. Oh no no no I’m a Rocket Man.” When pressed for an exact date of arrival, his voice echoed and trailed off in a plaintive tone: “And I think it’s gonna be a long long time…And I think it’s gonna be a long long time…”

Black Friday Sale Dupes Woman Into Odd Purchase

(Stairway To Heaven)

 

LOS ANGELES (AP)   An unidentified female victim who was sure “all that glitters is gold” recently bought a Stairway to Heaven. When she gets there she knows if the stores are all closed, with a word she can get what she came for. One witness, a Nordstrom salesperson observed, “There’s a sign on the wall but she wants to be sure ’cause you know sometimes words have two meanings.” Friends expressed concern, citing they never knew the injured party to exhibit shopaholic tendencies. “Maybe she was having an affair with the Rocket Man and this was her only access to reach him,” one neighbor speculated. The woman’s own husband contacted local authorities in the middle of the night to add, “There’s a feeling I get–when I look to the west, Ooooh, and it makes me wonder.” When asked to be more specific, he reiterated, “Oooooh, it really makes me wonder!” Upon further interrogation, including whether his wife ever scoured estate sales or shopped online for other modes of transportation to heaven, the haggard mate of the victim could only recall one instance when his beloved was obsessed with obtaining a rusty old lead zeppelin at a garage sale. “Ooooh, and it makes me wonder,” he repeated once again, appearing Dazed and Confused. “One things for certain … her buying a stairway to heaven means our credit cards will be maxed out for decades.”

 

Pair in Forced Marriage Make The Best of Things

(I Got You, Babe!)

 

PALM SPRINGS (AP)   Victims of a modern day arranged marriage, a young couple found out the hard way that being in love isn’t everything. “They say our love won’t pay the rent,” stated Mr. Bono. “Before it’s earned, our money’s all been spent,” lamented his exotic, half-breed wife who volunteered only her first name, as Cher. The bride’s father and perpetrator of this forced union is wanted in 13 other states for additional human trafficking crimes, but managed to give the couple the following advice before he absconded, “Don’t let them say your hair’s too long, cause I don’t care with you I can’t go wrong.” During times of extreme grief or fear, rather then resenting each other for their lost dating years, the committed duo remind one another, “And when I’m sad, you’re a clown. And if I get scared, you’re always around.” But the main way they’ve sustained their romance has been singing ad nauseam to each other, “I got you, Babe.” Blech.

 

 Labor Dispute Results in Crowded Nightclub Joy

(The Piano Man)

 

NEW YORK (AP)   At 9:00 on a Saturday as the regular crowd shuffled in, many patrons allegedly inundated a helpless pianist with random musical requests. Some were sad, some were sweet, and some were incomplete as people struggled with their memories, substituting “La la la, di da da La la, di da da da dum” for actual lyrics. Even the bartender, who was identified only as John and who gave free drinks, was quick with a joke, or to light up a smoke, seemed to hold the compassionate piano player accountable for his own unhappiness and the fact that he couldn’t break free from the nightclub to become a movie star. “Bill, I believe this is killing me,” he was quoted as saying. Other innocent bystanders included a real estate novelist, a waitress practicing politics, and some businessmen slowly getting stoned. One witness claimed the piano sounded like a carnival and the microphone smelled like a beer, but this could not be substantiated. In fact many customers ordered the drink special of the night, called “Loneliness” and this seemed to evoke a common sentiment that if the pianist would only sing them the right kind of song with the melody they were all in the mood for, everyone would be feeling alright. The manager finally appeared and gave a smile, aware that it was his establishment that helped everyone forget about life for a while. It was unknown whether the Piano Man later sought therapy for the extreme pressure he felt during this incident.

Depression and Suicide Over Specks of Dirt

(Dust In The Wind)

 

KANSAS (AP)    A former housecleaner with high hopes of reinventing herself as a songwriter closed her eyes, only for a moment and the moment’s gone. All the dreams passed before her eyes — a curiosity. The young female’s parents, who paid for her to go back to college claimed she was very despondent, just sprawling around their 3-bedroom filthy, and very drafty house. Asked if the lyrics she created were any good, they simultaneously replied, “Same old song, just a drop of water in an endless sea. All we do crumbles to the ground, though we refuse to see. Dust in the wind. All we are is dust in the wind.” It is suspected that genetics, not allergies to dust/mold,  played a part in the young woman’s inherited pessimism. Her last words scrawled in a suicide note read, “Now don’t hang on, nothing lasts forever but the earth and sky. It slips away, and all your money won’t another minute buy. Dust in the wind. All we are is dust in the wind.” Her final refrain was repeated 2X. In lieu of flowers, the family asks that donations be sent to Black & Decker, the manufacturer of the cordless Dustbuster.
NOTE: Dear Readers, I’m now taking requests for a Part 2! Or feel free to leave one of your own creations in the comments.
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Are You a “REAL” Writer or Just “Harriet The Spy?”

writing-meme-3Remember the children’s book where an eleven-year-old aspiring writer named Harriet carries around a notebook in which she feverishly jots down personal observations about her classmates, (and the moment-by-moment events that happen to her) in the hopes that one day this practice will assist her in achieving a “real” writing career?

In fact, Harriet WAS already a real writer and WE are all Harriets.  Now here’s how to convince everyone else in your life to view you that way, so you can get the respect all writers deserve.

9 EASY WAYS TO BE THOUGHT OF AS A RESPECTABLE WRITER BY YOUR FRIENDS AND FAMILY

  1. Forget that the IRS differentiates between writing as a hobby and writing professionally. Everyone knows that IRS actually stands for “Inside Reality Sometimes.” They should recognize everyone as professional writers — how else are we able to pick up a pen and WRITE down the required information in the blank spots on their W-2 forms?!
  2. When someone says to you (in that challenging voice) “If you’re a writer, prove it by showing me something you have published,” you have three choices. 1. LOGIC. Simply retort, “Prove I’m NOT a writer by showing me something that I have NOT published. 2. PSEUDONYM. Tell them your material is highly controversial (and racy!) and thus you prefer to write under an alias. If they press you for your Pen Name, tell them it’s either “Bic, Papermate, or Sharpie.” 3. ANONYMOUS.  Google famous writings that are not credited to any particular author. You’ll have numerous bodies of work available to brag about penning. Just off the top of my head, there’s The Diary of a U-boat Commander or The Debate Between Bird and Fish or think really big and lay claim to The New Testament, (other than the authentic Epistles of Paul.)
  3. People might ask, “Well you may be a writer, but are you an actual author? And what’s the difference anyhow?”  First look askance. Practice this expression dutifully as both writers AND authors need to be able to look ‘askance’ in just a quick glance. Next sigh under your breath, “Hah. Mere semantics!”  Don’t leave out the “mere” part of this response because their shame in asking the question in the first place won’t be nearly as copious. “Copious” is another word you can bat about. Then pause to jot something important down in the notebook you always carry around with you (right, Harriet??) and never look up again. The something important can be, “Buy fat-free sour cream.”
  4. Talk about working on Rough Drafts a lot. Why are they so rough? Elaborate on that. Boast that after you finish your rough draft, you’ll then need to start on a Tough Draft. Non-writers will nod with empathy, but other writers will see thru this nonsense and call you on it. But you don’t care because you know they’re just furious with you for claiming to have written The Debate Between Bird and Fish before they could.
  5. Put memes about writing on Facebook at least twice a week. Here’s a good one.writing-meme-4Because everyone always knows that real authors create characters that take on a life of their own. And man is that scary! Have you ever had a death threat from a guy you invented who wears a striped hood and goes by “Will Billy Williams?” I mean his first, middle, and last names are all really the same thing! Eek!
  6. Writers earn awards. They may be obscure but nevertheless they can be totally legit. Take my award for example –lots of people questioned if it was actually real.19510369_10155431909612603_8281710292314964876_n That means the opposite will hold true. You can create your own bogus award and nobody will even bat an eye. Just make sure to frame it and have someone hang it prominently. Tip: The more colored mats you put around it, the bigger the frame it will fit into and the more wall space you’ll occupy in your mother’s living room.
  7. If you want lots of people to hire you to write for them, you should give yourself the title of “Freelance Writer.” That means nobody has to pay you to lance their boils while they read your stuff. This is a huge benefit to them. Just don’t go overboard and call yourself “Lancelot” because people will only hire you to write at knight.
  8. Ghost Writer! If there’s still nobody that’s buying that you’re a writer, you need to resort to being a Ghost Writer. First of all, talking about your haunted keyboard will be enough to get you booked on Dr. Phil and when you read your stuff aloud in coffee shops during open mic nights and people “Boo” you — well that will be especially fitting, won’t it??
  9. If all else fails, you can change your name to Louise Fitzhugh, the author of Harriet the Spy and the wonderful woman I owe a debt of gratitude for inciting my lifelong passion for writing as a little girl.

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How NOT To Plan a Summer BBQ in 15 Easy Steps (Plus Bonus Swimming Pool Etiquette! Uh, NOT!)

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Yup, Summer is Upon Us! Here’s how NOT to Plan a BBQ Get-Together!

  1. Feel guilty remembering last July when you were grilling steaks in your backyard, the newly moved-in next-door neighbor popped his fat head over the fence and yelled, “Mmm, something sure smells good!”
  2. Resolve to invite anyone who lives within “Wafting Aroma” distance.
  3. Rethink leaving notification flyers under everyone’s welcome mat on their front doorstep because that’s what pushy realtors and obnoxious cable companies do. Instead hang “Everyone is Welcome to Our Backyard Cookout” posters on group mailboxes.
  4. Hide your shock when the postman personally delivers bills/letters to your porch and then asks if it’s okay to bring his cousins and their kids?
  5. Overhear through your open window two mothers chatting on the sidewalk below, “Do you know her? I don’t either. How lame. Maybe she has no other friends.”
  6. Realize you wrote “Potluck” on the invites to promote camaraderie and teamwork, but now everyone will probably just think you’re cheap. Also since you didn’t do that organized Martha Stewart trick where you divide the alphabet into A-L = side dish/drinks and M-Z = main course/appetizer, there will now be 17 containers of Costco white chocolate macadamia nut cookies on your dessert table.
  7. Knock on individual doors because you forgot to put RSVP info in your flyer. Act surprised when the first neighbors (The Coopers?) thank you for inviting them, but then they remark they’ll only come if they’ll know someone else there. Reassure them that the O’Donnell family will definitely be attending, because you know they like them. Break a sweat running to the O’Donnell house and casually mention the Cooper family will be at your BBQ and you hope they’ll come too?
  8. Pray that the Coopers and the O’Donnells never EVER bring this topic up in conversation with one another.
  9. Go in your backyard and fret that your plants are dying, your lawn furniture is tattered, and everyone else’s property is surely a better place to hold a BBQ than yours. And what’s there to do back here after scarfing down burgers? Absolutely nothing.
  10. Re-landscape, buy patio seating, and put in an underground swimming pool with a built-in waterslide.
  11. Make the case to your husband that you need to repaint your home’s interior as neighbors need to walk thru your entire house to get to the backyard because if they go via the side gate, it stinks due to trashcans. Keep talking about Benjamin Moore “Swiss Coffee Shoreline” color palette when he interrupts and says he’ll simply relocate the garbage barrels inside your garage.
  12. Phone a marriage counselor when the divorce papers are delivered.
  13. Field phone calls from your siblings and parents who complain they were looking forward to a quiet family reunion BBQ but now you had to go and invite a bunch of strangers so now they’re not coming.
  14. Traipse around the entire neighborhood canceling your event when the local weatherman claims an unseasonable rainstorm is hitting San Diego this weekend.
  15. Ask what looks like your mailman’s grandma to please pass the butter for the corn-on-the-cob and then tell the mailman’s cousin’s children that you’d appreciate if they’d use their indoor voices while sitting at your formal dining room table.

Do’s And Don’ts To Get Along Swimmingly At a Community Pool!

This season you may be visiting a group swimming pool, so here’s my official list of Do’s and Don’ts, which you are encouraged to take with a grain of salt. (Or if your pool isn’t a saltwater based system– a capful of chlorine.)

  • DO arrive at the community pool with proper identification and whatever keycard you need to get through the gate. DON’T shout out to nearby sunbathers on lounge chairs from behind the bars, “Listen! I really do live here. I can prove it. Maybe you know my neighbors, The Coopers or The Odonnells? You can call them to verify my residency. Ready? 760 – 944 …” And DON’T rattle off a list of neighborhood trivia (like previous fires, burglaries, times car alarms go off in the morning, or who the mailman is sleeping with) as further evidence. If you’re desperate (and you really do reside in the development) DO make your best puppy dog expression at the individuals sitting under the umbrellas nearest the fence and offer to share your oatmeal cookies or fudge brownies with them if they let you in.
  • DON’T bring oatmeal cookies or fudge brownies to a pool! It will exacerbate the current ant problem. But DO bring “Ants on a Log” (the old peanut-butter on celery sticks with raisins to get kids to eat healthy) because the ants will view this snack as a prophetic bad omen and march off the premises.
  • If it’s forbidden to play “Marco Polo” (and it should be!) DON’T tell your children it’s okay to start shouting “Parco Molo!” at the top of their lungs instead. Just DON’T. Also while swimming, DO offer friendly salutations to people you recognize strolling by, but if they casually inquire, “So how’s the water today?” DON’T automatically answer with that tired cliché, “Like a bathtub!” There are many other ways to describe a warm pool so DO be creative. DO say, “Like a beach in Hawaii” or “like toasty hot cocoa.” DON’T say, “Like about 85 kids recently peed in it.”
  • Remember license plate holders that proudly declared, “My other car is a Porsche?” DO post a sign on your chest claiming, “My other bathing suit is a string bikini!” DON’T recline on your back overtly reading scandalous books with inappropriate covers for others to gawk at. But DO make phony dustjackets that say, “Dog-Paddling for Dummies” or “10 Wholesome Short Stories to Read at Public Swimming Pools” to slip over your provocative novels, because you shouldn’t have to miss all those juicy chapters!
  • DO use the outdoor shower that’s usually provided before you jump in the pool because that’s its primary purpose, to clean off your yuckiness. DON’T assume the shower was built for your personal grooming habits after your swim, which means DON’T bring a deep-conditioner, a razor, a loofah brush, an acne facial mask, a fogless mirror, and a luxurious bathmat. DO bring a rubber-ducky cuz that’s just plain cute.
  • And finally, DO let that family (with the really sad eyes and a bag full of oatmeal cookies and fudge brownies) with no key or ID into the community pool, because it’s probably my six kids and me. And I swear (on my other bikini) that we really do live here!

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Yes, You CAN Interview Yourself . . . And You Definitely Should!

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Welcome to today’s much anticipated (at least by the interviewer herself) Q & A session with the renown “Little Miss Menopause.” The questions will be asked by Stephanie D. Lewis, (SDL) essentially the exact same person as Little Miss Menopause (LMM) although if you believe in different personas, then this is a totally legit interview! So here we go . . .

SDL: Welcome Little Miss Menopause! It’s so nice to have you here. And you needn’t waste readers’ time by responding, “thank you for having me!” so let’s just get into our first question, shall we? How did you come to call yourself Little Miss Menopause?”

LMM: Well before I was a blogger, I wrote for an organization called, “Wine, Women & Hormones” and they paid me to make hot flashes, muffintops, and memory loss funny. I thought mid-life symptoms were the extent of my humor so I started this blog titled, “Once Upon Your Prime” and then I further boxed myself in by naming myself after the female change of life.

SDL: Way to go. I suppose it’s lucky you weren’t writing for a company about puberty or you might have been called, “Little Miss Menstruation!”

LMM:  Ha. I’ll be the funny one. Okay, we’ll split the one-liners equally. Next question?

SDL: How long have you been writing for?

LMM: I had a feeling you’d ask me that. I kept a diary from about 7th grade on. It was Snoopy brand (fittingly!) and had a lock with this silver minuscule key, but I always assumed that because I peeked inside everyone else’s diary, mine was also being heavily perused — so I’d purposely weave in these really entertaining fictional anecdotes. It turns out my family respected my rights and nobody ever violated my privacy.

SDL And so you you started intentionally leaving it unlocked, right? To tempt people. When that didn’t work, you actually left a post-it note with, “Please read!” on top, right? But still nobody picked it up.

LMM: Yes, yes! How did you know all that?

SDL: Because you’re boring, predictable, and also I was kinda there. So let’s see, next question . . . how did you manage to break into writing for The Huffington Post?

LMM: That wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t gone to a BLogHer writer’s conference in 2014 where Ms. Huffington was the keynote speaker.

SDL: Cornered her with the ole boring diary, did you?

LMM: No, I pretended I was already a Huff Post columnist but that I’d recently been unfairly let go. I pleaded for another chance and promised I’d be funnier. So I got myself rehired when I was never really hired in the first place!

SDL: And if you were never hired, you could never be fired either. You steal a lot of stuff from Seinfeld’s character Kramer, doncha?

LMM: Speak for yourself. So what made you decide to interview me? Or shall we just drop this whole reporter pretense and ask, what made you decide to interview yourself, Stephanie?

SDL: The idea came to me last week that everyone deserves the chance (even if they’re not famous) to have stimulating questions thrown at them. I waited around to see if anyone would ask me anything, but only my kids approached me with a certain amount of curiosity. They asked me what was for dinner? I finally decided there was nothing wrong with doing this myself. It’s part of my personal Self-Care which I just wrote about in the entry below this one. (Small plug!) Now mind you, I didn’t have to disclose that this was a self-interview because nobody would have figured it out, but I pride myself on being brutally honest.

LMM: Yes, I’m sure Arianna Huffington would concur. So might this interview thing also be in honor of finally hitting a certain number of followers that has been your long time goal? And if so, what’s that number?

SDL:  I’m not going to disclose how many followers I have, are you crazy? Some people would think it’s too high or too low. Just like my weight, I wouldn’t tell you that either.

LMM:  I already know what you weigh, fool. Remember? I am you. You are me. Ohh yeah, that’s right . . .  we use one of those scales that doesn’t show our weight, it only specifies if we’ve gained or lost. Which is like a doctor not telling you what your diagnosis is, only if you’re getting better or worse. Don’t you think? Of what use is that?

SDL: I’m kinda getting sick of you. And somehow you’ve turned this whole thing around so now you’re the one interviewing me. Let’s just cut to the chase and issue our challenge already.

LMM: Alrighty. If you’re reading this and you’re feeling brave (and quirky!) try interviewing yourself on your own blog. C’mon! What have you got to lose? It’s fun and everyone should do it. Just like masturbation.

SDL: OMG. I am so relieved that my persona said that last line, and not me! How totally embarrassing. Anyhow, if you take me (us!) up on this self-interview challenge, feel free to come back and post a link in the comments section. Thank you! And thank you for your time Little Miss Menopause.

LMM:  No, I’m thanking YOU!

SDL: Nope, thank YOU!  Now sign off.

LMM: No, you sign off. I want the last word.

SDL: Unbelievable. Seriously?? Goodbye.

LMM:  Aha … Gotcha!

SDL: Could you be a more Immature persona??

Various microphones aligned at press conference isolated over a