Blue M&Ms

Mother Nature must be a man. Who else would play this mid-life trick on women? Women lose their sex drive and men get Viagra. I'd like to thank the pharmaceutical industry for their complicity. I'm assuming if any women worked on the miraculous erectile dysfunction drugs they were under 40. Girls, girls, girls, you will live to regret it. I'd also like to thank doctors who are handing these pills out like M&Ms. And last, but not least, hats off to that drag queen Mother Nature, for menopause. Now the world of relationships is on tilt.

Listen carefully midlife boys. ( And btw wasn't the new Porsche enough)? Women do not lose their sex drive on purpose. It's business ,not personal. So don't go stomping around all pissed off and pouty that your wife, significant other or girlfriend is denying you sex to be mean. Looking at some of the middle aged men out there I suggest they deny you food. Women aren't thinking about sex and it's no fault of their own; their hormones are gone, vanished, hasta la bye-bye. Hey pharmaceutical companies how about making hormone replacement drugs that are safe? I personally would like my skin tone back. Did you think I'd say sex life?

My friend Jack called to tell me about an article he read regarding a libido enhancing drug they're working on for older women. Huh? Isn't it possible these women are already happy with their lives? So what if they're not fantasizing about sex. Ironically, my male friends have no interest in having sex with an older woman or even one their age. Well what's a girl to do? Cry? Call a plastic surgeon? How about sex with a younger guy? That sounds like hormone therapy to me and just might perk up the old libido.

Right on, Mom!

Mom's turning 90! Holy crap Mom, how'd you do it? And why after all these years of silence about your age, are you admitting such a big number? Growing up I had no idea how old she was. In fact , I think she had three birth certificates and four drivers licenses all with different dates of birth. Impressed with her craftiness? Oh and btw I don't believe any of those documents were correct. But regardless of this high level of secrecy, she was mortified she'd be found out. I admit my sister and I rummaged through her drawers once for a birth certificate to no avail. We did find $10 however and split it.

Mother came by her deceptive ways honestly as her mother (aka Nana), carried on these covert operations also. My Mom, never knew the exact age of, her Mom. The closest approximation we came to was , when she died she was either 85 or 110 or possibly 93. But Nana had real skills; to completely cover her tracks, she lied about her children's ages also. And like good soldiers they obeyed her orders to nod in agreement. She was a thinker wasn't she? And yes,my Mom carried on this time honored tradition and didn't tell the truth about her daughter's ages either. I've lied for so long I've forgotten the real number, thank the Lord. Besides, I can't count that high.

So why fess up at 90, Mom? She's defied the aging process and could easily hang out at 82 for years to come. There are days I stare at her and think she looks a hell of a lot better than I do. It's pretty depressing. In a blind, "who has the better jaw line" test she'd win hands down. Which only means I have my dad's and burst into tears. She is a walking testimonial to every make-up counter at Neimans, Saks, and Bloomingdales. Although Yves Saint Laurent products have taken on religious significance. If you're lost and looking for something in which to believe apparently there is meaning in a facial mask. Don't let anyone see you however. Mom's worked hard at looking young. I think youth must be tiring after all these years, but she is a fighter. Perhaps this is why she's finally admitting her age, so we can raise her hand in the air and declare her the winner.

Where in the world is Dick Cheney?

Has anyone seen Dick Cheney? I was talking about him last night and realized I hadn't seen hide nor hair of him for weeks. Months? Could it be a year? He is still the Vice President, isn't he? I ran to the refrigerator to see if he was on the milk carton...nope, he wasn't there, but it was turning sour. Perhaps he's helping pack up the Haliburton offices in their rush to relocate to the Middle East. They do seem to be in a hurry. It is warmer there. Dick, you have awfully light skin, so be sure and wear tons of sun block. Maybe he's on vacation, after all, planning and executing a pre-emptive war is exhausting. I'm sure it's taken a toll on a man his age. Again, if he's relaxing anywhere it's really sunny, I'd urge him to stay covered up. Oh no, is his pacemaker on the fritz? I wish I knew so I could send a nice card.

I did just see the President on tv; BTW in case anyone is interested he's in Africa with Laura. Maybe he knows where "Vice" is. Maybe he doesn't care anymore, with the job winding down and all. Laura is busy planning Jen's wedding and it sounded like she has that under control; no help needed with the flowers or place settings. They probably have a lot more money to spend thanks to Uncle Dick. I think it's great he helped so many of his close friends and allies get rich. I am sad that it didn't trickle down to me, but my profession didn't really beg a big old rebuilding contract in Iraq.

Wait a minute! I haven't seen him endorse John McCain like Bush 41 or share a sweet embrace with the man like Bush 43. He could be off helping Hillary, as her speaking style shows signs of his charismatic delivery, but I doubt he would take a job without pay. Hey there Dick Cheney, you slippery little devil, are you hanging with the Obamacans? Don't worry your secret's safe with me.

Prune Danish

I'm sure there are alot of people happier than I am , but it's hard to believe they're all Danish. Yep, it's true, Denmark is the world's happiest country. It seems impossible to me as they have snow. And it's cold there. Why aren't they miserable? Maybe weather hasn't been elevated to the status of terrorism by the news, as it has here. Perhaps they don't realize they're freezing because a failed drama major turned weatherperson hasn't screamed, "a storm is coming", over and over and over. "Shut up already", I scream back and I was an English major. This is not a sign of happiness is it? Hey Danish people what about Hamlet? He wasn't cheerful . In fact one might call him rather morose and tortured. Are you not factoring him in? Has the play been confiscated from your libraries and banned from school curriculums? I suggest you replace it with "Death of a Salesman" and feel my pain.

According to the news, Danish people don't aspire to the "Great American Dream". This I'm sure is a mood booster as it really only leads to perpetual dissatisfaction. Seriously, without the expectation of a six figure income, Viking stove, S Class Mercedes and whirlwind weekends in Paris, waking up in a small one bedroom apartment might be fun. I wonder if Americans would be happier if we weren't obsessed with erectile dysfunction, flat abs, wrinkles, and perpetual youth. BTW is there a woman alive who would feel delighted if her husband/lover had an erection that lasted more than four hours?! Let me know if you're out there. Danes also have royalty, so lovely and polite... perhaps this is a mood lifter. We have Britney Spears, so tasteless and embarassing.

Danish people eat sardines. It just so happens I like them also. Maybe I should forget the afternoon mocha skim latte and dig into a sandwich of those slippery little creatures to lift my spirits.

Help Wanted

Think of it, John McCain is making a career change at 71! Yikes! Hey there older guy , go for it. It's really nice you still have aspirations. Odd however, that no one is grousing about your looking too old for the job. I'm wondering, has anyone whispered to you about "Grecian Formula for Men"? Of course I would recommend a really good colorist if you decide to go that route. Always, always better than over the counter products. I don't hear complaining about those wrinkles around your eye area. It is a nasty little age give-away. Rush Limbaugh doesn't like Hillary's wrinkles and is repulsed thinking about watching a woman President grow old. Is Rush married? And does he own a mirror? John, apparently he doesn't like you either and it doesn't have to do with facial lines. I say screw him, but you know, a little Botox and the years will pour off.

I think it's great that at 71 the public is willing to consider you for President. It's impossible to get a job in your seventies according to statistics. I couldn't get new employment in my fifties without plastic surgery and a fake birth certificate. I read there is a little nervousness about your dying in office. That must hurt your feelings and also be a tad scary to think about. Btw, who are you considering for Vice President? Oh never mind, Ronald Reagan was an old Commander- in- Chief, although he dyed his hair and used very good cosmetics. I can't help but wonder however, when exactly his Alzsheimers kicked in? Don't mind me, I'm a "glass half empty" gal, you just go ahead and apply for the job.

Are you worried you won't get picked? This could be your last shot at gainful employment. I think Congress may expand unemployment insurance however, with the failing economy and the "r" word floating around. That's great news for both of us. But I'm not concerned about you, you're a survivor, not a wimp like me. So John, good luck. I can't say my fingers are crossed for you as that would be a big fat lie, but I can say, if you do dye your hair, grow a beard first for visual diversion.

Look a gift horse in the mouth

Don't accept any gifts from my Dad. Oh, I'm not jealous or trying to butt in, but I am trying to spare you shock and disappointment. For example, he recently gave me a vacuum cleaner. It's an odd gift, but I needed one. He handed me a small well designed Hoover that he wasn't using . He did mention in passing, if I didn't lean it against a wall it would fall over. Oh well, a small price to pay for a free vacuum. They are expensive and don't provide much purchase happiness. Thank God I don't have a cleaning lady as she would have lost all respect for me. It looked like a vacuum , it sounded like a vacuum, and I pushed it around the rug like a vacuum. I noticed however, that pieces of dirt I had gone over were still there. Dog hair remained on the floor. A few small clumps of lint stayed exactly where I thought I had sucked them up. Nothing had changed and I had been whizzing around for 15 minutes. I circled the rooms again,and again, pushing the stupid vacuum harder and harder, as if that would help. Sadly, and almost in tears, I leaned it against a wall and cleaned by hand. Yes, one dog hair at a time; Dad, you devil.

While I'm issuing warnings...avoid my Mother bearing gifts also. Sorry, I know they look good. I was freezing my butt off this winter, aka "the winter from hell". I ranted and raved to anyone who would listen, I needed a fur coat to keep warm. Wow, Mom offered the one she had hanging in her hall closet, as it had been replaced by another model. I almost burst into tears of happiness when I tried it on and it fit. I was psyched, bring on the cold, I've got the big old mink . I didn't even care if animal rights people threw vegetables at me, I was warm... sling those tomatoes. I wore it twice before a sleeve fell off. I had gently placed it on a soft pink satin hanger and it went right through the arm. I almost fainted. How could that happen? It was twelve degrees outside and I had a mink coat with one arm. I rushed it to the tailor who sewed it back together before the temperature dropped any lower. I was saved and toasty again.

I was happily having coffee with Dan when he pointed to my coat and said, "what's that?" "Huh?" I looked down only to see a giant rip down the other sleeve! Crap. Back to the tailor who shook her head and sighed, "Too dry, too dry" and proceeded to show me all the other little holes. "Ordinarily I charge $20 to sew, but for you , so many holes,$8.00". I queried my mother, who admitted she hadn't stored it in the summers because it cost $70. The coat was practically beef jerky. Mom, you're a trickster.

Like I said, don't take the gifts.

Maybe Uncle Sam Wants Me

I am clearly an idiot. Or just too old for the internet. I still don't get it, as hard as I try. I have so many passwords I can't remember which one goes where or what my "user name" is on any freaking account. The morning is obviously not going well. In a desperate attempt to link this blog to other blogs and get more reader traffic I did a google search on the topic. Wait a sec while I breathe into a paper bag....that helps with hyperventilating doesn't it? How about a plastic bag? I started this project feeling relaxed and confident that with a little effort I could figure out how to expand in the blogoshere or whatever planet they call it. I found a helpful site that let's you join for free and yep, I'm all about free. I was ready to sign up. I was still calm and felt proud my research seemed to be paying off. All I had to do was join.

When did joining become impossible? I joined the Brownies, Girl Scouts, Art Institute, Museum of Contemporary Art, Illinois Hunter Jumper Association,and AARP (the only difficult part there was admitting I was old enough to join). All these organizations wanted was my name, address and money. There was no user name, profile name and secret password! I'm not trying to join the CIA for God's sake. Which btw is probably easy these days. Who has this many names? Who wants this many names? I'm a member of AARP, I can't be expected to remember these names. And forget the suggestion of writing them down....I have no idea where I write them and which group of names is for which account. This sucks. And do these freaking web-sites help you? The words "invalid user name" kept popping up over and over and over and over. The blood was draining from my face . I was sitting in front of the computer screen how could I be "invalid"? What was wrong with my user name? What do you mean I'm not valid!!!!! I clicked on "help" but there was no help, just a list of suggestions. I NEEDED A PHONE NUMBER. I needed to talk to a real person. I longed to complain to a real person with one name. I took a deep breath and tried again to fill in the "name" blanks . I struggled to breathe slowly and steadily as I clicked "continue". " Invalid User Name " reappeared. I was crazed, on the verge of hysteria. I tried every user name I've ever used. I tried dozens of combinations of passwords I've concocted to placate my computer. INVALID USER NAME was all I got for my effort.

Who am I? I'm invalid with no secret password, thinking of joining the CIA.

Calling all girls

I had a bad case of voter's panic. I almost stayed home. How could I go when I still had no idea who I wanted? I had an argument for Hillary and Barack. My son threatened my life if I didn't cast my vote for Obama. I don't succumb to threats that easily however. I drove myself crazy on the ride to the polling place. Clinton, Obama, Clinton, Obama...I didn't have a clue. And I'm the fool who watched every Sunday morning talk show, and read every New York Times Op-Ed column. I had to know, but I didn't. Crap. My fear of multiple choice questions must have kicked in also. I could always make a case for each option. I flunked a lot of tests obviously. Give me an essay question and I'll give you an answer.

I walked in the polling place undecided; perhaps I'd have some last minute epiphany or maybe I could cheat and read off of someone else's paper. That prevented me from leaving an Earth Science test in college completely blank. I flunked anyway. There I was with two sheets of candidates, a #2 pencil and no answers. I filled in everything but the choice for President . Quite honestly I had no idea who anyone was. I had some name recognition via media ads but couldn't remember anything about them. Anita Alvarez, Larry Suffredin, Tom someone...who are you? I devised a plan. It was the only way I was going to get out of my cubicle with any marks on my paper. I would vote for all the women; a "you go girls" ballot. It just seemed right. I was still one answer short , the one I left for last, Hillary or Barack? Should I continue my all girl vote? I was freaked. Pick one, I yelled at myself. Spin around three or four times and land on a name. That of course risked being taken away tied to a stretcher. I stared at the two names for either an hour or a minute; I lost track. Whose idea was a primary anyway? And could I order a cocktail? Was it this hard for everyone? It felt too difficult, which perhaps meant it felt hopeful. Like I said, "you go girls".

Super Sized Tuesday

Super Tuesday is coming! Super Tuesday is coming! If I didn't know better I'd think it was a national fast food promotion. Mac vs. the Whopper; take your pick, take a chance. I don't eat meat, so fast food Tuesday would be lost on me. I do vote however, and it's my turn. Have I been influenced by all those caucuses and primaries before me? Nah. I do feel the urge to caucus though. I don't get it, but I'd definitely like to try. It seems neighborly, not as lonely as a voting booth. BTW the first time I ever voted I almost got locked in the damn booth. It was very traumatic. For the life of me I couldn't figure out how to get out. I was panicked and realized I had to start screaming for help, or crawl out under the curtain on my hands and knees. Ok, I'm voting booth challenged, and after about ten sweaty minutes found the exit lever. It's a miracle I still vote and now have a fear of small confined spaces.

Why is it "super" Tuesday I wonder? What about "Monster Monday"? Or "Fateful Friday"? Or "A Waste of a Wednesday"? The electoral process has gotten more complicated it seems and arduously looooong. There are too many whacked out candidates that fill my tv screen. Although given the personal scrutiny we now put these potential presidents through we're reduced to the criminally pure and scandal free. Get a grip people, we never would have elected our precious John F. Kennedy today. He makes Bill look like amateur night. Perhaps we should take a moment to reflect......... Feel worse? I for one haven't decided who will be my Super Tuesday choice. Thanks, John Edwards for dropping in and out; your exuberance was fun, but even I don't spend that much on a haircut. I did like Joe Biden but no one else did. Joe, if you ever want to grab lunch I'm there.

With approximately 80 hours to go I can't decide. Hillary, I know you can bake quite a good brownie, and I do prefer your health care plan. I'm wowed by your intelligence. How do you remember so much detail? I can hardly conger up my return address . You seem ready for the job and a thankless job it is. After all right after the exhilaration of being elected think of all the people who will hate and second guess you. Of course who understands that better than a Clinton? Barack, I need the promise of your promise! After eight years of George Bush I've definitely lost "that loving feeling". Can you really deliver? You may be just the man for the job. You both blew me away in last night's debate. I was cheering for each of you. I felt excitement for the future regardless of who gets the nomination.

So on Super Tuesday I'll commit to one of you, but not before a gratuitous stop at MacDonalds and Burger King.