Saturday, March 29, 2008

Windex baby!

I confess. I'm an addict. Not in the usual treatable sense. There's no Betty Ford program or 12 step meeting that could cure me. Honestly, I have no desire for treatment or live in hope that anyone ever discovers one. Nope, leave me alone . I'm happy with the needle in my vein. It's been there since 1977 . I was pregnant and lazily lying around channel surfing as a form of exercise, when there on my 16 inch screen was Al Maguire and his Marquette Warriors vying for the NCAA National basketball championship. I can still picture him wildly running onto the court embracing his players at the buzzer. In my Good-Year Blimp state I jumped up also, and started screaming . The underdogs won and I fell in love with Al and the game of college basketball. (I admit as a teenager I was in love with John Havlacek of Boston Celtic fame but hey, no crush lasts forever). I'm addicted to MARCH MADNESS .... two non-stop weeks of single elimination college basketball, 64 of the top Division l teams in the country playing for the national title. Anything can happen...upsets, Cinderellas, buzzer beaters, overtime...back to back to back games .... does it get any better than that? Yes, I'm female. Men seem to be missing in action however. Does anyone out there want to watch with me? Where did you all go? Come on re-join the gender and turn on the tv. I'm relegated to sports bars to find company.

Filling out the tournament chart was a veritable religious ritual. I'd labor over it for days , and then bet with a current boyfriend or join someone's pool. And yes I've won. Won big, I have a personally signed Nolan Ryan baseball for my efforts in 1996. Nice huh? I keep it with my underwear. I won an office pool in 1990 and felt smug and proud when I was handed the money. The girl prevails again. It's happened quite a few times and I'm never humble. It's not the prize really, it's the win. Ok, I'm diabolical. And "NO", this obsession has nothing to do with young boys in shorts. Or young boys. Although I must admit there are some very nice upper bodies this year.

It's the game baby! Some of them take your breath away and "yes" I'll stop myself from listing every one of them since 1977. I was very sad when Al Maguire died a few years back as I was always hoping we'd get married. I have no friends from the end of March until after the first Monday in April. And that's ok with me. "He shoots, he scores"! Gotta go watch.

Tuesday, March 25, 2008


Jared! Dude. Has it really been ten years since you lost those 245 nasty pounds? Thank you "Subway" and wow, how times flies. Apparently this is a national celebration as it was highly publicized on tv and if I remember correctly, which I don't, even on the radio. I guess I'll add my congratulations also. I can't help but wonder if you continue to eat nothing but food from "Subway"? I must confess I'm always worried about how many hours the cold meats and cheeses have been sitting out. Ten years must be a really long time to keep the pounds off or there wouldn't be so much hoopla. Too bad you didn't grow up a Jewish girl who went to New Trier High School, then you could have spent a life time being neurotic about your weight.

We must be a seriously fat nation. Everyday there's a segment on one of the morning talk shows about what to eat, where to eat, when to eat, and how much to eat. I say it's getting so laborious why even bother to eat? I don't have the energy or attention span to read all the ingredient labels to determine good fat, from not so good fat ,to lethal fat. It gives me chest pains thinking about it. I'm totally shocked there's a tv show where people lose weight in front of the entire country. Who does that? And can't this be worked on off the air? Personally I'd rather lose a dress size or two in the privacy of my own home and watch "Boston Legal".

How did this happen? Was it the "axis of evil" , MacDonalds, Burger King and Wendy's luring us off the road with quadruple cheeseburgers and buckets of fries? That could be a new place for the President to focus his attention before he goes. I know we hate the French but they look thin; they smoke so they're stupid and thin. If you know my mother it's easy to keep weight off, just talk to my friend Dan about her. Oprah should also be in touch. I'll ask Mom if she'd let me give out her phone number. In the meantime, I'm hungry, so call Jared.

Saturday, March 22, 2008


Oh my God, I'm becoming a weather blog! Crap. I can't, anything but weather reporting all day, every day. There must be more to life than meteorlogical conditions. As fate would have it, or a very evil sleight of hand by the weather Gods I took a vacation the one week it warmed up . All the snow melted and lo and behold there was the grass. I missed it. What happened the minute I returned? SNOW! Heaping piles of snow. How will small children find Easter eggs now? They could be buried alive in their sweet innocent hunt! And the man I hate the most, the weatherman on channel 5 was smiling as he warned of 6 - 18 inches. Why was this hideous little man grinning? He's grinned all winter. The worse the weather the more he smiled. Cry, for God's sake, feel my pain!

I was crying as I searched for my boots, scarf, hat, parka,and mittens. A week ago I was in a strapless dress and high heels. I was sobbing actually. When I came back from walking the dog I looked like Frosty the freaking snowman. I ripped my bathroom apart looking for drugs that could ameliorate my panic. Is there some sacrifice I can make to the Gods? Where are they anyway? Probably in Palm Springs enjoying the weather. So mighty Gods of Winter ,take my Cole Hahn boots, my North Face Parka, and my cashmere scarf from Neimans which add up to about $1,000 , no paltry offering, and let's put an end to your mean spirited folly!

Thursday, March 20, 2008

Eliot Spitzer, check in !

Eliot Spitzer, where are you? It's hardly been a week and you're gone. I didn't even get to blog about you because I was on vacation without my laptop. I vow to chain it to my wrist. It is amazing how "soon we forget", but it was fun while it lasted. Twenty four hour a day talk about prostitution, admit it was riveting! How many were jealous of Eliot's play dates? What about the rumors of his "bad boy" type sexual activities, are we anxiously waiting for the book/movie to find out exactly what that meant? I'd like to know. I think Wolf Blitzer would also, as he couldn't stop talking about the guy. Rush Limbaugh, I bet you're a little kinky under that "holier than thou" exterior. No visuals please.

It's possible Eliot is duck hunting with the Vice President. I think he needed to get away from his wife for a while. It was sweet of her to stand next to him on the guilt podium, but personally I think she was drugged. As for the singing "escort", I wonder if she was fired too. Well at least she got to stay at the Mayflower Hotel, because Governor Paterson rendezvoused with his extra curricular gal at the Days Inn. Ick, very low thread count sheets. Thank God the new Gov warned everyone ahead of time about his and his wife's affairs. That was really nice of him. No surprises, no rumors; is he out of office also? I could be Governor for a day.

I'm with the Euopeans on this one, who cares? And why are we such goody-goodies? Come on now, some of the founding fathers were "randy" boys and we like them. No one's banned the Declaration of Independence from our schools because of the lurid behavior of some of the signers. See what a little perspective does? Eliot, it's a good thing Dad had money because I think it will be hard to find a new job any time soon . Bye-bye, and if you're not in prison don't forget to vote.

Tuesday, March 18, 2008

I'm calling a cab

To hike or not to hike? "Not" is the right answer . And it's never better to ,"learn the hard way" after the age of 50. My sister, who apparently has mountain goat genes , invited me on what was billed as an easy 8 mile hike with her club in Palm Springs. Ok, I was on vacation, up for something new. It sounded like good exercise and we could spend some quality time chit chatting along the way. She woke me up at 6:00 a.m. to get ready. Huh? I hate 6:00 a.m. She was busy in the kitchen packing food and water into our backpacks when I dragged my sorry ass over to the coffee pot. Not a backpack! The last time I wore one I cried. I had to go back to bed , I needed more rest to carry everything. Oh God, what if I had to pee? "You squat behind a rock" my sister calmly advised me. Were those tears in my eyes?

Richard, our hike leader was an ex Navy navigator who handed each of us a map complete with land elevations and route . He was prepared and I was confused. I can't read a map, I flunked the Brownies. He made us yell a head count which was either the closet kindergarten teacher in him , or a sign he could lose one of us. I vowed to stick to him like freaking glue. We headed into Joshua Tree National Park at 9:30 a.m. and I looked back longingly at the bathroom near the entrance. Everytime we stopped to check the map I said the same thing, "Do you know where we are? Are we lost"? Richard glared at me but I wouldn't be deterred, "are you SURE you know where we are"? How can I explain what happened next? One of the men was attacked by a cactus. A jumping Cholla got him on the calf. Since when did plants jump? Enemy combatant plants were out there and no one told me. I was practically faint as I watched the clump of needles get removed from his leg with a comb. Richard said the needles can go through your hiking boots into the bones of your feet. Had I known about the killer cactus...I needed Valium. No, what I really needed was a TAXI!

We trudged on through the sand until the path lead us into a canyon with only one way out, and that was straight up. Did I mention the trail disappeared, replaced by giant boulders? My sister referred to this part of the day as "boulder scrambling". I preferred to call it, I hate hiking. I was getting very pissy and wanted to go home, but as Richard explained the "beauty" of hiking is you have to finish. I hated him also. I crawled up and over boulders on my hands and knees for 2 1/2 miles; so much for yesterday's manicure and my anterior cruciate ligament. Btw, my sister and I never did chit chat.

I almost burst into tears when I saw the car on the horizon. I loved the car. I was hot, sweaty, beet red, and practically toxic from not peeing. Five hours and 8.2 miles later I was not a better person nor hiker. Like I said before , TAXI !

Sunday, March 9, 2008


Hallelujah! I'm packed , I'm psyched, I'm going on vacay! For one week I can discuss something other than the weather. What will I talk about? I can always depress people with news about the economy. Nope, for one week I'll talk about nothing, absolutely nothing more serious than mocha lattes and whether to use 30 or 35 sunblock. I've left all my winter clothes behind. I hate them. I'm thinking of setting them on fire . A ceremonial burning of the parkas, ratty wool sweaters, faded turtlenecks, dingy long underwear, and hole riddled mittens. Jealous? Come on over and take whatever you want.

I've stuffed every single thing I own that isn't reminiscent of cold and snow in a suitcase and plan on wearing it all, but not in the Heidi way like I've done since December. One lovely piece of clothing at a ...... time. So, it's off to the grapes of California, Pinot and Cabernet. I don't like either, which thank God will give me one thing about which to complain. I'd be lost otherwise.

Saturday, March 8, 2008

Fair Warning!

What is a "player"? Sam called saying his sort of girlfriend just hung up on him screaming he was, "nothing but a player". I think that's hostile and really an issue for Dr. Phil, but I was stuck with it. I wanted to tell him I had the election to deal with and the "r" word ominously looming and couldn't be bothered with dating problems until November, but I didn't. He was obviously concerned. Oh not about the woman, but the accusation. Nice huh? Here's the deal, NONE of the women he dates are his girlfriend, they just think they are. Girls, girls, girls, ask the hard question first, "are you interested in a relationship"? Or call me before you go out with this man and I'll tell you the answer "NO". And Sam, you hound dog, take some responsibility here too. Before even ten minutes has elapsed tell the poor person you have no interest in any future commitment. A woman who stays for a drink after that is on her own. I say run!

I tell Sam he is not a player but PROFESSIONALLY SINGLE, this sounds more polite and he seemed pleased with the new label. All my uncommitted male friends are, now that I think of it. They've been alone so long they're good at it. Shabby apartments desperately in need of a woman's touch/taste have given way to well decorated homes in need of no one. The once poorly dressed man has discovered Neiman's , Bloomingdales and Barneys. No woman required. And holy cow Batman, these guys can shop and prepare a freaking gourmet meal. Who needs the little woman now? The boys have become picky, picky, picky and truth is they feel they can be because they don't need any help. Yep got it all. Of course they're delusional but that is Dr. Phil territory. And If your "ah ha" moment is, "he'll love me if I have sex with him" ah ha again. Nope, won't work either, because it won't separate you from the crowd'll be part of it.

This sucks doesn't it and quite honestly I don't have the answer. Sorry. As for me, I've taken the path of Lysistrata. Remember her? If you don't check Wikipedia. Now I have to get back to worrying about the election and the "r" word.

Thursday, March 6, 2008

The Gift of Goosebumps

Barack's got the gift. Some people "got" it and the rest don't. It was a stunning juxtapositon after the big win for Hillary in Texas, Ohio, and Rhode Island. She was delivering her victory speech in a very determined and rigorous manner, alluding to issues like the economy and re-gaining jobs. Can't anyone say something specific for God's sake? Allusion is crap, but politically safe. Regardless, I was rooting for her, or alluding to root for her. She was upbeat, smiling, promising to fight to the end. Yea Hillary, you're a heads down worker bee, good speech.

Uh oh, not so fast, enter, "the gift". Barack Obama in the meantime was delivering a concession speech. If only I had turned the channel. The minute he opened his mouth I was mesmerized. Frozen in place I dropped the clicker. Whoa baby, whatever it is you're selling I'm buying. "You're selling hope? Ok, that's good, I'll buy it". That's the Obama effect. What was he really saying? What's hope in terms of policy and did I care? Apparently no one cares because in truth he wasn't saying anything, or even alluding, but he has the gift of oration and THE GOOSEBUMP FACTOR. I've had these bumps before. Winston Churchill, Franklin Delano Roosevelt, Martin Luther King, John F. Kennedy, and William J. Clinton (yes, Clinton) gave the "bumps" also. Now we can add Barack Obama to the list. He delivered the magic of inspiration. "I believe, I believe", I shouted as I ran around the room . Hold it I'm a Jew we're not into Evangelistic type excitment. I stopped and sat in a chair.

Hillary, you are not a goosebump girl. I like your determination and I think you really are a "day one" candidate. I don't care if you don't move me out of my seat. I'm exhausted after the last eight years and would like to rest. John McCain, give up. And btw has anyone checked his pulse lately? He will never move anyone except in the same direction they're already going. As for Barack, maybe what he can do for his country is wait his turn.

Monday, March 3, 2008

It had to be you, Alan Greenspan

It's the economy. IT's THE ECONOMY! And yes, I am stupid. I've hung up my hang up on foreign policy and turned my undivided attention to the "r" word. I have no idea what I'm reading as economists baffle me. There are really no two opinions alike. Who are these people and why don't they agree? I desperately comb the business section of the paper obsessed with economic indicators, interest rates, unsecured mortgage packages, and unemployment numbers. Yet I can't help but wonder if Alan Greenspan doesn't feel a teensy- weensy bit guilty. Alan, sorry baby but the housing bubble burst. We're all being slimed. Weren't you supposed to keep an eye on the banks and ill conceived derivitives?

I admit I re-financed with an adjustable rate mortgage which in hindsight wasn't prudent, but I did get the low, low, low, interest rate of 4.5%. Btw, Wells Fargo, why did I have to put down 20% at the time of purchase? Now I read the whole freaking world made little or no downpayment and got vacay money to boot. I did get oh so lucky and sell my condo before it would have doubled as my tomb. There I would have been face down in the living room with a rusty for sale sign out on the lawn, and these last words frozen on my lips, "Alan what about the banking industry"?

Ben Bernake what's your opinion? Should I just say "no" to shopping? But wait, the President is sending me a check for that very purpose. This confuses me. Should I stop and save, or go and spend; someone tell me the truth! Maybe I should car pool. That always sounds so sensible doesn't it? Except I don't leave my apartment to work. I might do it anyway,for the peace of mind it could bring . Does anyone want to come? I do have a fuel efficient car ,although if gas gets to $4 a gallon I'm getting a bike... or dog sled if the winter doesn't end. Ben, I'll never be able to retire if you and those crazy economists keep muttering: inflation, stagflation, recession, and depression. I've worked hard all these years and now Fed boy Ben, you need to do the same because, "it's the economy stupid".