Tuesday, April 29, 2008

I feel bad about my face.....and neck.

I just spent my entire 401K on skin care products. I can't decide whether to faint or hang myself. The most I ever paid for moisturizer to date was $7.99 and now in my possession are two jars of cream more costly than my rent. Who does this? Maybe Paris or Ivana but not someone who is too cheap to take the tollway. I've obviously lost my mind and... apartment. It was my sister's fault; she's the culprit. It really feels better to blame someone. She let me try her new wonder products, and threatened my life if I dropped one of the jars. The sales girl told her it takes just a tiny dab of cream and voila that dewy pre-menopausal complexion will return. So Mother Nature, it may cost me, but I'm getting revenge. I triumphantly dabbed and stared in the mirror. "Come on, come on, I don't have all day"! Crap, no dewiness but my skin felt nice.

"Nice" required a bank loan. I gasped as the woman behind the make-up counter at Neimans added up my bill. Oh God, and the banks are so stingy because of the mortgage crisis. I could strangle Alan Greenspan. I'd like to see the bills from his wife's plastic surgeon; I bet that money could have fed a third world country. Andrea, stop with the face-lifts, you're in the scary zone. I'm already afraid I might turn to stone looking at you. The girlfriends and I have determined face lifts don't make anyone look younger; they just make you look like you had a face lift. Btw Nora Ephron, "I hate my neck" too and ixnay to the turtleneck as a solution, no one looks good in them past the age of 55.

I've stuck my Neiman's charge card away in a drawer and put retirement on permanent hold. I have placed the jars of "miracle working" face and eye cream far, far away from the edge of the sink. (I think I would have to be hospitalized if one broke). I'm dutifully dabbing and of course staring. Sadly not much to report. I admit I have more than a twinge of buyer's remorse and think about my $7.99 moisturizer a lot.

One meatball

I can buy one thing. Or nothing. Nada. Zippo. My mother can't. She has never walked out of a store empty handed. Never. I've seen her get as far as the door without a purchase. "Go Mom, go, keep walking, don't look from side to side, don't look back, you're almost out ...." Oh no, a sale rack has caught her eye. She's turning around. "No! Don't touch anything. Put the blouse down". She's trying it on. Good, too small. Crap, she's buying it anyway. Is this a genetic malfunction? Is there a 12 step program or vaccine for Mom? She has closets filled with clothes she's never worn, only visited. My closet has 4 things depending on the season. I wonder if I was adopted.

My ex-husband had a similar genetic tick. I'd sit in the car and wait while he went into Target for toothpaste. Forty five minutes later, he'd return dragging three shopping carts filled to the top. He looked so proud of himself. Wow honey, nice shopping ...for things we don't need . Was it free? I would have felt better thinking he stole it all, at least that's an accomplishment. What was so freaking difficult about plucking one tube of toothpaste off the shelf, paying for it and leaving the store? Never happened. We were doomed.

My goal is to leave a store with nothing. Not even the item I went in for. Now that's a personal best . My sister and I have a special methodology we call , "drive by shopping". It's fast and cheap. With the rising price of gas I might have to cut back a little, but it's still less expensive than going in. And yes, I'm not very well dressed. (See paragraph one re: 4 things in my closet). I'm a firm believer in the one item at a time life style, which is why I can't go to the refrigerator for a snack unless I crave milk. Doritos and salsa sound so much better don't they? Obviously nobody wants to come over. I could use a 12 step program also I guess, although in my case it would be one .

Thursday, April 24, 2008

Girls, Uncle Sam wants you!

The Marines want me! I just read they are desperately seeking "a few good women". Wow, I could stand a career change . I look good in blue, although I'd prefer black. It might, however, be time for a new color and uniform. Who should I call about this? Maybe Calvin Klein or Stella McCartney could design something tasty. "Join the Marines and if you survive you get to keep the clothes". I like it. It's tempting isn't it? I can hardly afford anything at Neimans anymore. Apparently, they are trying to appeal to female athletes, as they would be more likely to make it through boot camp with the boys. Kind of like boy/girl after school sports right? This really peaks my interest. I loved beating the boys. I hope there's ice skating as I'd whip everyone's ass in a race.

I'm a little concerned about the accommodations. I'm vehement about bedding. Oh and towels. I can't sleep on a thread count lower than 380 and must, must, must have a queen size bed. I'm assuming I can bring my own pillows. I take them on all my sleep-overs. I also insist on bath sheets, as I hate skimpy little towels after I shower. Whoops, I almost forgot, and this is a biggie, I won't share a bathroom. Who can stand someone in your way at the sink, or all their "stuff" around when you put on make-up? Besides it's my reading room/library, I need solitude. I am however, very excited about the prospect of a communal dining experience. I love good conversation at meals. I do hope there's a cocktail hour as it's such a nice way to relax and socialize at the end of a hectic day. Btw, I'm not a picky eater so you won't find me complaining about the food like some people. Just please no Mexican, Chinese, or Indian cuisine. And for that matter I never touch anything fried, or prepared in corn oil. I don't eat meat either.

Ok, ok, no one wants me, not even the Marines. If they want you however, don't go, even if you get to keep the clothes!

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

Hot Wheels

Danica Patrick, you rock girl! Sorry Hillary, I think Danica could be the first woman President. She certainly has drive. God that's a bad, bad, bad pun... I should be shot. At 26 she's the first woman to win an IndyCar race, defeating the two-time Indy 500 winner Helio Castroneves by nearly six seconds in the Indy Japan 300. I'm not sure we care about the details but she beat the big boys at their testosterone laden sport. Nice. So far Hillary's not even beating one boy. And did she do anything close to that impressive by age 26? She went to Yale law school and baked some very good cookies there according to an acquaintance of mine who tasted one. I'm really hungry, so at the moment cookies tempt me as an early accomplishment. At 23 Danica became the first woman to lead the Indianpolis 500 and then finished fourth. Condi, you're a political hopeful, can you drive over 220 miles an hour? I feel certain little Danica would get the male vote as she's a "hottie". I don't think Hillary or Condi or Kathleen Sebelius, the Governor of Kansas who the Democrats are all ga-ga over as Presidential potential, look as good in a bikini. Maybe who looks best in a bathing suit should supercede the super delegates. Let's not start with this election however, it would be too scary. I can't help but wonder who would win. And then I get a little nauseous.

I'm for Danica.

Tuesday, April 15, 2008

I'm smarter than a 5th grader

I hate reality tv. Hate. Hate. Hate. Btw so does my friend Kathy. It's like a freaking virus, as everyday there's a new and even more stupid show. Who needs this much "reality"? My world is real enough without watching someone elses. For God's sake who cares about the last "Survivor"? I have my own survival issues and none of them have to do with eating Scorpions in a bikini. I'd call my show "I'm about to be homeless" or "Crap my rent is due". As for "The Bachelor", if those nubile 20 year olds can't find a husband on their own they should seriously consider becoming nuns. I can't bear watching the poor creatures make complete fools of themselves for a man. Come on girls, ditch the bachelor and find a career; a much better long range plan. Now about losing weight in prime time, ixnay to that also. Why is this a tv show? And how did everyone get so fat? I say, "Put the double Mac with cheese down and step away from the counter". Ironically "The Next Top Model" seems like an infomercial for eating disorders doesn't it?

Hang on for the latest addition to reality tv... watching people "tackle" turning 40? What could possibly be more boring? A much better alternative would be , "What I would trade to be 40 AGAIN". This would be imaginative and very very dark programming in my book. "Hmmmmm, there's mom..." Personally I'd like to see President Bush be a contestant on "Are you smarter than a 5th grader"? Wouldn't we all really like to know? Although sadly and frighteningly I think we do. I will admit however, that I've actually cried watching, "Extreme Make-over;Home Edition". It's true, real tears, in prime time. See I have a heart. Although "move that bus" gets on my nerves.

I'd like real people to get off my tv screen . Let them go home to eat Scorpions, lose weight, repeat 5th grade, find husbands, turn 40, and become models. Please keep them away from me. In the meantime, I'm turning on the radio.

Monday, April 14, 2008

Trumped again

My heartiest congratulations to Ivana Trump; she's getting married again. That's great news isn't it? Personally I think she can catch Liz in the number of husbands category. I'm totally excited it will be covered exclusively by an "entertainment" show. I hope it's on instead of "Meet the Press" because I could use a time-out from the endless election drama. Shut up already! How much more character bashing can I take? Tim, how about a "roundtable" discussion with Ivana and her bridesmaids? What they're wearing, where they bought the dresses, oh, and how much they cost would really be interesting, wouldn't it? Since I'm a shoe freak, I'd love to get a sneak peak. And will there be copy-downs at the Shoe Discount Warehouse? See how this is so much more fun than General Patraeus's news on Iraq? Enough about how the U.S. housing market is affecting the global economy. I think Ivana's nuptuals could perk us all up.

Although truthfully, if I were her I'd be so nervous about marrying a man 24 years younger. Seriously, how long could it last? He may have diminished eye sight, but he's no dummy. She's a cash cow right? I'm too insecure to walk around with such a boy toy and besides I can't possibly afford one. I think they're really expensive. I forgot he's Italian, I hope she didn't have to buy him in Euros! I'm sure she talked to the "ex" about the financial impact of marrying these little darlings. Oh Ivana what will you do when he stares longingly at women his own age? I think I would just burst into tears. I beg you to resist the temptation of more surgery. I suggest instead you just cut off the boy's allowance.

It's too late for me to save up for a younger man. I'd have to cancel my Blue Cross/Blue Shield policy, which given the conflicting political positions about universal health care would be really bad timing and stupid. There would be no more cable tv , high speed internet , or blond hair. No man, no matter how young is worth grey roots. It wouldn't be long before the "repo" man was loitering around my car, which btw gets very good mileage. On second thought, at this point in history no man is worth 37 miles per gallon. Ivana, be strong and don't spend all your money in this marriage as you may need it to break Liz's record.

Thursday, April 10, 2008

Face down

What are men afraid of? My friend John told me he knows what women fear most. "Really"? Yep ,he insisted that we are terrified of becoming a "BL". I was stumped. Not being fluent in initials I had no idea what he was trying to tell me."Huh"? "Bag lady, women are all terrified of becoming bag ladies". Ok. I can't say I haven't thought about it and then immediately repressed it. I also can't say I haven't joked about the idea with friends and he's right, they've all been women. Shouldn't this be an equal opportunity nightmare? Personally, I think men are terrified of lying on the bathroom floor in the middle of the night clutching their chest with no one around to call an ambulance.

I recently had a man ask me what I would do if I found him face down in the bathroom. What kind of question was that? I'm speculating it's the over 60 replacement to, "will you marry me"? I failed, as my first answer was , " call a travel agent". Men, face down is quick, no muss, no fuss, no agonizing over what belongings will fit in the cart and whether you should relocate to better weather. Thank God I don't have a lot of stuff. Shoes might pose a problem as there is no pair I can live without, especially if I'm in a temperate climate. I could wear my suede Kate Spades year round and those fab little bronze flats with the cute ankle strap. Who am I kidding,the shoes don't make the cut, but the art does. I can't leave my art collection. I'll be the "BL"pushing a cart spilling over with art and a large Cindy Sherman photo rattling along the ground behind me.

I do know what one man is afraid of. He confided in me that he was afraid of "not being loved". Wow. I was stopped in my tracks. That's quite an admission. It made me think... maybe it's not the bathroom floor or the shopping cart after all, it's "NBL".

Monday, April 7, 2008

I Hate The New Yorker

I have a secret. It's too shameful to admit. I can hardly spit it out but maybe it will be purging. I'll try... bear with me.....I dread getting "The New Yorker". Oh Lord I've said it, be merciful. It was a huge mistake, like my second divorce attorney. When I see yet another one in my mailbox my stomach sinks, my blood pressure rises and I get a rash. Crap, not "The New Yorker" again... didn't they just send one?! Why isn't this freaking subscription up already? I'm tempted to throw it away, but stop myself and instead make a solemn vow I'll read it. Yes, more than just the cartoons. The subscription seemed like a good idea at the time. My Mother was taking a course on the magazine and my son was an avid reader. I felt stupid when they talked about articles and I had no knowledge of the subjects. I had to have in.

The articles are too long. And can anyone really see the print? A lethal combination for someone in a hurry with the attention span of a near sighted gnat. I always take a cursory look, a "yes", "no" as to what I want to read. Admitedly, and this is a tough admission, I ixnay most of the magazine. It just doesn't always seem that interesting. There I confess "IT DOESN'T ALWAYS SEEM THAT INTERESTING." Oh God, I'm an idiot. I had so much promise too. Wait a minute, hold on just one sec, for the record, I did read a very long article on John Currin. I also entered the "cartoon caption contest" twice. I thought I'd win . I lost. Right now I have one "New Yorker" by my bed, one in my car and one on the floor of the bathroom. They're like roaches.

I've done this before. I subscribed to "The New York Review of Books" years ago. Each week I excitedly looked through the newest arrival and then put it in a drawer next to my bed for leisure reading. Fifty two weeks later I had a fire hazard. It was a day of intellectual reckoning when I threw them all away. I did it without therapy. I'm looking forward to the week my subscription to "The New Yorker" ends, I may have a little party. Cash bar, no food. I'm not that dumb after all.

Thursday, April 3, 2008

A few good men

I'm looking for a "few good men". No, I haven't taken a job with the Armed Services, or The Emperor's Club, which I think has enough men don't you? Besides, I'm not really looking for anyone under criminal investigation. I wonder how things are on the home front for Elliot. His wife might be searching for a few good/new men also. Sorry babe, I know you thought you had one and a Governor, even better. Although next time I suggest you stay away from politicians, a sexually tricky group: straight, gay, bi, you never know until it's in the headlines or you're suddenly next to the creep on the "you're about to lose your job" podium. Forget these guys. Personally, I'm in search of pre 1970s males.

The Women's Liberation Movement succeeded in an ironic way... it turned women into men and men into women . Presto chango! And why, why did we do this? So we could bust our ass in the work force, earn a living, raise children and do errands? Fun. And all so men could learn to be sensitive? Great. Come on, do we really want to know what they're feeling? Repression can be good. First of all, it's time saving. No sitting down for that long talk when you're on the way out the door. Who wants to look over at a sulking husband/significant other and know they want you to ask, "what's wrong"? Hey girls, we sent them off to therapists to get in touch with their feelings and oh no, now they think they're miserable and want to leave to explore other options. Like I said, repression can be good.

I'm not looking for sensitive. I'm sensitive, you're sensitive, we're all freaking sensitive. No tears, it's not personal, just take the garbage to the curb before Tuesday, ok? And if there's a man out there who isn't too busy on Saturday shopping, getting a manicure/pedicure, or sitting at Starbucks sipping a Latte, could you PLEASE COME OVER AND WATCH THE FINAL FOUR WITH ME?

Tuesday, April 1, 2008

Peeing in a Cup ; a tragic female dilemma

It's really hard to pee in a cup. If there's a trick to it, I'm clueless. This creates enormous anxiety when I go to the doctor and the first place they point me is the bathroom. Oh God, not the cup! Anything but the cup! And why,why why are they so small? Come on now Doc, it's not a precise activity for us females, how about a bowl? Men have it much easier; even with shaky hands I can't imagine it has a high degree of difficulty. All they have to do is stay awake and keep their eyes open.

I found myself taking the dreaded walk to the bathroom at my Internist's office yesterday. You'd think after years of experience at the Ob-Gyn, I'd have some level of skill and accuracy. Nope. So there I was reading the directions on the wall. This was the first time I've ever seen such specific instructions. My Gynecologist's nurse says, "there's the cup, pee, and leave it on the shelf". Now I was staring at a step by step list of what to do. I'm not good at following rules and felt panicked. There was a lovely basket of tiny cups with little blue lids; a nice Martha Stewart touch. Martha I need help babe! Is your aim better than mine? There was also a bowl of packaged towelettes for pre-peeing purposes. I couldn't get one of the tightly sealed packets opened. I grew anxious and looked around for the Xanax basket. When I finally tore it open with my teeth, the towel dropped on the floor. My first instinct was to just pick it up and continue .... I opened another one. In my rush to get done, I dropped the cup I was holding. Crap. My first instinct was to just pick it up....

Profusely sweating and slightly dizzy, but with new cup in hand, I was ready. I always think I'm in the correct general area but it's really hit or miss. "Miss" really sucks. And yes I've missed. Obviously I know instantly. It is a sad, pitiful and embarrassing moment. Thank God I'm alone. I pray I'm not the only one who has this problem. Yesterday I was lucky, first time, on target. I did have to write my name on the label twice as my nerves were still jangled and I couldn't remember how to spell "Gail". Finally and triumphantly I placed the cup on the shelf. I was proud! Now I can relax until Sept. when I'm due for my Ob-Gyn check-up. And "no" I don't practice between appointments.