"Take it off, take it all off"

Girls, girls, girls, good news! I heard on the Today Show, the adult entertainment industry is looking for new talent. Wow, career opportunities are sprouting up in the strangest places. Laid off from that cushy mortgage banking job....now you can strip and pole dance your way back to gainful employment. Do you get health insurance along with the pole? Yes, it's true women from corporate America have turned to Gentleman's clubs for job security. I wonder if Harvard business school will teach pole dancing instead of finance until the economy picks up? And crap if I didn't miss my chance, The Foxy Lady Club held a job fair! The competition must have been fierce as 1,500 people showed up. Truthfully, my resume wouldn't stand a chance against an ex asset manager from Goldman Sachs. And then there's my age...and the fact that I would feel sad hearing the words "Leave it on"!

I would have to carefully consider who my target audience would be. Are there clubs specifically for men with cataracts? Or night blindness? How about Octogenarians, don't they have poor eye sight and need a fun place to go? Would a Del Webb community be interested in a strip joint for seniors with... ta da!....senior strippers?! I've got my entrepreneurial thinking cap on. I heard the pay is pretty nice, as much as $1,500 a night; the auto union or Walmart can't promise me that.

Admittedly, and this is tough to admit, I'm a little nervous about wrenching my back pole dancing. I'm kind of a spaz around anything that resembles gym equipment. I fell off the rope in 6th grade and have never quite regained my confidence. "Welcome to Walmart".

Don't grow old with me,

Crap, it's time to choose between the happiness derived from a sugar high and living to 120. Now that's a tough decision and not to be made lightly or hopped up on a double mocha latte. If it's longevity you desire, "Put the Snickers down and step away from the candy machine". Dr. Ahmet Oz, Oprah's medical guru, says there's a way to be old, older, oldest. The key according to the Doc ; calorie restriction! Ixnay to the warm cuddly feeling a Twinkie provides. Want something sweet, chew on a sweet potato. Yummy, bring on the legumes and watch your 90's fly by.

Personally I don't mind the fruits and vegetables required or the paltry 1,500 calories a day, as when I'm not eating tiny Mounds bars I'm consuming pounds of produce. The real question for me is ....why, why, why would I want to be 120?!?!?! Correct me if I'm wrong but, does that sound like fun? And what WOULD fun be for a 120 year old cranky spoiled Jewish Princess? Lord knows, I'd probably look like crap and regret not having my face lifted at 100. I doubt I could wear my fab high heels for fear of falling or my little black strapless clingy dress for fear of scaring people. And for all you boys and girls who think I complain a lot now....OY! Clearly I'd have no friends and multiple restraining orders issued against me. Wow, good times huh?

Can you imagine what it would be like sitting around with fellow 120 year olds or those upstart kids in their late 90s!? What would we talk about?
Not sex . ... the visuals would be way too disturbing. Prune juice vs. Metamucil? I know this is a favorite subject of my 90 yr. old mother. Dr. Oz.... pass the Twinkies please.

Candy the anti-venom for TARP

Candy is dandy and quicker than liquor. Yep, that good sugar high is fast and tastes oh so comforting in a quaking economy. I better stock up on my favorite tasty treats as I read in today's New York Times that with nerves shattering and stress levels rising people are diving for the closest candy bin. I however, love candy even when I feel calm and have cash. I confess I'm a penny candy junkie. Bring on the bite size Baby Ruths, Nestles Crunch, Butterfingers, and my beloved Mounds bars. Do not, I repeat do not come too close to me with a Mounds bar in your hand. And it isn't just urban legend, it's true I threatened 4 year old twin boys for complete access to their "trick or treat" booty.

At candy stores around the country business is booming. It's bigger than the sex toy industry which btw is also thriving and does anyone see a connection? Need I say it again, why, why, why isn't this the lead story on the evening news? Wouldn't it cheer everyone up? Snickers, Tootsie rolls, Mary Janes, Nonpareils, Sugar Daddies, Neco Wafers, and Mallo cups; who isn't salivating or doesn't have tears of nostalgia in their eyes? How I loved the chocolate Necco wafers and would pluck them out of the roll, leaving the other nasty tasting colors for my sobbing little sister.

I suggest however, until stock portfolios pick up you stay away from any sticky type candy. I once broke a tooth on a jelly bean and my 10 cent purchase cost me $1,200 in a new crown. Ixnay to gummy bears, Swedish fish and Skittles. Besides what possible emotional comfort can be found in a Skittle?

TWITTERING away the hours

I'm confused. Am I supposed to spend $$ or save it? Shop til I drop, or squirrel away the quarters I accumulate avoiding expensive toll booths. George Bush wanted me to go out and spend, spend, spend and I'm not exactly sure what President Obama wants me to do with my cash. My friend Dan told me shopping is a big faux pas; it's chic to be frugal. Is it cool to be poor? Either way, desperately needing new underwear, I snuk into Target after dark in order to avoid social banishment or ridicule. And girls just in case purchasing becomes acceptable again, they have some darling little dresses and tops for spring all under $20. Btw, $5.95 for a 7 pack of panties. How about telling the country that piece of good news Bill O'Reilly or Chris Matthews!?

Confusion seems to be my state of mind these days. Can someone please tell me what TWITTER is? Apparently everyone is twittering. Is it a national nervous condition or newfangled form of communication? I'm not sure my nervous system can take one more way to communicate without human contact. I just heard I can follow hundreds or thousands of people's lives moment by moment on Twitter. Why, why, why would I want to do that? I've realized I've become a cultural dinosaur in my desire to actually talk to someone face to face. Oh God, not face to face! Quick, I need a Blackberry or IPhone... I NEED TO TWITTER! The truth is I just learned to "cut and paste" on my computer .... I'm a Dinotech.

Actually this morning was a landmark. I got an email from Facebook that someone made me their "friend". I almost burst into tears of joy. I was touched and once again confused. I have no idea what to do next or what it means, but it felt like I'm one step closer to being popular. The last time being my junior/senior years at New Trier High School.

Everything must go, go, go!

Come one, come all! Come on down. I'm a little behind the new trend but it's never too late. All the clothes in my closet are for sale. That's right everything, and not just the nice stuff. It's an "everything must go" blow-out. Clothes for all seasons. And most of them are clean; except my parka, that's a little nasty unless you like horses...oh and yellow labrador retrievers. Ok, forget the parka I have a "dress" down jacket for that special evening out. It's black, it's puffy, it's warm, it has a "North Face" logo....nothing says "I'm special" like a logo...! Tell you what, to make this purchase even better I'll throw in at no extra charge, the slightly dirty mittens that are stuffed in the pockets. You heard it right and you heard it here first.

If you love black, I'm your closet. I have dresses, skirts, sweaters, coats, jackets, belts, t-shirts, and bras all black. Say good-bye to color and come on over. Here's another reason to shop with me and not at some ratty closet on Craig's list....I'm serving cocktails 24/7. Yep, even the champagne you've been craving but too cheap to order. I do however, have a strict "you stain it, you own it" policy. Hate to dress up and looking for something more casual? For one day only I'm willing to part with my old shabby "New York Sports Club" gym shorts and my ripped beyond recognition, 1986 New York Mets World Series t-shirt. Although either item must go to a good home.

To sweeten the sale even further, I will be spraying Estee Lauder's "Beautiful" perfume on the first 50 customers. Hey, if it's good enough for Gwenyth Paltrow...besides, then you'll get that familiar Saks feeling and forget you're in a closet. Better hurry, I'm getting a little anxious/sweaty and starting to re-think this incredible offer. Oh, and in your rush to get here, don't forget to bring $$$$.

Barbie is an AARP member !

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU, HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR BARBIE DOLL,HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU! I know I'm days late with the song, but I have memory loss. Besides who wants to turn fifty any sooner than they have to? She did get some nice tv coverage of the big event, especially for a plastic blond who has no opinion on the "economic recovery" package. Wow, the girl's getting old, although admitedly I'm older and do not have her perky breasts. Truthfully, blondie and I have very little in common.

First of all let's take a good hard look at her taste in men. A big ixnay in my play book. Ken? No, no, no! Way too preppy and more than likely was gay. As for GI JOE, ick, ick, ick, unless he was going to medical or law school after the Army, which I doubt. He liked his camouflage outfit too much and face it, he could never have supported her thousands of wardrobe changes on a military salary. She was a total fashionista. I must admit little Barbie had an extraordinary career run: flight attendant, nurse, art teacher, life guard, pilot, babysitter, cowgirl, paleontologist (huh?), McDonald's cashier, astronaut etc....wow, there was no rest for the "type A" blond bombshell was there? All I've been so far is an art dealer....not much time to play career catch up ...although Walmart greeter might be in my future.

Fifty has a way of sneaking up , even on a hot teenager like Barbie. Ha ha! And don't think all those years in high heels won't catch up with her... I suggest flats and Dr. Scholl's inserts. It's obvious she's already been to Diane Sawyer's plastic surgeon ...and listen up Barbie, I NEED HIS NAME AND PHONE NUMBER IMMEDIATELY!

My week with Warren Buffet

I'm baaaaaack! A week on the road sure was fun.... packing, unpacking, packing ,unpacking, schlepping, schlepping, schlepping....all to make 1,893 miles feel shorter by stopping along the way. Obviously the Wright brothers hated road trips also. Scottsdale Arizona was first. Unfortunately I still have a headache from the "cowboy" Chardonnay they serve in the restaurants/bars there. I love when they color code wine and tap it like beer...yummy and saves time "corking" a bottle. Got Advil? I also discovered my yellow lab Elliot doesn't like to pee in the desert....too prickly. He tiptoed through the brush and then hightailed his pansy ass out. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find grass in Scottsdale?

Santa Fe was next and thank God they have grass. They also have turquoise...tons and tons and tons of turquoise. I thought I was in a 70's time warp, but then realized I wasn't high. Crap. The Whole Foods in town was having an arugula strike. That confused me...what exactly is an arugula strike and is there a Cesar Chavez for this fancy yuppie roughage? The dog peed, I did not buy any turquoise, and then hit the road still perplexed about the arugula. FYI, there is no Ritz Carlton in Amarillo Texas, or a 4 Seasons. There is a 1 season La Quinta. If thread count , and fluffy towels are not a necessity, you would love a weekend there. For the gourmand, Denny's and Wendy's are in walking distance and the smell of cattle is wafting through the air! AHHHHHH I love the smell of livestock in the morning.

Would the fun never stop? Or how many more freaking miles were ahead of me? I had Warren Buffet's book "The Snowball" on cd and was fascinated to learn he was as "cheap" as my dad. That's about all they had in common. Warren, Warren, Warren, you're a financial genius, but you can't take it with you! My dad however, is determined to. We stopped at a Cracker Barrel restaurant outside of St. Louis, which fyi DOES NOT serve alcohol but does have a nifty gift shop if you like Martha Stewart on steroids. I had 2 biscuits with my lunch which were tasteless but light and crumbly...ok, I was desperate , anxious, and sober.

I intentionally snuk back into Chicago after dark. Please don't tell the channel 5 weatherman I'm here or this endless rain will turn to snow.

On the road ...again

So long Palm Springs! Two months flew by. Didn't I just get here all pasty white, sleep deprived, and cranky? Happily, I'm no longer white but a nice wrinkled shade of burnt umber, well rested ,because of the fluffy bedding and good meds, and a lot less irritable ...right?!right?!right?! I did have a nice stretch of low anxiety days, thanks in great part to the sun being out. Ahhhhhhhh light! Oh and no hateful, insidious channel 5 weatherman blabbing on and on about mind numbing, death causing cold. I'll never like that guy. Crap, I have his snarky face in my future. See, the crankiness is sneaking back in and I'm still in the SUN.

I have to admit as much as I love the desert, the bright light can really be a big bummer . I for one do not, I repeat, DO NOT, need to see my face so blindingly clear. Ouch babe! It's downright painful, scary, and depressing to see myself in the mirror in that much light. I had no freaking idea I looked that bad. How come no one told me...in a nice calming voice? No wonder all the women here have made a b-line for the plastic surgeon. One more week and I'd have hightailed it to the nearest guy with a scalpel also. "Here take my money and my face, and hurry"! Although my friend Betsy wisely suggested it's cheaper to just turn down the lights and only look at one small area of your face at a time. Right on!

I hope on my way out of town I see the man on Ramon Road dressed as the Statue of Liberty. It's a great costume. I should really stop and ask him where he got it, what he's promoting and how much he gets paid. I don't look good in such drapey outfits but the greenish blue color would be nice with my eyes, and I could use the cash. I'll miss him. Gotta get on the road , I can't prolonge the inevitable, inevitably. My dreaded North Face ARCTIC parka's in the trunk. Oh God, the words "artic parka" make me cry. I'll get back to you when I stop sobbing.