Hold on just one sec Mr. Lawmaker, rumor has it the health care bill might include a special tax on Botox. Getting rid of those nasty wrinkles and furrowed brows will be even more expensive. Looking pensive can be appropriate at times but not 24/7. Nancy Pelosi this is a tax that would wreak havoc on your face babycakes. Quick you might want to take Diane Feinstein with you to your dermatologist for a "perk me up" before it's too costly. Botox tax is disturbing and makes me wonder if it isn't just a teensie weensie bit discriminatory. Besides which in this economic downturn dermatologists are suffering too.
I can't help but wonder what's going on. In my opinion if the nasty folks on Capitol Hill are going to make women pay extra for vanity why not men? I say bring on the Viagra tax. If women have to age naturally so do men. Let's once again live by the laws of that trickster Mother Nature. It's a whole new way to go "green" and will be a hell of a lot cheaper. I'm sorry boys but erectile dysfunction over 50 isn't a medical condition it's called aging. I know there are serious conditions that beg these wonder drugs and if you have a note from your urologist you get the little blue pills with no extra tax. As for the rest, "put the special blue m&ms down" and party on.
Equal opportunity taxation sure is fun.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Geek Prince Rescue Me!
Help! I need a Geek Squad Prince Charming to come to my technological rescue. I'm weak, confused, dazed, and downright dumb. My life has been turned upside down because I have to format the book I'm writing. Format I say! I've been instructed to set the margins specifically: left 1 inch, right 1 inch, top 1 inch, bottom 1.25 inches, indent 5 spaces, double space and use Arial 11 point. It sounded simple, easy, no problema, unless you're a computer loser and that's me, computer loser. I've gone through a box of Kleenex sobbing as I struggle to format. The margins set and unset in the blink of an eye. Presto chango formatting gone and I resist the urge to throw my laptop out the window. Bye-bye little crazy making machine.
I miss my Smith Corona typewriter. Life was so simple then. I loved the click clack of the keys and the messy carbon paper that got all over my hands and clothes. I would scream, crumple it into a ball and throw it across the room because I couldn't line it up with the paper correctly. Simple. I had my little bottle of white-out that I could never apply thinly enough so I had a big blob over my typo. Simple. My typewriter was too big to take to Starbucks, but I didn't care. I could manually line up the margins and set tabs, no Word Perfect to make a fool of me or drive me to drink at 10:00 a.m. I hate change.
Geek Prince, if you're out there, call me. I'm sorry if I laughed and ignored you in high school, but I'm different now (kinda). Help me set the margins, and replace Word Perfect with Microsoft Word. I need you.
I miss my Smith Corona typewriter. Life was so simple then. I loved the click clack of the keys and the messy carbon paper that got all over my hands and clothes. I would scream, crumple it into a ball and throw it across the room because I couldn't line it up with the paper correctly. Simple. I had my little bottle of white-out that I could never apply thinly enough so I had a big blob over my typo. Simple. My typewriter was too big to take to Starbucks, but I didn't care. I could manually line up the margins and set tabs, no Word Perfect to make a fool of me or drive me to drink at 10:00 a.m. I hate change.
Geek Prince, if you're out there, call me. I'm sorry if I laughed and ignored you in high school, but I'm different now (kinda). Help me set the margins, and replace Word Perfect with Microsoft Word. I need you.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Please big fat man in a Jaguar don't arrest me
I was almost arrested...by a citizen. I thought that was an urban legend, not something that actually happened. I had just pulled into a parking space in a suburban mall to meet a friend for a dinner and drinks.
Whoops did I say "drinks"? Scratch that from the record. I did say suburbs however, as in a nice, polite, upscale community. A place where people shop, laugh, drink mocha skim lattes and mind their own business. This was my naive assumption. I got out of my car in front of the restaurant and this big old fat guy in a University of Illinois jacket was pointing his finger in my face yelling "you're drunk!" I looked around to find the person he was accusing because it couldn't be me. Yet, he was staring right at me. "Huh?"
"You're drunk and I called the police and gave them your license plate number". I think I lost consciousness for a second or two out of shock.
"Excuse me sir (I was trying polite as a tactic), I have no idea what you're talking about. I am not drunk."
"Yes, you are, I've been following you. First you passed me on the right and then you've been weaving all over the mall." I did pass him on the right because he took up two lanes pulling out of his parking spot and then stopped. Is that a crime? Get over it ,move on get out of my face and no spitting.
"The truth is sir I was totally lost and couldn't find the restaurant. I was confused about the address and desperately driving around the mall looking. I am absolutely not drunk."
"Tell your story to the police missie because you're shit faced, and I've called them." Hmmm I wonder how old he thought I was. I digress. Crap,why was I still being polite? I'm surprised he didn't whip out a plastic badge and toy gun. Civility had failed and I stood there with my jaw dropped, pacing neurotically, and a little sweaty as he pulled away.
I needed a drink. Damn, I couldn't drink the police were coming. Did I have to walk a line? Breathe into a can? Call a lawyer? I was confused, frantic, and sober. Curses. My dinner was ruined. I wasted $6.50 ordering a glass of Reisling and didn't drink it, but stared longingly. I picked at my salad waiting anxiously for a vice squad to burst into the restaurant and drag me out to the curb for questionning. I watch too much TV. I left the restaurant hungry, thirsty and still wondering why I was so polite.
Whoops did I say "drinks"? Scratch that from the record. I did say suburbs however, as in a nice, polite, upscale community. A place where people shop, laugh, drink mocha skim lattes and mind their own business. This was my naive assumption. I got out of my car in front of the restaurant and this big old fat guy in a University of Illinois jacket was pointing his finger in my face yelling "you're drunk!" I looked around to find the person he was accusing because it couldn't be me. Yet, he was staring right at me. "Huh?"
"You're drunk and I called the police and gave them your license plate number". I think I lost consciousness for a second or two out of shock.
"Excuse me sir (I was trying polite as a tactic), I have no idea what you're talking about. I am not drunk."
"Yes, you are, I've been following you. First you passed me on the right and then you've been weaving all over the mall." I did pass him on the right because he took up two lanes pulling out of his parking spot and then stopped. Is that a crime? Get over it ,move on get out of my face and no spitting.
"The truth is sir I was totally lost and couldn't find the restaurant. I was confused about the address and desperately driving around the mall looking. I am absolutely not drunk."
"Tell your story to the police missie because you're shit faced, and I've called them." Hmmm I wonder how old he thought I was. I digress. Crap,why was I still being polite? I'm surprised he didn't whip out a plastic badge and toy gun. Civility had failed and I stood there with my jaw dropped, pacing neurotically, and a little sweaty as he pulled away.
I needed a drink. Damn, I couldn't drink the police were coming. Did I have to walk a line? Breathe into a can? Call a lawyer? I was confused, frantic, and sober. Curses. My dinner was ruined. I wasted $6.50 ordering a glass of Reisling and didn't drink it, but stared longingly. I picked at my salad waiting anxiously for a vice squad to burst into the restaurant and drag me out to the curb for questionning. I watch too much TV. I left the restaurant hungry, thirsty and still wondering why I was so polite.
Monday, November 2, 2009
I Love Wine and to Whine
"I'm mad as hell, and I'm not going to take this any more"! Howard Beale "Network"
Wine by the glass is too expensive! I'm sick of paying as much for a glass as for a bottle. Has anyone else noticed this bar/restaurant sleight of hand? Come on we're in a recession not the roaring 20s. I'd like to see a glass under $7.50. If by chance it is cheap we're not talkin' a tasty drinkable red or white, we're talkin' toxic waste. This financial crisis hurts my taste buds and wallet. I remember when a nice Pinot Noir was $5.50. Not any more babycakes. Got $9.00? I don't. Now I madly search the menu for a wine I can afford and don't care about the color, just the price . Tears well up in my eyes realizing beer would better serve my retirement. I hate beer and put my head down on the bar sobbing.
It was like a dream come true when I discovered Malbec; Argentinean, lovely and cheap. I stopped crying. At $6.00 a glass I could once again fantasize about retirement. I spotted it on enough menus to keep me happy, high, and able to leave a tip. I smirked as my friends ordered the expensive Pinot while I mumbled my Malbec order so they couldn't hear. The grape was mine alone. I rue the day someone said "I'll have what she's having." Curses. My secret wine find caught on and now it's at least $7.50 a glass. "I'll have an Amstel light."
My friend Jane turned me on to Reisling. I thought the grape was for wine wimps, losers with unsophisticated taste buds and restricted sinus passages. I was too good for the poor little grape BUT it was the cheapest glass on every menu. I could learn to love again and retire. Now I need your help. Please, I'm begging you order the Malbec.
Wine by the glass is too expensive! I'm sick of paying as much for a glass as for a bottle. Has anyone else noticed this bar/restaurant sleight of hand? Come on we're in a recession not the roaring 20s. I'd like to see a glass under $7.50. If by chance it is cheap we're not talkin' a tasty drinkable red or white, we're talkin' toxic waste. This financial crisis hurts my taste buds and wallet. I remember when a nice Pinot Noir was $5.50. Not any more babycakes. Got $9.00? I don't. Now I madly search the menu for a wine I can afford and don't care about the color, just the price . Tears well up in my eyes realizing beer would better serve my retirement. I hate beer and put my head down on the bar sobbing.
It was like a dream come true when I discovered Malbec; Argentinean, lovely and cheap. I stopped crying. At $6.00 a glass I could once again fantasize about retirement. I spotted it on enough menus to keep me happy, high, and able to leave a tip. I smirked as my friends ordered the expensive Pinot while I mumbled my Malbec order so they couldn't hear. The grape was mine alone. I rue the day someone said "I'll have what she's having." Curses. My secret wine find caught on and now it's at least $7.50 a glass. "I'll have an Amstel light."
My friend Jane turned me on to Reisling. I thought the grape was for wine wimps, losers with unsophisticated taste buds and restricted sinus passages. I was too good for the poor little grape BUT it was the cheapest glass on every menu. I could learn to love again and retire. Now I need your help. Please, I'm begging you order the Malbec.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
