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.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Me and the Prince of Denmark
"To sleep, perchance to dream"... hold on there you wacky Prince of Denmark, if you could fall asleep why can't I? I don't have nearly as much on my mind as you did. I have mother issues but not as serious as yours. Mostly Mom wants to know what I'm wearing, where I'm going and who I'm with. She's also obsessed with a "facial mask" I should apply for my wrinkles but I'm sure your Mom wasn't as pesty about appearances. Of course you also weren't worried about a mortgage because you lived in a big old castle that was paid for. No loan defaults in your world right? I'm guessing you didn't have the rising cost of health care about which to wrack your brain, and my nagging dilemma of, "to get a colonoscopy or not to get a colonoscopy"? No wonder I can't sleep. Hamlet, dude step aside.
What happened to the days when I woke up at the crack of noon? Granted I was 17 but I had stress then also. Was my blue Villager sweater back from the cleaners, did Roger like me or Joby? Crap, I forgot to finish my alegebra homework because I couldn't figure out the difference between x and y. On a more serious note did my parents notice the car smelled from cigarettes? Sadly, I wasn't invited to the Senior Prom but had a dress picked out. Tragically and worst of all I had a giant zit on my cheek. Face it those were real sleep busters, but regardless I dozed away. Lights off I'm dreaming like that wack-a-doodle Prince. Btw, Roger liked Joby ...I was crushed yet sleepy.
I listen to the commercials for sleep aids with the melodious voice over enticing me , "Come with us to a calm, peaceful, full night of sleep". "I'm coming, wait up, here I come" , I cry out to the TV. "Take me with you"! I long for sleep ... and oddly my blue Villager sweater.
What happened to the days when I woke up at the crack of noon? Granted I was 17 but I had stress then also. Was my blue Villager sweater back from the cleaners, did Roger like me or Joby? Crap, I forgot to finish my alegebra homework because I couldn't figure out the difference between x and y. On a more serious note did my parents notice the car smelled from cigarettes? Sadly, I wasn't invited to the Senior Prom but had a dress picked out. Tragically and worst of all I had a giant zit on my cheek. Face it those were real sleep busters, but regardless I dozed away. Lights off I'm dreaming like that wack-a-doodle Prince. Btw, Roger liked Joby ...I was crushed yet sleepy.
I listen to the commercials for sleep aids with the melodious voice over enticing me , "Come with us to a calm, peaceful, full night of sleep". "I'm coming, wait up, here I come" , I cry out to the TV. "Take me with you"! I long for sleep ... and oddly my blue Villager sweater.
Friday, October 23, 2009
Find My Glasses and get a Reward
Has anyone seen my glasses? Crap. I know they couldn't just up and walk away. Glasses can't walk right? Of course they can't, but I think there's a vacuum cleaner that can. Besides which my glasses were expensive. Tragically, I looked bad in every single pair except the $400 frames. I call them my "no more vacation" glasses. So now I can't see and the trip to Florida is off. Yes, I looked in the washing machine AND dryer, no glasses but I did find a blue hat that wasn't mine. Nope, not in the dishwasher which I should unload soon anyway. Hey, they were dirty so that was a reasonable option. I ripped apart the couch which I don't advise unless your dog is the same color. (Where do I keep the vacuum)? I haven't used the oven in 6 months but after my usual two glasses of wine it might seem logical.
My purse? Of course, of course! I ravaged it at least four times and vowed to never again buy one with so many compartments. They didn't turn up in the box with my new darling Kate Spade high heels, but it did make me long for a place to wear them. And wonder why I bought them. The refrigerator was a bust, but in desperate need of food. No wonder I'm always hungry. The garbage almost made sense but yuk. Under the bed, behind the bed, nope and nope. I promised however to vacuum before the week was up. A lightbulb when off! They were in a pocket. Yes, yes, yes... I was crazed and sweating when I concluded I had too many , or can you never have enough? Why was the dog staring at me in my wild search? He ate them. After all there's no homework.
The car, they absolutely had to be in the car because I need them to drive. Glove compartment, trunk, under the driver's seat, passenger seat, in the cushions , cupholders, nothing resembling glasses but I wondered if the Snickers bar wedged in the back was still edible. I knew the sticky candy cane in the cupholder wasn't. A friend of mine was at the airport and said he'd look but I hadn't been there in six months, and it reminded me of the vacation I wouldn't be taking.
Is this it? The moment that age had caught up with me? And how old am I? Thankfully I've forgotten.
My purse? Of course, of course! I ravaged it at least four times and vowed to never again buy one with so many compartments. They didn't turn up in the box with my new darling Kate Spade high heels, but it did make me long for a place to wear them. And wonder why I bought them. The refrigerator was a bust, but in desperate need of food. No wonder I'm always hungry. The garbage almost made sense but yuk. Under the bed, behind the bed, nope and nope. I promised however to vacuum before the week was up. A lightbulb when off! They were in a pocket. Yes, yes, yes... I was crazed and sweating when I concluded I had too many , or can you never have enough? Why was the dog staring at me in my wild search? He ate them. After all there's no homework.
The car, they absolutely had to be in the car because I need them to drive. Glove compartment, trunk, under the driver's seat, passenger seat, in the cushions , cupholders, nothing resembling glasses but I wondered if the Snickers bar wedged in the back was still edible. I knew the sticky candy cane in the cupholder wasn't. A friend of mine was at the airport and said he'd look but I hadn't been there in six months, and it reminded me of the vacation I wouldn't be taking.
Is this it? The moment that age had caught up with me? And how old am I? Thankfully I've forgotten.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Sex or the Internet; pick one
Sex or the internet? Hmmmm, which would you give up for two weeks? No really. I for one, have become an internet hermit and junkie, which is a disturbing thought and no, I don't have a beard the last I looked, but I need to re-check. Whew, back from the mirror, no beard, but I could use a hair cut. What season is it? Are short skirts in or out? How much is gas? If I pick sex I better shower. And btw if you're reading this you might consider showering more also. I used to have a life.
There was a time when I got up in the morning and got dressed but now my little laptop calls to me from my office. "Gail, I'm in here...come in....take a seat....maybe "YOU'VE GOT MAIL"! " Ahhhhh yes, yes, yes, yes, mail"! Is this the 21st century orgasm? I don't have to leave the tiny tantalizing little machine when I can get everything from refrigerators to tires to vibrators on line. I can even shop for dates and never actually have to go on one, which is a time saver. I love men I never have to meet ... so much easier to get along.
How did this happen to me? I was a free spirited hippy, a flower child, a vegetarian and totally anti-establishment. Now I'm in my green robe from Target hooked on technology. I can "google" every single ache and pain in my body. It's like a dream come true. I've spent hours just on my left knee. A diagnosis alludes me, but I'm getting close. And my cracking thumb is still ripe for researching. Is this turning you on too? Are my medical symptoms better than foreplay? Are the words "you've got mail" more exciting than that man/woman in your life? Is "Facebook" hotter than face time? Although I bet you could "Twitter" and have sex simultaneously but, THAT'S CHEATING. It's crunch time...no sex or no internet for two weeks. You go first.
There was a time when I got up in the morning and got dressed but now my little laptop calls to me from my office. "Gail, I'm in here...come in....take a seat....maybe "YOU'VE GOT MAIL"! " Ahhhhh yes, yes, yes, yes, mail"! Is this the 21st century orgasm? I don't have to leave the tiny tantalizing little machine when I can get everything from refrigerators to tires to vibrators on line. I can even shop for dates and never actually have to go on one, which is a time saver. I love men I never have to meet ... so much easier to get along.
How did this happen to me? I was a free spirited hippy, a flower child, a vegetarian and totally anti-establishment. Now I'm in my green robe from Target hooked on technology. I can "google" every single ache and pain in my body. It's like a dream come true. I've spent hours just on my left knee. A diagnosis alludes me, but I'm getting close. And my cracking thumb is still ripe for researching. Is this turning you on too? Are my medical symptoms better than foreplay? Are the words "you've got mail" more exciting than that man/woman in your life? Is "Facebook" hotter than face time? Although I bet you could "Twitter" and have sex simultaneously but, THAT'S CHEATING. It's crunch time...no sex or no internet for two weeks. You go first.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
