Maybe Uncle Sam Wants Me

I am clearly an idiot. Or just too old for the internet. I still don't get it, as hard as I try. I have so many passwords I can't remember which one goes where or what my "user name" is on any freaking account. The morning is obviously not going well. In a desperate attempt to link this blog to other blogs and get more reader traffic I did a google search on the topic. Wait a sec while I breathe into a paper bag....that helps with hyperventilating doesn't it? How about a plastic bag? I started this project feeling relaxed and confident that with a little effort I could figure out how to expand in the blogoshere or whatever planet they call it. I found a helpful site that let's you join for free and yep, I'm all about free. I was ready to sign up. I was still calm and felt proud my research seemed to be paying off. All I had to do was join.

When did joining become impossible? I joined the Brownies, Girl Scouts, Art Institute, Museum of Contemporary Art, Illinois Hunter Jumper Association,and AARP (the only difficult part there was admitting I was old enough to join). All these organizations wanted was my name, address and money. There was no user name, profile name and secret password! I'm not trying to join the CIA for God's sake. Which btw is probably easy these days. Who has this many names? Who wants this many names? I'm a member of AARP, I can't be expected to remember these names. And forget the suggestion of writing them down....I have no idea where I write them and which group of names is for which account. This sucks. And do these freaking web-sites help you? The words "invalid user name" kept popping up over and over and over and over. The blood was draining from my face . I was sitting in front of the computer screen how could I be "invalid"? What was wrong with my user name? What do you mean I'm not valid!!!!! I clicked on "help" but there was no help, just a list of suggestions. I NEEDED A PHONE NUMBER. I needed to talk to a real person. I longed to complain to a real person with one name. I took a deep breath and tried again to fill in the "name" blanks . I struggled to breathe slowly and steadily as I clicked "continue". " Invalid User Name " reappeared. I was crazed, on the verge of hysteria. I tried every user name I've ever used. I tried dozens of combinations of passwords I've concocted to placate my computer. INVALID USER NAME was all I got for my effort.

Who am I? I'm invalid with no secret password, thinking of joining the CIA.

Calling all girls

I had a bad case of voter's panic. I almost stayed home. How could I go when I still had no idea who I wanted? I had an argument for Hillary and Barack. My son threatened my life if I didn't cast my vote for Obama. I don't succumb to threats that easily however. I drove myself crazy on the ride to the polling place. Clinton, Obama, Clinton, Obama...I didn't have a clue. And I'm the fool who watched every Sunday morning talk show, and read every New York Times Op-Ed column. I had to know, but I didn't. Crap. My fear of multiple choice questions must have kicked in also. I could always make a case for each option. I flunked a lot of tests obviously. Give me an essay question and I'll give you an answer.

I walked in the polling place undecided; perhaps I'd have some last minute epiphany or maybe I could cheat and read off of someone else's paper. That prevented me from leaving an Earth Science test in college completely blank. I flunked anyway. There I was with two sheets of candidates, a #2 pencil and no answers. I filled in everything but the choice for President . Quite honestly I had no idea who anyone was. I had some name recognition via media ads but couldn't remember anything about them. Anita Alvarez, Larry Suffredin, Tom someone...who are you? I devised a plan. It was the only way I was going to get out of my cubicle with any marks on my paper. I would vote for all the women; a "you go girls" ballot. It just seemed right. I was still one answer short , the one I left for last, Hillary or Barack? Should I continue my all girl vote? I was freaked. Pick one, I yelled at myself. Spin around three or four times and land on a name. That of course risked being taken away tied to a stretcher. I stared at the two names for either an hour or a minute; I lost track. Whose idea was a primary anyway? And could I order a cocktail? Was it this hard for everyone? It felt too difficult, which perhaps meant it felt hopeful. Like I said, "you go girls".

Super Sized Tuesday

Super Tuesday is coming! Super Tuesday is coming! If I didn't know better I'd think it was a national fast food promotion. Mac vs. the Whopper; take your pick, take a chance. I don't eat meat, so fast food Tuesday would be lost on me. I do vote however, and it's my turn. Have I been influenced by all those caucuses and primaries before me? Nah. I do feel the urge to caucus though. I don't get it, but I'd definitely like to try. It seems neighborly, not as lonely as a voting booth. BTW the first time I ever voted I almost got locked in the damn booth. It was very traumatic. For the life of me I couldn't figure out how to get out. I was panicked and realized I had to start screaming for help, or crawl out under the curtain on my hands and knees. Ok, I'm voting booth challenged, and after about ten sweaty minutes found the exit lever. It's a miracle I still vote and now have a fear of small confined spaces.

Why is it "super" Tuesday I wonder? What about "Monster Monday"? Or "Fateful Friday"? Or "A Waste of a Wednesday"? The electoral process has gotten more complicated it seems and arduously looooong. There are too many whacked out candidates that fill my tv screen. Although given the personal scrutiny we now put these potential presidents through we're reduced to the criminally pure and scandal free. Get a grip people, we never would have elected our precious John F. Kennedy today. He makes Bill look like amateur night. Perhaps we should take a moment to reflect......... Feel worse? I for one haven't decided who will be my Super Tuesday choice. Thanks, John Edwards for dropping in and out; your exuberance was fun, but even I don't spend that much on a haircut. I did like Joe Biden but no one else did. Joe, if you ever want to grab lunch I'm there.

With approximately 80 hours to go I can't decide. Hillary, I know you can bake quite a good brownie, and I do prefer your health care plan. I'm wowed by your intelligence. How do you remember so much detail? I can hardly conger up my return address . You seem ready for the job and a thankless job it is. After all right after the exhilaration of being elected think of all the people who will hate and second guess you. Of course who understands that better than a Clinton? Barack, I need the promise of your promise! After eight years of George Bush I've definitely lost "that loving feeling". Can you really deliver? You may be just the man for the job. You both blew me away in last night's debate. I was cheering for each of you. I felt excitement for the future regardless of who gets the nomination.

So on Super Tuesday I'll commit to one of you, but not before a gratuitous stop at MacDonalds and Burger King.

Boomers be afraid, be very afraid

I'm weak, out of control, with little will power. I woke up Sunday morning and tried as hard as humanly possible to stay away from Tim Russert, George Stephanopolis,and Chris Matthews. I didn't need them, I wasn't interested, I'm an independent thinker capable of a position of personal isolationism. I walked through the den head down, passed the tv and with every ounce of strength put one foot in front of the other. Coffee was the only thing on my mind. "I love coffee, I can't wait to have a nice leisurely cup of coffee, hang out in the kitchen, look out the window, give the dog a biscuit, think about... OH WHO WAS I KIDDING? I grabbed the cup, spilling most of it, and ran back to catch the shows. The dog would have to wait, along with the bucolic view out the window. I was almost in withdrawl as I frantically fumbled around with the seven clickers it takes to get to one freaking channel. For God's sake I just wanted a lousy station, which remote turned on the television??? I stopped myself from throwing the silver one against the wall realizing that would be counter -productive. I was almost feverish. Ahhhh there was Tim, click, there was George, I stopped shaking and settled in with my boys.

If only the morning was filled with my usual yelling at the screen in protest, but it wasn't. The commercials freaked me out. I tried to ignore them, but couldn't; they were specifically aimed at my demographic. Baby boomers, run, hide, head for the hills, Madison Avenue is after us, and it isn't pretty. It's sad, so very sad. We're not old yet. We don't deserve this; go away! Take your old age products and put them on the air in another time slot. I don't want to know where my life is heading or already arrived. I had no idea what "Flomax" was for, but there on my screen was a group of men roughly boomer age or a little older out doing various sports and either frantically jumping off their bikes or out of boats to hit the bathroom. Men, you have prostate problems and "Flomax" is the solution. Wow and ugh. "Ducolax" was next in this Sunday morning line-up of fun. If I didn't have regularity issues yet they're on the horizon and this product is my salvation. Ugh again. I didn't need "The Hair Club For Men" but they're looking for self conscious "boomer" bald guys. I couldn't figure out however, if the club grows hair for you in a petri dish and plants it on your head or makes a wig out of your own hair. I don't really want the answer and good luck to men who do. Weight loss was next and afterall, we could all stand to flatten our abs. I suggest just giving up. Of course thirty minutes couldn't go by without being reminded I can't see the print on a menu. Bifocals are affordable and no one will know I'm wearing them. I was now totally depressed and vowed to stop going to restaurants. Practically in tears, I no longer cared who was running for President , yet couldn't help but notice that Tim Russert's hair was thinning and he could stand to loose a few pounds.

Job Security; it's just a shot away

Help I need media deprivation! I'm at the brink, barely able to sustain psychological equilibruim. Every morning I'm bombarded with bad news, from the deteriorating economy, to destabilzation in the Middle East, to mercurial presidential hopefuls, and now mercury tainted sushi. This is getting harder and harder to take. I'm oh so close to canceling my precious New York Times subscription, and unplugging the tv. I need time to relax, breathe without hyperventilating, see what a news free world feels like. It might be nice to live in a vacuum for a while; what war? I'm a news junkie but pulling the needle out of my arm might allow me a happier, less disturbing life. News rehab should be a Betty Ford program.

What brought me to the very edge of sanity was an article I read Thursday in the Times ,"Nice Resume. Have You Considered Botox?" This was in the Style section which I read for entertainment not mind numbing fear. I like the fashion photos not news that I'm too old and wrinkled for the job market. This brought me to my knees. I hadn't heard about the newest self help book entitled "How Not to Look Old". Aging apparently has reached disease status! Funny, I don't feel ill. Although thinking I couldn't get a job because I'm over 50 has made me nauseous. "Looking hip is not just about vanity anymore, it's critical to every woman's personal and financial survival", is stated on the book jacket. Pepto Bismol anyone? Or Jonestown Kool-aid? Employers are factoring out experience and acheivement, and factoring in date of birth, wrinkle free eyes , forehead and a size 2 skirt? We are a deep nation aren't we? Gloria Steinem do want to add anything or are you off getting Botox for job security?

I find this deeply distressing. I run to the mirror to see if I could get a job.
DOES THAT MAKE SENSE? I run to the mirror to see if I could get a job? I run to the garbage with the Style section. Tomorrow I'm going to throw away the whole paper and see if that doesn't make me look and feel younger.

Dr. Phil , call me

Hey Doc, just checking in. What's going on? Where have you been? Still working on those dating "matches"? Not easy is it? Why don't you forget it and become a spokesperson for staying married? You could run a campaign called " Marital Misery is better than Dating Duds". I like that, what about you? Oh, I forgot you've been too busy trying to save Britney Spears from herself. Well that didn't work. The press is calling you a busy body. Were you just showing off or what? A Britney intervention is good pub I admit, but perhaps leaving her locked up for a while is best. There are more important items on the national agenda, like a presidential campaign, health care, the economy and the war, for starters. Any thoughts about that? I couldn't care less about Britney and don't recommend head shaving as a spur of the moment activity. Besides I think the teenage population has moved on to or moved to Hannah Montana. I remain miffed as to who or where Hannah Montana is. Do you know? And how's Oprah? She's looking tired . I don't know if I like the long hair. Please don't tell her I said so, but I think she's put on a few pounds. Ouch babe. Those holiday parties sure have a way of catching up. Oh btw, the bald look works for you, so I wasn't pointing fingers .

Well kiddo, that's about it. Nothing new with me really. Weather terror has consumed my life and my friends are avoiding me as a result of my constant complaining, but that's pretty much business as usual. Sorry you haven't been in my blog lately but if you send me a ticket to Florida I'll make you a regular again.

"Help me if you can I'm feeling down"

I'm exhausted. I'm terrified. I'm confused.
The weather has worn me out. Picture this: long underwear, jeans, two pairs of socks, an undershirt, 2 cashmere sweaters, a scarf, a face/neck warmer, mittens, hat, down parka and boots. It took 15 minutes to put on this sexy little outfit. Moving around in it is difficult yet necessary because weather death is out there. Turn on the tv, pick up the newspaper, temperature terrorism is back! Get in out of the cold, stay away from doors, and windows... duck, hide, get under the bed, pull the covers over your head, bundle up, layer up, give up. I take one slow step at a time as I walk the dog and with each breath I gasp an obscenity and grimace. I know this will cause wrinkles around my eyes and mouth. If I make it to spring I will need Botox. I leave my pile of clothes at the door exhausted from having worn them. I remain awed by the stamina of Heidi, but then again small children are much more resilient and stupid. She should have moved to the south of France. I go back to bed and vow to sleep out the winter.

I'm terrified of the headlines. Every morning the news of a forthcoming recession gets worse. "RECESSION" is coming, recession is coming"! Oh God, now what should I do? I could cancel the paper, but it's on the internet and the lead story on all the newscasts. Even the President who remains so happy/optimistic about the war and giving money to Pakistan appeared on my tv with an expression unusual for him ,"concern". At last he's reading the paper. Of course the man will never feel my financial pain, which would in fact lift my spirits. I did manage to sell my property before the real estate bubble BURST!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And what a mighty mess it's making. I do have good credit, of course that's useless without money. How come the mortgage industry didn't think of that? Hello, you freaking idiots. Time to cut off everyone's "a.r.m.s"? I faint at the sight of blood. I've enjoyed my name, even in it's many marital reincarnations and if I get a notice that my bank has been sold to China and I've been reduced to symbols I'll be very cranky. Is it time for the LEDGE? Anyone want to join me? How about you Alan Greenspan? Am I premature? I could be a trendsetter. Oh, wait I can't, the weatherman told me to stay away from windows.

I'm confused. Who's running for President? Is my mother? I haven't talked to her lately. Forget Mom, she's not running, she just phoned and is too busy with "last call" at Neimans. So who's left... Rudy, Mitt, John, Mike, Hillary,Barack, John, and maybe Michael. Is that it? If I've missed anyone please let me know. Everyday someone's either dropping out or in. They're flipping, flopping, whining, finger pointing, accusing, and even crying. My head is spinning, like Linda Blair in "The Exorcist". I only hope this election the voters won't again choose the person they'd most like to join them in a beer. It's really not a good reason; health care , but not happy hour with the Commander in Chief. That just didn't work out well. I haven't decided yet. I'm carefully watching the debates. I'm committed to making an informed decision but at the moment I just want a beer and not with the President.