R & R

This Kat is enroute with PaulA on a little vacation...a well-timed break of R & R...Rest, Relax, and Reposado. We're leaving the country for Cabo San Jose, Mexico.

Don Julio. Guacamole. Chimichanga. (Just practicing my Spanish.)

I'm told the area we are visiting is safe from war lords, drug lords, and lord of the rings. But in case, that's not the case, I've made peace with my lord.

I will try to blog next week from Cabo Wabo, but at this time i don't know if I will have excess access to the internet.

Anywhoooo.......

Baring any unpleasant episodic episodes with tekillya or Montezuma's revenge...lord knows...this gato will be back.

LA LA LAND

Last week I was in LA. There is something intrinsically cool about saying “LA.” Why say Los Angeles....when you can say LA, baby??
LA people own the cool factor, because they believe they are cool. They dress cool, they walk cool, they jog cool. I was hoping the cool vibe would bounce off them and stick to me...but apparently I’m the Teflon Kat. I have the cool-it factor. For some reason people are always telling me to cool it.

Besides the obvious play on initials, there is a reason they call LA... “la la land.” People in LA live in their own world...a happy place of warm weather and sunshine…and are out of touch with reality. And also apparently oblivious to the miserable life we endure during the Northeast winters. So for 5 days I lived in la la land...and transgendered myself…I mean, transformed myself from Le Miserable to Le Happy Kat.


One afternoon we took in the sights of Malibu from the Pacific Palisades Highway. At one point we pulled over so PaulA could put his ear to his phone, his thumbs to his Blackberry...and my toes to the Pacific. The beach was public…not the private off limits beach of the rich and famous. Technically you aren’t trespassing on a private beach if you are standing on the wet sand above the low water mark. I thought about swimming out to sea and body surfing back onto the private beach of the rich and famous…but I’m not a particularly strong swimmer.

Anywhoooooo............

While walking the Malibu beach, I had a few interesting encounters.

Encounter 1: an aging hippie with long hair sitting in the lotus position. I’m not very familiar with yoga so I’m not entirely sure it was the “ lotus position,” but I know it wasn’t the “raging bull” position …he wasn’t on all 4’s. His eyes were closed, so I presumed he was meditating...or medicated....or both. I hoped he was picturing himself as a productive contributing member of society …someday.

Encounter 2: A man carrying a frying pan. I thought it seemed a little odd....but I figured he probably just fled a crime scene and was looking to throw away the evidence into the ocean. This is LA baby.

Encounter 3: As I walked further down the beach…who do I see…AGAIN? Man with Frying Pan…nestled in-between some large rocks. Apparently Man with Frying Pan keeps a small grill in the rocks on the bluff...and was frying some eggs. I only asked him for 2 eggs sunnyside up. I thought ordering an omelet would be asking a little too much.

LA. The la la land of the rich and famous...and the down and out. That’s LA for ya.

It's Whats For Dinner

Are you a meat eater? Or are you a carrot carrying member of the veggie-atarian society?

I could never be confused with a veggie-atarian. I eat meat with many different faces...some cuter than others. I’ve been known to eat pork, burger, ham, turkey, chicken, but never dog meat. Ruff. Rough. I wouldn’t want my Vet mad at me. And Duncandog might give me the cold shoulder blades.

Even though I’m a card carrying carnivore...I don’t eat a lot of red meat. That’s mainly because I don’t like to see red meat in its au natural form. Whenever I see it displayed in the butcher shop case with all that red flesh pressed next to each other...I get the heebie jeebies.

It might have something to do with haunting flashbacks from when we lived on Wheelus Air Force Base in Tripoli, Libya, North Africa. Yes folks...I’m an Air Force brat. (“Brat” is actually a term of endearment for children of parents in the military...not bratty spoiled Lindsay Lohans.)

After school I would take the base bus to a ceramics class. That bus ride provided me with an enriching, eye-popping education...that still haunts me today.

Before getting to my ceramics class, the bus went through the Main gate and off base...by an open Arab market where huge carcasses of red meat hung in the open air...covered with flies. And next to the hanging meat were men bathing in the open baths. Both the men and the meat were au natural. Being exposed to that much exposed meat...in all forms...gave me the heebie jeebies.

Anywhooooo................

This is sooo random, (but this is how my mind works)....when I think of red meat...I think “butcher” and then I think “Brady Bunch.”

Remember the meaty romance on The Brady Bunch between Alice and her beefcake boyfriend, Sam-The-Butcher? They had a lot in common...both had a love of meat. (I’m tiptoeing around lewd meat jokes.)

Ya know...I never understood how Alice wasn’t turned off by Sam-the Butcher’s bloody apron. She must not have been exposed to meat hanging in an open market dotted with flies.

Double Anywhooooooooooo...........

“Beef "...It’s what’s for dinner...should you still have an appetite.

I Love Dear Havanah

The Band came for a visit…in actuality...a pit stop before their gig the next day. And you know what that means…lotsa instruments, equipment, and cords…lotsa loud music…lotsa late hours…lotsa food.

I tried to accommodate the band guys and be the best band mom ever…by giving them a them a roof over their head….and some grub for dinner and breakfast the next morning. I didn’t have to worry if they would like my cooking. I knew they would be happy, even though I was serving grub…and not gourmet. After all, they are starving musicians. Plus I didn’t charge them. I make it a habit not to charge my favorite band for accommodations. I usually charge my guests 50 dollars per night - per head…Kids under 6 are free…they have smaller heads.

Anywhooooooooooo………………….

I love Dear Havanah……
Did I hear you ask: How much do you love Dear Havanah? (Come on…play along with this Kat.)

Let me tell you how much I love Dear Havanah...

I love their music here and there
I love their music everywhere

I love their music in the car
I love their music at the bar

I love their music on the plane
I love their music on the lane

I love their music in a chair
I love their music on a mare

I love their music in the tub.
I love their music in the pub.

I do I love them, Kat I am.
I am a big Dear Havanah fan

PS. Shameless plug: Check out dearhavanah.com
Click on “Adopt a Band” and watch the video…video might take a minute to load. You’ll see Colin as Sarah McLachlan…1/2 funny and ½ scary. http://www.dearhavanah.com/adopt-a-rock-band/

Chelsea's Milestone Birthday

Today marks Chelsea’s 25th birthday...a milestone. Woo hoo.

Quarter of a century.

I remember living in Jax when Chelsea was just an infant.

I was a new mom...lucky to be home with my first born bundle of love and we were getting used to our new routine together.

The morning would fly by...

breakfast,

bowels,

bath,

and back to bed for Baby c.

Then it was the afternoon schedule...lunch....hmmm...what now?
I would have to come up with a diversion to pass the time.

I remember sitting on the couch with her next to me...thinking of new ways to amuse her.

Whenever she got her little arms moving and legs kicking,
I knew I had a career in entertainment.

I’d wiggle Mr. Roly Poly Bird...rattle plastic car keys...shake and squeak wiggle worm.

After a half hour of wiggling, shaking, squeaking, and rattling...I’d start wondering.

Now what am I supposed to do?

What will my next act be?

Now it’s...9,125 days later and Chelsea is 25.

And I’m asking myself... “Where did all those days go???”

Anywhoooooooo................

I can still see Chelsea’s face

as she looks down at her birthday cake to blow out her candles...

her big dimples and smile glowing in the flame...until we sang.

We quickly learned that singing “Happy Birthday” brought tears.

Maybe Chelsea didn’t like all the attention directed to her,

maybe we were singing off-key,

or maybe both.

But Chelsea would go into the “It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to” blues.

But that was then and this is now...
now Chelsea loves a celebration and even celebrates her half birthday.

I know Chelsea won't be doing any crying today...

but I feel the tears coming when I think back

and reminisce on those 9,125 days gone by.

It’s her birthday and I’ll cry if I want to...

Happy Birthday, Chelsea.

Lots of Love...25 Hugs and 25 Kisses.

Elevator Etiquette

When I’m staying in a hotel, the first thing I need to find when I wake up is a cup of Joe. The idea of making coffee in one of those germ breeding hotel coffee makers, using water from the bathroom sink faucet is a total turn-off.

So I am forced to get dressed in my best business blogger outfit and leave the room…in search of the almighty Joe. Into the world I must venture...

The elevator doors open and I get in. I wait for the doors to close. I hear footsteps.

Hmmm…….Decision time: Are you nice (like PaulA) and hold the elevator for the person you hear coming? Do you press the ‘Open Door’ button? Maybe you stick your hand in the doors and wait for the person to come around the corner?

OR…

Do you try (like hell) to get the doors to close as fast as possible….pushing the ‘Close the damn Door’ button…over and over…to get the doors to shut before they get there? (like mwwaaa)

Regardless of how hard I try...the intruder puts his big foot in the door and manages to get in. So there I am...standing with the elevator intruder…wondering if he knew I just tried to shut the door in his face.

Anywhoooooo………

I am aware of social protocol involving the elevator, so I do my best to be pleasant. I manage to mumble, “Good Morning”…which is major for me to string 2 words together…seeing I haven’t found the almighty Joe yet. After an attempt at elevator etiquette I stare at the floor…Nice buff job on the shoes, Mr. Intruder...I can see myself.

After what seems like a 5 minute elevator ride to the lobby…the doors open. And I am free to make my way out. Free to find coffee.

Score! A Starbucks. (Not exactly DD’s, but it feeds my caffeine addiction.) Back to the hotel to blog.

With coffee in one hand, a bagel in the other, and my room key in my mouth…I scurry to make the elevator. I see the elevator doors starting to close and I’m quite certain someone is inside who will hold them open for me. As I approach………

…the elevator doors close…in my face.

What the hell? I know there was someone hiding in there...they could have held the damn doors open for me.

Where is their elevator etiquette?

Chinese proverb say: With elevators...what goes up, must come down. With elevator etiquette: What goes out....comes back around.

Foot Comment

Did you hear about the Patriots football player, Wes Welker, who used either the word "foot" or "toe" ten times in his comments about the upcoming game between the Patriots and the Jets last Sunday? All words were subtly inserted in his comments having to do with an embarrassing foot-fetish video with the Jet's Coach Rex Ryan and his wife.


Both teams had been trash-talking before the big game...just big men trying to act bigger than the next guy...by puffing up their chests, beating their chests, and exposing their chests.


The Jets, however, threw out the first off-color comment when Antonio Cromartie called Patriots quartback, Tom Brady, an "assbeep." Maybe he did it to fire up his fellow teammates, or maybe he did it because he's an "assbeep" himself...but it brought retaliation from the Patriots.


So in an attempt to say something to "get back" and bring embarrassment to an already embarrassing situation...Welker fit the words "foot" and "toe" in a subtle...yet not-so subtle way. We all knew what his comments were referring to.


Being a blogger...I was very impressed and amused by Welker. Did he come up with those comments off-the-cuff, on-the-fly, or around-the-waist...or did he practice what he was gonna say? Did he write them down on index cards? I wonder if he used footnotes.


If I was clever enough to make a point in my blog...I would follow his footpath and imbed a subliminal word into my blog postings. I would make subtle comments so everyone would understand my commentary.


Wait...what was my last comment? What comment or lack of comment was I making?


Anywhoooooooooooooo...............


The way I see it...after that Patriot's loss on Sunday, it appears that Welker put his foot in his mouth ten too many times with his commentary. At this time Welker has "no comment." And Coach Belichick and his Patriots foot soldiers are now out of the playoffs...back home...footloose and fancy free until next season.


PS...I think I just pulled a Welker. Hopefully you noticed my subtly not-so subtle, mentioning of the word "comment"...11 times.


In others words...."Leave a Comment."

Grimm Movie Review

I would never consider myself a film critic, but I know what I like and I like the movie…Black Swan…in a weird way. Weird = good. Do you see why I’m not a film critic? My critique would be cryptic.

I don’t normally write movie reviews, but I can’t resist throwing in my two cents alongside Roger Ebert. Together we add up to almost a nickels worth of sense.

Roger Ebert: “A melodrama, told with passionate intensity, gloriously and darkly absurd.” 2 Thumbs Up.
KatOUT: “A dark movie to ruffle your feathers. Another feather in director Darren Aronofsky's cap." 2 Feathers Up.



The Black Swan is very dark, so it might not be for everyone. (Think anorexic, self-mutilating, psychotic, ballerina with feathers.) The title of the movie might throw one off, but please know it is not a tender-hearted children’s story for the faint-hearted. The movie is billed as a psychological thriller.

Soooooo….If you enjoy being psychologically disturbed by disturbing psychological thrillers…this Swan is for you.

Anywhooooooooooooo………………….

If you are familiar with the material of Aronofsky’s other movies…it would follow that the director experienced an overdose of fairy tales as a youngster. Fairy tales are full of violence and disfunction. You don’t have to dig very far to find many unsettling, graphically disturbing stories…just pick up a book of Brother’s Grimm fairy tales…and you’ll find……….


Cinderella (Grimm’s version): self-mutilation and deceit. The ugly stepsisters cut off parts of their feet in an effort to fit into the slipper and fool the prince.

Hansel and Gretel: child abandonment and cannibalism. Two young children are abandoned by their parents in a dark forest…and encounter a woman with cannibalistic intentions of child snacking.

Little Red Riding Hood: deceit, cross dressing, and violence. A wolf dressed as a Grandmother-what-big-teeth-you-have eats LRRH whole. A hunter cuts open the grandmother/wolf’s belly with a pair of scissors to free LRRH.

Such sweet stories of violence and despair…to read to your child just before they drift off to sleep.

******Light Bulb Moment: Now that I think about it…the scene with the rabbit boiling in the movie Fatal Attraction…must have evolved from the disturbing bedtime story about Peter Rabbit..........…

One rabbit was killed and cooked in a pie…the other rabbit was killed and cooked in a pot. One is from a children’s story…the other a psychological thriller.

………Both very Grimm in context………….

Snookified

I have said…and continue to say that it bothers me that I know the “doings” of Lindsay Lohan. There is no escaping Lindsay’s escapades. Now I have to add Snooki to the list.

Why in god's name do I have to know about Snooki? I've never sought her out. Never watched her show. Never had any interest what-so-ever! But yet, I know she is a troll of a young woman, with incredibly bad manners, on the television "Jersey Shore" and wears a bump in her hair called the Snooki pouf. Plus there was even talk of putting her in the ball drop at Times Square for New Years. Someone with half a brain lobe woke up and scrapped that scary idea.

I ask you...why would we ever need to start the New Year out snookified? It's one thing to be pie-eyed... but I draw the line at snookified.

Anywhooooo....................

As you can see from my hideous picture, I was snookified. But it was unintentional snookification. I plead snookification by default. Please God, don’t let me become Snooki.

Those who know me…know…I wear a clip in my hair. It’s a fashion statement that I’ve been making…for 20 years.

Anyway, while riding in the car for a couple of hours, I kept moving the hair clip on the back of my head…higher and higher...so I could lay my head back to take a snooze while my chauffeur drove home. Home PaulA James Home.

When I got in the house, I walked by a mirror and caught a glimpse of my Snooki bump...and fell over laughing. The strange thing is...I had been in a conversation with PaulA and he never even mentioned my new Snooki do. Tell me…what does that say about your relationship…when your husband hasn’t noticed that you’ve been snookified.


Okay, maybe men don’t notice everything…which can have its benefits...but a full out Snooki do???

Then to add insult to injury/salt to the wound/gum to the hair…I turned on the Today Show and saw Matt Lauer chatting with Snooki about her recently released novel about an out-spoken party girl. Wow…what a streeetch. I wonder if the main character in her novel gets in a petrie tub and drops F-bombs.


Snooki has had far longer than her 15 minutes of fame…she’s going on 2 years. Why couldn’t she just have been a case of Hair Today….Gone Tomorrow?

Love "Fans"

A minute and a half, 90 seconds…that’s how long it takes me to sing the National Anthem…A cappella…which I did for the men’s UCONN basketball game last night. Go UCONN.

No instrumental accompaniment to drown me out. Yep, me, the microphone, my loud mouth…and my fingers crossed.

Singing the National Anthem…A cappella…is probably the most vulnerable I could feel…unless I also experienced a wardrobe malfunction. After all, I’m not a professional, and there are thousands of people there…plus or minus those who saunter in late. Next time, could you please try to be on time.

So was I anxious? You bet your late ass I was. Even though I have done this for over ten years…anxious feelings still creep in. But I came up with a new ritual this time…I decided to call on my inner diva.


I had seen an interview with Gwyneth Paltrow about her performance in "Country Strong." She said her performance in the movie was inspired by Beyonce. To prepare, Gwyneth had watched Beyonce’s performances and tried to capture some of that incredible self-belief and abandon that Beyonce has on stage.

If it worked for Gwyneth…why not Kat? So I decided I would call on my inner diva for performing the national anthem. I conjured up images of Beyonce shaking her booty and struttin’ her stuff. And images of Beyonce with all those fans blowing on her while she's performing. Bootylicious. Maybe that would bring me luck..... or laughs.


Everyone has good luck rituals. Actors say “break a leg.” Tiger Woods wears red on Sunday. University of Alabama Coach Saban keeps a lucky penny in his pocket. Roll Tide. And lucky enough, I was singing on 1/11/11. Ya hoo. Eleven, my favorite number.

Anywhooooooooooooooo………..

The hardest time is the wait before the game…when I pace and wait. Practice a few notes. Wait and pace.


Game time…my name is announced…I walk out to center court, take a deep breath, check for wardrobe malfunctions, stare at the flag….and adrenaline kicks in with..."Oh say, can you sing."

I automatically shift into auto sing and the words just come ...and luckily in the correct order, which is totally awesome because I might confuse a few people singing along with .. “And the rockets blasted in red air. The glare bursting in bombs.”

Every year I keep going back for more…A minute and a half….of an adrenaline rush, being on the spot, and trying, oh so hard, not to bring shame to the family name.


Note to Diva self: Next time request a few turbo fans to blow on me while I sing.


PS. Thank you to the real “fans” who were there for support.

Slinging Blog Hash

Another blog year has come and gone. 12 months of slinging blog hash. yum. yum.

I looked at the numbers in my blog archive and according to PaulA: I am batting over 200 for 3 consecutive years...which he tells me is pretty good.

PaulA likes to equate things to sports. So when he saw my blog totals over the past 3 years...he couldn't help with the sports talk. Last week he was giving out 2 minute warnings. According PaulA’s calculations….I believe I’m headed for the Blogger Hall of Fame.


Anywhoooooooo..................


PaulA may have his sports analogies, but I have my food analogies...not to be confused with allergies. (Every food agrees with me and I agree with every food.) So I like to put things in terms of food dishes.......

I’ve been serving up the blog hash for 3 and a half years. My blog, like any good hash...simmers for hours or in some cases years, to attain its true flavor. It is a multilayered concoction, made up of a unique variety of flavors. And for some it is an acquired taste. My blog hash contains few onions…I hear many people don’t care for them. And every blog hash is designed to be the perfect accompaniment to your day.

And for you leftover (again with the food) Hippies....you might enjoy my blog hash most...after you print it out...roll it up...and smoke it.

A Christmas Production

I finally put away our Christmas decorations. And it's not even Easter.

Dismantling Christmas is a production that involves many trips up and down the basement stairs...carrying the mish/mash of cardboard boxes and blue Rubbermaid containers. (Question to self: Would red and green containers make the process more fun?)

I would equate the dismantling of Christmas to the dismantling of a play set. By the time the play has run its course….everything has lost its luster, the excitement has fizzled out and the cast of characters in the production have moved on.

The cast of characters in my household totally fit that playbill. They moved on......

So I took the lead role and packed away the props...and left the boxes by the basement stairs...with the hopes that someone might take the subtle hint that the boxes CAN'T WALK THEMSELVES DOWN THE STAIRS. Interesting enough…no one in the cast showed real interest in sharing in my limelight. Even Duncandog wasn't interested in sniffing the boxes anymore.

But alas ( l love the word alas)…after going up and down the stairs countless times, I didn't feel guilty digging into the leftover Christmas chocolates I had squirreled away in the kitchen drawer...for a snowy day. (Note to self: Do not disclose secret chocolate stash.) (Note to Mother Nature: Let it snow.)

anywhooooooo..............

Christmas is over. The final act played, the curtain closed…and the house lights have been turned up.

But during its heyday, our Christmas production was spectacular. The stage was meticulously designed and the characters played their parts with enthusiasm and passion. Colinboy even came home looking like Jesus. :)

And when our production began… I, too, had hoped to break a leg…with the hopes that an understudy could later help with the props.

PS. "Props" to my special cast for another wonderful Christmas together.

Starbucks Logo Gets A Face-Lift

If it ain't broke, don't fix it.

Why in heaven's name would you change something that has been working for you? Change, just for shitz and giggles???

I don't know if you've heard but the Starbuck's logo has had a face-lift. The altered logo...has an alter ego. The logo contains the same mermaid, but apparently she is confident enough to stand alone without the words "Starbucks Coffee" encircling her.

So why the new logo?

In a statement by the Starbucks founder, he called the change, a "small but meaningful update to ensure the Starbucks brand continues to embrace our heritage in ways that are true to our core values and that also ensure we remain relevant and poised for future growth. "

What the hell....who talks like that? What he's saying is that...they will be selling other products/not just coffee...and they think that they are kick ass like Nike and Apple, by using only a symbol for a logo.

Anywhoooooo............

Okay, maybe Starbucks is expanding their menu beyond coffee. So why not just drop the words "COFFEE,” but leave "STARBUCKS" in the logo?

I've heard of name dropping...but this takes it to a new level. I think the Starbucks Marketing Dept. should wake up and smell their own coffee...before their customers find them and put their roasters in a mill and grind them up.

Starbucks must be feeling pretty good about themselves that they would drop their name from their product and just go with a symbol. We all saw how well that went for Prince.

I do understand that with an upcoming 40 year anniversary..why they might want a face-lift. But I hope they stop there. You can over do it with nips and tucks...just ask Heidi Montag.

And if you ask me, I think they should go with a simple logo that describes them best: $$$TARBUCKS

Touchy Problem

I am finding it hard to type on my new Droid. What makes it so tricky?...The touchpad. It sounds easy enough…but whenever I touch a letter...I get that letter…plus the 4 around it. So I spend most my time going backwards…deleting everything I just wrote.


I used to be a speed demon with my old phone. When it came to typing on my ole keypad, I was a regular road runner, so this touchpad thing is enough to turn me into Wile E. Coyote and send me over the droid edge…or off a cliff. (beep, beep)


Sometimes, I think I need a finger sharpener. I always thought that I had thin fingers, but apparently they are as big as tree trunks when it comes to typing on my Droid. It seems I need to work on getting my trunks into pencil thin shape. If I’m not careful I can end up with typos that are very inappropriate at the appropriate situation.


Anywhoooo….



Colinboy informed me of something that can get me in a heap load of trouble when using the Droid. The kind of trouble where you want to run and hide. The kind of trouble where you are on your knees begging for forgiveness. The kind of trouble with a capital “T”..(Kat…enough)


Okay. The problem: After you've made a call...you think you’ve hung up, BUT you haven’t. Apparently, many people have fallen into this trap with the Droid.


The trap…when after your call...you've called them #*!# ....and then you realize they’ve heard every word. And you’re not talking in Chinese..but precise 4 letter words, we all understand.


Sometimes I wonder if I should have stuck with my old phone, but then I realize that with advancements...come adjustments, learning curves, and straight lines. There is a lot to learn with the new Droid…I just hope I have the IQ required to operate it.


There is an upside feature to the droid touchpad. It has a touch key devoted to a happy face :) So with one touch of the pad…you can easily send out happy faces.


Which comes in soooo soooo handy after you’ve just ticked someone off …and you’re offering up a mea culpa…from over the edge. Beep beep. :)

Real Men Do Cry

I have met my match. Okay, technically we've never met, but we are definitely a match. Kat and John Boehner, a couple of cry babies. Wah wah wah.


Did you happen to see John Boehner on 60 Minutes...the new Speaker of the House...aka Weeper of the House? During his interview with Lesley Stahl he cried on her shoulder for at least 6 out of the 20 minutes he was on 60 Minutes. Tick tick tick. Time couldn’t pass fast enough.


I understand his waterworks. Emotions have a way of creeping up on you when you least expect them. I always get a good cry going during Folger’s commercials. They’ve always tugged at my heartstrings...but for some reason they don't tug at my purse strings. I never find myself running out to buy a can of Folgers.


Anywhoooooo....................


John Boehner is known for his crying, so "they" say his blubbering on 60 Minutes was no surprise. Dude, it was a surprise to me. Tears over "Terms of Endearment" are one thing, but tears over "Terms of U.S. Treaties" are just wrong.



In actuality (which is actual reality), I don't have a problem with John Boehner and his tears. I like it when a man shows that he has a heart, even if he wears it on his sleeve.

The biggest problem I have with all of this is is (love a double “is”) that if a woman cried during the same interview…she would be labeled weak, unstable, and a huge basket case.


For crying out loud...there is an unfair double standard.



It’s a crying shame when the tears of a woman politician are seen as lack of composure and the same tears “humanize” a male politician.


Maybe John Boehner’s tears are just a Crying Game… a way to gain support. He could be employing a “Cry Me a River” tactic…so Democrats will paddle on over to his side.


Or then again, John Boehner’s tears could be his actual battle cry, as he prepares to take over as Speaker of the House tomorrow.

Ps. I can hear you crying Uncle. I will stop now.

Holiday Hangover of Excess

It’s a good thing the period between Thanksgiving and New Years isn’t a day longer. For many of us…the holiday period is a time of total indulgence. A time when we throw caution to the wind with our credit card…and cookies, fudge and eggnog to our thighs.


Indulgences of excessive eating and excessive spending have the effect of leaving us with a holiday hangover. No wonder they’re both so much fun.

Anywhooooooooooo……………..


After two weeks of living La Vida Loca, we’re stuck with high credit card balances and extra lbs.....


We’ve enjoyed a crazy frenzy of hand-over-fist excess.
We’ve stretched our limits.
We’ve extended our capacity.
We’ve lived like there was no tomorrow.

And now it’s time to pay the piper for our indulgences.....
We have to trim back.
We must exercise deprivation.
We need to be lean and mean.

But, because we’ve been used to binging and excess.....
We have low interest…in cutting back.
We are only totally satisfied with instant approval and reward points.


We should be given extra credit because we are smart enough to know that when there is no pain there is no gain. We would be willing to come to terms with our excesses and renew our current interest in cutting back should we be offered the right incentive.


A new toaster could sweeten the deal…bread is so much better when it is toasted.

Happy New Year 2011

Happy New Year 2011!


The first of the month, of the first month of the year...rabbit, rabbit, rabbit. Woo hoo.



Anywhoooooooooo.......................

What is a brand new year without a few New Year’s resolutions? Here are mine:

In 2011, I resolve to...............

Learn to play piano, like Beethoven

Buy a gerbil, name it Evan

Be good, so I get into heaven

Make a new friend, with the name of Devin

Hire a painter, by the name of Kevin

Go to Foxwoods, play lucky seven

Can’t take heat, stay out of the oven

Keep the faith, and spread a whole lot of lovin’



Here’s to a happy, healthy 2011! And another year of blogging.