Monday, September 22, 2014

                                    SO BLUE

     Mr. Wonderful and I both enjoy blueberries on our cereal in the morning. At the “upscale” market yesterday, I was looking to pick up a pint. When I approached the stand, the sign read “$6.99.” Whaaat? Are you effen kiddin’ me? That’s outrageous.
I looked to my left, and there were some other blueberries amongst the raspberries, so I picked up the carton and looked for a price. There was none, so I just assumed that these were second class berries and less expensive than the others and put them in my cart.

     When I got home, I looked at the bill and realized that those I had bought were also $6.99.I was livid. What kind of hype is this? They let you think that the ones apart from the sign are cheaper, so you’ll buy them not realizing they are the same. Do I want to spend $4.00 in gas and aggravation to drive back to the store and complain. No.

     Guessing that there are probably 50 or so berries in this tiny box, that means that each one I consume costs .14. That’s almost $1.00 per bowl of cereal. Just how much pleasure can a person get from a single berry? 

I am so upset. I try so hard to spend as little as possible on our groceries so I have money left over for my Vince Camutos. Every berry I consume from now until the pint is gone will gripe my sole.

Saturday, September 20, 2014

      There are certain words that just sound funny:  twerk, flummox, onomatopoeia, kumquat,buttocks, flush. The latter may not sound funny to you, but it is one of those words with several definitions. If an alien landed and heard this word in all its contexts, he would scurry back to his planet and tell all his fruggats how weird we are down here.

     Flush can mean that you have a comfortable amount of money. As I have never achieved this designation, I have no idea what that means, but this is what I’ve been told. If your bank account is where it should be, it’s “flush.”

     Flush can also mean that the skin is slightly pink due to exhaustion or heat. If you have a fever, you might be flushed. The only fever that ever brought pink to these cheeks was cabin fever. Ask Mr. Wonderful. You never want to be stuck in a cabin with this diva. Flush will turn into fire in a very short time.

     Flush can also refer to a hand in a card game. A flush can be five cards of the same  suit out of sequence. A Straight Flush is five cards of the same suit in sequence. A Royal Flush is the 10, Jack, Queen, King, Ace of the same suit. 

    A flush can provoke a flush that will keep you flush.

     Flush is also an active verb that refers to pushing a little lever on one’s toilet. When the flush mechanism doesn’t function properly, one can become flushed and flummoxed at the same time. This can cause spontaneous twerking of the buttocks, and the person is liable to flee. 

Just sayin’.

                                                           The TEKCUB List

     I know everyone talks about their “bucket list.” If they’re really lucky (and rich), they can get to a number of their destinations in a lifetime. Well, what about the places one doesn’t want to go? (thus, the title)

     In the wee hours of the morning, when the dam of creative juices is overflowing, thoughts like these leap out of the current like horny fish. The result is a list of all the places I NEVER want to go (again).

  1. on the bus with the religious fanatic 
  2. on the plane with the sneezing Sister
  3. on the train with the unwashed professional boxer
  4. in line with the bubble-blowing used car salesman
  5. on the same hotel floor as the snoring rhinoceros
  6. on the same elevator as the perfumed coloratura
  7. on the same ship as the gray-faced (Sue-Me) wrestler
  8. on the same tour as the Harvard honors grad with the mouth
  9. in the same tour group as “I-know-everything-in-the-universe” participant
  10. in the cave with the guy with bad digestion

     Just sayin’.

Friday, September 19, 2014

                          IF IT’S TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE. . . 

     I read online this morning that the top three countries with the largest percentage of “well-being” are Canada, Guatemala and Sweden. What do you think about that, eh?
Well, I am not so sure about this. Let’s take a look at the criteria:
• "You like what you do every day."
• "You learn or do something interesting every day."
• "Someone in your life always encourages you to be healthy."
• "Your friends and family give you positive energy every day."
• "You have enough money to do everything you want to do."
• "In the last seven days, you have worried about money." (This was a negative indicator.)
• "The city or area where you live is a perfect place for you."
• "In the last 12 months, you have received recognition for helping to improve the city or area where you live."
• "In the last seven days, you have felt active and productive every day."
• "Your physical health is near-perfect."
    My first thought is what drug did they give these people before they answered the question? First of all, unless you’re 12, you probably don’t have “near-perfect” health. If your place of residence is a “perfect” place for you, you obviously haven’t left your subdivision. If you have enough money to do anything you want to do, why the hell are you sitting there taking this feckless test? If you have friends who give you positive energy every single day, are they out there helping you improve your city? If you do something interesting every day, you are a highly energetic--perhaps bionic person who has millions of interests.
Just sayin’.

Thursday, September 18, 2014

                           FIRST "RESPONDEE"

     When I grow up, I want to be a “respondee.” This means someone might just pose a question and even want to know my “response.” Now there’s a concept. I have been on this planet way beyond 307 days, and not one person, not one, has asked me a question of national importance. Someone in college once asked me if I liked weed. That was simply because it was illegal, and now they’re effen eating the stuff.

     A few weeks ago, a call came in on that contraption that still takes up room on my counter. A person (who knows if they were legit?) asked me if he could ask he a question. I got all excited, saying to myself,”Oh, goodie. I’m finally going to be a respondee.” But then he went on to say that he was only looking for people who bought their groceries at the organic market 40 miles away, and did I shop there. Are you effen kiddin’ me?

     A “repsondee” is a random person who gets picked out of thousands of people on the street or from a data base someone created in 1956. I am neither of these. I wasn’t born in 1956, and I don’t hang out in huge crowds on the streets seeking nosy reporters looking for a feckless photo op with a Q & A attached.

     This begs the question:  If asked, what question would I like to answer? Hmm. That is a good question. I’ve got it:  “If you got your wish to be a respondee after all these years, what would you do?” I would run out onto the streets, stumble gleefully through the crowd eating cannibis.

Wednesday, September 17, 2014


     I don’t know what happened to my writing career. The only chapter where I’ve made any progress is Chapter 11, and the thoughts just keep flowing--thoughts like, “If I can’t write and sell something soon, I’m ... . . . “ 

     I tried writing poetry. Most of my friends who’ve read my verse were very impressed but asked if I had been having suicidal thoughts. 

     I tried writing fiction, but I’d get these great plot ideas, develop the characters, set them in intriguing situations and have no effen clue how to end the piece. I have the beginnings of 47 short stories, three novels and nine plays. 

     Then I thought maybe I should be a travel writer. Mr. Wonderful and I love to travel, and we’ve taken many fabulous trips from Detroit to Denmark. After describing one castle, one museum, waterfall, mountain and  cafĂ©, I realized that they were all the same in every city. I ran out of adjectives, and I got so bored writing about them, I just wanted to go home and put a contract out on Rick Steeves.

     I’m now writing my eulogy. I figure I know the protagonist like the back of my hand. I can start in the past and choose any friggin’ experience I want and exaggerate the hell out of it. I can write in the first person--screw literary convention. And I know the ending. My final words will be, “Liquidate and celibrate!” 


                                                      Saving for the Future

     I totally believe in saving for the future; however, my definition of “future” may differ from that of Mr. Wonderful. “Future” to me means anytime after this minute. If I can save $8 on the grocery bill, that’s $8 I can put toward my Vince Camuto booties tomorrow morning at Macy’s. Macy’s believes in the “future” too, as it has great sales at least every couple of weeks. Unfortunately,there is no Macy’s within 200 miles of here, but online sales with free shipping do the trick nicely.

     I know there are some events in the “future” for which I will need to save. There’s the Executive Club Ball, the Symphony Opening Night, movies at the mall. For each of these events, serious pre-planning is in order. Now there are very few resources available since being retired, so I must be very creative in my “robbing-Peter-to-go-to-the-mall” strategy. Peter is my invisible friend. Unfortunately, his bank account is also invisible. I have found some creative ways, nonetheless, to find money for the “future” such as

  1. cutting back on food
  2. filling the gas tank 1/2 full
  3. asking our friends to bring the main dish instead of the appetizers
  4. reducing his clothing allowance
  5. canceling his magazine subscriptions
  6. turning off the electricity

     Now, it’s obvious that some of these strategies may risk great bodily harm, but that’s half the adventure. omg. Think he’d miss ESPN?