Christmas card FAIL

See if you can come up with a better caption. Also, please don’t forget to give it a score, 0-100  and explain why you scored it that way.

When the blog redesign is finally finished, you’ll be able to access the Bizzarometer easily. And thanks to the folks at Awkward Family Photos for this gem.

So Doug has decided that I need a whole new wardrobe for the trip. Actually I don’t know if he really decided that as much as I decided that and he knew better than to complain.

This is because he missed our anniversary yet again this July 16th. I was absolutely sure that he wouldn’t miss it again so I didn’t plan anything wonderful for myself that day and actually went ahead and got him a couple of things.

But that morning there was no Happy Anniversary! with a big kiss and flowers. So I said nothing and waited til he came back from work. He was sitting on the couch watching sports when I dropped his presents on his lap and said HAPPY ANNIVERSARY and stalked off.

“Oh  shit.” was all he said in a somber tone.

First I got pissed; then I got hurt, and didn’t talk to him for the rest of the night. Actually, I hadn’t expected a lot of “stuff ” because of the upcoming trip- but I did not expect to be totally forgotten. I told him he was being passive-aggressive. He denied it, explaining that he’s just been overwhelmed at work.

He apologized. I suggested he take his apology and put it in an inconvenient place where only an experienced proctologist might ever see it.

I think he was worried I’d go all Lorena Bobbitt on his ass; or more accurately on his most prized possession. This would be tragic, especially since it’s still in such good working order.

So since the 16th I been shopping- a lot. Macy’s, Coldwater Creek, lots of places. Now to be completely honest, I have been shopping in the sale racks, for the most part; and, I haven’t revenged shopped. Everything I’ve gotten, I’ve actually needed. I’ve needed at least 80% of the stuff anyway.

So I guess overall, him forgetting this year actually worked out pretty good for me. Besides, he knows he’s still on the hook. Happy anniversary to me…..

I saw on CNN today that Linda Hogan (50 ), ex wife of Hulk Hogan, is now engaged,  engaged to Charlie Hill, a friend of her son. Charlie is 21. Now I don’t know this to be gospel, but I’m guessing that Charlie is a  mimbo.

That’s perfectly OK with me. I wish her only the best.

Would I want to do that? Not so much. Which is to say never.

Why? Why would any older woman really want to do that? That is be with someone so drastically younger.

Years ago, there was always an obvious reason for why an older woman would want a younger guy. Most older guys couldn’t either get it up or keep it up. Or if they were lucky enough to they were good for once a night- maybe. Guys in their 20′s and 30′s are like the Energizer Bunny. They can just keep on going and going and going…

But with the advent of Viagra, any man, regardless of age or infirmities, has the ability to turn his significant other into a piece of ground round with his tallywhacker by taking that one tiny blue pill. Now they too can just keep going and going and going…something that not all wives are completely thrilled about, so I’ve heard.

I mean what would you have to talk about? I guess you talk about a movie or meal that you shared; but what after that? When I talk to Nate (22) and Amanda (24)  about current events, most of the time our views are pretty similar. But on some topics our opinions are vastly different, different because I’ve been there and done that; something that they have yet to do. Life experiences can just really change the way you see things sometimes.

Also, I don’t know one woman in her fifties who doesn’t have menobrain moments. Our friends and family expect and usually accept them. (Of course sometimes that acceptance comes with the rolling of their eyes or the WTF? hands.) But would a 20 something really want to have to put up with menobrain moments all the time? OK, maybe at the very beginning, when it’s still laser beam eyes time, but what after the laser beam stops and reality sets in.

You can’t share memories of college, his parents may not even have been in college when you were. Then there’s the whole dynamic of his family to deal with.

And when you talk about your childhood, pre computers, pre I phones and pre IMAX you’ll sound like you dated Fred Flintstone and grew up eating brontoburgers.

I just don’t get it. Am I confused? Is there something I’m missing?

But now that I’m about to go on my first vacation in years, I thought I’d just “try on” a pair to see what all the hub-bub is about. After the salesgirl handed me a pair I looked at her like the RCA dog. Was she on crack? I wondered. This thing looked like it would fit a 10 yr.old, a skinny one that is.

“Just go try them on”, she said casually.

“Trying on” is not actually an accurate description of actually what went on in my dressing room. A more accurate description would be to say there was a steel cage death match between Evelyn, myself and the Spanx. I kid you not, the match lasted at least a full five minutes.

I’d been instructed to gather up the material in the each leg, then pull them on, one leg at a time. Easier said then done, I can assure you. In the movie The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas, Burt Reynolds receives a thong as a gift. He goes to put it on and yells out “It’s like trying to put two bowling balls in a marble bag.” After my dressing room debacle yesterday, I can totally relate.

Back to the dressing room. I had one side of the Spanx, Evelyn the other. She yelled “PULL!” exasperatedly.  “What do you think I’m doing?!” I fired back. And on it went. I’m telling you this thing had a life of it’s own. I felt like the priest at the end of the Exorcist wreslting with the Devil.

When we finally got it completely up, I looked at myself. I was dripping with sweat, but, amazingly, jiggle free. (Keep in mind, I haven’t been jiggle free since the Clinton administration.) With more than half the skin on my torso now compressed and smoothed by the insanely strong latex I now had an amazing resemblance to a giant peach colored bowling pin.  Evelyn looked at me and said “Skin on the baloney”. I can always depend on her to make me feel better.

I forgot to mention, there is even a hole in the Spanx so you may pee while still still wearing it. I’m planning to dehydrate myself prior to ever wearing it, so that won’t be a problem. And as far as pooping goes- I can state without equivocation- that there will be no pooping while I am Spanxed. I realize that there is no way I could ever extricate myself from this thing without help. Also, I vowed that Doug would never see me go struggle with this. Childbirth, OK, putting on or getting off Spanx-no.

But as you have probably surmised, I bought the Spanx. However, it seems that the pair I tried on were industrial Spanx, not really meant for the public; having been developed for military use, they should have never been put in a store.) Instead I bought the Power Panties, which although also quite constrictive, are at least manageable by yourself if you have a lot of patience and a good sense of humor I was told.

So… I did get my Power Panties on last night all by myself last night- thank you very much, and immediately felt the need to find a cape and leap tall building with a single bound.

Didn’t you ever hear of Super Middle-aged Woman? Don’t you laugh at that. I’ll zap your ass with one of my super powers. I’ve got em. Do you?

Since I’ve become a grown up I’ve slowly morphed into a pear shape. I chalk the transformation up to subsidence. (That  just sounds so much better than saying I had too many tacos and too few hours on the treadmill over the decades.)

Anyway…. after discussing the article we concluded that since she’s an apple, she’ll probably croak first from an MI. We deduced that I’ll live longer being a pear, but I won’t know it because by then my memory will be completely kaput. I just hope I don’t wind up like Ten Second Tom from Fifty First Dates.

I first started noticing that my memory was getting sketchy a few years ago. At the time my mom had severe memory deficits. I got freaked out about the state of my brain and got checked out by a neurologist. After memory tests and an MRI, I was declared “normal”.

“Reduce the stress in your life”. Yeah, OK. I’ll let you know how that works out doc. Now if only that guy from Publisher’s Clearinghouse would show up at my door. Sadly, Mr. Clearinghouse and his prize patrol in which he carries that big ass, stress relieving, check hasn’t as yet shown up at my door. Nor am I planning a move to Tibet to chill out with the monks. (Although they never have bad hair days or worry about what to wear.) Hmmmm…

Therefore I must depend on using what functioning gray matter that I have left. I think actually my neurons and synapses are all still up there. They’re just engaged in some stupid feud like the Hatfields and Mc Coys and not talking to each other most of the time.

So until Mr. Clearinghouse shows, the feud ends or I move to Tibet, I’m stuck with doing mental gymnastics every day. To that end, I recently signed up with a site named Lumosity, a brain training site, guaranteed to build your brain.

I’m not looking to do brain transplants or rocket science anymore; but I figured I had to so something to keep my razor sharp edge and not depend on removing my shoes to count to twenty.

I’ve been doing these brain sessions for 5 weeks. Most days I’ll do cerebellum crunches  for 30 minutes.

I thought I was doing pretty well, that is until I clicked on the little tab that actually had a chart showing my progress. Sorry it’s a little fuzzy. Does it look fuzzy to you? Overall, I was pretty happy with my scores til I got to “Memory”.

How did I compare? Look at the LITTLE blue bar on the graph.

I scored just higher than a cup of Jello, but lower than brussel sprouts. That score explains a lot. Especially why I was able to leave a dressing room at the mall yesterday with my shorts on inside out, zipper and all,  without even realizing it.

On a high note, Doug didn’t notice it either. Why I take solace in that, I cannot explain.

I think Doug’s going to have me chipped with a LoJack before we go to NYC. Looking at my memory score of 3%, I may not even complain.

Has your memory failed you? Come on, tell me. Make me feel better.

I don’t know how many stores were there but it was lot; and they’re expanding to add more. If it gets much bigger I’ll have to pack my PJ’s- if I had any that is. This place was big! Smartly, Doug and I arrived there at 2pm. The hottest part of the day.

The rain is gone in Houston so the sun and heat are back full force. Stupidly, I forgot to apply my sunscreen yesterday, so I ran from store to store with my head down, trying to escape the sun. For the most part though, unless I throw an absolute shitfit Doug refuses to use sunscreen. So he just walked around in the sunshine, never even opting to walk under the awnings.

Having embraced this look his whole life, now when he has his shirt off, Doug looks kinda like Frankenstein, all pieced together. His head, neck and arms are a completely different color from the rest of his body. His torso and legs look white. The rest of him looks like mahogany. Great look if your Ethan Allen furniture.

This is really a bummer too, because when he was younger he could’ve been a model. These days, not so much. Not for swimwear anyway, unless someone’s looking for a model with a patchwork quilt kinda quality. Of course I love him nonetheless; but I am getting really tired of being ignored.

I’ve never in my life withheld sex to get something I wanted, but I think it may just take that to get his attention.

One it looks just God awful. I’m afraid one day he’ll wake up and look like a wrinkled saddlebag with eyes; but more importantly- I’m really worried about Doug getting skin cancer.

I welcome any suggestions about this issue.

They had a mattress that was $33,000. Yes. that right. No, the price was not a typo. They said that assuming the mattress actually lasted all 20 years it would cost you $4.50 per night to sleep on it.

So, knowing that everyone reading this just has to have the very best, I present for your consideration:

A mattress from the E.F. Kluft Company. The mattress comes with a 20 yr. warranty. For $33,000 it better come with a handsome live-in masseuse, who spouts sonnets which idolize me on the hour every hour. I’d better wake up looking damn fine.

Now I must admit their print advertising is persuasive. Just look at what this woman looks like lying on their mattress.

I admit she looks pretty good.

Apparently, their mattress is miraculous. Some say transformative.

The problems came when she got off the bed. See for yourself.

So the question is- Would you want one?

Enough already!

I am the only one who doesn’t give a flying rat’s ass about Lindsay Lohan and am sick to death of hearing about her? She shows up on my TV every damn day no matter what channel I have on it seems, even CNN.

I don’t think she’s been on PBS yet, but I’m sure it’s just a matter of time.

I just don’t understand it at all. It isn’t as if she’s the biggest star in Hollywood. In fact she hasn’t done anything of note in some time.

Unless I’m really confused I perceive her situation as this:  She’s a 24 yr. old who hasn’t been able to control her drinking or drug use for years and has been in and out of rehab many times. I’m not saying that she’s a bad person because of this. Your 20′s can be a really turbulent time fraught with bad decisions. I know. I made my share when I was that age.

So she’s gets yet another DUI. She’s given yet another lenient sentence then basically tells the judge “Fuck You” by not complying with her court ordered probation, instead jetting off to Cannes when she doesn’t even have a movie showing there.

Am I wrong? I don’t think so.

Her sentence was a joke. She’ll serve 3 weeks- maybe, all the time in a private cell, where she can sleep, read, write her memoirs or basically do what she wants 22 hours at day.

I think she should be in the general population, where she might actually learn something from other women who perhaps started off just like her, minus the stardom. She should talk to some real women who have to live with the fact that their drinking not only caused the death of another, but cost them their own freedom in the process, and not just for 3 weeks.

How will she ever learn if she’s continually treated like a pampered princess? Growing up is a lot harder for some people than others; and I imagine that growing up in a place where your every move is scrutinized and photographed much be more so.

I think that after her coming stint in rehab that she should try to disconnect from the whole Hollywood scene and should move somewhere far away from the glitz with a support team (not her posse) and spend a year just getting her shit together. I think she should buy a small farm or a ranch and really get her hands dirty reconnecting with the real world. A little sweat can be good for your soul.

She’s got the resources to pull it off without anyone ever knowing exactly where she was, if she really wanted to.

I wish her well, I do. But in the meantime, get out of my face, because I’m sick of yours!

We’re kinda like Thelma and Louise, without the crime spree or Brad Pitt.

Pretty soon we’re leaving on our big road trip, driving straight up to NYC then dawdling sight seeing on the way back to Houston. All in all we’ll be gone two weeks. I must admit I’ve never traveled with a friend for two weeks. We’ll be together all the time, in the car, sharing hotel rooms etc.

I’m laying low until our departure, making to-do lists, paying bills and having the house sitter come over so the dogs can get comfy with him before we leave.

Anyway, Evelyn, AKA Thelma, just left for a 4 day trip this morning; and if a trip ever begged for a crime spree, this would be it.

Evelyn is going to be locked up with Mae, AKA the Wicked witch of the West, for 4 days and 3 nights.

What could Evelyn have done to deserve such punishment? Did she juggle cats? Did she fart in someone’s general direction? Is she just going for sainthood? (Unlikely since Unitarians don’t believe in saints.)

Nothing, she did nothing. She actually chose to do this. Or more accurately, she agreed to go do this. (I’m seriously thinking of having her mental health evaluated before we leave on our trip due this decision.) What if she goes completely wacko while we’re up there? Would anyone in NYC even notice?

Mae asked if Evelyn would agree be a volunteer at a saltwater fishing tournament. She will be checking the competitors in on her computer, issuing ID’s- that sort of thing. They are staying at a ramshackle motel by the coast. (It’s not even Motel 6 worthy.)

The wicked Witch of the West has been a good friend of Evelyn’s husband for over 20 years. Mae’s part of a unique group that meet once a month to play Dungeons and Dragons. Evelyn agreed to do this weekend trip as a favor to her husband Ken. (He owes her big time.)

Evelyn even took care of Mae for a week after her mastectomy. She did however, draw the line at having Mae stay with them a couple of years ago as Hurricane Ike was approaching. (I guess even Unitarians have their limits.)

The monthly Dungeons game at Ken and Evelyn’s house Saturday night and although I was there during the afternoon, I made sure to get my happy ass outta of there before the croan swept in.

I’ve  decided that Mae is actually the love child of the WWOTW and a Dementor from the Harry Potter movies. She can just suck all the happiness out of a person.

I just can’t be around anyone that negative or see any inherent goodness in that woman. That’s why I could never be a Unitarian. So I guess the Methodists are just gonna be stuck with me.