Saturday, July 25, 2009

Pocked Pecker

People ask me all the time why on earth I play with Twitter and then this lovely tweet came through.


Safe Sex Poster: No Laughing Matter is a serious problem in Taiwan apparently with the age of people getting STDs and AIDS getting younger and younger.

So you see the pecker looking all sassy and satisfied leaving...leaving...well, a hoo hoo. See the fuzzy wall and is that really what I think it is above the door? You know what I mean. Oh, come on. It rhymes with shit. But then poor Pecker "comes" out and starts to look a little sickly. Oh my. He is all bumpy and greenish like a left over hot dog from Fourth of July. And what do his pecker friends do? Those dicks laugh at him. They are safely sandwiched in their pecker packets, all safe and sound in latex land.

I love Twitter. And I know there are people out there wondering why I did not use the word twat to talk about Twitter. Shame on you. That would be too easy and I am not that kind of girl. *sniff*

Thursday, July 23, 2009

Testing, Testing

The Great Recession is coming home to roost, fluff its feathers, peck around my pad, and generally causing clucking in my head. Do you talk to yourself? JuJuBeez does and my BB says it is...interesting. She will be having an entire internal conversation with herself and then blurt an odd comment or two to herself. Well, she says she is talking to BB, he just may not be in the room at the time. I have caught myself muttering to myself. I sound like a nattering nabob even to myself. Can you imagine living through the Great Depression?

Damn. I am rambling today. I had to take a test for a possible new account. I had to transcribe 3 emergency department reports with three different physicians. I only left one hole in the reports. Under HEENT exam, eyes normal, conjunctivae are....are...what? I don't often get stuck on a simple history and physical but it happens sometimes. Not sure if I will get the account though. How picky are they about punctuation? Grammar? Do you stick with what the doc says mostly or fix it?

I was palpitating about taking the test. L already works for the company so I tested at her house. I could not type on her keyboard. You would have thought I had just learned to type, I was stumbling all over the place like a spastic mouse getting chased all over the keyboard.

L and the Marine are going to Del Mar to the horse track and they invited me along for this Saturday. Woo hoo. Of course, I will be picking horses on a purely moronic basis. Is it a pretty color? I love gray horses, so that is one criteria. The name of the horse? Jockey colors? Does the owner have a cute butt? Teddy Bear knows horses better than I do, but she loves jumping and cross country. Pony camps used to drive me nuts. Little eight-year-old Teddy on a giant horse jumping. She loved riding and Temecula has its fair share of horse nuts but to do it right is expensive, so she stopped riding. Well, that and she started high school and other things are more interesting as you get older.

Do you want me place any bets for you? Does that make me a bookie? Is that illegal. Dang. How about suggestions? Oh, and I am joining a Fantasy Football league. So does the cute quarterback rule apply? Or does the cute animal team name always win? Bears vs. Eagles? (They probably don't even play against each other.) Bears are mean but eagles are tough. I guess I will go with fuzzy. Packers vs Vikings? Vikings sound nummy. I only pick the players from the teams. Sigh. I may have to have my dad on speed dial when we go to draft.

Is it Friday yet? Happy Hour anyone?

Monday, July 20, 2009

The Nut Wars...or Have We Crossed the Dotted Line?

Last Saturday I went wine tasting in Temecula's wine country with baby brother, JuJuBeez, Lop and Shasta. L and her wonderful hubby the Marine met us, which was a good thing because they are members of Ponte's wine club, so we got to go to the reserve room and sample wine. I have to make a confession. I am not a wine drinker. *hangs head in shame* I am a port drinker though. Yum, yum. Ponte's port was fabulous but as I was the designated driver I only had 3 of my 6 samples. Very, very sad.

It was hotter than Hades on Saturday and I do not do well in the heat. My face sweats like someone who has just run a 26 mile marathon and I have only popped a cork. Damn my mom and her sweaty genes. Shasta and JuJuBeez when they get together definitely cross every line you can think of. Their husbands just shake their heads and hope no one is listening. Balls, camel toes, boobs, sex...they will talk about anything. And, damn, can they belch. I have never had my name called while someone is belching at the same time.

After Ponte, we went to Mount Palomar winery and then for dinner ended up at Wilson Creek, and then being the wild and crazy party animals we are, went back to my place and JuJuBeez promptly passed out on the couch and the rest of us pretended to watch TV with our eyes closed. At 9:00 at night we went to Coldstone for ice cream where I spent $14 on 3 dishes of ice cream. Okay, was the milk that provided the ice cream imported from fancy schmancy cows who live in fur lined stalls and emit no methane producing farts or something. Argghhh. See. Now I sound like a geezer belly aching about the price of things. Pretty soon I will tell my grandson I walked 5 miles to school in snow and hail...and I grew up in the San Fernando Valley.

There are about 20 or so wineries in Temecula. I think I am going to have fun exploring the rest of them. Any port in a storm as they say. Or any good sherry at least.

Friday, July 17, 2009

I Call Shotgun

Killdozer called shotgun yesterday when I was driving the kids to dinner...which by the way was on the way to the new Ruby Tuesday in town. Someone please tell me why new restaurants have to bite? I ordered their $5 margarita and I might as well have been sucking a lemon. How do you mess up a margarita that bad? I have had better margaritas off the shelf from 7-11 with the booze already mixed in. I am so low maintenance it's ridiculous but I sent that drink back and asked for diet and bourbon. Ah, yes, much better. I spent a ridiculous amount of money there for dinner and there were only 3 of us and I only had the one $5 drink. In 'n Out looks better and better every day. A double-double with fries and a drink for all 3 of us would probably have cost me a third of what I spent. Someone tell me why a hamburger has to cost $12 or more? Are they taxing cows now per methane farts or something?

Anyway, Teddy Bear always sits shotgun when I drive but Killdozer decided he was going to make her sit in the back and when dinner was over they raced to the car (oh, to be 18 and 19 again) to see who would get to the car first. He won, of course, but she whines and moans much better than he does, so she got shotgun.

Enjoy the video~!

Monday, July 13, 2009

Because Monday's Just Sometimes Roll That Way

It is moaning Monday in my world...maybe 2012 can get here sooner.

Friday, July 10, 2009

If I Drink the Water, Can I Skate Like This?

Boy, this reminds me of the Bonnie Hunt Show...the song I mean, not the babies skating. They are cool. There is a better version on YouTube so check it out.


Thursday, July 9, 2009

Rules for Geezerhood

I probably should post this in giant size print so my future geezer self will be able to read it when I need the reminders.

I started collecting hints years ago when I was only partially early 40s. Don't have a coronary out there if you are 40 and sputtering right now. It was my daughter who pointed out that the rules for my future geezerdom could start now. Anyone over 23 is, like, ancient, man. Now that she is almost 20, it is amazing what age qualifies as being a geezer.

Anyway, I started thinking about this because I don't want to be the crazy old lady that smells funny and rants and makes no sense and just generally goes through life oblivious like Mr. Magoo. I like to rant, so that's one strike against me and I do tend to be pretty oblivious so that's my second strike. My only hope is not to smell funny.

I was in line at Target, the express lane, the lane for 10 items or less (maybe it's 15, I don't remember. Oh, no.....) and was behind an old lady. No doubt about it. She was old. And tiny. I'm only 5 feet 2-3/4 inches and I towered over her like Godzilla. She had all her stuff on the counter ready to be rung up by the time I impatiently get behind her. I was in a hurry for some unimportant reason I am sure...kid soccer practice, PTA meeting...who knows and I was practically tapping my feet. She is chatting away to the cashier when the cashier tells her the total. Total? Oh, right, I have to pay. This sweet little old lady reaches into her old lady purse. You know, black, kinda of shiny with a clasp that clicks open and shut? Anyway, she fumbles through this monster purse, fishes around like Mary Poppins looking for a lampshade and finally manages to find her checkbook. Yes, her checkbook. She starts to write her check with shaky old lady writing, rips out the check, holds onto the check, opens her check register (because of course she does not have carbon checks) and fills out her check register all the time chatting away. She finally hands over the check, slowly puts everything away, smiles and leaves.

As I pay for my stuff I am thinking to myself, "I will never do that. I know I have to pay. It's not a surprise they spring on you at a store, I will be ready to pay." The arrogance of us boomers is amazing. Narcissism runs deep. It's all about us. All 70 million of us or whatever that damn number is. I wish I could go back in time and apologize to that lady, but at the same time I don't want to end up irritating the hell out of everyone around me. You know who you are, you old people who drive in the fast lane going the speed limit. If homicide was legal, I would be the World War Flying Ace of the freeways. But, I have morals and common sense and a deep seated fear of peeing in front of strangers so that I would never do anything to put myself in jail.

I have many rules for my future geezer self. Hopefully, I will end up being a cool old lady who only smells a little funny.

Ant Island

A Bug's Life...Pixar

Why are ants the one bug I don't mind squashing with my fingers? If you asked me to squash any other bug with my fingers I would squeal and run away like a little girl. Of course, after watching this movie, I felt kinda of bad doing it. I might be flattening Flik or something. I mean, did you all stop eating pork after the movie "Babe"? That didn't bother me...I like my bacon and sausage, but I felt twinges of guilt like maybe the little piggy ghost of Babe or Wilbur from Charlotte's Web were going to appear. How come no one feels bad eating a vegetable? Broccoli doesn't have feelings? Onions make you cry...they must be sad or something.

What started this ridiculous post was the incredible conga line of ants I have had crawling around my house lately. I haven't had company in a while and now I am going to have my mom, my sister and her son, my niece and her son staying with me, so I have been running around really cleaning. Not pretend cleaning. No sirree. Real cleaning. Vacuuming. Scrubbing. Wiping. And every day, a new line of ants appears.

First, of course, the kitchen. They started in the butler's pantry, went up the side of a cabinet like little sherpas, up to the CEILING, down to the upper cabinets where the honey and molasses and Crisco shortening are. They loved the honey, molested the molasses, but totally went orgasmic over the shortening. Can ants get high cholesterol? If so, we should just leave Crisco out and watch them expire of clogged arteries. I was on the phone with JuJuBeez when I spotted the ants so she had to listen to me beyotch as I cleaned and sprayed. I wield my bottle of Windex (hey, you saw My Big Fat Greek Wedding) and spray like mad. This is kind of nice in a way. I get to clean and kill at the same time. Find where the conga line starts and bring out the big guns. Dum dum dum dee dum...Home Defense Max. Spray like mad and no more ants from there.

The next day...ants in the downstairs bathroom which means they are soon marching into my office and onto my desk. Do you have any idea how weird it is to watch an ant crawl out of a keyboard? Quick, I tell them, go for the delete key. Hee, hee. More spraying, more wiping, more killing. I am starting to feel I need a pith helmet.

The next day...ants in the upstairs bathroom and laundry room. Okay, what on earth is in a laundry room they would want? I don't think dust bunnies are edible unless you are a dust fox. This is getting ridiculous. I'm cleaning things I never imagined cleaning until I moved out. Sheesh.

The next day...well, today actually. Ants in the sink. Windex them and leave their little carcasses as warnings to the next batch. Hey, it's 4:30 in the morning and I don't feel like being the great white hunter. Work for a few hours, sun rises, and go back to the kitchen to make coffee. (I only zapped coffee from the day before earlier.) Arggggg....a giant conga line from the sink, up the kitchen window, to the CEILING (do they know I'm short or something?), across a few feet of ceiling and down to another cabinet where they disappeared somewhere. Spooky.

Now, I can't leave this line of black specks and I can't reach all that well, so I vacuumed the little black specks up, jumping up and down trying to reach them all. I hope no one looks too close. My only hope is that this is it. I have sprayed almost everywhere place to go suckers.

Sigh. Teddy Bear comes in and says, "Mom, did you know there is a giant line of ants in your bedroom?" WHAT?!! Race upstairs and sure enough. Another conga line. But this one is really weird. It started in my closet but they seemed to spring up out of the floor from under a box, went out the closet door, made a left turn, zig zagged across the room to a pile of clothes I had left on the floor the night before and were happily making a new place to domicile I guess because I could not see where the line went from there. Okay, you little insects, this is it. Big guns only. This is where I sleep. No mercy. Spray and vacuum.

So now my upstairs is all vacuumed, I have sprayed all upstairs and cleaned more than I wanted to. I am trying to figure out where they are going to appear next. Probably knock on the front door. That seems to be the only thing they haven't tried yet.

Thursday, July 2, 2009

Elephants and Chimps

Sshhhh...don't tell my clients but I played hooky last Thursday to go the San Diego Zoo and see the Elephant Odyssey with my grandson, Little Z, Teddy Bear, Killdozer, and the Hot Tamale. Tell me, do all men stick together? Even when they are 2 feet tall and can't speak yet? Is there a grunting secret code? A special handshake?

I am as out of shape as the floating lumbering hippos in the hippo exhibit. I let the Hot Tamale push the stroller until we got to the Elephant Odyssey exhibit. I whined to the Hot Tamale to let me take Little Z out of the stroller so I could chase him around and just squeeze the stuffin' out of him. He is so damn cute. I had forgotten though that at that age, 15 months, if you zig, they want to zag. He was mesmerized by the horse...which is weird. A horse at the zoo? Temecula has loads of horses. We gave Teddy Bear's horse away to friends who had 5 acres where he could really have fun.

We kept trying to herd him toward the elephants...ha, ha, I made a pun without trying, but he would only let Killdozer take him by the hand and lead him along. Sheesh. A fifteen month old male chauvinist. He toddled along finally to the elephants where one HUGE elephant was getting cleaned and hosed down and spoiled rotten with treats. You could stand right at the fence and watch. That giant elephant was so well trained and sneaky, too. The guy would give him a treat every once in a while so she kept trying to sneak one out of his pocket. Hee, hee. I could have stayed there for hours as long as Z was having fun. He kept standing on his tip toes to see better which was cracking me up. He was right at the fence as you can see from the picture and it wasn't like he could see OVER the fence.

We were there for quite a while when Killdozer leans over and whispers, "Hey, Michael Jackson is dead." What?? Who told you that? His brother had texted him the news, but I did not believe it when a lady in front of us turned around and said it was true, her daughter had just sent her an e-mail that it was true. How ironic and how weird how wired the world is now. You know what I kept thinking as I was standing there listening to the people talk about it? Damn, I wanted my computer. I felt out of touch. I have a stone age phone still so I could not connect to the internet, although I did get a text from a friend of mine telling me the news, too. In a strange twist, I understand how hard it is going to be for Iran to keep their young people down with how connected we all are now. To tell the truth though, I am already sick to death hearing about Michael Jackson.

He is going to be buried or something on Tuesday which is good for me. My niece is flying out from South Dakota with her son and we are going to Disneyland on Tuesday. I am hoping everyone in Southern California will be clogging up the freeways following the motorcade like a bunch of yokels and we can have the park to ourselves. Yes, I like his music. Heck, he is my age, so his music is like a soundtrack for many parts of my life, but please, all the adulation? Why? They are giving away 11,000 tickets to the Staples center for a memorial of some kind. You know, the same Staples Center where Laker fans rioted. Will Jackson fans riot? Do a mass moonwalking? Flood LA with their tears like Alice in Wonderland?

So, anyways, if you are at Disneyland on Tuesday, hopefully we will be the only people there and we can have fun running around the park racing from ride to ride.