I have a million dollar idea. Celebrity Survivor-- OMG.
This will only be interesting to those of us who have lovingly watched every season/location of Survivor and for those of us who have painstakingly watched this season in Nicaragua. It's okay- we can all admit that we watch the show, and love it more than we'd like to admit, and probably more than is healthy (or normal). Survivor has been woven into the fabric of the American television experience and is emblematic of the duplicity which lives deep in all of us.
My favorite season to date was the Heros vs. Villains. It was fantastic. We knew all of the players, and since the villains were called out by being named villains, we couldn't wait to see what would happen next. Literally, I was sad when each episode ended. That season rivaled any four star movie or National Geographic special that I have ever seen.
Don't get me wrong, I understand that reality television isn't necessarily reality- there is a fair amount of editing and re shooting and plotting by the producers, but the notion of Survivor remains pure in my heart. Who can Survive being out in the wild for 30 + days? Likely they are given toothbrushes (as all of them have hauntingly white teeth) and razors (as the girls don't seem to grow armpit hair-- because THAT would be too much for the American viewing audience); but they have to compete and there are alliances, lying, cheating, stealing, flirting and fighting, all in the name of a $1,00,000 jackpot at the end. Brilliant, if not formulaic, but brilliant.
This season they decided to let a celebrity play. Jimmy Johnson, some type of former NFL coach (sorry, I don't want football, if it were an NBA coach...I would have been all over it!) I realized from the first moment of watching the first show this season that poor Jimmy Johnson wasn't going to make it. You can't put a celebrity with the normal folks- it creates a too uneven playing field. He had a target on his back because everyone knew who he was and that made him a threat; so the Survivors did what I would have done- they kicked him off at the first tribal council. Jimmy was a great leader for his time on the show and that's when it came to me....
Celebrity Survivor! OMG- I have been building this cast for the last couple of weeks and want to see what you guys think of this. First, Jimmy Johnson has to come back. He needs to be able to play in his own crowd. Then I am thinking of either Donald Trump OR Yvanka (the daughter, right?). Would be awesome to see the true entrepreneur and billionaire have to stick it out in the wild; and I would put money on the Trump making it fairly far in this game. Next I think I would have Justin Beiber on the show- just to see what would happen, right? Beiber could be replaced by any of those Jonas people, they would work just the same and seem rather interchangeable, in my opinion. Then we need Lindsay Lohan- this would serve a dual purpose (possibly a triple threat). First, she would be out in the wild- that would be payment enough. The next bonus would be that the public could watch her suffering on a weekly basis, and the third-she would be eliminated. She would be voted off of something (and maybe fed to the lions as she should be!!) Next I see Kelly Rippa...what ever will she do without her electrolux appliances that can boil water in 90 seconds? I see Matthew Maconaghay..because it would be hilarious to see him banging those bongos in a jungle somewhere while competing to be the Ultimate Survivor. I would like to see Charles Barkley on this as well. He is hysterical as an NBA commentator and I think he would be brilliant as his competitive nature would certainly put him as a threat- but a funny one. Oprah would be awesome on this show, but I think that I am more likely to get Dr. Phil who would bring a certain balance to the experience, thought I would love to see him lose his shit and scream at everyone! Wow- that would be awesome. Chelsea Handler and Chuey are a must; along with Conan O'brien and Jay Leno. Really, I just want to see Conan KICK JAY'S ASS! It would be like celebrity death match and Survivor all wrapped up in one. Finally, I think that Rosie O'Donnell and Janice Dickinson should be on the show as well- they would nicely round out the cast.
Now of course, there is still room for a few others and I am kicking around some ideas in my head. I am considering a spot for Kate Gosselin- that could have a lot of potential. Shorty from Pit Boss would add some spice; and perhaps Manny from Modern Family (if I said Rico Rodrigues, not many people would get it). Any other thoughts of potential cast? Have to be careful to not get someone too big because then it would be all about the paparazzi and the glory and fame of it but you need to get people who will fight with each other and some of who, if they became jungle cat food, we wouldn't really miss. We all know from the list above that Chelsea wouldn't be cat food- she would be the one throwing Lindsay to the lions; and Conan could certainly out wit Jay Leno....I wonder if Conan would steal Jay's shoes, fill them with sand and them put them in the water?
OMG-- I am giddy with excitement just thinking of the possibilities of this...and in the end, instead of a cash prize or a donation to some charity- the winner gets to publicly flog Lindsay Lohan....makes it all worth it in my eyes!!!
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Thursday, November 11, 2010
The first time....
Burlesque was terrible the first time I saw it, when it was called Showgirls.
Hollywood, my beloved Hollywood, continues to remake movies. Some of the time I am okay with the remakes, so long as the remake understands that it is a remake. For instance, King Kong. The first King Kong (1937?) was great; it had all of the elements that makes a movioe about a giant ape wonderful. The humanity of King Kong, you feel his confusion when he kills the dinosaur and by the end, you understand the people's fear of him, but you are sad when he dies. And then you are even sadder when you watch the Jeff Bridges version of King Kong. It wasn't terrible....but, ono the third try, Hollywood went back to the original story and hit a homerun with the Jack Black version. It was wonderful.
I heard rumors running arpound for a while that they were going to remake The Goonies. OMG- that would have been a dream come true. I mean, I would have played Chunk (if Hollywood thinks Sarah Jessica Parker is hot, then I can be Chunk, right?) and Josh Brolin (hello Hot Stuff). But they canned it. I don't know why-- perhaps because they were too busy remaking the Incredible Hulk for the 10th time. That was never even a movie in the first place- why did they make it a movie and then re-do it a bunch of times? Now some will say that they were different movies- like a part 2, 3, 4 or whatever- but really- it was the same shit all the way through. And then there was the A-Team. The first time A-team was on TV, it was like a little slice of heaven in my living room. that show was AWESOME....but the movie-- TERRIBLE. I mean, really who would buy Bradley Cooper in that role? No....that didn't work. In about a month, yet another remake is coming out. TRON (in 3D). I am excited because it's in 3D and that may help my business, but Tron was retarded the first time. Disney decided to spend a shit load of money on a remake of a stupid cartoon made 25 years ago (or so?) that was likely the product of a bad acid trip, but they put the brakes on the Goonies? Really? where is the remake of such classics as Tommy Boy? There have been 320 million prequels and the like of Star Wars--- I wanna see Tommy Boy jr.-- there is a market here that has been highly untapped. No remake of Breakfast Club, no Pretty Woman Back on the Streets, but Tron. What a let down! And what about Baby? Sure, Johnnie may have succumb to cancer, but no one, not even cancer, can put Baby in a corner. Oh wait, there's probably a Mylie Cyrus movie being remade....
Hollywood, my beloved Hollywood, continues to remake movies. Some of the time I am okay with the remakes, so long as the remake understands that it is a remake. For instance, King Kong. The first King Kong (1937?) was great; it had all of the elements that makes a movioe about a giant ape wonderful. The humanity of King Kong, you feel his confusion when he kills the dinosaur and by the end, you understand the people's fear of him, but you are sad when he dies. And then you are even sadder when you watch the Jeff Bridges version of King Kong. It wasn't terrible....but, ono the third try, Hollywood went back to the original story and hit a homerun with the Jack Black version. It was wonderful.
I heard rumors running arpound for a while that they were going to remake The Goonies. OMG- that would have been a dream come true. I mean, I would have played Chunk (if Hollywood thinks Sarah Jessica Parker is hot, then I can be Chunk, right?) and Josh Brolin (hello Hot Stuff). But they canned it. I don't know why-- perhaps because they were too busy remaking the Incredible Hulk for the 10th time. That was never even a movie in the first place- why did they make it a movie and then re-do it a bunch of times? Now some will say that they were different movies- like a part 2, 3, 4 or whatever- but really- it was the same shit all the way through. And then there was the A-Team. The first time A-team was on TV, it was like a little slice of heaven in my living room. that show was AWESOME....but the movie-- TERRIBLE. I mean, really who would buy Bradley Cooper in that role? No....that didn't work. In about a month, yet another remake is coming out. TRON (in 3D). I am excited because it's in 3D and that may help my business, but Tron was retarded the first time. Disney decided to spend a shit load of money on a remake of a stupid cartoon made 25 years ago (or so?) that was likely the product of a bad acid trip, but they put the brakes on the Goonies? Really? where is the remake of such classics as Tommy Boy? There have been 320 million prequels and the like of Star Wars--- I wanna see Tommy Boy jr.-- there is a market here that has been highly untapped. No remake of Breakfast Club, no Pretty Woman Back on the Streets, but Tron. What a let down! And what about Baby? Sure, Johnnie may have succumb to cancer, but no one, not even cancer, can put Baby in a corner. Oh wait, there's probably a Mylie Cyrus movie being remade....
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Travel Endorsements.....
I just came home from Florida. I was on a business trip to a trade show, and I discovered a few things about traveling that I would like to share with my beloved audience.
I begin with transportation to and from the airport. I used to be very frugal about it; I would first try to hit up my friends for a ride. Often I could coerce someone into the trip, but by and large (or is it by IN large?) people would always have a reason to not participate in my travel. And who can blame them, really? Driving to LAX is nothing short of a death wish. People somehow lose all focus when they are diving to pick someone up; the dashed lines separating the road into something called lanes; and the blinkers that all cars (I am pretty sure all cars have them) have are used to indicate to other drivers where you would like to turn-- these are things that do not exist in airport world. So, I began to take myself and park at the airport. The first couple of times I decided to be frugal (okay, CHEAP) about the whole thing and I parked in the far away lot. Christ- I could have walked to the airport faster than the "shuttle" could have driven me there. And the way back is so much worse...I had to remember where I parked my car....are you kidding me? I can't even remember if I locked my front door or remembered to check out of the hotel room....now you want me to remember where I parked my car over a week ago in a vast cement wastefield where every row looks the same? There have been many a wasted hours walking around that stupid parking lot looking for my car.....
So I decided to treat myself to parking at The Parking Spot. I chose valet- because, why not? Let me tell you something- when you travel, go to The Parking Spot! No hassle, the bus drivers load and unload my bags (because I am such a wimp it truly is a struggle to get my suitcase off of the ground and into the trunk!!) They drop you off for your flight, then they pick you up and have your car waiting for you! It's amazing....and highly recommended.
Next thing, I had the chance to flying Virgin Atlantic to Orlando for the trade show. That was the best flight ever! I sat in an exit row, and no one sat next to me. So I had three seats to myself- a glorious luxury not often experienced in today's airline economy! And then I asked for a water, not at the predetermined beverage service; the flight attendant pointed to the screen that was in front of me and told me to order a water because it helps them keep track of their inventory. So all I had to do- to order anything- from food that I had pay for to movies, to TV to drinks to "on the house" refreshments. So I could order something without ever having to actually speak to another person. It was spectacular, the answer to all of my prayers!
I begin with transportation to and from the airport. I used to be very frugal about it; I would first try to hit up my friends for a ride. Often I could coerce someone into the trip, but by and large (or is it by IN large?) people would always have a reason to not participate in my travel. And who can blame them, really? Driving to LAX is nothing short of a death wish. People somehow lose all focus when they are diving to pick someone up; the dashed lines separating the road into something called lanes; and the blinkers that all cars (I am pretty sure all cars have them) have are used to indicate to other drivers where you would like to turn-- these are things that do not exist in airport world. So, I began to take myself and park at the airport. The first couple of times I decided to be frugal (okay, CHEAP) about the whole thing and I parked in the far away lot. Christ- I could have walked to the airport faster than the "shuttle" could have driven me there. And the way back is so much worse...I had to remember where I parked my car....are you kidding me? I can't even remember if I locked my front door or remembered to check out of the hotel room....now you want me to remember where I parked my car over a week ago in a vast cement wastefield where every row looks the same? There have been many a wasted hours walking around that stupid parking lot looking for my car.....
So I decided to treat myself to parking at The Parking Spot. I chose valet- because, why not? Let me tell you something- when you travel, go to The Parking Spot! No hassle, the bus drivers load and unload my bags (because I am such a wimp it truly is a struggle to get my suitcase off of the ground and into the trunk!!) They drop you off for your flight, then they pick you up and have your car waiting for you! It's amazing....and highly recommended.
Next thing, I had the chance to flying Virgin Atlantic to Orlando for the trade show. That was the best flight ever! I sat in an exit row, and no one sat next to me. So I had three seats to myself- a glorious luxury not often experienced in today's airline economy! And then I asked for a water, not at the predetermined beverage service; the flight attendant pointed to the screen that was in front of me and told me to order a water because it helps them keep track of their inventory. So all I had to do- to order anything- from food that I had pay for to movies, to TV to drinks to "on the house" refreshments. So I could order something without ever having to actually speak to another person. It was spectacular, the answer to all of my prayers!
Sunday, September 26, 2010
You know you've made it in Hollywood when.....
1. You are asked to be on "Dancing with the Stars"-- if you could see me now you would see me using air quotes around Stars. I am completely flabbergasted that a hilarious person such as myself still has not made it, yet The Situation (really?) is on the stupidest tv show ever created. And people love this shit! There are billboards and t-shirts and thousands of water cooler conversations. It makes me sad to know that there is a whole culture of Americans who live and die by whether or not a has been can dance the meringue. And by the way, since when are horrible reality TV personnel and underqualified TV anchorpeople considered to be stars? I don't really care if Kate can dance- why isn't she taking care of her gaggle of kids (because we know her douche bag ex isn't doing it).
2. You start to research ridiculous plastic surgeries to make you fit in better. For instance, I am curious about second toe shortening. My second toe is about half an inch longer than all of my other toes (this means that I have to wear a size 8 1/2 because the extra length on my toe can't be jammed into an 8). People stare, and sometimes laugh. I always thought it was endearing, but then someone pointed out to me that my toe is as long as my pinkie (which is true)- so
I wondered if there is a surgery to reduce the size of the toe? I also wonder if there is a procedure that will reduce nipple size? Hollywood really isn't the place for nipples the size of small plates.
3. You wake up 30 minutes early every day to watch the traffic reports. When I was in Colorado we had to contend with snow, out here it is sheer volume. The fact that about every 3rd car on the freeway has NO RIGHT to be on the road, much less a freeway, breakdowns are common and can catastrophically damage your morning commute. They have even hired someone specifically to do the traffic reports-- that's her entire job. I used to think that being a weather person in LA would be a pretty easy job (the temperature varies about 10 degrees through the year- rarely rains-- really there is no weather); but then I watched the traffic reports. That is the job for me!!
4. You are irritated because the mall in the valley does NOT have valet parking. How dare they?
5. You actually set out to find flip flops that would be acceptable with a dress. Trust me, the search is on!!!
2. You start to research ridiculous plastic surgeries to make you fit in better. For instance, I am curious about second toe shortening. My second toe is about half an inch longer than all of my other toes (this means that I have to wear a size 8 1/2 because the extra length on my toe can't be jammed into an 8). People stare, and sometimes laugh. I always thought it was endearing, but then someone pointed out to me that my toe is as long as my pinkie (which is true)- so
I wondered if there is a surgery to reduce the size of the toe? I also wonder if there is a procedure that will reduce nipple size? Hollywood really isn't the place for nipples the size of small plates.
3. You wake up 30 minutes early every day to watch the traffic reports. When I was in Colorado we had to contend with snow, out here it is sheer volume. The fact that about every 3rd car on the freeway has NO RIGHT to be on the road, much less a freeway, breakdowns are common and can catastrophically damage your morning commute. They have even hired someone specifically to do the traffic reports-- that's her entire job. I used to think that being a weather person in LA would be a pretty easy job (the temperature varies about 10 degrees through the year- rarely rains-- really there is no weather); but then I watched the traffic reports. That is the job for me!!
4. You are irritated because the mall in the valley does NOT have valet parking. How dare they?
5. You actually set out to find flip flops that would be acceptable with a dress. Trust me, the search is on!!!
Thursday, September 23, 2010
If I were a rich girl......
Everyone fantasizes about being rich. We all sit in our cubicles and dream about calling in rich after we win the lottery. Men typically dream about the women they could land- what cars or remote controlled helicopters they could buy (think Bruce Jenner).
I think about what plastic surgeries I would have. First, anyone that knows me understands that I would have to be SO rich that I would sleep under a blanket of 50 dollar bills. So for me to think about surgeries- it's a little out of the norm. But at any rate- these are the things I would do if I were a rich girl. I would have full body laser hair removal. This would be the most awesome thing in the world. Think about it- if I could take my hair off every night before I go to bed- OMG-I would never have to pay $250 for a cut and color again! I would never be the victim of a bad hair day! I wouldn't have grey hair (I had my first at 14....THANK YOU VERY MUCH!) Can you imagine never having to shave your legs, or your pits-- or your face again? That would be awesome. I am so over trying to shave my shins or around the back of my ankle with a new razor only to slice a 3" long piece of skin off which id left curled in the end of the pink razor forcing me to pick it out to continue my shaving while I am bleeding to death. Fuck that! And for those little whiskers that pop up overnight and overtake my chin....NO MORE.
Imagine never having to pluck eyebrows again. I figure my face would be like a dry erase board. I could walk around and draw on the eyebrows to match the expression that I am trying to convey. This way I can get uber botox (thus paralyzing my face) and not have to worry about the side effects. I can just wipe off my eyebrows and draw on new ones to match the emotion I wish to conevy! BRILLIANT!!
I would also have my turkey gaggle removed. And my fat arms.....I think that instead of actually working for thin arms, I would just pay for arm transplants. I want arms like Angela Basset- only arms that would match me.....and I would get a tummy implant-- I figure if I have all my internal organs removed, I, too, can have a flat tummy! Who needs a stomache anyway? No one that lives in my neighborhood!!!!
Finally- I would get dentures. I would never have to floss again, never hear a dentist drill again, and I could have chicklet like teeth that would light a dark room. God- I would be hot--- but then again- I wouln\n't be me....I would be Lindsay Lohan (no good waste of space)......
I think about what plastic surgeries I would have. First, anyone that knows me understands that I would have to be SO rich that I would sleep under a blanket of 50 dollar bills. So for me to think about surgeries- it's a little out of the norm. But at any rate- these are the things I would do if I were a rich girl. I would have full body laser hair removal. This would be the most awesome thing in the world. Think about it- if I could take my hair off every night before I go to bed- OMG-I would never have to pay $250 for a cut and color again! I would never be the victim of a bad hair day! I wouldn't have grey hair (I had my first at 14....THANK YOU VERY MUCH!) Can you imagine never having to shave your legs, or your pits-- or your face again? That would be awesome. I am so over trying to shave my shins or around the back of my ankle with a new razor only to slice a 3" long piece of skin off which id left curled in the end of the pink razor forcing me to pick it out to continue my shaving while I am bleeding to death. Fuck that! And for those little whiskers that pop up overnight and overtake my chin....NO MORE.
Imagine never having to pluck eyebrows again. I figure my face would be like a dry erase board. I could walk around and draw on the eyebrows to match the expression that I am trying to convey. This way I can get uber botox (thus paralyzing my face) and not have to worry about the side effects. I can just wipe off my eyebrows and draw on new ones to match the emotion I wish to conevy! BRILLIANT!!
I would also have my turkey gaggle removed. And my fat arms.....I think that instead of actually working for thin arms, I would just pay for arm transplants. I want arms like Angela Basset- only arms that would match me.....and I would get a tummy implant-- I figure if I have all my internal organs removed, I, too, can have a flat tummy! Who needs a stomache anyway? No one that lives in my neighborhood!!!!
Finally- I would get dentures. I would never have to floss again, never hear a dentist drill again, and I could have chicklet like teeth that would light a dark room. God- I would be hot--- but then again- I wouln\n't be me....I would be Lindsay Lohan (no good waste of space)......
Sunday, September 12, 2010
More wedding shenanigans.....
I warn anyone and everyone who is reading this blog and may be related to me (including my new sister)-- DON'T get mad....i am funny! I only poke fun at those I love!
With that disclaimer out of the way, I take this chance to let you all in on a few family secrets- as I would have loved to include in my speech. It was more of a roast rather than a toast, at least in it's original form.
I wanted to warn Laura of what she was walking into...and now that she is contractually bound to be a member of the Andrews family...here goes!
1. My mom-- very sweet- but the saying that people become eccentric as they get older could never ring so true but with my mom. A couple of years ago, my parents went to Hawaii with some friends and asked me to come back to Colorado and watch the horses and all of the animals while they were gone. Sure, not a problem. However, this was probably the snowiest January I had ever seen in Colorado so I spent a good time marooned at their house...with not a lot to do and even less to eat. One fine day, I decided to raid the freezer in the garage hoping to find some delicious, frosty treat. My mom has a habit of buying candy and other bad foods and hiding them around the house so no one else can find them (even though it's only my mom and dad in that house, she still does it). I was rummaging through the freezer and what should I find, but a Target bag, wrapped around something. I am thinking this could be ice-cream...or something....but no...it was an OWL! Holy shit- my mom had an owl in her freezer, where there was people food, wrapped in a Target bag. When they called to check in on me, I asked what this was all about. Apparently this OWL flew into a window on the porch and broke it's neck and my mom thought it was so beautiful that she wanted to find someone to stuff it for her. Low and behold, it was a protected bird and she didn't want to hand it over to the state, so she was stashing it away in her freezer until she found a taxidermist prepared to commit a felony in order to stuff her bird. She explained this to me as if I should have known.....and let me tell you- about a month later she made a very uncharacteristic phone call to me to tell me (in a VERY animated voice) that she found almost a whole dead baby fox....and it was now in the freezer. Thank God she came to her senses and finally got rid of her small but growing collection of dead animals in the freezer, next to people food.
So, without a doubt, my mom is eccentric- of not crazy. But we all love her- I just needed to warn Laura-- DON'T EVER open a container or bag without asking first, because I can't promise you what will be in there. I wouldn't be surprised to find a shrunken head in there one day!
2. And then we move onto my dad. He loves Bailey more than he loves life itself. Now keep in mind that this is the same man who threatened divorce when my mom let my brother and I get pets. He never liked the pets we grew up with. The only time he was interested in horses was when he used to go hunting and had to pack horse all the way to the camp site. So when I realized that my dad loves his dog, Bailey, more than anything else in life- I was a little shocked. I had to learn that dad will kick me off of the couch if Bailey wants to be up there. When mom is gone, Bailey sleeps in the bed with him. He would bring the dog to work with him, if he could. I find myself jealous....in a strange way. I wonder if Bailey is ever jealous of me?
Also, my dad tends to sleep in front of the TV. AND he snores....but he will deny it until the day he dies. He also denies that he is sleeping. But he will tilt the chair back, turn on golf, and within a few minutes he is snoring away. Normally this would be expected- I mean, I can't think of a better thing to use to help one fall asleep than watching golf on TV, but if you try to change the channel, he will awake at the exact moment that the channel changes as if electrocuted. It's hysterical, but then he gets a little mad. So don't try to change the channel when he is sleeping in front of the TV. Just not a good plan!
Before the wedding, I interviewed for a job (that I got!) and they wanted me to start the same week as the wedding. I told them I could not start that week because I was going to a giant wedding. They all smiled and gave me that knowing look- asking how big the wedding was going to be. I told them it was a fairly small wedding, but that actual GIANTS were getting married. I have the pictures to prove it!!! I wonder how tall their kids will be?
Finally- as we have all realized- I will never be married and will never have kids (likely will never be in another relationship!!)- so having grandkids is up to Steve and Laura. My dad wants them yesterday--- so get to working, kids! If it's a girl, Christine is a really nice name!! Tee hee hee!
With that disclaimer out of the way, I take this chance to let you all in on a few family secrets- as I would have loved to include in my speech. It was more of a roast rather than a toast, at least in it's original form.
I wanted to warn Laura of what she was walking into...and now that she is contractually bound to be a member of the Andrews family...here goes!
1. My mom-- very sweet- but the saying that people become eccentric as they get older could never ring so true but with my mom. A couple of years ago, my parents went to Hawaii with some friends and asked me to come back to Colorado and watch the horses and all of the animals while they were gone. Sure, not a problem. However, this was probably the snowiest January I had ever seen in Colorado so I spent a good time marooned at their house...with not a lot to do and even less to eat. One fine day, I decided to raid the freezer in the garage hoping to find some delicious, frosty treat. My mom has a habit of buying candy and other bad foods and hiding them around the house so no one else can find them (even though it's only my mom and dad in that house, she still does it). I was rummaging through the freezer and what should I find, but a Target bag, wrapped around something. I am thinking this could be ice-cream...or something....but no...it was an OWL! Holy shit- my mom had an owl in her freezer, where there was people food, wrapped in a Target bag. When they called to check in on me, I asked what this was all about. Apparently this OWL flew into a window on the porch and broke it's neck and my mom thought it was so beautiful that she wanted to find someone to stuff it for her. Low and behold, it was a protected bird and she didn't want to hand it over to the state, so she was stashing it away in her freezer until she found a taxidermist prepared to commit a felony in order to stuff her bird. She explained this to me as if I should have known.....and let me tell you- about a month later she made a very uncharacteristic phone call to me to tell me (in a VERY animated voice) that she found almost a whole dead baby fox....and it was now in the freezer. Thank God she came to her senses and finally got rid of her small but growing collection of dead animals in the freezer, next to people food.
So, without a doubt, my mom is eccentric- of not crazy. But we all love her- I just needed to warn Laura-- DON'T EVER open a container or bag without asking first, because I can't promise you what will be in there. I wouldn't be surprised to find a shrunken head in there one day!
2. And then we move onto my dad. He loves Bailey more than he loves life itself. Now keep in mind that this is the same man who threatened divorce when my mom let my brother and I get pets. He never liked the pets we grew up with. The only time he was interested in horses was when he used to go hunting and had to pack horse all the way to the camp site. So when I realized that my dad loves his dog, Bailey, more than anything else in life- I was a little shocked. I had to learn that dad will kick me off of the couch if Bailey wants to be up there. When mom is gone, Bailey sleeps in the bed with him. He would bring the dog to work with him, if he could. I find myself jealous....in a strange way. I wonder if Bailey is ever jealous of me?
Also, my dad tends to sleep in front of the TV. AND he snores....but he will deny it until the day he dies. He also denies that he is sleeping. But he will tilt the chair back, turn on golf, and within a few minutes he is snoring away. Normally this would be expected- I mean, I can't think of a better thing to use to help one fall asleep than watching golf on TV, but if you try to change the channel, he will awake at the exact moment that the channel changes as if electrocuted. It's hysterical, but then he gets a little mad. So don't try to change the channel when he is sleeping in front of the TV. Just not a good plan!
Before the wedding, I interviewed for a job (that I got!) and they wanted me to start the same week as the wedding. I told them I could not start that week because I was going to a giant wedding. They all smiled and gave me that knowing look- asking how big the wedding was going to be. I told them it was a fairly small wedding, but that actual GIANTS were getting married. I have the pictures to prove it!!! I wonder how tall their kids will be?
Finally- as we have all realized- I will never be married and will never have kids (likely will never be in another relationship!!)- so having grandkids is up to Steve and Laura. My dad wants them yesterday--- so get to working, kids! If it's a girl, Christine is a really nice name!! Tee hee hee!
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Ode to a motorcycle
I love to ride on motorcycles. There is nothing that can make a girl feel sexier than hoping on the back of a bike with a hot guy at the wheel. There is something very feminine, while still being a little dangerous. I have no desire to learn to drive one, but I will take every chance I get to take a ride on one.
And one so opportunity came upon me at my brother's wedding. Let me set the scene so everyone can appreciate the event. Most of you know that I have been unemployed for the past 2 months (though I now have a job, a horrendous commute and a start date of Tuesday, Sept. 7). Unemployment doesn't agree with me, as I didn't take the time off to do all of the things I can't do while working such as writing my novel, running a marathon...that type of thing. The only marathons I was involved in were Real Housewives of New Jersey and reruns of Golden Girls and Roseanne. While participating in those marathons I can't be held responsible for the thousands and thousands of calories I consumed. So I put on a little weight. Okay, I put on a lot of weight. So going stag to my brother's wedding in a dress that fit me great about 15 pounds ago and with enough spandex holding my tummy and ass in place to choke Godzilla I was feeling a little down; and uncomfortable--when your underwear cuts off the circulation in your legs, something has to change. I did what every red blooded American girl would do when feeling overly single, fat and unattractive..I decided to boost my self esteem with liquid courage.
My sister in law had been telling me about this friend of hers. He's an old family friend who she has known forever, he's in school to be an engineer and he's good looking, nice, charming, smart. Against my better judgement, I let Laura and her mother, Geri, introduce me to Nathan. Wow- they were right! He was very sweet, if not a little shy. He was a great dancer, seemed to be having a lot of fun. Drink after drink I found myself gravitating to him, mostly because he seemed to be the only other single person there. As the night wore on, we danced, and I drank. We really didn't get to talk all that much, because the music was loud and everyone was enjoying the party. Apparently I enjoyed the party quite a bit- there's a photo of me with my best friend's husband and I am smoking a cigar! Don't worry- I have known John for about a zillion years- we go way back...and since I introduced John to Allison, I figured he and I could dance, laugh, fall down (thanks for pulling my dress back down!)
At this point in the evening, the elders began to leave. The party was just beginning. Most of the girls, including myself, had taken shoes off and were having a more comfortable time. I put my purse....somewhere, and my shoes were somewhere....but after several cocktails, I really didn't care about the necessities of cell phones and shoes.
And then it happened. Nathan told me he has a motorcycle. OMG...this was the best thing that I could have heard. So he offers to take me on a ride, which I gladly accepted. If you are looking at Steve and Laura's wedding photos, the last one is of me, on the back of the bike, about to go for a ride. I wasn't sure what time it was, but when Nathan said he wanted to take me for a ride who was I to refuse? So I hop on the bike with Nathan, and all of my insecurities seemed to fade away, if only for a few hours. Me, Christine Andrews, was leaving a wedding to go for a ride with a smart and gorgeous ex navy sailor to go on a motorcycle ride. Off we went. The air blew through my hair and I shivered against the cold of the night, but I just pressed myself closer to Nathan and he revved the bike and faster we went.
I didn't think that we were gone that long- but soon enough we decided to return back to the wedding. We pulled up to the club where the wedding was held only to find it completely closed up. No lights, no cars in the parking lots, nothing. It was almost like the twilight zone. And here I was, no shoes, no cell phone, no ID, no money, no nothing (pardon the double negative) save for the thrill of a motorcycle ride and the incredible feeling that I might not be as fat and unattractive as I first thought. What craziness......suffice it to say, we took another ride and found a hotel to crash at. I didn't want to make him take me all the way back to my parents house....because it was my PARENT'S house....and it was late and we were exhausted. He wasn't from the area either, so he didn't have a place to bring me, so the hotel was a logical choice.
In the morning, when I finally woke up from my liquor induced sleep, I had to figure out what the hell to do next. I didn't want him to take me home, to my PARENT'S house because it was a long way, I didn't have any shoes, and I was still trying to shake off about 11 scotch and waters from the night before so my stomache was less than settled. So I jammed myself back into all the spandex filled underwear and made the call of shame. I called my dad. I was 33 and was calling my daddy to come pick me up. Even with that humiliation, the evening was a total success. Thanks to a very sweet guy with a motorcycle, I spent a few hours feeling wanted, sexy, free spirited. For even a short while I wasn't panicked about my job, why I lost the last one or how the next one will treat me; I wasn't feeling sorry for myself because I have had a bit of a rough year; I wasn't feeling unworthy of a motorcycle ride. When he drove faster, I clung tighter to him and let him be the man while I was the sexy bitch on the back of his hog. And so I close Ode to a motorcycle with a thanks to Nathan for a fun night and for making me feel beautiful, if only for a couple of moments......
And one so opportunity came upon me at my brother's wedding. Let me set the scene so everyone can appreciate the event. Most of you know that I have been unemployed for the past 2 months (though I now have a job, a horrendous commute and a start date of Tuesday, Sept. 7). Unemployment doesn't agree with me, as I didn't take the time off to do all of the things I can't do while working such as writing my novel, running a marathon...that type of thing. The only marathons I was involved in were Real Housewives of New Jersey and reruns of Golden Girls and Roseanne. While participating in those marathons I can't be held responsible for the thousands and thousands of calories I consumed. So I put on a little weight. Okay, I put on a lot of weight. So going stag to my brother's wedding in a dress that fit me great about 15 pounds ago and with enough spandex holding my tummy and ass in place to choke Godzilla I was feeling a little down; and uncomfortable--when your underwear cuts off the circulation in your legs, something has to change. I did what every red blooded American girl would do when feeling overly single, fat and unattractive..I decided to boost my self esteem with liquid courage.
My sister in law had been telling me about this friend of hers. He's an old family friend who she has known forever, he's in school to be an engineer and he's good looking, nice, charming, smart. Against my better judgement, I let Laura and her mother, Geri, introduce me to Nathan. Wow- they were right! He was very sweet, if not a little shy. He was a great dancer, seemed to be having a lot of fun. Drink after drink I found myself gravitating to him, mostly because he seemed to be the only other single person there. As the night wore on, we danced, and I drank. We really didn't get to talk all that much, because the music was loud and everyone was enjoying the party. Apparently I enjoyed the party quite a bit- there's a photo of me with my best friend's husband and I am smoking a cigar! Don't worry- I have known John for about a zillion years- we go way back...and since I introduced John to Allison, I figured he and I could dance, laugh, fall down (thanks for pulling my dress back down!)
At this point in the evening, the elders began to leave. The party was just beginning. Most of the girls, including myself, had taken shoes off and were having a more comfortable time. I put my purse....somewhere, and my shoes were somewhere....but after several cocktails, I really didn't care about the necessities of cell phones and shoes.
And then it happened. Nathan told me he has a motorcycle. OMG...this was the best thing that I could have heard. So he offers to take me on a ride, which I gladly accepted. If you are looking at Steve and Laura's wedding photos, the last one is of me, on the back of the bike, about to go for a ride. I wasn't sure what time it was, but when Nathan said he wanted to take me for a ride who was I to refuse? So I hop on the bike with Nathan, and all of my insecurities seemed to fade away, if only for a few hours. Me, Christine Andrews, was leaving a wedding to go for a ride with a smart and gorgeous ex navy sailor to go on a motorcycle ride. Off we went. The air blew through my hair and I shivered against the cold of the night, but I just pressed myself closer to Nathan and he revved the bike and faster we went.
I didn't think that we were gone that long- but soon enough we decided to return back to the wedding. We pulled up to the club where the wedding was held only to find it completely closed up. No lights, no cars in the parking lots, nothing. It was almost like the twilight zone. And here I was, no shoes, no cell phone, no ID, no money, no nothing (pardon the double negative) save for the thrill of a motorcycle ride and the incredible feeling that I might not be as fat and unattractive as I first thought. What craziness......suffice it to say, we took another ride and found a hotel to crash at. I didn't want to make him take me all the way back to my parents house....because it was my PARENT'S house....and it was late and we were exhausted. He wasn't from the area either, so he didn't have a place to bring me, so the hotel was a logical choice.
In the morning, when I finally woke up from my liquor induced sleep, I had to figure out what the hell to do next. I didn't want him to take me home, to my PARENT'S house because it was a long way, I didn't have any shoes, and I was still trying to shake off about 11 scotch and waters from the night before so my stomache was less than settled. So I jammed myself back into all the spandex filled underwear and made the call of shame. I called my dad. I was 33 and was calling my daddy to come pick me up. Even with that humiliation, the evening was a total success. Thanks to a very sweet guy with a motorcycle, I spent a few hours feeling wanted, sexy, free spirited. For even a short while I wasn't panicked about my job, why I lost the last one or how the next one will treat me; I wasn't feeling sorry for myself because I have had a bit of a rough year; I wasn't feeling unworthy of a motorcycle ride. When he drove faster, I clung tighter to him and let him be the man while I was the sexy bitch on the back of his hog. And so I close Ode to a motorcycle with a thanks to Nathan for a fun night and for making me feel beautiful, if only for a couple of moments......
Thursday, September 2, 2010
The Speech......
I went to my big brother's wedding....and gave a toast. I didn't have the presence of mind to have it recorded, so I want to share it all with you here.
"My big brother just got married! Wow--- Steve, I wanted to thank you for bringing Laura into our family. I couldn't ask for a better sister...I love you. Laura, thank you for choosing and loving my brother- it's a tough job but someone's gotta do it!
Steve has changed a lot over the past ten years. He finally graduated college....and in just a shade under a decade too.....alright! And no, he's not a doctor, he's an engineer. We always knew that he would be an engineer, but his fate was cemented when he fashioned a little hand held battery operated fan out of spare household parts and and old erector set for the express and sole purpose of blowing his farts into my face. It was a life changing experience to be seven and trapped in a small car during the ride to school in winter time and having to make a choice between freezing to death by opening a window or suffocating to death by holding my breath.
When Steve finished college, he lost a staggering amount of weight, which amazes and inspires me. Then he did what every red blooded American engineer would do, decided to find a wife. And then he met Laura. Since he has met Laura, he has surprised me with his kindness, generosity and friendship. I mean, where is the big brother I grew up with? This was a kid who would hoard all of his allowance and birthday money so he could buy things like remote control cars and every gaming system from Atari to the Playstation. I would save my money for as long as possible, but Steve always managed to guilt me into buying HIM Wolverine man because he comes with bendable elbows and a personal hovercraft and stupid barbie has none of that. Because I loved my brother, I did, time and time again, what any good sister would do after being promised play dates and love forever, I bought him Wolverine man, and many many others. The play dates...never happened.
Steve is the smartest person I have ever met in real like. His Rainman like instant recall of everything from Seinfeld Trivia to the principles of Quantum Physics never cease to amaze me. As a matter of fact, I am confident Steve is the only person who can make The Hot Tub Time Machine come to fruition. And I am going to use it to go back to 1984 and this time I am getting cowgirl barbie who winked at you when you pushed the button on her back and was well dressed with her amazing boots and fully bedazzled cowgirl outfit with the pleather fringe. Sorry Steve- no Wolverine for you!
In closing, I would like to impart some pearls of wisdom that I learned while I was married. Okay, so I probably didn't learn these during my five minutes of wedded bliss but instead from my parents....who have been married....to eachother...for 40 years.
Steve and Laura, as you begin your life together:
-Laugh together
-Cry togethert
-Dream together
-Inspire eachother
-Accept eachother
-Support eachother
-Forgive eachother
And finally, Love eachother...always....as you do today.
Steve and Laura, I am so very happy for you both and I love you. Salud"
"My big brother just got married! Wow--- Steve, I wanted to thank you for bringing Laura into our family. I couldn't ask for a better sister...I love you. Laura, thank you for choosing and loving my brother- it's a tough job but someone's gotta do it!
Steve has changed a lot over the past ten years. He finally graduated college....and in just a shade under a decade too.....alright! And no, he's not a doctor, he's an engineer. We always knew that he would be an engineer, but his fate was cemented when he fashioned a little hand held battery operated fan out of spare household parts and and old erector set for the express and sole purpose of blowing his farts into my face. It was a life changing experience to be seven and trapped in a small car during the ride to school in winter time and having to make a choice between freezing to death by opening a window or suffocating to death by holding my breath.
When Steve finished college, he lost a staggering amount of weight, which amazes and inspires me. Then he did what every red blooded American engineer would do, decided to find a wife. And then he met Laura. Since he has met Laura, he has surprised me with his kindness, generosity and friendship. I mean, where is the big brother I grew up with? This was a kid who would hoard all of his allowance and birthday money so he could buy things like remote control cars and every gaming system from Atari to the Playstation. I would save my money for as long as possible, but Steve always managed to guilt me into buying HIM Wolverine man because he comes with bendable elbows and a personal hovercraft and stupid barbie has none of that. Because I loved my brother, I did, time and time again, what any good sister would do after being promised play dates and love forever, I bought him Wolverine man, and many many others. The play dates...never happened.
Steve is the smartest person I have ever met in real like. His Rainman like instant recall of everything from Seinfeld Trivia to the principles of Quantum Physics never cease to amaze me. As a matter of fact, I am confident Steve is the only person who can make The Hot Tub Time Machine come to fruition. And I am going to use it to go back to 1984 and this time I am getting cowgirl barbie who winked at you when you pushed the button on her back and was well dressed with her amazing boots and fully bedazzled cowgirl outfit with the pleather fringe. Sorry Steve- no Wolverine for you!
In closing, I would like to impart some pearls of wisdom that I learned while I was married. Okay, so I probably didn't learn these during my five minutes of wedded bliss but instead from my parents....who have been married....to eachother...for 40 years.
Steve and Laura, as you begin your life together:
-Laugh together
-Cry togethert
-Dream together
-Inspire eachother
-Accept eachother
-Support eachother
-Forgive eachother
And finally, Love eachother...always....as you do today.
Steve and Laura, I am so very happy for you both and I love you. Salud"
Monday, August 16, 2010
Wish list
I am hoping to have a job by the end of the week. This has been a punishing year for me, but I am trying to get out of the funk. I decided to make a sort of bucket list- only these are the things I want to do before I hit 40-- so that's 7 years (for those who are mathematically impaired).
1. Girls vacation- Destination unknown-- could be New Orleans, Vegas, New York-- doesn't really matter. I want to get a really tight group of girls together to have a good time, no kids and no husbands-- no responsibility!
2. Fall in love-be fallen in love with- preferably with and by the same person- and stay that way.
3. Pay off student loan debt (this is a far cry, but I am putting it on there anyhow!!)
4. Find peace and stability in my life.
5. Find my ego: I may be confident at work, but I am a doormat elsewhere. I have to learn to understand that people might actually like me, for who I am and that I don't have to feel ashamed to ask for a ride to the airport.
6. Visit a foreign country I have never been too-- England and Italy are tops on the list.
7. Volunteer significant amounts of time somewhere- doing something more important that the daily grind!
8. Be a better friend to all my friends, be a better sister, lover, daughter...just be better to people I know, helping me to know more people.
9. Quit making lists of things to do and do them!
I am hoping that this will be a new beginning for me. I need to have positive influence in my life- I need to learn to love myself.....if only I knew how to do that!
1. Girls vacation- Destination unknown-- could be New Orleans, Vegas, New York-- doesn't really matter. I want to get a really tight group of girls together to have a good time, no kids and no husbands-- no responsibility!
2. Fall in love-be fallen in love with- preferably with and by the same person- and stay that way.
3. Pay off student loan debt (this is a far cry, but I am putting it on there anyhow!!)
4. Find peace and stability in my life.
5. Find my ego: I may be confident at work, but I am a doormat elsewhere. I have to learn to understand that people might actually like me, for who I am and that I don't have to feel ashamed to ask for a ride to the airport.
6. Visit a foreign country I have never been too-- England and Italy are tops on the list.
7. Volunteer significant amounts of time somewhere- doing something more important that the daily grind!
8. Be a better friend to all my friends, be a better sister, lover, daughter...just be better to people I know, helping me to know more people.
9. Quit making lists of things to do and do them!
I am hoping that this will be a new beginning for me. I need to have positive influence in my life- I need to learn to love myself.....if only I knew how to do that!
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Size 10
I read today on Yahoo that there is a model who is upset that she was airbrushed. And here's the kicker ladies- she claims to be a "plus sized" model (Crystal Renn) who was upset that her photo was enhanced to reduce her from a size 10 to a size 2 and made her boobs look bigger. I have so many problems with this, I don't know where to start....but you know that I will list them!!!!
1. Since when is a size 10 "plus sized"? I was a size 10 in 6th grade for Godsakes!
2. So Crystal is upset her photo was doctored......uhhhh.....hello? After 7 years of living in Hollywood, let me be the first to tell you that the people in the magazines don't really look like that! Marcia Cross is a GREAT example. She is gorgeous on the screen, but when she is walking around Westwood without the hair and makeup done, she looks like a tiny normal person (she's really skinny). Reese Witherspoon-- the only reason you would recongize her in a crowd is because she is actually 4 feet tall (I wonder if she needs extensions on her pedals?)
3. If I could ever be airbrushed to be a size 2 (and I don't think that there is enough magic in the post production world) I would so send that picture to all those bitches in high school (who now want to be facebook friends) who used to call me Chubbs.
4. Let us really define plus size, vs normal sized, vs. Hollywood sized. when I was a kid, plus sized meant there was an X next to the size and you had to shop in an entirely different store....or at least you were in a different section. Sure they may lure you in with donuts, but for some reason you weren't allowed to shop with the "normal" people. And then there is regular, which I would contend most of American women fit into. Flat tummy--- yeah right- not while there is a uterus in there!! We are all about 5'6 and a good healthy weight of 140 or so....give or take a few inches and pounds. Now let us turn our attention to Hollywood, where apparently you have to be an annorexic Amazon to be considered for ANYTHING. I just finished watching a whole season of America's Next Top Model where the focus was "petite" women.....the winner was 5'7. So apparently if you are taller than 5 feet and weigh more than a skittle, you are shit out of luck in this town!
5. Crystal is upset about the portyal of her boobs. She thought they looked too big. Well, make up your mind sweetheart. When have you ever seen a "plus sized" model with small boobs. yet, the opposite seems to be not found in narture but created in Lost Angeles- (not a spelling error) where a woman can weigh 98 pounds but have a DD cup. But really, pick your posion. If you are going to claim to be a plus sized model, then dammit-- have the boobs to prove it!!
6. There is a new webite (I don't know the name) but there are commercials about an online shopping experience for plus sized people only. The commercial features a blonde walking about acting all proud that there is this new site.....yet I don't see her muffin top! If I was walking around in Jeans with only a bra on, you wouldn't be able to see if my pants were unbuttoned or not because my Dunlap's has taken over (my belly DUNLAPED over my belt). In the commercial this woman is walking around with the top button of her jeans undone to imply they are too tight; the ad SHOULD show a woman changing from her slacks (jeans suck when you are fat) changing into ice-cream stained SWEATPANTS....because it's all about eatin' pants folks!
7. While we are on the topic (sort of) with modeling.....since when did chicklet teeth become expected? This is a phenomenon that I just don't understand.....I am not a smoker and for those of you who know me understand that I don't drink red wine because it sucks.....but my teeth aren't like Ross's teeth when he had them whitened. People who get their teeth to glow in the dark are stupid.
8. Finally (and I struggled to get this list in with only 8 points) what the hell is with tans? REALLY? I get a tan when I sit in the sun not because I have tanning-able skin but because I have freckles. I have never met another naturally tan person who doesn't have freckles. The people in magazines don't. When I get sun, one of two things will happen. Either I will have the illusion of a tan because all of my freckles will have colluded to create one GIANT freckle, or I will BURN and go from lobster red back to my normal pasty white. But here is where I am confused--- there is now a sin tax on tanning booths? So being tan is so important to people that the government is trying to make a buck out of them (yet not legalizing gay marriage.....???) but there are warnings all over the place (even on TMZ) about the dangers of skin cancer, yet there is a sin tax for tanning.
With all of this to consider, is it any wonder I am an alcoholic? (JUST KIDDING)...........:)
1. Since when is a size 10 "plus sized"? I was a size 10 in 6th grade for Godsakes!
2. So Crystal is upset her photo was doctored......uhhhh.....hello? After 7 years of living in Hollywood, let me be the first to tell you that the people in the magazines don't really look like that! Marcia Cross is a GREAT example. She is gorgeous on the screen, but when she is walking around Westwood without the hair and makeup done, she looks like a tiny normal person (she's really skinny). Reese Witherspoon-- the only reason you would recongize her in a crowd is because she is actually 4 feet tall (I wonder if she needs extensions on her pedals?)
3. If I could ever be airbrushed to be a size 2 (and I don't think that there is enough magic in the post production world) I would so send that picture to all those bitches in high school (who now want to be facebook friends) who used to call me Chubbs.
4. Let us really define plus size, vs normal sized, vs. Hollywood sized. when I was a kid, plus sized meant there was an X next to the size and you had to shop in an entirely different store....or at least you were in a different section. Sure they may lure you in with donuts, but for some reason you weren't allowed to shop with the "normal" people. And then there is regular, which I would contend most of American women fit into. Flat tummy--- yeah right- not while there is a uterus in there!! We are all about 5'6 and a good healthy weight of 140 or so....give or take a few inches and pounds. Now let us turn our attention to Hollywood, where apparently you have to be an annorexic Amazon to be considered for ANYTHING. I just finished watching a whole season of America's Next Top Model where the focus was "petite" women.....the winner was 5'7. So apparently if you are taller than 5 feet and weigh more than a skittle, you are shit out of luck in this town!
5. Crystal is upset about the portyal of her boobs. She thought they looked too big. Well, make up your mind sweetheart. When have you ever seen a "plus sized" model with small boobs. yet, the opposite seems to be not found in narture but created in Lost Angeles- (not a spelling error) where a woman can weigh 98 pounds but have a DD cup. But really, pick your posion. If you are going to claim to be a plus sized model, then dammit-- have the boobs to prove it!!
6. There is a new webite (I don't know the name) but there are commercials about an online shopping experience for plus sized people only. The commercial features a blonde walking about acting all proud that there is this new site.....yet I don't see her muffin top! If I was walking around in Jeans with only a bra on, you wouldn't be able to see if my pants were unbuttoned or not because my Dunlap's has taken over (my belly DUNLAPED over my belt). In the commercial this woman is walking around with the top button of her jeans undone to imply they are too tight; the ad SHOULD show a woman changing from her slacks (jeans suck when you are fat) changing into ice-cream stained SWEATPANTS....because it's all about eatin' pants folks!
7. While we are on the topic (sort of) with modeling.....since when did chicklet teeth become expected? This is a phenomenon that I just don't understand.....I am not a smoker and for those of you who know me understand that I don't drink red wine because it sucks.....but my teeth aren't like Ross's teeth when he had them whitened. People who get their teeth to glow in the dark are stupid.
8. Finally (and I struggled to get this list in with only 8 points) what the hell is with tans? REALLY? I get a tan when I sit in the sun not because I have tanning-able skin but because I have freckles. I have never met another naturally tan person who doesn't have freckles. The people in magazines don't. When I get sun, one of two things will happen. Either I will have the illusion of a tan because all of my freckles will have colluded to create one GIANT freckle, or I will BURN and go from lobster red back to my normal pasty white. But here is where I am confused--- there is now a sin tax on tanning booths? So being tan is so important to people that the government is trying to make a buck out of them (yet not legalizing gay marriage.....???) but there are warnings all over the place (even on TMZ) about the dangers of skin cancer, yet there is a sin tax for tanning.
With all of this to consider, is it any wonder I am an alcoholic? (JUST KIDDING)...........:)
Monday, July 19, 2010
The Real Housewives of New Jersey????
I totally thought that I was over reality TV. Then I had the fortune to turn on Bravo running a "Real Housewives of New Jersey" marathon. I never thought that I would love a marathon, but I am hooked.
Let me explain. I was a victim to the horror of the Housewives of the OC. If ever there was a Hindenberg of TV, this was it. But, like every good American passing a car crash, I couldn't help but watch it. I found myself really annoyed at most of these women, because they were cougars, weighed 100 pounds or less, put makeup on to take a shower, and spent thousands on boob jobs, face lifts and other "treatments". So, as you all know, this was a little difficult for me to associate with. And it made me feel bad about myself. They all have huge houses, live these entitled lives, spend their time on girls weekends in San Francisco.... Whenever I watched those shows I felt bad about myself. I am approaching their age and am barely able to hang on to a tiny apartment in West Hollywood not to mention not able to find a mate (becuase EVERY man in LA on eharmony is 6 feet tall).
But in my unemployment, the clouds parted and heaven showed me that there is hope, in New Jersey. OMG- this is my crowd. These are women who don't work out but still wear the tight bedazzled dresses, who break the heels off of their shoes when they get into a FIST FIGHT at a fashion show and women who wear their lipliner about an inch above their irridescantly painted "lips", these are my people! Wow, watching this train wreck makes me feel good about myself, I don't want to stop the car to look at this disaster. But, alas, I did stop the car (or the remote control as the case had it) and watched.... and watched and watched. It was great---- I actually feel good about myself when I compare my life to those in New Jersey, and I don't have a job, a good body, an appointment for botox OR a husband........
Sad Sad Sad
Let me explain. I was a victim to the horror of the Housewives of the OC. If ever there was a Hindenberg of TV, this was it. But, like every good American passing a car crash, I couldn't help but watch it. I found myself really annoyed at most of these women, because they were cougars, weighed 100 pounds or less, put makeup on to take a shower, and spent thousands on boob jobs, face lifts and other "treatments". So, as you all know, this was a little difficult for me to associate with. And it made me feel bad about myself. They all have huge houses, live these entitled lives, spend their time on girls weekends in San Francisco.... Whenever I watched those shows I felt bad about myself. I am approaching their age and am barely able to hang on to a tiny apartment in West Hollywood not to mention not able to find a mate (becuase EVERY man in LA on eharmony is 6 feet tall).
But in my unemployment, the clouds parted and heaven showed me that there is hope, in New Jersey. OMG- this is my crowd. These are women who don't work out but still wear the tight bedazzled dresses, who break the heels off of their shoes when they get into a FIST FIGHT at a fashion show and women who wear their lipliner about an inch above their irridescantly painted "lips", these are my people! Wow, watching this train wreck makes me feel good about myself, I don't want to stop the car to look at this disaster. But, alas, I did stop the car (or the remote control as the case had it) and watched.... and watched and watched. It was great---- I actually feel good about myself when I compare my life to those in New Jersey, and I don't have a job, a good body, an appointment for botox OR a husband........
Sad Sad Sad
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Angelina Jolie and other freaks of nature
I have found myself wondering about some things, as my mind wanders during the commercial breaks on The Deadliest Catch and America's Next Top Model. (Okay, and the batchelorette). Anyhow- there are a few things that I am wondering about.
1. Angelina Jolie: She is....strange. I guess Shiloh, the first real baby between Brad and Angelina, thinks that she is a boy. Apparently the parents are doing nothing to curb this thinking so they let her wear boy clothes with boy hair and all that. Which is fine....I thought I was a boy for a while. But I am wondering if she thinks sje is a boy becasue her mother (whom she may never has actually met) looks like a boy when all the makeup and baggy red carpet dresses come off. I would bet that Shiloh, at age 5 (I think) weighs almost as much as Angelina, and the fact that this little girl must be confused with the We Are The World going on at her house. But then I wonder, when Angelina goes to these far away lands to get a new baby, are the other children frightened of her? Do these starving people offer her their food because she looks to be in worse shape then they are? Imagione how the indiginous people of those places must feel. They see this ghostly white, 9 foot tall woman who is pushing the scales at about 90 pounds....her mouth is huge and the only thing that looks healthy on her entire body. these people believe in old school worship- they probably think she is the god of the Amazon people, come to life to take one of their babies. They are probably scared to DEATH.
2. Martina McBride and Sunny Delight. It is a well known fact that I get very angry at certain commercials. I am not sure what is wrong with me that some people and some commercials evoke such a negative yet passionate response. All I have to say out of this is: Martina McBride singing "Shine On" (Which are apparently the only words to that song) while the shadows dance...makes me want to hurl. I propose a boycott of all Sunny Delight Product until that commercial is pulled and the tapes burned in effigy.
3. Billy the Exterminator has now become one of my new favorite shows. Who would have thought that a southern exterminator would teach me so much? I mean, let's be honest about our prejudgements about people with a deep southern accent who get excited 'bout gators. They don't strike me as the smartest people in the world. I know that this is completely like racial profiling, and I am not proud to admit it, but I think that we need to get it out on the table. If I have to have brain surgery for something and I have a choice between a Brit and a Southerner, I don't think I am the only one who picks the Brit. So Billy is from the south (not that there's anything wrong with that....my father's from the south.....not really but I want to see how many people understand that reference). And by watching his show I have learned that armadillos can swim, rarely do bats carry rabies, any 'gator over 6 feet long in a Private pond has to be killed, and you sometimes have to catch pigeons with your hands. OMG- I wouldn't touch a pigeon with a ten foot pole.......shifty little critters. But this southern show has made me smarter, in the event I run into any armadillos.
4. The noise makers at the 2010 World Cup, is the most annoying sound in the world. I never thought that someone would create a device to make the same sound Harry and Lloyd made to Danny Aiello on the road trip to ASPIN, where the beer flows like wine and women will flock to you like the salmon of capistrano.
1. Angelina Jolie: She is....strange. I guess Shiloh, the first real baby between Brad and Angelina, thinks that she is a boy. Apparently the parents are doing nothing to curb this thinking so they let her wear boy clothes with boy hair and all that. Which is fine....I thought I was a boy for a while. But I am wondering if she thinks sje is a boy becasue her mother (whom she may never has actually met) looks like a boy when all the makeup and baggy red carpet dresses come off. I would bet that Shiloh, at age 5 (I think) weighs almost as much as Angelina, and the fact that this little girl must be confused with the We Are The World going on at her house. But then I wonder, when Angelina goes to these far away lands to get a new baby, are the other children frightened of her? Do these starving people offer her their food because she looks to be in worse shape then they are? Imagione how the indiginous people of those places must feel. They see this ghostly white, 9 foot tall woman who is pushing the scales at about 90 pounds....her mouth is huge and the only thing that looks healthy on her entire body. these people believe in old school worship- they probably think she is the god of the Amazon people, come to life to take one of their babies. They are probably scared to DEATH.
2. Martina McBride and Sunny Delight. It is a well known fact that I get very angry at certain commercials. I am not sure what is wrong with me that some people and some commercials evoke such a negative yet passionate response. All I have to say out of this is: Martina McBride singing "Shine On" (Which are apparently the only words to that song) while the shadows dance...makes me want to hurl. I propose a boycott of all Sunny Delight Product until that commercial is pulled and the tapes burned in effigy.
3. Billy the Exterminator has now become one of my new favorite shows. Who would have thought that a southern exterminator would teach me so much? I mean, let's be honest about our prejudgements about people with a deep southern accent who get excited 'bout gators. They don't strike me as the smartest people in the world. I know that this is completely like racial profiling, and I am not proud to admit it, but I think that we need to get it out on the table. If I have to have brain surgery for something and I have a choice between a Brit and a Southerner, I don't think I am the only one who picks the Brit. So Billy is from the south (not that there's anything wrong with that....my father's from the south.....not really but I want to see how many people understand that reference). And by watching his show I have learned that armadillos can swim, rarely do bats carry rabies, any 'gator over 6 feet long in a Private pond has to be killed, and you sometimes have to catch pigeons with your hands. OMG- I wouldn't touch a pigeon with a ten foot pole.......shifty little critters. But this southern show has made me smarter, in the event I run into any armadillos.
4. The noise makers at the 2010 World Cup, is the most annoying sound in the world. I never thought that someone would create a device to make the same sound Harry and Lloyd made to Danny Aiello on the road trip to ASPIN, where the beer flows like wine and women will flock to you like the salmon of capistrano.
Monday, July 5, 2010
Where oh where did my little pet rock go?
I am reaching out to those of you who may, on occassion read the blog. I need to know that you are out there. Please leave me a comment here and there--- just to know that someone, besides me, is laughing at my ridiculousness.
I am not famous. I know, I thought that too. It befuddles me. But, I am not famous. Justin Beiber is famous. Can you explain that to me? I would like to think that I offer the world more than a douchebag haircut on a prebescanet teen ager who likely will never reach the weight I am currently toying with. REALLY? Come one... please let the fact that I shared the humilition of the pirate booze cruise which went so very very wrong, as well as sharing the story that I really needed to fart about 5 minuted into my first full body massage in Beverly Hills. Must I keep humiliating myself in order to gain readership?
Well......being unemployed, I have nothing but humiliation circling my head like moons orbit Jupiter. Today was the first day I put a bra on....in....awhile. So while some girls would say that that it rocks not to have a bra, I gotta tell you that I cannot run without the banana's screaming for mercy. And I watch TV and see that Justin Beiber is famous and likely has made more money during the creation of this blog than I will make this year. This is TERRIBLE. What does he do? Is he a Corey Haim in training? I can remember other teenage douche bags who thought they were untouchable......how many of them do we still know? Mylie Cyrus doesn't count, because she sucks. Hey, what is Tiffany doing these days? What about Debbie (excuse me, Deborah) Gibson doing right now? How about Nu Shooz? But....what can I do? Any suggestions? I am looking for my pet rock, folks. Help....Bueller? Bueller.....something D-O-O economics....Voo doo economics. And did it help? did it help? No it did not help and the united states sank deeper into the great depression.
I am not famous. I know, I thought that too. It befuddles me. But, I am not famous. Justin Beiber is famous. Can you explain that to me? I would like to think that I offer the world more than a douchebag haircut on a prebescanet teen ager who likely will never reach the weight I am currently toying with. REALLY? Come one... please let the fact that I shared the humilition of the pirate booze cruise which went so very very wrong, as well as sharing the story that I really needed to fart about 5 minuted into my first full body massage in Beverly Hills. Must I keep humiliating myself in order to gain readership?
Well......being unemployed, I have nothing but humiliation circling my head like moons orbit Jupiter. Today was the first day I put a bra on....in....awhile. So while some girls would say that that it rocks not to have a bra, I gotta tell you that I cannot run without the banana's screaming for mercy. And I watch TV and see that Justin Beiber is famous and likely has made more money during the creation of this blog than I will make this year. This is TERRIBLE. What does he do? Is he a Corey Haim in training? I can remember other teenage douche bags who thought they were untouchable......how many of them do we still know? Mylie Cyrus doesn't count, because she sucks. Hey, what is Tiffany doing these days? What about Debbie (excuse me, Deborah) Gibson doing right now? How about Nu Shooz? But....what can I do? Any suggestions? I am looking for my pet rock, folks. Help....Bueller? Bueller.....something D-O-O economics....Voo doo economics. And did it help? did it help? No it did not help and the united states sank deeper into the great depression.
Friday, June 25, 2010
The days our unemployed lives.....
As many of you know, I have lost yet another job! So, I am back to having time on my hands so that I can report to the general public all of the fascinating goings-on in the land of West Hollyweird, while you are at work.
Apparently, this is the year anniversary of MJ's death. I have never seen so many TMZ specials, Hollywood Insider special reports and other "documentaries" reflecting on a life so special, but lost so young. Really? Did anyone really think that MJ would make it to old age? Did we really think that we would be celebrating his retirement? I would have only given him 1 more year before his face collapsed on itself or he became so white he actually became transparent (which can't be good for you). Either way, the new look would have severely derailed his dating life as little boys would run away screaming from that disaster. All the ice cream and Neverland Adventures in the world would have saved him from dying of loneliness after the collapse of his face.
Moving on. Yesterday, I was actually productive, while still not having to get dressed!! I decided to go out to the back porch to water my plants when what should I hear, but a scratching and screaming coming from the trashcan next to my back door. What the Hell? Then I see it, a possum....in about 4 feet of water and other shit that has accumulated in the trashcan over the last who the hell knows how long. Awww crap. I can't let this thing die, but I don't want to touch it. I HATE POSSUMS. So I do the honorable thing, get my broom, and knock over the trashcan to free the possum from it's watery grave. Unbeknownst to me, this was not the first possum to meets its maker in the trashcan. So when I pushed the trashcan over and the little, disgusting possum ran away from me, I noticed the exploded body of another possum that had seen better days. EWWWE. As an apartment renter in West Hollywood, I don't have access to a lot of shovels, or any type of gardening tools which would help me with the necessary burial. Why was this necessary, you may ask? BECAUSE THERE WAS AN EXPLODED POSSUM on my back porch. And like Richard said "that thing out there, it's not an air freshener, its a dead rotting possum carcass"... and I had to do something about it, quick. But the lack of a shovel proved to be problematic. So, I had to make do with what I had. Thank GOD I happened to have the mother of all cat sand scoopers.....and it did the job nicely. The exploded possum and all its innards were nicely scraped into a box and thrown away. I should be sainted!
Stay tuned for my other adventures as an unemployed loser with nothing better to do than download Darth Vader breathing for my cell phone and find clever ways to introduce brilliant movie quotes into every day conversation.
Apparently, this is the year anniversary of MJ's death. I have never seen so many TMZ specials, Hollywood Insider special reports and other "documentaries" reflecting on a life so special, but lost so young. Really? Did anyone really think that MJ would make it to old age? Did we really think that we would be celebrating his retirement? I would have only given him 1 more year before his face collapsed on itself or he became so white he actually became transparent (which can't be good for you). Either way, the new look would have severely derailed his dating life as little boys would run away screaming from that disaster. All the ice cream and Neverland Adventures in the world would have saved him from dying of loneliness after the collapse of his face.
Moving on. Yesterday, I was actually productive, while still not having to get dressed!! I decided to go out to the back porch to water my plants when what should I hear, but a scratching and screaming coming from the trashcan next to my back door. What the Hell? Then I see it, a possum....in about 4 feet of water and other shit that has accumulated in the trashcan over the last who the hell knows how long. Awww crap. I can't let this thing die, but I don't want to touch it. I HATE POSSUMS. So I do the honorable thing, get my broom, and knock over the trashcan to free the possum from it's watery grave. Unbeknownst to me, this was not the first possum to meets its maker in the trashcan. So when I pushed the trashcan over and the little, disgusting possum ran away from me, I noticed the exploded body of another possum that had seen better days. EWWWE. As an apartment renter in West Hollywood, I don't have access to a lot of shovels, or any type of gardening tools which would help me with the necessary burial. Why was this necessary, you may ask? BECAUSE THERE WAS AN EXPLODED POSSUM on my back porch. And like Richard said "that thing out there, it's not an air freshener, its a dead rotting possum carcass"... and I had to do something about it, quick. But the lack of a shovel proved to be problematic. So, I had to make do with what I had. Thank GOD I happened to have the mother of all cat sand scoopers.....and it did the job nicely. The exploded possum and all its innards were nicely scraped into a box and thrown away. I should be sainted!
Stay tuned for my other adventures as an unemployed loser with nothing better to do than download Darth Vader breathing for my cell phone and find clever ways to introduce brilliant movie quotes into every day conversation.
Friday, June 11, 2010
Darkness
I suffer from severe bouts of depression. I am in the throat of one of the worst as I write this. The only reason I am writing at all is because I have been sent home from work today after committing a HUGE error. My boss needs time to think about what he wants to do with me. Which, I understand, is code for--- cut my last check and fire me.
This was not a part of my plan. I didn't want to be crazy, but the older I get, the more I see my grandmother in myself. First, let me fill you in on my family history. Insanity is heredity, so I am beginning to understand. My dad's mother, Jo, was a miserable person. She was sad, angry, helpless, and mean. I didn't really understand the depths of her irrationality until I was old enough to understand that she had tried to commit suicide, many, many times. In fact, we aren't sure that it wasn't suicide that finally ended her misery about ten years ago. She had suffered for years with mental illness, but nothing as fancy or as detectable as schizophrenia. Not that hearing voices is okay, but when you suffer from just a depression, that is how people treat it. Just a depression. That's what they did to her, when the shock treatments and lithium stopped working, if they ever did really work in the first place.
In childhood I watched Jo as she must have been with her sons, not her daughters. She loved males, she loved her boys, she loved Steve (my angelic, perfect brother). She loved to take care of her men, and it was when Red died, she fell apart for the first time. She was a wreck, she didn't have a purpose anymore. She felt worthless. And in trying to kill herself, she continued her failures. She found a level of happiness again when she was taking meds and was able make friends with an elderly man who lived in the trailer next to her. They were sweet together and for the most part, she was okay again. But, he died, as older people often do.
And she fell over the cliff again. She tried to kill herself many times, with razors and pills mostly. In the wake of this, she was going blind. This meant that she could no longer live on her own, and she moved into my aunt and uncle's house and then would spend the summers with us in Colorado. And her small world became smaller, and her unhappiness became more pronounced and she was shipped back to Vegas to live with my aunt and uncle. With the help of Jo's money, my aunt and uncle bought a huge new house with a "mother-in-law" quarters so Jo could have her own space and not need to walk up or down the stairs. A couple of weeks after she moves in with them, she goes missing. Was she kidnapped? She couldn't drive, she didn't know the new neighborhood. She was gone for two days and was eventually found sleeping on an abandoned couch in the middle of the Las Vegas desert. Now it was time to put her in a home. The assisted living place was great because she could have her own space, and the doctors would monitor her medicine, make sure she was eating, bathing, that sort of thing.
She lasted there for a few months. She was convinced that people were coming in the night and watching her sleep. She was sure that they were painting her apartment while she slept with paint that would make her crazy. She thought people were stealing from her. She thought they were drugging her and then moving the furniture in the middle of the night. We decided to bring her back home.
She died shortly there after. Was it suicide? She was found in the swimming pool, wearing tennis shoes belonging to Kyle (the 17 year old). She NEVER went out to the pool because she cannot swim. She never left her comfort zone because she couldn't see. So, however it came to be, her many cries for death, for an end to it all, were answered.
It's not something that happens to you overnight, at least not for me. I knew, given that brief glimpse of my family history above, that mental illness and depression was in my family. Both sides of my family. My mother, her sister take anti-depressants. I know I have mis-fires in my brain, but there is something more pronounced about what has been happening over the past few years. I want people to understand that though this is an illness that can't be named, per se, and manifests itself differently in every person. People look at me and see someone who is sad, some of the time. This is me, right now, as it stands. Raw and unadulterated.
I feel worthless. I feel like everything bad that happens as related to me is my fault. When Tom and Marianne died, I felt a guilt like nothing I had ever felt before. Tom wanted me to go with them. They would have taken a different plane, maybe a different course. They wouldn't have crashed. I was too selfish and wanted to spend time alone, with my boyfriend, hanging out in my new hometown. The guilt was oppressive, and I would have physical tightening in my chest when I thought too much about it. And then, Julie died. That was the world crashing in around me, and no one could understand. I didn't want people to pay attention to me and pat me on the back and try to soothe me- I wanted to be angry. I felt lost, and defeated, and I think that is really when the depression that I am struggling through started. I felt like at any time the rug would be pulled out from under my feet. I felt out of control, and I felt that I wasn't worth asking for help. How could I explain all of this to someone without feeling utterly, irreparably broken. There are a lot of people with a lot more serious problems than this who deserve help.
And that brings me to the past year. People say you have the right to happiness. You are entitled to be happy. You are worth being happy. I struggle with the concept that I deserve anything. I have never admitted this to anyone before, and can only admit to it now because I feel I am nearing a breaking point. The past year has been filled with a job that I likely just got fired from, working for an abusive boss in a toxic environment. I would come home at night, take my porozac, take my ambien or anti-anxiety, and have about 5 cocktails, and would fall asleep on the couch. I would go to work, and perform my duties, to the best of my ability. But my ability wasn't enough, or at least it wasn't enough in my mind. The depths of the hopelessness and grief for a life I don't deserve can make it difficult to function. I am able to get through the days, I can have laughs and be my normal "funny" self, but inside I am screaming for someone to understand me. I don't feel I deserve anything. I don't feel entitled to anything. I don't have a passion in my life, and I don't know what I want to be passionate about. The pills and the cocktails do a nice job of numbing that restless anxious feeling.
But when all of the cocktails and pills are stripped away, a shell of me is left. It gets progressively worse as the years go by. I have friends who are all going through some pretty intense things in their lives, so I feel like I don't have the right to feel any of these worthless feelings. I don't give myself permission to really feel those feelings, because the times I am overwhelmed by those feelings, I am slammed with guilt. I have my health, a roof over my head, no one is terminally ill in my life. I should be grateful. But I can't be. I feel guilt ridden for feeling sorry for myself, I feel worthless, useless, dispensable, ugly. I feel weak and incapacitated by some illusion of a brace that won't let me breath comfortably. I feel panicked, and jumpy, like the channel in my head is changing all the time. I feel overwhelmed. But I can't feel that way. I don't have a family, I don't even have a boyfriend. I don't have kids, so why can't I keep my life on track? Right now it feels like The Hindenberg......the very beginning of the Hindenberg.
I feel like there is nothing special about me. I am ordinary, and I am a failure in all aspects of adult life. I have managed to land a string of jobs, that always seem to end in some error that I have made. And y lately, I think the fact that I don't feel like I deserve anything good- I bring the bad into my life because that's how I associate with things. I sleep with a married man, not demanding anything from him. I ache for a compliment, from anyone, about anything that I was involved with. I have let my abusive ex into my life again, and of all things, he is the one who tells me what I want to hear. But I know it's not true, he is in it for himself, to use me to give him a life he can't get to without me. But he doesn't love me. the other man doesn't love me. And these negative thoughts have infiltrated my brain and tainted my way of thinking so I am unable to do some of the simplest things now. I put a frozen chicken in the microwave on Monday so it would thaw during the day and I could make dinner. I forgot about it, until today...Friday. Last month I paid my mortgage twice, but didn't pay my electric bill.
I feel like I am falling apart. Where do I go from here? What do I do? More pills, more booze, less pills.....but I can assure those work as band aids. I will still wake in the morning and have to struggle to take a shower, be exhausted after I change the litter box. I will find my serenity on a pill and booze induced nap. Because in my sleep I am rarely myself; I am beautiful, energetic, competent, loved. My tweaked brain generally doesn't mis-fire in my sleep, my sanctuary. It is where I find peace, cuddled with the loves of my life, Ilsa and Lula.
This was not a part of my plan. I didn't want to be crazy, but the older I get, the more I see my grandmother in myself. First, let me fill you in on my family history. Insanity is heredity, so I am beginning to understand. My dad's mother, Jo, was a miserable person. She was sad, angry, helpless, and mean. I didn't really understand the depths of her irrationality until I was old enough to understand that she had tried to commit suicide, many, many times. In fact, we aren't sure that it wasn't suicide that finally ended her misery about ten years ago. She had suffered for years with mental illness, but nothing as fancy or as detectable as schizophrenia. Not that hearing voices is okay, but when you suffer from just a depression, that is how people treat it. Just a depression. That's what they did to her, when the shock treatments and lithium stopped working, if they ever did really work in the first place.
In childhood I watched Jo as she must have been with her sons, not her daughters. She loved males, she loved her boys, she loved Steve (my angelic, perfect brother). She loved to take care of her men, and it was when Red died, she fell apart for the first time. She was a wreck, she didn't have a purpose anymore. She felt worthless. And in trying to kill herself, she continued her failures. She found a level of happiness again when she was taking meds and was able make friends with an elderly man who lived in the trailer next to her. They were sweet together and for the most part, she was okay again. But, he died, as older people often do.
And she fell over the cliff again. She tried to kill herself many times, with razors and pills mostly. In the wake of this, she was going blind. This meant that she could no longer live on her own, and she moved into my aunt and uncle's house and then would spend the summers with us in Colorado. And her small world became smaller, and her unhappiness became more pronounced and she was shipped back to Vegas to live with my aunt and uncle. With the help of Jo's money, my aunt and uncle bought a huge new house with a "mother-in-law" quarters so Jo could have her own space and not need to walk up or down the stairs. A couple of weeks after she moves in with them, she goes missing. Was she kidnapped? She couldn't drive, she didn't know the new neighborhood. She was gone for two days and was eventually found sleeping on an abandoned couch in the middle of the Las Vegas desert. Now it was time to put her in a home. The assisted living place was great because she could have her own space, and the doctors would monitor her medicine, make sure she was eating, bathing, that sort of thing.
She lasted there for a few months. She was convinced that people were coming in the night and watching her sleep. She was sure that they were painting her apartment while she slept with paint that would make her crazy. She thought people were stealing from her. She thought they were drugging her and then moving the furniture in the middle of the night. We decided to bring her back home.
She died shortly there after. Was it suicide? She was found in the swimming pool, wearing tennis shoes belonging to Kyle (the 17 year old). She NEVER went out to the pool because she cannot swim. She never left her comfort zone because she couldn't see. So, however it came to be, her many cries for death, for an end to it all, were answered.
It's not something that happens to you overnight, at least not for me. I knew, given that brief glimpse of my family history above, that mental illness and depression was in my family. Both sides of my family. My mother, her sister take anti-depressants. I know I have mis-fires in my brain, but there is something more pronounced about what has been happening over the past few years. I want people to understand that though this is an illness that can't be named, per se, and manifests itself differently in every person. People look at me and see someone who is sad, some of the time. This is me, right now, as it stands. Raw and unadulterated.
I feel worthless. I feel like everything bad that happens as related to me is my fault. When Tom and Marianne died, I felt a guilt like nothing I had ever felt before. Tom wanted me to go with them. They would have taken a different plane, maybe a different course. They wouldn't have crashed. I was too selfish and wanted to spend time alone, with my boyfriend, hanging out in my new hometown. The guilt was oppressive, and I would have physical tightening in my chest when I thought too much about it. And then, Julie died. That was the world crashing in around me, and no one could understand. I didn't want people to pay attention to me and pat me on the back and try to soothe me- I wanted to be angry. I felt lost, and defeated, and I think that is really when the depression that I am struggling through started. I felt like at any time the rug would be pulled out from under my feet. I felt out of control, and I felt that I wasn't worth asking for help. How could I explain all of this to someone without feeling utterly, irreparably broken. There are a lot of people with a lot more serious problems than this who deserve help.
And that brings me to the past year. People say you have the right to happiness. You are entitled to be happy. You are worth being happy. I struggle with the concept that I deserve anything. I have never admitted this to anyone before, and can only admit to it now because I feel I am nearing a breaking point. The past year has been filled with a job that I likely just got fired from, working for an abusive boss in a toxic environment. I would come home at night, take my porozac, take my ambien or anti-anxiety, and have about 5 cocktails, and would fall asleep on the couch. I would go to work, and perform my duties, to the best of my ability. But my ability wasn't enough, or at least it wasn't enough in my mind. The depths of the hopelessness and grief for a life I don't deserve can make it difficult to function. I am able to get through the days, I can have laughs and be my normal "funny" self, but inside I am screaming for someone to understand me. I don't feel I deserve anything. I don't feel entitled to anything. I don't have a passion in my life, and I don't know what I want to be passionate about. The pills and the cocktails do a nice job of numbing that restless anxious feeling.
But when all of the cocktails and pills are stripped away, a shell of me is left. It gets progressively worse as the years go by. I have friends who are all going through some pretty intense things in their lives, so I feel like I don't have the right to feel any of these worthless feelings. I don't give myself permission to really feel those feelings, because the times I am overwhelmed by those feelings, I am slammed with guilt. I have my health, a roof over my head, no one is terminally ill in my life. I should be grateful. But I can't be. I feel guilt ridden for feeling sorry for myself, I feel worthless, useless, dispensable, ugly. I feel weak and incapacitated by some illusion of a brace that won't let me breath comfortably. I feel panicked, and jumpy, like the channel in my head is changing all the time. I feel overwhelmed. But I can't feel that way. I don't have a family, I don't even have a boyfriend. I don't have kids, so why can't I keep my life on track? Right now it feels like The Hindenberg......the very beginning of the Hindenberg.
I feel like there is nothing special about me. I am ordinary, and I am a failure in all aspects of adult life. I have managed to land a string of jobs, that always seem to end in some error that I have made. And y lately, I think the fact that I don't feel like I deserve anything good- I bring the bad into my life because that's how I associate with things. I sleep with a married man, not demanding anything from him. I ache for a compliment, from anyone, about anything that I was involved with. I have let my abusive ex into my life again, and of all things, he is the one who tells me what I want to hear. But I know it's not true, he is in it for himself, to use me to give him a life he can't get to without me. But he doesn't love me. the other man doesn't love me. And these negative thoughts have infiltrated my brain and tainted my way of thinking so I am unable to do some of the simplest things now. I put a frozen chicken in the microwave on Monday so it would thaw during the day and I could make dinner. I forgot about it, until today...Friday. Last month I paid my mortgage twice, but didn't pay my electric bill.
I feel like I am falling apart. Where do I go from here? What do I do? More pills, more booze, less pills.....but I can assure those work as band aids. I will still wake in the morning and have to struggle to take a shower, be exhausted after I change the litter box. I will find my serenity on a pill and booze induced nap. Because in my sleep I am rarely myself; I am beautiful, energetic, competent, loved. My tweaked brain generally doesn't mis-fire in my sleep, my sanctuary. It is where I find peace, cuddled with the loves of my life, Ilsa and Lula.
Monday, April 26, 2010
Give us a chance.....---crazy cat lady
Why is there such thing as a crazy cat lady and not a crazy dog man? Why am I crucified for having a picture of my cat as my screen saver?
People in Los Angeles live and die by their dogs. Restaurants actually bring dog water bowls during brunch for their canine customers. We have dog parks at every corner. There are doggie hotels, doggie day car and dog spas (there are dogs in LA who have better looking feet than me!). There are halloween dress up contests for the furry canines of the land and more than once have I seen people throwing parties for their dogs. Hollywood has cashed in on this too- there are a number os fuccessful shows like "The Dog Whisperer", "It's Me or the Dog" and even shows focused on finding Pit Bulls homes! Don't get me wrong- I think all of this is great.
I consider myself an animal person. I won't go to horse races because I can't support an industry which makes an obscene amount of money on making a creature who is barrel chested with four skinny chicken legs run as fast as it possibly can-- even at times driving itself to a broken foot. In equine world, a broken leg or ankle almost alwayes ends badly for the horse. Just ask Barbaro, or perhaps one of the other horses who was shot and killed on the field in a desperate attempt at humanity. I won't support dog races because any industry who throws their animals away after they fail to win the race is disgusting. I think dog fighting is atrocious (which I thought was a given, but I guess I need to talk to all those people who like Michael Vick).
So why is there such a bad light shed on cats? I am really curious to understand this. I have had cats all of my life, and my two cats now, are like children to me. They come when I call them, are loyale to me, answer when I call them. Lula and Ilsa both retrieve (just like a dog) , Lula sits on I don't have to rush home after work to let the dogs out. I don't have to take them on walks in the rain, I don't have to "curb" my dog (ewwwwweee). I sleep with my cats, as many people do with thier dogs. I buy them gifts, as Petco and about a zillion other botique stores depend on people to do with respects to their dogs! My cats don't eat their barf- or other animals barf; and they are just as sweet as the dogs. They don't beg for my burger, and they don't bark in the middle of the night.....at nothing.....for a long time.....
So, I write this to unite all feline friends with the canine world. I think that people who own cats get the short end of the stick. Keep in mind, it's not cats that are taken to McDonalds for a hamburger, and cats aren't carried around in designer purses. And as long as I live, I will NEVER dye the hair of my cat to match my outfit (remember, I live in West Hollywood, so I have seen it all.) The only Pink's I should see are hot dogs!!!
People in Los Angeles live and die by their dogs. Restaurants actually bring dog water bowls during brunch for their canine customers. We have dog parks at every corner. There are doggie hotels, doggie day car and dog spas (there are dogs in LA who have better looking feet than me!). There are halloween dress up contests for the furry canines of the land and more than once have I seen people throwing parties for their dogs. Hollywood has cashed in on this too- there are a number os fuccessful shows like "The Dog Whisperer", "It's Me or the Dog" and even shows focused on finding Pit Bulls homes! Don't get me wrong- I think all of this is great.
I consider myself an animal person. I won't go to horse races because I can't support an industry which makes an obscene amount of money on making a creature who is barrel chested with four skinny chicken legs run as fast as it possibly can-- even at times driving itself to a broken foot. In equine world, a broken leg or ankle almost alwayes ends badly for the horse. Just ask Barbaro, or perhaps one of the other horses who was shot and killed on the field in a desperate attempt at humanity. I won't support dog races because any industry who throws their animals away after they fail to win the race is disgusting. I think dog fighting is atrocious (which I thought was a given, but I guess I need to talk to all those people who like Michael Vick).
So why is there such a bad light shed on cats? I am really curious to understand this. I have had cats all of my life, and my two cats now, are like children to me. They come when I call them, are loyale to me, answer when I call them. Lula and Ilsa both retrieve (just like a dog) , Lula sits on I don't have to rush home after work to let the dogs out. I don't have to take them on walks in the rain, I don't have to "curb" my dog (ewwwwweee). I sleep with my cats, as many people do with thier dogs. I buy them gifts, as Petco and about a zillion other botique stores depend on people to do with respects to their dogs! My cats don't eat their barf- or other animals barf; and they are just as sweet as the dogs. They don't beg for my burger, and they don't bark in the middle of the night.....at nothing.....for a long time.....
So, I write this to unite all feline friends with the canine world. I think that people who own cats get the short end of the stick. Keep in mind, it's not cats that are taken to McDonalds for a hamburger, and cats aren't carried around in designer purses. And as long as I live, I will NEVER dye the hair of my cat to match my outfit (remember, I live in West Hollywood, so I have seen it all.) The only Pink's I should see are hot dogs!!!
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Woe is the economy......I guess
The Academy Awards were this past weekend. I understand that the industry that is Hollywood, but it seems like the ever widening gap between us and them has become a chasm. I watched the preparations for about a month before the event. There would be street closures, pre-parties, post parties, limos, contingency plans for contingency plans for contingency plans. There would be the elite- the royalty, if you will, arriving in their limos and I can't help about King Louis the 16th in Paris. His kingdom was crumbling, people were starving, but dont you worry- he had enough food so he could give his spoiled rotten leftovers to help. Here is our royalty, movie makers, stars, the Hollywood limelight. They leave their castles and arrive to the event in Bentley's, Aston Martin's, and other cars that I don't even want to know about it.
Then they begin to get out of the cars and talk about where they got their shoes, who did whose dress, hair, makeup and accessories. Hollywood Blvd has been closed down for two days for preparation (I guess we don't need to worry about those shop owners). Hollywood is on practical lockdown,keeping the normal hollywood riff raff at bay. So then all the bazillion-aires begin to show up and show the world what hollywood is all about. But.....I must say, in the midst of all of this extgravagence...we are still realizing double digit unemployment rates. People who can't pay their rent and are moving back home with their parents because they have been unemployed for four months (despite two degrees) and can't pay their student loans AND rent without an income. These people- these are the people of Los Angeles. These people are me, and my crew. We don't want to see people show up in a $50,000 dress so I can talk about how trashy she looks in the bubble wrap type of fabric while I eat my raman noodles (because that's all I can afford).
I drive down the street and see more young people in super expensive cars, living in really nice areas, and I am trying to figure out what they are doing in order to secure that lifestyle. I barely go out because I can't afford it. So where is this tightening of the economy? I certainly isn't hitting hollywood (Michael Jackson funeral....case in point). It's not hitting my boss who would now like to put in exercise equipment in the shop. That's a great idea to put a gym in the shop-- the same shop where my painters come to pick up their checks (mind you we pay the average painter about $14-$18 an hour, NO benefits, NO overtime)because they have their rent to pay and Chris is on an elliptical telling the team that we need to be more fiscally responsible as a team. REALLY........holy shit- how can I even look at these men in the eyes when they just want to be treated fairly, and respected. But, the economy is down, so no raises (unless you are an estimator and have long legs...then maybe). No additional benefits......nothing for anyone who is not part of the club. Because woe is the economy. I wonder if the club is thinking about these issues on the back 9?
Then they begin to get out of the cars and talk about where they got their shoes, who did whose dress, hair, makeup and accessories. Hollywood Blvd has been closed down for two days for preparation (I guess we don't need to worry about those shop owners). Hollywood is on practical lockdown,keeping the normal hollywood riff raff at bay. So then all the bazillion-aires begin to show up and show the world what hollywood is all about. But.....I must say, in the midst of all of this extgravagence...we are still realizing double digit unemployment rates. People who can't pay their rent and are moving back home with their parents because they have been unemployed for four months (despite two degrees) and can't pay their student loans AND rent without an income. These people- these are the people of Los Angeles. These people are me, and my crew. We don't want to see people show up in a $50,000 dress so I can talk about how trashy she looks in the bubble wrap type of fabric while I eat my raman noodles (because that's all I can afford).
I drive down the street and see more young people in super expensive cars, living in really nice areas, and I am trying to figure out what they are doing in order to secure that lifestyle. I barely go out because I can't afford it. So where is this tightening of the economy? I certainly isn't hitting hollywood (Michael Jackson funeral....case in point). It's not hitting my boss who would now like to put in exercise equipment in the shop. That's a great idea to put a gym in the shop-- the same shop where my painters come to pick up their checks (mind you we pay the average painter about $14-$18 an hour, NO benefits, NO overtime)because they have their rent to pay and Chris is on an elliptical telling the team that we need to be more fiscally responsible as a team. REALLY........holy shit- how can I even look at these men in the eyes when they just want to be treated fairly, and respected. But, the economy is down, so no raises (unless you are an estimator and have long legs...then maybe). No additional benefits......nothing for anyone who is not part of the club. Because woe is the economy. I wonder if the club is thinking about these issues on the back 9?
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