I've been unforgivably whiny this week. I know I'm not the only one with car trouble, man trouble and no money. So, it's time for randomness and something a bit more pleasant.
One of my favorite things to do when I wake up really early in the morning is brew a pot of coffee and listen online to the AM station in the Minnesota town where we lived when I was little. Especially to the Minnesota farm report. For some reason I find farm reports interesting. I always learn something new. For instance, I didn't know that as of last week Ohio and Indiana were behind on corn planting but that North Dakota, Minnesota, Wisconsin and Nebraska were doing well. Besides, there's something very soothing about listening to AM radio in the early morning, particularly if it comes from a tiny little town in the middle of nowhere. The pace is slower, the announcers aren't slick or smarta**ed, they play songs by Sam Cooke, Sinatra, Dean Martin and Petula Clark, they announce townspeople's birthdays and they talk about bar league softball. Everything is gentle and pleasant, with sort of a church-supper, homemade rhubarb crunch, my-grandma-knitted-me-these-mittens, drowsy, summertime-cookout, Sunday-afternoon feeling to it. Even in January when it's -40F. They need to pipe this sh*t into dentists' offices and rooms where they do mammograms. I listen to it and forget about the unpleasantness in the world. It really takes the edge off.
You're NEVER too old to blow bubbles in chocolate milk, or blow bubbles, period.
You're never too old to blow spitballs at your brother or have your mother yell at you for doing so.
You're never too old for a pillowfight.
I like Julio Iglesias and Neil Diamond. And I can totally understand why women get hot and bothered over Tom Jones.
Jurgen Prochnow is an amazing actor and he needs to be a lot more famous outside Germany. He was awesome in Das Boot - gorgeous, too.
007 films are awesome and I wish I could be a real-life Bond Girl: gorgeous, intelligent, talented, able to get out of dreadful situations and look hot doing it, all whilst helping to vanquish actual bad guys and make the world safe, and then getting to enjoy a little discreet romance with a gorgeous secret agent. But something tells me MI6 doesn't need much of this kind of help.
For me, the greatest smells in the world are: Guerlain's Vol de Nuit, the local Hockey rink, Lilacs, Roses, chocolate, that musty/dusty smell when it first starts raining, Catalpa and Russian Olive trees, phlox, coffee, bacon, homemade bread and/or chocolate chip cookies baking, Pine-Sol, Comet Cleanser, wild clover, fresh-cut hay, newly-mown grass, Vidalia onions frying, a cookout, Italian restaurants on a warm night, the smell of damp earth at the end of winter/early spring, new books(especially textbooks), Lake Michigan at the end of winter/early spring, hardware stores, garden centers, cocoa bean mulch, homemade chicken noodle soup, a baseball stadium around the bottom of the 4th inning when the scent of hot dogs, cotton candy, popcorn and beer are all mixed together, a baby who's just had a bath, lemons, church incense.
The greatest sounds in the world are: Rain, church bells, church bells on a rainy morning, thunderstorms, stuff getting sucked up the vacuum, that chirpy noise that cats make when they're cruising for food or when you wake them up, a crowd going nuts at a hockey game, stuff getting sucked up a vacuum, the opening guitar intro to Sweet Child O' Mine, a baby with a belly laugh, cardinals, Janis Joplin's laugh, Susan Sarandon's voice(it's very soothing), the voice of that PBS artist Bob Ross(he died in 1995 but you can still sometimes catch his show Joy of Painting...his voice is like valium for the ears), big waves on Lake Michigan or any body of water, dry leaves skittering around, frogs in early spring, crickets, a cello played well, the overture to The Marriage of Figaro, a good tenor singing Nessun Dorma and Una Furtiva Lagrima, music from the Motown era.
Other great things: A new diary, a new book, new shoes, a new pen, new school supplies, a full moon over the water, those creepy, spooky nights that you get in October where it's not warm but it's not cold, either, and the wind blows like mad; wild nights in early April when the snow is gone and the wind picks up and it rains like crazy; long drives, Fleetwood Mac, a new purse, a clean bathroom, freshly-ironed sheets, finding the perfect shade of lipstick by accident, winning a dollar or two on a scratch-off ticket, winning $50 on a scratch-off, no library fines, trying a new food or a new restaurant, petting a horse, petting a horse that doesn't bite, playing tug-of-war with a dog, chubby babies, fat cats, baby bunnies, violets, watching the sun or moon rise, fireflies, Minneapolis/St. Paul, Chicago, riding a train, driving late at night during one HELL of a thunderstorm, crab cakes, salmon, lemon meringue pie, seeing the Milky Way, the night sky in winter, days when your legs look 5 miles long, having someone else wash your hair, a manicure, perfectly waxed or plucked eyebrows, a new bottle of perfume, a new bottle of nail polish, a stack of fashion magazines, deliciously trashy romance novels, antique handkerchiefs, free iTunes downloads, flirting, flea markets, farmers markets, fresh corn on the cob that's dripping in butter, watermelon, blueberries, the music of Aretha Franklin and/or Tina Turner, stilettos that are both sexy and not too uncomfortable.
There's a grocery store in the area that sells Louis Treize brandy at $1200/bottle. You're basically paying $1200 to either go to the bathroom or barf. If I had the kind of finances that would enable me to buy booze this expensive, I'd be buying Louboutins from Neiman Marcus or giving a salesman at Tiffany's a commission.
Why does Callista Flockhart always end up playing whiny characters?
Can we get George Carlin back? Please?
Who's going to win the Stanley Cup in 2012?
When is Dallas going to return to TV? I heard that they're bringing it back this year and Larry Hagman, Patrick Duffy, Charlene Tilton, Linda Gray and Steve Kanaly will be reprising their roles.
If they're bringing back Dallas will they attempt to bring back Dynasty? Of course, they'd have to find a new Blake, what with John Forsythe dying a few years ago...
...and Joan Collins is still the coolest EVER! She was fantastic on Dynasty and I loved it when she'd guest star on The Nanny. I love the story of how she ran into a (very drunk) former lover at a party and he screamed at her, "You're a f***ing bore" and she calmly looked at him and said, "But darling, you're a boring f***!" That'll shut a guy up.
O.k., people, let's hear what floats your boats! What do you simply adore?
Friday, June 17, 2011
I think my Fairy Godmother is on a Cigarette Break.
It all started with a Hockey injury. No, I don't play Hockey, which is a pity. I love the game so. In fact, I can't even ice skate. How 'bout that? I can manage quite beautifully in 6-inch stilettos but not on ice skates. No, what befell me on Wednesday night started as a joyous blessing. My dear, sweet, lovely (if you can use those words to describe a couple dozen hairy, sweaty, testosterone-filled, short-tempered men who wield sticks and may or may not still have all their own teeth) Boston Bruins beat the Vancouver Canucks 4-0, and won their first Stanley Cup since 1972. As the final buzzer sounded in Rogers Arena in Vancouver and various Bruins enfolded one another in bear hugs, I began shrieking and jumping about in raucous celebration of this miracle. On my last leap, I came down on my feet wrong and HARD and proceeded to pull the hell out of my left calve muscle. Cue even louder shrieking and a few choice words. I've been icing my leg and limping about ever since. It's not fun. I can't do T-Tapp. I'm eating absolute garbage, I can't wear cute shoes. The only enjoyable thing left to me is reading. Thank goodness for books. I am currently plowing my way through another entry on my BBC book list: The Count of Monte Cristo, by Alexandre Dumas. It's a corking good read and helps me to forget about my bum leg and the fact that the car is REALLY going to hell fast. I think it's going to have to go in Monday. I hope it'll last that long. I went for lunch with my cousin this afternoon and that damn heap of junk had me sweating bullets. The good thing is that I had a cheeseburger with sweet chili sauce served on a bun made out of pretzel dough and it was AWESOME! The restaurant also had butcher paper and a glass of crayons on each table so my cousin and I amused ourselves by drawing farm animals until our food arrived. Too bad chocolate milk wasn't on the beverage menu, we could've blown bubbles.
There are 108 days til the NHL regular season starts up again and probably about 130 days til the college and amateur Hockey seasons begin around here. I have no clue where C.G. is and I'm ambivalent at present. Right now I don't give a damn if he falls off the edge of the earth or decides to put on a sirloin suit and wrestle lions. Ten minutes from now I'll be biting my nails, wondering where he is, what he's up to, if he's chasing floozies...The car's going to take at least $500 to fix the fuel intake gasket and another $150 or so for the fuel injector. My limp is pulling me to the left. It hurts, too. That'll take at least another week to heal. I'm still struggling a bit with fear of doing/taking risks/low confidence. And I'm eating too much trashy food. Everything feels really out of control right now and I'm kind of scared. I could've sworn that I had a fairy godmother at some point but right now I can't find the b*tch. I'm not sure if she's out back having a smoke or if she knocked off really early and joined a bunch of other fairy godmothers at some dive bar for Happy Hour and 1/2-price appetizers. I don't care if she wants to go out drinking but I wish she'd take me with her because I'd love a Long Island Iced Tea. And if I can't go bar-hopping with her, I wish she'd just leave me her magic wand for a few hours. A couple of swoops with that thing and I'd have $20 billion, a new Nissan Altima, a great body (hello bodacious tatas!) and the face of an angel. All I need are those few basics.
There are 108 days til the NHL regular season starts up again and probably about 130 days til the college and amateur Hockey seasons begin around here. I have no clue where C.G. is and I'm ambivalent at present. Right now I don't give a damn if he falls off the edge of the earth or decides to put on a sirloin suit and wrestle lions. Ten minutes from now I'll be biting my nails, wondering where he is, what he's up to, if he's chasing floozies...The car's going to take at least $500 to fix the fuel intake gasket and another $150 or so for the fuel injector. My limp is pulling me to the left. It hurts, too. That'll take at least another week to heal. I'm still struggling a bit with fear of doing/taking risks/low confidence. And I'm eating too much trashy food. Everything feels really out of control right now and I'm kind of scared. I could've sworn that I had a fairy godmother at some point but right now I can't find the b*tch. I'm not sure if she's out back having a smoke or if she knocked off really early and joined a bunch of other fairy godmothers at some dive bar for Happy Hour and 1/2-price appetizers. I don't care if she wants to go out drinking but I wish she'd take me with her because I'd love a Long Island Iced Tea. And if I can't go bar-hopping with her, I wish she'd just leave me her magic wand for a few hours. A couple of swoops with that thing and I'd have $20 billion, a new Nissan Altima, a great body (hello bodacious tatas!) and the face of an angel. All I need are those few basics.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
LIFT-OFF! WE HAVE LIFT-OFF!
No more problems, Houston. It seems that setting the comments as a pop-up was the way to go.
Ahhhh....I am happy! :-)
Ahhhh....I am happy! :-)
Testing...
...Geez, I wonder if I actually have to follow my own blog in order to be able to post comments on it...wouldn't that be random?
Oh Dear...
Does anyone else out there have trouble posting comments to their own blog or to other people's blogs? I thought that switching over to a GMail e-mail account would help the situation but so far I am having no luck. I don't want any of you to think that I'm ignoring your comments, and believe me, I am so grateful that you're all following me, lending support, allowing me to whine incessantly, etc. It'd be nice to be able to respond to all of your comments, as well as to comment on all your posts.
Do any of you know how this could be fixed? Blogspot is like my landlord: Doesn't fix anything. Lol...kinda :-)
Do any of you know how this could be fixed? Blogspot is like my landlord: Doesn't fix anything. Lol...kinda :-)
Monday, June 13, 2011
Fear and Loathing...and Control?
I want to be rich in the worst way. I don't care if I win the lottery or write best-sellers, I want to be loaded. Filthy, dirty, stinking, nasty, obscenely rich. I just won't marry some poor chump for it. I couldn't look myself in the eye if I did.
Why do I want to be loaded? Well, not just to fill my closet with Louboutins and little red boxes from Cartier. I want the freedom. I've done the broke thing all my life. It lost its charm a long time ago. When I was about 20 I thought it'd be hilarious to say a prayer to St. Anthony, patron saint of lost items, and tell him that I misplaced $50 million, just to see if he'd buy it. "...the last time I saw it was when I put it at the bottom of my sock drawer and now I can't find it anywhere..." I'm sure Tony was amused, but I have yet to see stacks of $100s in my sock drawer with a note saying, "You left these on the dining room table next to your sunglasses and the TV Guide. Love, Anthony".
I have some impediments to getting loaded though. One of which is, I don't know what to do. I'm not interested in Law or Medicine and I'm definitely not interested in Business. I'd sooner knot a rope around my neck and kick the chair out from under myself than go into the corporate grind. It's fine for some but I don't think it would be for me. Nor do I have much of an entrepreneurial spirit. I can barely solve a quadratic equation - how the hell am I supposed to invent something or get something off the ground?
Another problem is lack of confidence. I'll keep the sob story brief so none of you throw up. Didn't have the happiest childhood. Lots of moving around, a shitload of bullying from 2nd-12th grade, unhappy parents, unhappy sibling, money trouble...blah, blah, blah. Logically, I know that I can no longer get away with blaming the bullshit from the past for my crappy present. And, logically, I realize that today is a clean slate, tomorrow is a clean slate, the day after that is, ad infinitum. But I keep going back to the same old argument. If I wasn't liked/loved/wanted/valued/believed-in/tolerated, etc. back then, how do I know I will be today or tomorrow? If people thought I was shit then, maybe I still am shit, and will I ever change? That brings me to another argument...
...Personal power and control. Dad was a teacher and a musician and worked hellish hours. An 80-hr work week was not uncommon, and this was long before the days when people had to work 2 and 3 jobs just to buy generic Mac n' Cheese. Everything always hinged on Dad's schedule, moods, preferences, whether or not he was tired or hungry (he was always both), what kind of a day he'd had, etc. More often than not he'd come home in a foul humor and make us want to smack him. We could never make plans because at the last minute, he'd often be called in to work. There was zero job security, also. We moved all the time. There was a stretch where I attended 5 schools in 5 years, 3 of which were in different cities and one in a different state. Once I got to high school it became, "Will everything be alright today? Will people leave me alone or hurt me somehow? Will I get beaten up if I take the bus? Will I be jumped and killed in the bathroom or on the walk home from the bus stop?". I learned early that everything in my life seemed to depend on the whims others. I was at their mercy then and now I feel as though I still am. I don't believe that I determine the outcome of my life. I'd love to start believing but I don't know how.
Now, here's where it gets shitty: I want to write a book. No, make that books. Best-sellers, preferrably. All my life, teachers, friends, relatives, relatives' friends have told me that I need to either work in a bookstore, write for a living, or be a librarian. Generally, writing is as easy as blinking for me. I would adore becoming filthy-rich by writing fantastic novels. But...someone else determines whether or not they get published. Readers determine if they sell. I could write my ass off and create novels that would rival anything by Dickens, Austen and J.K. Rowling combined but if people don't buy them, they don't sell. Again, no power, no control, zip. Someone else determines what happens.
And it doesn't help that I feel as though time is of the essence. The car's a heap of garbage, gas prices suck, the grocery bill ages me 10 years in 10 seconds. I'm scared and impatient and mad as hell. I want to party my ass off for a little while to make up for my less-than-stellar youth. I want to get away from the people that drive me crazy. Frankly, I'd like to put several states between myself and them. I want to call the shots in my own life as much as possible and realize that I do have power. I want to stop feeling undesirable, like there's something wrong with me and I want to stop feeling like God's plan for my life is nothing but 80-90 years of failure. I'm scared stiff.
Why do I want to be loaded? Well, not just to fill my closet with Louboutins and little red boxes from Cartier. I want the freedom. I've done the broke thing all my life. It lost its charm a long time ago. When I was about 20 I thought it'd be hilarious to say a prayer to St. Anthony, patron saint of lost items, and tell him that I misplaced $50 million, just to see if he'd buy it. "...the last time I saw it was when I put it at the bottom of my sock drawer and now I can't find it anywhere..." I'm sure Tony was amused, but I have yet to see stacks of $100s in my sock drawer with a note saying, "You left these on the dining room table next to your sunglasses and the TV Guide. Love, Anthony".
I have some impediments to getting loaded though. One of which is, I don't know what to do. I'm not interested in Law or Medicine and I'm definitely not interested in Business. I'd sooner knot a rope around my neck and kick the chair out from under myself than go into the corporate grind. It's fine for some but I don't think it would be for me. Nor do I have much of an entrepreneurial spirit. I can barely solve a quadratic equation - how the hell am I supposed to invent something or get something off the ground?
Another problem is lack of confidence. I'll keep the sob story brief so none of you throw up. Didn't have the happiest childhood. Lots of moving around, a shitload of bullying from 2nd-12th grade, unhappy parents, unhappy sibling, money trouble...blah, blah, blah. Logically, I know that I can no longer get away with blaming the bullshit from the past for my crappy present. And, logically, I realize that today is a clean slate, tomorrow is a clean slate, the day after that is, ad infinitum. But I keep going back to the same old argument. If I wasn't liked/loved/wanted/valued/believed-in/tolerated, etc. back then, how do I know I will be today or tomorrow? If people thought I was shit then, maybe I still am shit, and will I ever change? That brings me to another argument...
...Personal power and control. Dad was a teacher and a musician and worked hellish hours. An 80-hr work week was not uncommon, and this was long before the days when people had to work 2 and 3 jobs just to buy generic Mac n' Cheese. Everything always hinged on Dad's schedule, moods, preferences, whether or not he was tired or hungry (he was always both), what kind of a day he'd had, etc. More often than not he'd come home in a foul humor and make us want to smack him. We could never make plans because at the last minute, he'd often be called in to work. There was zero job security, also. We moved all the time. There was a stretch where I attended 5 schools in 5 years, 3 of which were in different cities and one in a different state. Once I got to high school it became, "Will everything be alright today? Will people leave me alone or hurt me somehow? Will I get beaten up if I take the bus? Will I be jumped and killed in the bathroom or on the walk home from the bus stop?". I learned early that everything in my life seemed to depend on the whims others. I was at their mercy then and now I feel as though I still am. I don't believe that I determine the outcome of my life. I'd love to start believing but I don't know how.
Now, here's where it gets shitty: I want to write a book. No, make that books. Best-sellers, preferrably. All my life, teachers, friends, relatives, relatives' friends have told me that I need to either work in a bookstore, write for a living, or be a librarian. Generally, writing is as easy as blinking for me. I would adore becoming filthy-rich by writing fantastic novels. But...someone else determines whether or not they get published. Readers determine if they sell. I could write my ass off and create novels that would rival anything by Dickens, Austen and J.K. Rowling combined but if people don't buy them, they don't sell. Again, no power, no control, zip. Someone else determines what happens.
And it doesn't help that I feel as though time is of the essence. The car's a heap of garbage, gas prices suck, the grocery bill ages me 10 years in 10 seconds. I'm scared and impatient and mad as hell. I want to party my ass off for a little while to make up for my less-than-stellar youth. I want to get away from the people that drive me crazy. Frankly, I'd like to put several states between myself and them. I want to call the shots in my own life as much as possible and realize that I do have power. I want to stop feeling undesirable, like there's something wrong with me and I want to stop feeling like God's plan for my life is nothing but 80-90 years of failure. I'm scared stiff.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)