My First Boyfriend

This is my very first boyfriend (I was 15) and his wife.  I usually do not post personal photos, but this one is floating all around cyberspace and it's a public pose meant to be seen and distributed.  Believe me, the more people see this the happier he is.

He wants to show all of his old girlfriends what we are now missing.

I know for certain that a life with him would have been void of beer, pizza, and wine which is MY LIFE FORCE.  Not only that, when doing laundry, I would never want to confuse my man's underwear with my own.  Instant deal killer. 

Well, ex-boyfriend, glad you're happy.  I'll see you at the rural county graveyard years from how when I'm still kicking and you're six feet under.  I'll lift up my house duster dress and expose my support hose and granny underwear -- just like that scene in the movie "Nebraska."

In the meantime, I suggest toning down the tanning bed usage.  Raccoon eyes from a fake bake do not photograph well.

p.s.  My daughter read my blog and asked, "Which one is the guy?"

Go Fund Me

"Go Fund Me" should bear the title "Go f*** Me."

Are you serious?  Have people no shame?  Is every single life event now a fundraising opportunity?  We have cut to the chase, people.  Never mind the obligatory ceremonies and parties that just extract from the overall profits people hope to reap for the life event.....just contribute *MONEY* directly to "Go Fund Me."

Am I the only one appalled by this glorified form of panhandling?

I do not mean to insult those who are genuinely trying to share life milestones and want you present to celebrate.  Not every wedding invitation/party invitation/announcement is a summons for money -- but it's getting mightily close.   A dead give-away is mention of a gift registry, Go Fund Me website, or any hint of expectations of you bringing your wallet to said event.... collecting a sort of cover charge, if you will. 

Real friends do not expect you to bring your wallet or give shopping instructions for their own gifts.  Real friends will share their joy and want you to participate, but do not demand nor instruct payment. 

Batman and Robin

There are kindred souls out there who can cut through bull like a hot knife going through butter.  There is one guy I work with who sees through all and calls it like it is.  God bless him.  Also, his sense of humor is witty, quick, and animated.  Yes, he is Italian.

I've worked with him for 26 years.  I went to his wedding, his father's funeral.  I also rescued his mother out the ladies room at a high-end restaurant in Monterey when I was 5 months pregnant as she was so drunk she passed out in the stall.  I've also shared sleeping quarters with his mom and dad in Chicago when their hotel reservations got screwed up and *nothing* else was available (no, NOT kinky -- get your mind out of the gutter). 

I've also been to New Orleans with him and his wife and did the 'vampire tour' as the cheesiness was irresistible.   During the same trip he also joked about his wife's bead collection.  in 1994 we went to Las Vegas for a convention and attended a faux Beatle concert and he made wise cracks during the entire performance.

Yes.... ANYBODY would say this guy is fun to be around.   I have not even mentioned his stories about his Marin City adventures that include a black guy and his sausages.  

I can see all you personnel-types squirming trying to figure out how this all fits into the "employee handbook" and wondering how this is written up in my job description.   Good Luck. 

Anyway, what made me laugh yesterday was his wearing a Batman t-shirt to a meeting.  His name is Robin. 

Pierced and Tattood

Hot summer evenings draw people out of their homes and into social outings.  I am at the age where I can hang with the younger crowd and not look out of place, or I can hang with old farts.  I guess that makes me bi-social. LOL

Last night was a night out with the younger crowd.  It was hotter than Hades so that meant I wore a spaghetti top and a tasteful-for-my-age knee length skirt.  You know some regret is already brewing in the minds of the pierced and tattooed 20-30 somethings when they compliment and elder on having gorgeous, silky looking skin. 

I guess I'm a novelty and a rarity as I was curiously looked at like a zoo animal.  I'll take COUGAR!

Music at Restaurants

Sonoma County has tons of live music at cafes, restaurants, and other dining establishments and bars.  It's getting more and more common, but like anything else, it's a doube-edged sword.

There is a pizza place I like to frequent.  Generally, I like the atmosphere and the people.  It's a teeny-tiny space where the wait staff need to squeeze between patrons and tables to do their jobs.  It's a small, intimate space.

The LAST thing needed is a band to set up in the corner, monopolizing precious dining space,  and use the dreaded AMPLIFIERS and MICROPHONES.  WHY DO MUSICIANS THINK THEY NEED TO HIT YOU OVER THE HEAD WITH THEIR MUSIC?   FORGET HAVING A CONVERSATION WITH THE PERSON NEXT TO YOU.  SHOUTING IS NEEDED TO ORDER ANOTHER GLASS OF WINE OR BEER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

WHAT DID YOU SAY???  PLEASE REPEAT!!!!!!!!!!!  I CAN'T HEAR YOU OVER THE TERRIBLE COVER OF SONGS COMPLETE WITH SCREECHING OFF-KEY VOCALS, OUT OF TUNE SAX PLAYERS AND OUT OF SYNC ELECTRIC GUITARS!!!!!!! 

...whew... i'm exhausted after all that.  can't wait to pay my tab and GTFO.

Hotdish

The basic, beloved Minnesota Hotdish.  This recipe came from one of my elementary school lunch ladies.  My BFF from home, JLB, actually saved it as it was printed on the back of an elementary school lunch menu circa 1972.  I've tweaked the recipe a little to adapt to my tastes, but you all get the idea.  My only problem is finding "kluski" in California -- not enough Polish and Slavic people in the community to warrant that section in the grocery store.  Kluski is to Poland as pasta is to Italy.  I just substitute egg noodles, but it would be waaaaaaaaay more fun to actually find kluski in the grocery store packaged as such. 

Thank you, JLB, for bringing back a fond taste of childhood.  You're not even Polish!!  LOL

City Council Meetings

Have you ever attended or watched a city council meeting start to finish?  I think suicide hotline phone numbers should be ticker-taping along the bottom of the video feed for viewers. 

Really.

Watch a city council meeting.  It's a parade of egos and self-interests.  Still, the common denominator is that here, in bucolic Sonoma County, people want to come in and build and develop like crazy.  Those already here do not want them. 

Why do not we want newcomers?  Because people are a pain in the ass.   Less is better.  They will only come here from Marin, New York, or wherever, and start whining, complaining, and demanding.  They will produce whiny, demanding offspring and the cycle continues. 

I totally understand why episodes of Game of Thrones features gruesome scenes of killing pregnant women, children, and other perceived innocents.  You have to kill them before they kill you.  The ruthless, strategic military general in me wants me to start with the "bored moms on prozac." 

There are two types of newcomers wanting to come to Sonoma County.  One group wants to build McMansions, clog traffic, cause problems, and have loads of kids.  The other group wants to enter illegally, have loads of kids, cause problems, and clog traffic.  The difference between the two groups is nil. 

Malaysia Airlines: Unsafe

I bet you can get some screaming deals these days on airfare for Malaysia Airlines.  Air tragedies are few and far between given the high volume of modern jet traffic.  Travel by air, as so it is widely claimed, is much safer than by automobile.

Somehow, I don't think that tid bit of information is any consolation to the victims and families of Malaysia flight 17 and Malaysia flight 370.

I have an intuition and sources available to follow my hunches.  I'm telling you right here and now it's no coincidence that both doomed Malaysia flights were not random events although the official statement on flight 370 is "disappeared and downed into the ocean."  Flight 17 can't hide behind a benign, non-violent story, but something is going on just the same. 

Malaysia Airlines is involved in some shit.  That's all I'm saying. 

I *HATE* cilantro

I hate cilantro.  Unfortunately, everybody in California likes to use it in everything from iced drinks to salad dressings, garnishes, pizza toppings, ice cream, and you name it.  Californians use it more freely than salt and pepper. 

Please stop.  Why?  Because cilantro tastes like SOAP!  PLEASE STOP PUTTING CILANTRO ON EVERYTHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I have the genetic disposition where cilantro tastes like SOAP.  Yes, we usually have white, Celtic ethnic backgrounds that are generally  traced to Ireland, Scotland, and the British Isles.  Granted, I've been mixed with Germanic tribes, native American tribes, and God knows only what else since my family's appearance on the North American continent some 300 years ago.....

The anti-cilantro gene is screaming loudly and clearly.

For those of you who think that cilantro is a tasty green that everybody loves and should be used on anything and everything I have something for you to think about.  How would *you* like it if I drizzled dish soap on all of your food while gushing on how wonderful it tastes?  

Mom and Dad

Oh yes.... parents can be a challenge to understand.  I guess that's the payback for enduring our teen rebellion years and other fun parenting episodes that nearly pushed them over the edge.

Mom and dad are retired.  They have lots of time on their hands.  Bless them.  What cracks me up is how they occupy themselves and what thoughts they allow to permeate their heads and dwell upon. Ready to laugh and cry?  I'm seriously thinking of basing a television sit-com much like "All in the Family" off them.   Here goes. 

Episode 1:  
Mom and Dad live across the street from some property owned by the City of Minneapolis.  They use that publicly owned property to grow flowers on it -- they then sit on their front porch and chastise people who pick the flowers. 

Episode 2:  
Dad and Mom's neighbor behind them is not into yard work.  I guess I can't say I blame the neighbor as it's not my favorite thing, either.  Yes, the back yard is overgrown and would take a machete to cut through along with avoiding obstacles such as the lawn mower that has been sitting there broken/dormant for what appears to be several seasons as the rust indicates. 

Is it an eyesore?  Absolutely.  However, to view the eyesore requires standing on a bench to peer over the privacy fence.  Sorry, but although mom and dad don't like how the neighbor neglects yard work they would not notice it if they did not stand on the bench to peer over into it.  It's like peeping into your neighbor's kitchen window to criticize the filthy kitchen.  I think it would be on the up and up (and really humorous) if mom and dad said to the neighbor, "Hi.  We got a bench and peered over the privacy fence into your backyard.  We don't like the state it is in.  Being we obviously have nothing better to do than to snoop and render judgment, we thought we'd offer our services for mowing, weeding, and hauling." 

Episode 3:  
Despite their pious claims to respect privacy and not being nosy, they keep tight tabs on the comings and goings of neighbors.  Taking out the trash outside of neighbors' usual routine sparks wild curiosity on their part.  God help the neighbor who has an unfamiliar car parked in the driveway. 

Episode 4: 
The ethnicity (or perceived ethnicity) of everybody they come into contact is used in casual conversation.  Jew, nigger, towel-head, slant eye, half-breeds, etc., and such are labels freely verbalized.  

Episode 5: 
They argue and bicker about EVERYTHING.  Granted, some of the arguments are humorous but the overall dialogue between mom and dad consists of different assessments of events, memories, and what the current temperature outside is. 

Episode 6:  
Praise the glory and necessity of labor unions and lamenting about their dwindling existence but shop for the lowest possible price on everything.  The union price will *never* be the least expensive. 

Episode 7:
Everything is a government conspiracy -- including flu shots.

Summary:  I could go on and on but I'll stop now.  I'm sure my parents have gourds of material they could use to write a comic tragedy about me and my life.  I'm willing to share my profits if they will reciprocate;)

Bribes to Swallow

Wow.  I can't make this stuff up!  The universe hands me this material and all I do is post it.  I spit (no pun intended) when I read about "bribes" involving Swallow. It's a stretch, but Mark's last name could easily be Shurtless with a *very* easy typo;)

Jesus and Ray's Tires

Did an impromptu trip to northern Minnesota for a girls weekend at the cabin on Spirit Lake near Mille Lacs.  Yes, I'm *still* friends with ladies I went to kindergarten with.  Betches!!!!!

Which brings me to humor that Hollywood writers are so desperately trying to capture.  Here's the scenario.  My best-buddy, TYD, picks me up at the airport when I land in Minneapolis and we head to best-buddy JLB's house in where I was going to spend the night.  Let it be known right here and now that we three have known each other since before we could even talk.  We have UNFILTERED words and communication between the three of us.

We get to JLB's house and it's the typical Minnesota "hello."  People come from out of the wood work when alcohol is open to shoot the breeze a bit.  It does not matter if they really know you or not.  Californian's need to take the "neighborhood" friendliness page out of the Minnesota book. 

Which leads me to Jesus and Ray.

One of JLB's neighbors came over to shoot the bull with us.  He works for a tire distributor.   He was lamenting that he should really go home and prepare his grill for the giant weenie roast he had to do in La Crosse, Wisconsin the next day.  OK.  Right there is enough material for low-grade comedians to run with.  It did not stop there.

Mr. Tire Distributor went onto to gush about the attributes of one of his clients, J&R Tires.  Hmmmmm what does J&R stand for???  TYD and I were told by Mr. Tire Distributor that it stood for "Jesus and Ray Tires."
The Californian in me automatically assumed some Mexican dude named Jesus and some Gringo named Ray opened up shop in Wisconsin selling tires. 

I was immediately corrected.

Ray is a very religious, Christian kind of guy.  The "J" stands for Jesus.  Jesus and Ray are in business together.  Really.

WTF?????  I thought this kind of shit only happened on sit-com episodes.  Granted, the wine has been flowing.  TYD, JLB, and myself are RUTHLESS in situations like these.  Mr. Tire Distributor walked into a snake pit.  He had no clue what was coming next.

We could not help ourselves.  We asked how Jesus signed the business partnership agreement.  Does Jesus disappear without explanation for three days every so often?  Wow!!!  No wonder the tires hydroplane so well -- they really DO walk on water.   How many dependents does Jesus claim on his taxes?  How does Jesus sign checks or other financial disbursements?  How is Jesus filed under the Secretary of State so legal correspondence can be delivered?  What if Jesus wants out of the business partnership?  Does Jesus own the controlling shares of company stock? 

What made us pee our pants laughing was that Mr. Tire Distributor was stone cold serious.  That made it all even more humorous. 

I hope your weenie roast in LaCrosse, WI was a success!!!!

Jungle Boogie at the Home Improvement Store

You know you're of advancing years when....the music played over the retail store sound system is what you think of as hip and cool.  Today we made a jaunt to a local home improvement store to get a few things.  Over the sound system this song came on. 

I wanted to be on Soul Train ever since I was a little girl.  I could not help myself.  Much to the horrid embarrassment of my teen daughter, I broke out in dance... right there in the paint and window coverings isle. 

Stuffed Animals in Rear Car Windows

Who does this?  Why?  It's worse than the stupid "Baby on Board" stickers.  Sorry, but a car is not a playpen nor crib.  I question the mental maturity of any driver who blocks valuable visible range to place a pile of toys on it.  Revoke their license immediately.  They are too dumb to be operating any kind of heavy equipment or vehicle. 

Independence Day

Oh yes....'tis a day of fireworks, BBQ's and summer fun -- hopefully with people you enjoy being around.

Maybe breaking away from England was a bad move?  After the initial "divorce" and some aftermath we have been best buddies with England ever since.  Personally, I think America went through a teen rebellion phase and now figuring out that mother really did know best after all. 

Clint Holmes: Demanding Performer

yeah, I saw this Clint Holmes guy in Vegas or Reno or some god forsaken Nevada gambling mecca on a business trip where free tickets were given out to the first 1,000 customers getting bloody mary's at the bar at 8:30 am and included the 'all you can eat seafood buffet'. 

What the hay..... i decided to go. 

Granted, this guy is a good looking oreo cookie.  I'll stop here because things can only digress.  So many references can be made that are better left alone.

When the time for Clint's performance came we, the audience, were "instructed" to clap and cheer as Clint Holmes likes it.  Wait.  What?  Who is the audience and who is the performer?  Since when does the performer get to DEMAND any type of reaction from the audience?  You are a high maintenance bee-atch, Mr. Holmes. 

Sorry, Clint.  You  and Michael may have a nickel that's shiny and new, but I'm sure that's not boding well in to your financial retirement portfolio.   BTW, that's about what your show is worth.  Do not coerce me to clap, cheer, or force accolades onto you. 

Don't be sad, Clint.  On the "do me" scale you're still WAAAAAAAAY ahead of Obama.  LOL

United Way: Corporate Thugs

I hate the United Way.  They are nothing more than thugs and bullies beating up disabled kids on the playground for their lunch money.  You think I'm exaggerating?  I'm not.  Here is a true scenario.

United Way "partners" with corporations for fund raising.  Their version of "partnering" is nothing short of exortion of 'rank and file' hourly workers already struggling to make ends meat to support their own families to donate a certain percentage of their paycheck after being %&(*# over by management.  See, the deal set up with upper corporate management and the United Way executives is to coerce everybody by whatever means possible to extort (oops, I mean donate) money to their slush fund disguised as a cheritable foundation.

Monetary bonuses are given to those corporate managers who successfully coerce 'rank and file' hourly employees to donate a certain percentate of their check.  Managers who refuse the United Way Extortion Game are quietly transfered out of state to some undisclosed location never to be heard from again.

It makes me sick that the United Way preys on hourly wage earners to fund their lucrative non-profit tax loophole using thug-like tactics.  The only ones benefiting are the United Way executives and employees.

For all the money United Way collects and claims that it goes to the "local communites" they claim to serve, point to just *one* local project that bears their name as being an actual donator.  Silence.  The only thing the United Way is successful at is corporate and professional football thuggary and muggary.  The United Way should change their name to "stick-em-up."