Adamant about...Adam Ant...and Other Such Fond 1980s Memories

Have you ever misplaced something and then found it later in a place you least expected? It could be hours, days or even months later and you think..."Oh THERE you are...you silly thing, how'd you end up here?"

Well, I lost something less tangible years ago - and, in a way, I found it the other day.

Through a random act of Internet association, someone happened upon my interactive comedy website because someone mentioned it to them. I, in turn, noticed their screen name and avatar...one thing led to another and I am now an active participant on an Adam Ant forum. I also found a group of people who rekindled something in me I lost long ago: memories of my youth.

You see...way back when, I was also one of another group of people - those who witnessed the advent of MTV. I was there from the get-go - from the days they stayed on the air just a few hours...to the days they went 24-hour format...to the days they went global...to, sadly, the days everyone complained they stopped playing music.

But, back in their youth...and back in MY youth - wow! Those were some exciting times.

Sure, there are a lot of people you will find who will tell you how much 80's music sucked and how MTV played a monumental part in its doing so. But -- there are also a LOT of people who cruise YouTube extolling the virtues of 80s music...video after video, wishing they lived during that time. Multitudes of people love the music and the antics going on in the videos.

Truth be told...MTV and 80s singers had a symbiotic relationship...MTV gained viewership by playing beautiful videos sung by beautiful people. Beautiful people flourished -- it was like the "Golden Age" of Hollywood all over again - but on a much smaller screen.

One of those beautiful people gracing their airwaves was unknown to me at the time. I lived in New Jersey, and altho I would listen to Philadelphia radio stations, they still managed to play only what was selling advertising, which equated to Top 40 rock format...with a few local favourites thrown in. Princeton University would broadcast a much more eclectic sound and through them I found the likes of REM, The Police, U2, Depeche Mode and The Cure...all well before they were mainstreamed over to the "popular" stations.

But people like Duran Duran, Madonna and Adam Ant were bypassed altogether...and without MTV around to find their niche - these talented, albeit beautiful, people...would have probably fallen by the wayside.

But a little less about them and more about me...

Duran Duran burst on the MTV scene about the same time as my hormones started bursting out of me. And while they undoubtedly were the fantasy of schoolgirls everywhere...eh...they weren't my cup of tea.

Then I caught my first glimpse of Adam. I remember it distinctly - I was hanging out at my friend, Cecelia's house, watching MTV, talking about boys, and making life-long plans we'd always put down on paper. I guess it was more official when you had it in writing. And somehow, ultimately, living in Los Angeles or England was always involved - as was "marrying a rock star". And when Adam swaggered into her living room that day - well, our lists got updated.

We then ran out, for the first and only time in my life - and bought one of those Teen Beat-type magazines. I can't recall the exact name of it - but I do remember Adam was featured prominently inside.

Then out came the make-up kits - we now had in front of us our "Rembrandt" if you will - to copy. We spent many hours trying to replicate that "masterpiece"...but honestly, I really think we spent more time drooling over Adam than drawing on our faces. Could anyone in their right mind blame us?

It goes without saying that we also bought up all the albums of his we could find...then promptly taped it over to cassette. Keep in mind these were the days pre-recorded cassettes sorely lacked any real quality recording...so when you bought the album you'd also buy a Maxcell tape and do it yourself. Then you'd sit down in front of the stereo with the lyric sheet (another reason you'd buy the album...they rarely provided them then in cassettes) and play that record until you had it memorized. And then you'd pop that tape in the car and play it everywhere you went. Yeah...you might say this whole regimen bordered on obsession - but, boy...what an obsession!

And what obsession would be complete without the 'coup de grace' of them all? The ultimate paying of respect? Yes, when Halloween rolled around, Cecelia and I went as Adam.

I had all but forgotten these things - as childhood memories make way for adult ones; and friends, sadly, come and go and then eventually drop out of contact altogether. People move, get married and start new families and new memories - the years pass by all too quickly and you stop making wish lists and make grocery lists instead.

And the only ones dressing up for Halloween are your children. Sure, you can always dress up as well (I know I still do)...but it's never going to be with the same innocence, fervour, and wonderment as when you were young. And now there you are...gazing upon your kids; the reflection of the doorstep jack-o-lanterns twinkling in their eyes, their quickening gait as they try to outrace the other kids to the door, and the sheer, unbridled passion only a new Halloween costume and the prospect of copious free candy can give a kid...and you can't help but reflect back to those carefree days of your youth and wonder how they went past so quickly.

Twenty years seem like ages when you're a kid - but are, in reality, a blink of the eye when you, yourself...much later...look back. That thing my mother always told me WAS true: "Before you know it, Mariann...20 years will have gone by..." She would say it so many times and I always, always dreaded hearing it. Funny the things you remember - and the things you don't. I can remember her saying it, well...like it was just yesterday...

...but...one thing I'm not dreading - is turning into my Mother, like some people do theirs; you see, I always dragged my Mom around wherever I went - and she listened to Peter Gabriel, Genesis, U2, Yes...and yes, Adam Ant as well. And one thing's for certain, if she were alive today, I'd still be dragging her around town with me, laughing, shopping and driving all over the place while listening to what's on the radio. And...she'd probably want me to turn it off. But probably not for any reason you might think, but because, like Adam sings -- "That music's lost its taste - so try another flavour..." And, my mother would be the first to agree. It IS time to try something different from what they've been playing on the radio (at least in this town) lately.

So, c'mon everyone...play something new...even IF that "new" thing just so happens to have hit it big back in the 80s.

The Rift of Gab

I like to talk.

Everyone who knows me knows this.

This is how I start all practically all conversations when I meet someone: "Hi...blah blah (please insert actual words in place of the "blah blah"...as I don't actually SAY "blah blah") blah...by the way, I tend to NOT shut up. If you start talking to me...I can not and WILL not stop. And IF we ever talk on the phone...well, I had one call I made to a new friend in Hawaii from 12:30 - 7:00 a.m. the other nite. Yes, she is now my new "official record holder".

Poor thing.

So I think you get the picture.

Well, another friend I have (all my friends are not in any reasonable driving distance, by the way...possibly for a reason) called me today to let me know he just signed up for one of those unlimited long distance calling plans. And he was quick to toss in "...but I'm going to be watching a game tonite so don't call me".

Now, I'm not completely stupid - I know what the deal is and I told him: "You got this plan just so you can call to tell me not to call, huh?" Oh, sure - I know I call - I call a lot. Try to make me feel even more guilty about it than I already do. Take note that I stressed the word "try".

Are you one of those people who are always doing the dropping by someone's house or calling them up? After a while you think to yourself..."Self...if they really wanted to associate with you, they'd once in a while be on the receiving end...maybe, just maybe they are giving you a not too subtle hint?"

But then I remember what my friends always say..."I wish we lived closer as we could go over to each other's houses and hang out together". But then I counterthink with "well, maybe they are just saying this BECAUSE they don't live near me"...you know, the way people offer to help you when they never intend to - to begin with? Sorta like when people say "see you later" when you just met them - and you will never see them again as long as you live. So...it's my uneducated guess that if we lived closer we'd undoubtedly see some idiosyncrasy we do which grates on the other's nerves which we don't see over the phone and then we'd never go out again. You know - like when you go out with someone to a nice restaurant and they hold their knife like the killer in "Psycho"...only sticking straight up and down in a Neanderthalish manner? Or when someone uses their finger to scoot their food onto their fork at the very same restaurant...or reaches into their mouth repeatedly with what appears to be their entire hand to pick something out from between their back molars? Or...okay...okay...I'll stop...but you know...things like that which they never stop - yet they'd chastise their own child at the dinner table at home for doing the same thing.

I know what you are thinking: Who am I to talk about stopping since I never stop...talking? And don't I have some of my own idiosyncrasies? Yes, I do. But they are the good ones to have.

Don't believe me...give me a call and we'll talk about it. ;)

Illegal Drug Pens

If you've been keeping up with any of my blogumns, you might know I've a penchant for pocketing pens. Drug company pens to be exact...but I've only "officially" stolen one. It's been my experience if you ask the receptionist or doctor for one of those pens they get by the truckload along with other miscellaneous drug company merchandise like clocks, mouse pads and squishy heads...they will more than likely accommodate you. Unfortunately, I have too many of these free pens lying all over the house, in my car and in my purses to count. I say it's unfortunate because I've been to that many doctors.

Now the way I see it - the pens are free...the drugs are pushed, the drug reps need to unload them and the doctors need to keep those reps busy, so I'm actually doing them a service by providing them more opportunities to drop more pens off. Plus, I'm pretty much paying a lot to see these people, the least they could do is "toss me a cookie" once in a while in the form of a pen.

And having one lying around along with 25 of its "clones" sitting in a drug provided coffee-cup is akin to dangling a carrot in front of Ole Bessie. Two guesses as to whether I'm the carrot or Ole Bessie (and keep the side remarks to yourselves). They won't ever miss ONE - they have a never ending supply of them...plus I DO bother to ask politely. There's plenty of people who just abscond with them without so much as a "howdy do" and a tip of their hat. You know, those hats they don't ever wear anymore - which I referred to in my prior "Men Without Hats" blog. (Yes...this is how I getcha interested in reading another blog...or hopefully get you interested.) As for those pens, in all shapes and sizes, colours and materials, each proudly sporting their drug name emblazoned on it...in near full regalia as it were. Some are very handsome indeed...and therein lies my fascination with drug pen acquisitions. This obsession of mine is purely based on getting something for nothing which is in a pretty package that is useful...especially useful to me, actually, because I sometimes write my blogumns with those very same pens. See? What better justification for an inanimate object infatuation could anyone want?

But it is a sad day indeed. I was gleefully, cheerfully, and oh so set-uppingly administering my "you just can't possibly deny me one little pen when you have hundreds in the back" I've used countless times before when out of her mouth I heard those nine little words that would change my life as I know it. "They aren't allowed to give us drug merchandise anymore." She continued, "These are the last of them...after we run out...we'll have to use our own." Insert one of those Hollywood "Wilhelm Screams" here. Surely, she's just messing with me - she just won't pony up the pretty pen for pathetic me. How dare she...why, I bet she takes those things home and sells them on eBay. And I left.

What fortuitous event met me at the elevator...why it was a drug rep herself with her rolling carrying case of goodies...rolling because all those squishy heads, clocks and pens get rather heavy when you have to lug them around, office door to office door. The glamorous life of a drug rep...must be hard work. Lunches every day...rolling her little personal trolley into doctors' offices day in and day out, whilst a myriad of patients huff "why I never" in unison, and wait until you've uttered your rehearsed drug soliloquy speech - then you bound back out, hands waving and many "see you next weeks" being bantered about with as much enthusiasm as one can muster up for people you don't give one darn about.

So...I gazed longingly at her laden pack and, while never looking up to make eye contact, asked, "I just heard a horrible, vicious rumour...please tell me is not true! The receptionist wouldn't part with a pen...said you guys aren't hawking them anymore...surely she's having some type of mother hen complex with them...correct?"

"No...we aren't allowed to give them out anymore...it's a new law." So, I thought to myself...'bribery disguised in cylindrical plastic form...is...sniff...sniff...a thing of the past; it is, alas, no...sniff...more.'
While I never did condone them wining and dining and schmoozing and trinket-ing the physicians...I really had no problem taking pens promoting drugs I'd never take in my lifetime. My Viagra pens are one of my prized possessions...battles in this house have been won and lost just over coveting rights alone.

Now in case you are wondering just what is and isn't allowed and why the lowly pen has now become a professional pariah...here's a little breakdown, courtesy of the "Code on Interactions with Healthcare Professionals," Pharmaceutical Research and Manufacturers of America, July 2008; that, come January 2009...will go into effect:

Acceptable

Educational items, such as anatomical models, worth less than $100.
"Modest" in-office or in-hospital meals with informational sessions by drug reps.
"Modest" restaurant meals as part of an informational session by an expert speaker.
Funding for CME programs.
Payments for bona fide consulting or advisory arrangements.
"Fair market value" payments for speaker training.
Funding for scholarships chosen by training institution.

Not acceptable

Reminder items such as pens, notepads, coffee mugs and
wall clocks. (New in 2009)
Restaurant meals with drug reps. (New in 2009)
CME grant funding based on marketing objectives. (New in 2009)
Sports equipment; tickets to sports or entertainment events.
Physician travel or lodging subsidies for meetings or CME.
Payments for sham consulting or advisory arrangements.
Financial support "in exchange for prescribing products or

for a commitment to continue prescribing products."

So, stock up on those "not acceptable" items while you still can get your little hands around them...as they might be worth a small fortune one day on eBay...if they don't rescind the laws. Or better yet, send them to me for addition to my own personal stockpile of drug-rep paraphernalia. Hey, those pens just might afford me the opportunity to send my daughter to Med School.

Ahhh...irony. Gotta love it.

Interview to a Skill

If I can borrow a line from David Letterman...everyone "hold on to your wigs and keys" - I actually had a job interview, I think...the other day.

Oh, I know what you are thinking...even before you thought it - "you THINK?" Yes, I think - let me elaborate...just a little...

I went to drop off my resume - nope, I didn't email or FAX it - I did it the "old fashioned way"...I hand-carried it. And in the process, ended up sitting down and speaking with the woman who either ultimately decides who gets the job or, at the very least, plays some part in the decision. At least that's the impression I was led to believe.

About an hour later - I came back out. Far be it from me NOT to talk, but if had known I wasn't going to just drop my resume off and then leave, I would have at least brushed up on some things - like what exactly the place I just put in for a job...does. What an entity sounds like it might do by its name and what that entity does in real life are sometimes two totally different things; this was one of those times. So, I must say a felt a bit stupid for asking (what informed candidate would dare ask such a thing) - but I'm hoping that whole "there are NO stupid questions" adage will hold true this time, because honestly, I have indeed heard my share of stupid questions, so I know they're out there.

I also would have dressed nicer and put on a "better" aka "corporate face". Oh, you guys have it easy - pretty much the only thing you have to do to get ready is shave and make sure your tie matches. Women have the "whole package" process to attend to. From head to toe, most of us still do some obsessing, literally, from top to bottom and all points in between. We have a wide range of clothes to choose from (not just suits...which all look pretty much the same) - and shoes (here again, men's dress shoes don't usually deviate far from the others which look pretty much like all the rest). But women's shoes...geez...do you men have any idea how stressful and challenging it is to find "just the right shoe"...each time we dress up? Do you THINK we actually LIKE shopping for shoes?? Wait, let me rephrase that...and when I think of something to rephrase it with, I'll get back to you...unless, of course, there's a really great shoe sale or something in the meantime. But I digress once again...

Then, in the process of getting ready for a job interview - we must work hard to get that "first impression" look genuinely less than contrived. Sure, I know it's contrived, you know it's contrived, I know you know it's contrived...but it is the first impression and we want to make a genuine good one nonetheless.

Our hair...of course we need to do something to it, and because luck will befall us in the way it always does on such occasions, the more we try to get it right, the worse it ends up looking. Any other time when we have no such intentions to run into anyone...the hair will fall as if someone named Raoul had been working on it all day. When it counts, it's always someone named Igor. Trust me...this hair problem is not uncommon...look around you. You don't honestly think those women having those hairdos asked for them, do you? Even though that part of the hair is technically dead - doesn't mean it still doesn't hold a grudge against you for something...all grudges will be carried out at the most inopportune time, such as dates, interviews, and marriage photos.

Next are make-up issues. You never want to walk into a new place you haven't scoped out ahead of time without putting on some amount of make-up. Going sans make-up might be fine once you get the job...but during the pre-job feeling out process - it's best to go for natural kicked up a notch. You certainly don't want to come off being the office glamourpuss - as chances are you WILL be running into SOME women during this whole interview process - and bad vibes are the things you'd least want to be sending off. No one wants to be out-glammed, plus you'll come off looking so high maintenance they'll probably think your work takes second stage to make-up touch-ups. So...you have to find a nice balanced middle-ground until which time you are welcomed into their fold...then you can rely on the "office attractiveness bell curve" and you will eventually learn just where you fit in. Trying to ring that bell-curve when you make that all important first impression...well, one should never attempt this...because - it will take its toll on thee.

Okay, at this point in my blogumn, the men think I well crossed that "insane line" mentally drawn in the sand - and the women, hopefully, are agreeing with me, nudging some guy somewhere in their vicinity, going "SEE, you guys DO have it easier". You are not scrutinized like we are...you just will never know the woman's psyche ...of course, you can't figure out women period (oh, c'mon a whole nation of comics for ages can't be wrong), how can you be able to understand them on this very subtle level? We, alone, "get" all sorts of subtle cues we give off...some are harder to read...some aren't subtle at all...but at one point the judging procedure has already gone full swing and is now winding down. This is the point where you should not overstay your welcome - there must be time to let the would-be employers mull over what you did and didn't say and if you meshed or bonded at all...or if you are of such a personality you'd cause dissension in the ranks and even IF you could handle the work...even with the best ability, would anyone want you...given your personality or attitude type? These are questions which all must be weighed in - and it's a very precise balancing act. It's not like they can just take you back to the pet store if they didn't like you - it's a little more involved than that.

There's been places I've worked where certain personalities just didn't mesh...in fact wondering which job would be their best chosen field...well, let's just say - .some people are best left to their own devices, out of the way of the daily interaction, located in some back room where their attitude can learn contentment in containment and reflection as it were...as some people aren't exactly "people" people...no matter how many times they continue and persist to remind you that they are.

So, while I don't know how I fared or scored, I do believe , if nothing else, they will think I have no problem, whatsoever, being able to talk to anyone who works in he office, walks into the office, calls the office, or, really...anyone who actually breathes. That part at least, has been established...even without a walk-past mirror-check.

More Olympic Musings aka Olympic Musings II

Some more Olympic meanderings...

It seems to me that it isn't the safest job in the world to be the guy who stands out in the field while they throw the discus, hammer or javelin. The shot put doesn't seem to be that terrible - but that discus seems it could go anywhere...even hitting one of the people running by who are doing the other events. All that guy has to do is get some vertigo or trip up while he's spinning around to toss it and it ends up walloping someone in the head. No thanks...I'll stick to being the gymnastics "bar spotter" (oh go read my first part).

Then I present to you - two multi-part Olympic events and my thoughts regarding them...

Triathlon: A competition comprised of three events. The events and official distance for them is thus: 1.5 km swim (almost a mile), a 40 km (almost 25 miles) cycle and a 10 km (over 6 miles) run. (Yes, I added the feet in because I just can't fathom what the distance is without feet, yards and miles involved...I am metric impaired.)

Decathlon: A competition of ten events - broken out below.

Day 1:

100 meters (328 feet)
Long Jump
Shot Put
High Jump
400 meters (1312 feet)

Day 2:

110 meter hurdles
Discus
Pole Vault
Javelin
1500 meters (almost a mile)

So, the way I figure it - the Decathlete has it way easier. When you add up all those distances - they don't even jump, run or throw anywhere near the distance the Triathelete does - yet they get all the glory - PLUS they do it in two days instead of back-to-back-to-back like the Triatheletes. Where is the justice? How many Triatheletes have you ever seen on a Wheaties box? How many can you name? There...my point is now made. :) Now just for fun, a bonus question: How many Heptathlon winners can you name? Again...my point exactly.

More random stuff that popped out of my head...

The Steeplechase: Typically this seems like a race a horse should be doing...you go over the same type of obstacles - the gates don't flop over like hurdles do - so you can actually vault off them with your foot if you really wanted instead of clearing them totally...plus there's also a water jump...like the horses do. Seems either the horse event or the human even should be retitled...or at the very least make the human competitors carry a small monkey on their backs or something. I'm betting it would get a lot more NBC coverage if they added the monkeys.

Sports vs Competitions: There are a lot of events at the Olympics which seem to get peoples' ire up over the single fact they don't consider them a "sport" per se. Now...one can contest this until the cows come home, which, incidentally, is not any event IN the Olympics that I know of. Some people have been telling me that Women's Rhythmic Gymnastics - you know the one with the ball, ribbon or hula hoop type things...is not a sport. I counter with "well, Beach Volleyball isn't a sport either" - my justification volley (yeah, that was meant as a pun) goes something like this: "How can that be an Olympic sport? I mean...[possible] time outs for "desanding", wearing hats backwards and playing "Who Let the Dogs Out?" between volleys? That last one alone should disqualify it."

My friend and I were talking about clarification of what exactly constitutes the events that are in the Olympics and are some actually not sports? I told him I thought it might be like that Wide World of Sports voiceover would always say "The human drama of athletic competition..." Merriam-Webster Online defines "sport" as: 1 a: a source of diversion : recreation b: sexual play c (1): physical activity engaged in for pleasure (2): a particular activity (as an athletic game) so engaged in. Even watching Olympics late nite...I've never seen anything they televised remotely coming close to that "b" one (at least not on NBC). So, while some things are clearly sports...using teams and balls...some are clear winner one-against-one...such as races and archery and such...and some are scored against others you are still competing against even though you aren't competing against them at the same time...such as gymnastics, diving and ice skating. So that got me trying to find out exactly what the Olympic's basis for allowing a sport/event - and while I didn't find any real 'cut and dried' criteria, I did find this if you are interested: Lots of rules regarding the Olympics. No word yet on Olympic dart throwing and NASCAR.

And while we were talking on the phone, the marathon was run and diving resumed...and I mentioned how great Greg Louganis was and how remiss I was for leaving him out of my "all-time favourites" list in my last blogumn. Ironically, as soon as I mentioned him, Visa featured him in a commercial. That man could dive and I got to see him in the 1988 Seoul, Korea Olympics...in fact I have photos of him in the preliminaries (I didn't get to see him in the finals) and I was there when he hit his head on the diving board...and he STILL managed to win gold in the end. Best diver ever. Ever.

And is it just me but does the "Bird's Nest" stadium remind anyone else of one of those giant rubber band balls? At some angles it also looks like it's Duck (duct) Tape...which would be apropos because...well, a duck IS a bird.

Maybe more later...

Olympic Musings

First off - an excuse...I've been dealing with a stabbing ice-pick headache for the last few days...so if this makes no sense and I find out later and you find out before me...I apologize. But considering this idea's been sitting in the back burner of my mind since the second day of the Olympics and the time is waning...I'm going to jump while the iron in that burner's still hot.


I LOVE the Olympics (Summer and Winter)...I have since the 1968 games. When they grace my screen, I stay glued to it watching everything and anything they throw at me...from those "gotta see" events like gymnastics, swimming (how about that Phelps!) and ice skating to the ones that make you go "hmmmm" - like Men's Synchronized Diving and Women's Synchronized Swimming...to the "Ski a Bit...Shoot a Bit" competition I only have a vague idea of the name (Biathlon - "thank you", Google)...to Curling, which has GOT to be the oddest of all Olympic "sports" out there. Somehow I think boredom and booze were involved coming up with that one. But, last Winter Olympics - I watched Curling...and it seemed to get its 15 minutes of fame and glory - at least everyone was talking about it...due to the actual airing of the event. That "leftover 'Whatizit' element" - probably artfully tied in somehow during their commentary when they did their backstories. Eh...probably not. Let's move on...

And for my money (not that I'm buying anything NBC's advertising)...other than the late great Jim McKay, you just can't beat Bob Costas as a host. He's informative, intelligent, silly enough to seem like's actually being genuine while being silly, and darnit, he's still pleasant on the eyes (even with the darker hair). But first and foremost the show and his sporadic interviews with various athletes is not about him - it's about them and he is an unpretentious sort and not an opportunistic attention grabber like that irritating weasel, Pat O'Brien was when he covered the Olympics. I cringed each time he showed up because it was going to be HIS interview - no matter the subject matter...it always segued into "the show about him".

But there are some things which always stay the same...and things that always make me go "hmmmm" - so since I am now watching platform diving...I thought I'd take the platform myself and share some of my own personal Olympic meanderings and musings...

First off, the sideline comments:

There are rule books the judges use, the officials use, the participants use...but there should be one the reporters and commentators also use. One that deals with cliches and just plain dumb verbiage. In other words - sporting vernacular they always fall back on which makes everyone else cringe or go "NO...REALLY?? It also begs the question, "Do they even bother to know how silly it's going to sound before they say it?"

Oh, I'm not saying I could do any better...altho I think I'd jot down some "pre-event" comments before I went on the air and then tried to work them in instead of the others. You'd think a big network would say..."Could you possibly refrain from using the following utterances? (Hands list to them.) Please?"

Keep in mind these are things which highly paid people say during the Olympic broadcast (and have for years) and, just because it's my blogumn, some of my comments after...

"Oooh, that's gonna cost him."

"I don't think he meant to do that."

"He really didn't want to do that during this competition."

"What's going through their mind right now?" (Before, during, and after winning or losing any event.)

"She hasn't been able to do this all week..." Promptly followed by either "...but she managed to do it this time" or "...and she still didn't". It's witty banter like this which secures their place in the annals of broadcasting history, right up there with the "oh the humanity" guy.

And I don't know about you, but if I hear one more reporter say "He really wants to win this thing"... Noooooo, really?? I thought he was trying for fifth, ya moron. And then there's the "geez, ya think??" factor for the ever popular "Oooooh, he's going to regret doing that the rest of his life".

And now...some random Olympic thoughts:

The guy who lifts the guy up at the high bar in men's gymnastics...just what does he shout to the guy who's doing the routine? "Yes...that's it - now swing around again...and again...okay, that's good...don't forget to grab the bar...now go around again...now get ready to let go...but only when I tell ya." I mean, you'd figure the gymnast already knows his routine...and it's not like he's relaying key information like "Hurry up...the guy swimming next to you is catching up!" or anything. I'm kinda curious as to what they say.

And why don't they have balance beam spotters? Do you only get a spotter when there's a bar involved? The men's high bar has one and the women's uneven bars does...why not a rings spotter? And doesn't this "back seat driver of the bar" get on the gymnast's nerves? Each time they do any move - the "bar guy" inches up a foot and then retreats...inches up again...flinches...puts his arms up...down again...then steps back. You'd think it would be like the guy yelling just when the golfer's going to make his putt. Plus I've never seen them stop anyone from falling. When the gymnast misses...they end up splatting on the ground...not really like the "bar guys" are that much help if you ask me.

Can they call a time out in order to get the sand out of their bottoms during Beach Volleyball? And if so...just what does the hand signal for that look like? (Oh...trust me, I made one up...it's pretty good.)

Shouldn't there be Olympic "do-overs"? When someone trips you from another team...say, hypothetically...when you are Great Britain and Jamaica comes into your lane and bumps into you when they're passing their baton. That really isn't good. By that adage...they could possibly team up like in NASCAR. Get two teams in the finals - have one smash into the one who poses the biggest threat...so you can run off with the gold. Seems plausible. Not that I'm saying they do it - but I have seen missteps in quite a few Olympics...from the Zola Budd/Mary Decker incident...to, well, this one tonight. It's never fair - and I think they should have "do-overs". At least let the "wronged" people do it over...I'm not saying everyone has to start over - but sheesh...let them have their shot.

If some athletes like to take banned drugs and swipe the glory away from the true-deserving competitors (sometimes years after the fact) - why don't they just have a "Steroid Olympics"? Heck, I'd watch that for sure. Just think of the arms being pulled off during weightlifting and the records being broken and how itty bitty the men's Speedos could be with all the ...oh, c'mon you DO know the side effects of taking steroids, right?

And can we please only compete in the country in which you were raised for the majority of your life? Not "oh I didn't qualify for Berlique...so I'll go to Upper Slobovia...they have no one...I'll be a shoe-in to make the cut."

Yeah...I know - that last one probably already got me some hate mail...but can we just give the games back to the people who didn't turn pro yet? I mean a cereal box here and again to fund the house your parents mortgaged three years ago so you could afford moving to a place where an Olympic coach trains - is one thing. But when you've been pro for X years and you can now (technically) represent your country in the games just to win a medal that you (ultimately) take away from someone else who isn't pro who'd also like the possibility of a medal...well, that's still unfair and unsporting if you ask me. Yeah...medals are nice - but opportunities are, too. Give the opportunity to a non-pro athlete - there are probably plenty of them out there who'd love to represent their country and could do a darn fine job in the process.

Lastly, since I'm getting hate mail from the last two...might as well go for three. Mark Spitz still ruled and always will in my book. Yes, I know, Michael Phelps is phenomenal. I agree. I really do. But Spitz was magical back in my day...and like one of the commentators said after Phelps won...(and I'm paraphrasing) "Spitz was from 'our generation'" referring to us older viewers who lament Spitz' record being broken. His "our generation" is also MY generation and it is the one of my glory days of my youth - and that youth comprised of Olga Korbut, Mark Spitz, Bruce Jenner, Dorothy Hamill, Franz Klammer (anyone else remember him?) and the incredibly great Toller Cranston (who got cheated out of a gold if you ask me). It always will. It's a bittersweet moment to see it...I knew Phelps was capable...but, secretly I'll admit - I wanted him to tie it. I knew he wouldn't - but to see Spitz "dethroned" considering he didn't swim eight races...seemed - wrong. (And some people were just so incredibly disrespectful if you ask me about the whole ordeal.) Yes, I know...Spitz only swam two strokes and Phelps swam four...but a part of me...again, a part of my youth I wanted so desperately to hang on to...was relinquished. I'm just glad it was by someone who wasn't an arrogant twit. Phelps is so very nice...and no one (in their wrong or right mind) can possibly argue he can't out-swim anyone and everyone...but...I'm still a tad curious just how much slower he might have been had he donned a Speedo and a moustache. ;)

The "Dating Game" (Conclusion)

Now don't get me wrong, we aren't ALL hypocrites...but I've spoken with a lot of people about a lot of things and what people say to one person of one sex isn't necessarily the thing they tell the person of the other. I've actually been quite surprised by the number of people who contacted me, privately, via message, and posted on my blog about what I've been writing. And it goes with what I've been learning, and yes, I say 'learning', over the course of my life. Ironic it's the "course" of my life...because it has been a sort of education...it's a "course" I'm in...and it's not an elective. It's mandatory. And I can't opt out. Well, I could...but I'm not going to.

And I know I whine. Many times I feel so alone since my parents died, so wronged and so cornered with no way out...and then I look around and see what other people are going through, all around the world - and I can't help but think of how fortunate I really am. I honestly don't know how some people can go through what they do...and how many even rise above everything and persevere under such adversity.

But most of the comments I received were from people who felt as I did and felt like so many people I talk to. Regardless of whether you are male or female - if you've devoted a portion of your life to another and it goes wrong, or you had to take out a zillion loans to pay off your bills...and now you are only working to pay off those loans, or you lost your job and you find yourself looking for another one when you are in (or fast approaching) your 50s...and you know you are competing against people who are younger than your own kids...or you're now tasked with taking care of one or both of your parents, or had health issues of your own...it's hard. I think you'll be hard pressed to find someone from the above list who would disagree.

I have to admit - I had a different road I was going to take this story down...but, I don't jot down notes...and when I write one of these blogumns, I sit down at the computer (sometimes on a notepad) and basically run with it. It always turns out differently than what I envisioned...and this time is also no exception.

What I've found out is that people are resilient, remarkable, and also very easily hurt. That guy you see where you work each day who you think has it all together? Probably doesn't. And that woman who brightens up everyone's day...well, she might have been through a lot - but covers it well. Many times I start talking to people, and trust me, when I start talking...chances are we're going to be at it a while...and for some inexplicable reason, they do something I'm not sure they do with everyone. They start to confide in me...and most times very intimate details of their lives. Yes, I am a complete stranger to them...but for some reason they feel compelled to unburden themselves and vent...or, what I'd rather think...they sense I have compassion, empathy and I'm easy to talk to. I'd like to go on thinking that.

Case in point...I ran into a lady the other day at a store here in town...she's from another country and new to the area - and, rather apologetically and reluctantly she asked me a question regarding finding school supplies for her child. I answered, walked away, got in line, and then saw her again while I stood there...and I debated in my head, "Should I just walk up after I'm done here and start up a conversation with her? Maybe she's new here (she DID have an accent afterall) and could use some help finding her way around? Should I even bother?" Well, I'm an extrovert, so the extrovert part of me took over and after I made my purchase - walked over to her and offered up my aid, if she needed it. I think she was appreciative...she started telling me some details of her life...and even a story from her country (yes, I'm respecting her anonymity) about someone who lived there essentially her entire LONG life...and when she died, the cliquey townspeople came up with their "less than welcoming" epitaph for her: "She wasn't from around here." Now, I don't know how true this story is...but it's a story she shared...maybe because I cared enough to lend a hand to show her around town. Sure, I made it known I would also love to have a friend...as you see, I'm also "not from around here"...and altho I've lived here for 18 years and not 99 like the lady in her story...I always feel I'm just an outsider looking in. I've got my nose pressed up against the proverbial glass outside the shop...but they just won't open the door to let me in. And just like that dog that's been kicked so many times...you learn to stop trying to gain anyone's affection...and you go sit back down in the corner licking your wounds.

And there are a lot of wounded people out there. My theory is - as people get older they don't necessarily let new people and new situations into their lives because life IS scary. The longer you live...the more you might have seen it...especially if it seems to happen to you over and over. But familiarity is safe. So some people stay within the confines of their "safe zones"...and their circle of friends...and their dead-end jobs and equally dead-end lives. It IS scary to trust another person...it's hard to not think about rejection (especially when you're not a stranger to it)...be it in a job, a relationship, or even, sometimes...something as simple as talking to a stranger in a shop.

But I'm trying.

The "Dating Game" (Part 2 of 3)

And what IS this preoccupation you men people have with breasts? It doesn't matter if they look as fake as two grapefruit halves shoved under some tightly stretched skin...you still crave them. If the woman bleaches her hair to that totally unnatural shade of blonde (c'mon, there's a reason Crayola doesn't have that colour in the box...please pick a shade that actually registers in our spectrum) and then cackles at the top of her lungs like the Wicked Witch of the West in the Wizard of Oz...as long as she's packing some 'boobage'...she can do no wrong.

But when those puppies start going south...

...well, let me give you a scenario which has happened to me a few times. True scenarios. They kinda go like this: "You could always get a tummy tuck and a boob job IF you won the Lottery." "IF you got a boob job you'd be happier." "Would you get a boob job if you could afford it?" And yes...they were all uttered by men.

You know...after living 47 years I'd like to think people are above looking at me below the neck...but it just isn't so. Sure...there are those of you out there with husbands, boyfriends - or ARE husbands and boyfriends...who are probably shaking your heads in disagreement with me right now saying "well, that isn't ME"...well, it might not be YOU...but look around. You are deluding yourself if you don't think that's the prevalent thought in man-stream (and main-stream) society.

I run across nice women every day. Really nice women. Women of all ages. And don't fool yourselves - we talk about you guys. We flat out slam ya. Yup, we do. Oh, if we could take a vote tomorrow to have you guys voted off the island...let me ask just one thing? Have you ever heard of the Amazons in Greek mythology?

Regardless of a bitter hatred of all things men (oh...c'mon, surely I jest), there's a couple other things these women have in common. They are nice, smart, and funny - but they aren't all "Barbie-doll" perfect.

Let me clue all you guys in...most of you aren't up to Antonio Banderas-par neither. But I have yet to hear any woman say "ya know...if he'd only have liposuction or some type of implant..." - and what would you guys say if we started preaching how much better YOU'D feel if YOU had a little work done?

I'm not speaking out of turn. Look at those magazines and Internet celebrity sites all over the place. They pick on Uma Thurman for being a bit "saggy" or Jennifer Love Hewitt for having a big butt. Geez the woman weighs 100 lbs...it's against the laws of physics for her to be ABLE to have a big butt. But I never see "oh look at Matthew McConaughey...he's going to need a pec lift soon", "Brad sure is in desperate need of electrolysis" or "ya know - in retrospect...Sean Connory DID make an unsexy Bond".

Those tables sure are turned when it comes to women and their bodies...no wonder we aren't content...no wonder we feel like we can never live up to our expectations...we can't live up to anyone's. And that is JUST not fair.

We live in a society which tells our daughters to be happy with the body God gave them...that they aren't overweight, that their chests are just the right size and that they will grow into their noses...then we turn around and nip and tuck and shove implants (or wish we could) in our own bodies - or, worse yet, tell our wives or girlfriends to do it...to achieve something we can never get back: our own youth. No, a BETTER youth..."better" than the one we originally had.

We are such hypocrites.


(Part 3 tomorrow...and yes, that will be the conclusion...I promise.)

The "Dating Game"

I am 47.

Some of you may know this - some of you may not. Some of you may also know I am going through what I call a "pre-divorce" situation. It's been for a couple years now. Why I haven't gotten divorced is personal...most of it has to do with the fact I have no family (my mother and father died in 1999) who can help me out monetarily, I haven't been able to get a job in years because I have no college degree and I can't afford to get a college degree in order to get a job which pays more than barely minimum wage...plus once I get divorced, my health insurance, which is provided by my eventually-to-be-ex-husband's Air Force retirement, will stop cold turkey altho I've been married to him for over 20 years. Yes...I am, in their eyes, and the eyes of many others a non-entity. And I count myself fortunate. Many people don't have health care at all - many people can't afford a lot of the stuff I still treat myself to...many people deserve better than what they have to live with.

But, I still think...I too, deserve to be happy. There is nothing wrong with me wanting this.

I've been reading in the paper (online) about the speed-dating thing - X amount of seconds you spend with each person as you flit from table to table trying to fill out a "score" card (yes, that's an obvious double entendre there and meant to be) based on mere moments with a person. It's been around for years, I don't know why Montgomery is making such a big ta-do about it - but perhaps it's new to this region. Whatever the reason...the idea behind it is the same: "People who want a relationship seeking out people in a venue which doesn't seem sordid." It IS a nice way to meet people - it's not while you are drunk at a bar at closing time...it's not in the supermarket where you will, trust me guys...run into THE most attractive person in the world...but only when you don't have a face on and are dressed like a Dickensian orphan. I NEVER run into anyone at ALL when I have a face on. I've not tried church...you see...I'm NOT divorced. I don't think they want me dating...they probably really would have a problem with me remarrying without that whole "divorce technicality" cleared up.

And WHO would want to date me anyway?

First off, I'm married - I have this thing about dating...as, well...I'm still married. I'm married on paper...but definitely NOT in my heart...but that is where it counts...legally. Again...I am a non-entity.

And I am not getting any younger. My youth is way behind me. I am one of those women who can't but look at her life and say "Ya know - I devoted my YOUTH to this person...and for what? It's OVER." Both my marriage AND my youth. I didn't bank on that. And I didn't bank on getting divorced so I didn't funnel away money in some secret bank account...I am sooooooooooo stupid.

But not really. I'm actually very intelligent when it comes to IQ...if I told you what mine was you'd probably not believe me. I read once...that those with "my IQ" usually do one of two things..."excel" and "fail miserably". Well...altho I possibly made some stupid decisions...staying home with my children wasn't one of them, and I feel I am constantly being penalized for that decision. Especially in this juncture in my life.

So, I'd still like the opportunity to "excel".

(And because this is getting quite long...and I'm on a rant here...I'm going to "pull a Scheherezade" on you...and continue this story...tomorrow.)

Dying To Get To Sleep?

This is something somewhat silly (and hopefully somewhat entertaining) I wrote back in January 2006. What jogged my memory of this long-forgotten piece you may ask? Well, I was reading blogs here (yeah...I sometimes do indeed read other people's blogs...and sometimes I comment on them, too - hint hint) and I came across chernandez's blog about the Stephen King novel, "Insomnia"...and that got me thinking about the little comedy snippet I wrote about his book after I had picked it up at the librar... well, you can read it for yourselves below. As for Ms. Hernandez...and anyone else I don't coerce into reading my blogs: Thanks for reading...AND commenting on them...thank you very, very much.


So, anybody here have trouble sleeping?

I seriously have problems sleeping...which I've had since as far back as I can remember. Tried relaxing, warm milk, cold vodka...NOTHING works. So, I figure I'll go and read a book...you know, you read some...you get tired...you fall asleep. That old wives' tale.

I drive on over to the Wetumpka library because, one...it's close; two...I have a card, and, three (mainly, three)...you can pick up used books there for like a quarter...and I picked up a few, including one massive one by Stephen King called "Insomnia". Well, I'm no genius, but I figure the reason most of these books are for sale for less than a buck is because no one wants to read books with more pages than the Encyclopedia Britannica and the Warren Commission's report on the JFK assassination - COMBINED. But, first and foremost, who's going to want to read some horror book about not sleeping when they're trying to sleep?? Just what the hell was he thinking?? Oh wait...I said "hell". Can I say that here? Well, regardless...that's a whole OTHER story he wrote.

But I've got to hand it to Mr. King...he thinks of an everyday happening and then makes a scary as anything story out of it. The way I see it, he's sitting there in his home at the typewriter...yellowing-at-the-edges disturbingly gruesome crayon drawings his kids drew long ago tacked up behind him on a cork memoboard, going..."Dogs...YES! Really...mean...dog. Really...mean...RABID dog...Cujo! Corn. People like corn, right? How about kids AND corn? Kids IN corn? Hmmm...children OF the corn? Oooh...what else do people like to do? Drive...yeah...Christine...okay...how about talk on their cell phones...I got it! "Cell"!

Okay, so let me get this all straight. I can't want things, can't get on an airplane, can't lose weight, can't have a dog, can't ever bury anything behind my house if anything were to die, can't eat corn or talk on my cell phone...forget about talking on my phone IN the car...and I'll never sleep again IN a hotel...especially IF I read "Insomnia".

What's next? A horror story about a toilet?

Oh, gee...thank you, Mr. King.

You haven't got a Clue do you?

Because if you do...can you sell it to me, cheap?

Again, you are shaking your collective heads going..."Um what IS she talking about THIS time?" followed by "typo typo...the stupid twit capitalized 'Clue'". Well, if you'd just stop the head shaking long enough for you to read what I wrote, you'd see the motive behind my actions.

I was sitting here at the computer the other day, pretty much minding my own business, when my somewhat deranged hermaphroditic, geeky friend who has a vestigial tail, a third nipple, and a small rudimentary horn slightly off-kilter from the midline of his Cro-Magnon-type brow, IMd me. I told him I WAS going to embellish his "description"...so I did. Well, you know...somewhat. ;)

All kidding aside, he IMs me...that 'Instant Message' thing...and gives me a link to an eBay item he's bidding on, which, most people, including myself would have thrown out long ago without batting an eye. It is a MiltonBradley board game called "Fireball Island". (All those people with one of those games, please contact me at the address listed in my bio.)

Now, had I the foresight of Nostradamus or a Greek oracle years ago, I would have bought these all on some masstravaganza close-out special at Toys-R-Us - as these babies weren't exactly flying off the shelves. The things I could have done with the proceeds of these: put my kids thru college...put myself thru college...paid the retainer a lawyer wants for a divorce, invested in Viagra stock, etc. - well the possibilities go on and on. And so does the bidding - apparently. It's nothing for a nice, complete, slightly played with...because, get real, no one played with these, that's why they probably stopped making them in 1987...game (it was first manufactured in 1986) - goes for upwards of $250...IF you can find one. Even the pieces are highly sought after. A "non-taped up corner" intact box can even fetch you some massive bucks...because people are out there who are willing to invest a smaller fortune to make a larger fortune by making their less than desirable game...well, more desirable- to the people who want them. And who the heck wants them?

Apparently the same people who are willing to pay the big bucks for 'Clue'.

Which brings me to my original statement - do you have a Clue? Especially the "Master Detective" version - because I know people who want one...*I* want one. In fact it doesn't take too much investigating to deduce which one individual will be canvassing the thrift shops to get their hands around one of these.

So...I will, heretofore, make another list...and this one's a mental list...regarding "vintage" games...because, like a fine wine, a lot of these only get better with age...and a lot of them are just held on to because they might increase in value. It's all just a roll of the dice - and it's a risk I'll have to take (which, by the way, the 40th Anniversary Edition of "Risk" is going for around $232.00 on BoardGameGeek).

Top 20 Dumb Guys Ever On A Television Series

I now present my "Top 20 Dumb Guys (and Gals) Ever On Television" list...which also includes women - because we all know women can also be pretty brain dead. But, it's not just a list of stupid guys - or funny guys - it had to be people who "seriously" were dumb...who convinced you they didn't have anything going on "upstairs" - and did it well each time. Not just one line once in a while every 5th episode. And I don't mean "mentally challenged" - I mean those well-meaning dolts who just plain "got in the wrong line when God was handing out brains" kinda people aka airheads extraordinaire.

This was a list, as I predicted, which took some time in the undertaking. I don't do anything - um, half...way...so, I took my time in doing this. I wanted to produce a quality list, and as such, enlisted a few people I hold in high regard to "double-check" and help out in compiling this.

The rules were quite "simple": Only people who have been in a recurring role on a television series...and only then, a television series which occurred more than a short-lived time. You had to be memorable in your character - and if you had "staying power" - all the better. Some people were tossed from the original list - for one reason or another. It was difficult. I also included "pairs or triplets" as "one person" - as if they were synonymous with being "grouped" - that's the way I remembered them. People who were in a "variety" show were not considered altho they contributed greatly to the "dim-witted" comedy arena. So, our hats go off to the likes of Harvey Korman, Tim Conway and Dennis Day. And feel free to let me know who I/we forgot -- we're only human, and as such, am sure are remiss in "immortalizing" everyone. A massive "thank you" to the others who were involved comparing notes, giving me names, helping to formulate where they should go and which should come off the list. It made a much more rounded list and one I do feel proud to present. We did a lot of homework and had a few days of conversations regarding all this. So, I'd like to thank Mark, my other friend, Mark, David, my kids, Ron, and mostly Phil who had to listen to me on the phone non-stop about this for the past few days.

Unfortunately, some great cartoon dumb guys couldn't, for the obvious reason, make the list...but that doesn't stop me from recognizing them:

Beavis and Butthead - Mike Judge in the cartoon of the same name: Cartoons, yes...but I went to school with these people...well, not THEM...but they nailed "dumb high school guy" antics...right on the head. But, they aren't "real people" so I took them "off the list"...altho I did indeed love these guys.

Phillip J. Fry - Billy West of "Futurama": Again "just a cartoon". How this show never attained the notoriety of "The Simpsons" I'll never know...but Fry has got to be THE most lovable dumb guy I was ever drawn to. Get it? "Drawn" to? Oh...forget it.

Here are some runners-up:

The Three Stooges: Another guy thing...and many guys don't like them, by the way...but since I am a stickler for "falling into the category" - they didn't, per se, have a bona fide television series, so they were not able to be on this list - so don't complain. Sgt Schultz - John Banner from "Hogan's Heroes", Christina Applegate as Kelly Bundy on "Married With Children" , Randy Hickey - Ethan Suplee on "My Name is Earl", Maxwell Smart's Don Adams on "Get Smart", and Major Healey - Bill Daily from "I Dream of Jeannie" are some of the people who came awfully close to insertion into the list. And, as a side note, I must admit Anthony "Tony" Nelson -Larry Hagman - from "I Dream of Jeannie" was pretty darned daft when it came to telling a sexy buxom blonde genie to "Just get back in the bottle, Jeannie" when she'd ask, "What do you want me to do for you, Master?" And the two Darrin Stevens (Dick York and Dick Sargent) , from "Bewitched", forbade his hot witchy wife to use magic...ever...anywhere. Both of these guys had issues and were just plain numskulls...so that doesn't exactly qualify here.

So, here we go...and putting them in order was obviously a hard task...but they are listed from 20th to 1st, Letterman "Top Ten" style - with my comments, justifications and rationales:

20. Edith Bunker - Jean Stapleton from "All In The Family": The loveable dingbat wife and Mom with a heart of gold. Who else woulda put up with Archie all those years? Altho, it is debatable whether she was really "dumb"...as she was quite smart a lot of the times...she just didn't let on to Archie the majority of those times.

19. Georgette and Ted Baxter - Georgia Engel and Ted Knight on "Mary Tyler Moore" - Blissfully "dumb as a stump" couple.

18. Latka Gravis - Andy Kaufman in "Taxi": Sure he [somewhat] knew two languages...but he was clueless in both of them.

17. Larry Finkelstein - Alan Rachins - Dharma and Greg: As the radical hippie father of Dharma, Larry Finkelstein is still crazed after all these years...who woulda thought (in real life) he is a member of Mensa.

16. Rose Nylund - Betty White in "The Golden Girls": Pitted against an outspoken woman and her live-in mother (who grew up in the old country), and a southern belle whose libido has been steadily rising since the burning of Atlanta in "Gone With the Wind"...Betty White struggles to maintain her own battle of wits and isn't usually winning in this ageless sitcom.

15. Woody Boyd - Woody Harrelson in "Cheers": Replacing a beloved character on a hit series isn't easy...Harrelson managed to do just that without making the show skip a beat. He instantly fit right in...unfortunately they didn't have the same such luck with Kirstie Alley.

14. Larry and Darryl and Darryl - William Sanderson, Tony Papenfuss and John Voldstad on "Newhart": What's funnier than two dumb guys? Three dumb guys with two names.

13. Lenny and Squiggy - Leonard "Lenny" Kosnowski and Andrew "Squiggy" Squiggmann - Michael McKean and David L. Lander on "Laverne and Shirley": A classic dumb guy team...they are only as dumb as the sum of their selves...and even they could never count that high. Ironically, they played two guys just wanting to "get it"...who just never got it.

12. Ernie "Coach" Pantusso in "Cheers": The bar where "everybody knows your name" also knew the ingredients for a great show...one of which was casting Nicholas Colasanto as a devoted loveable ex-minor league baseball coach who made bumbling and forgetful a home run each and every time.

11. Vinnie Barbarino - John Travolta in "Welcome Back, Kotter": "What? Where?" Sure the other Sweathogs were stupid, too...but Travolta stood out from the rest of the class...which he proved later on in his career...if you don't count "Battlefield Earth" that is. Hey, c'mon...you do the math...Vinnie never could.

10. Chrissy Snow - Suzanne Somers in "Three's Company": Chrissy's character was the typical dumb blonde. And while she didn't necessarily pull it off like Marilyn Monroe or the great portrayal of "Billie Dawn" by Judy Holliday in "Born Yesterday"...Sommers did manage to hold her own on the smaller stage - and is still emulated.

9. Jethro Bodine - Max Baer, Jr. in "The Beverly Hillbillies": Gave a whole new meaning to "simple country boy".

8. Joey Tribbiani - Matt LaBlanc from "Friends": Someone has to be the "doesn't get it" friend, right? A combination of good looks and a total lack of brains never stopped Joey from trying to convince everyone else he did indeed get it. Case in point...this exceedingly witty "moot point" example...rationalized as only Joey could: "Yeah, it's like a cow's opinion. It just doesn't matter. It's moo."

7. Les Nessman - Richard Sanders in "WKRP in Cincinatti": As a clueless newscaster at a faltering radio station..."Les Nessman" was definitely the antithesis of the likes of Walter Cronkite...or the consummate professionalism exhibited by Herbert Morrison, his quavering voice uttering the memorable words "Oh the humanity" during the tragic Hindenberg disaster...but Sanders' same words about turkeys plummeting to their deaths during a store promotion...well...it's still a classic.

6. Danny Dallas - Ted Wass from "Soap": Let's see...how dumb was Danny? Well, on one such occasion he WAS dumb enough to fall in love and marry the Mob guy's daughter after they took a hit out on Burt, Danny's father. Oh, yes...did we mention who "the Mob" wanted to kill Burt? Why, of course, Danny himself. Yes, boys and girls, this was years before "The Soapranos" Oh wait...that's "Sopranos".

5. Harry Solomon - French Stewart in "3rd Rock From the Sun": I don't know about you - but if Earth ever gets invaded by aliens...I want them all to be as hilariously devoid of brain-matter as French Stewart's "Harry" was. His character's "less than intelligent" life-form portrayal is needed more than ever in today's day and age of obviously "superiorly less than intelligent" reality television programming.

4. Ed Norton - Art Carney on "The Honeymooners": The original dumb guy friend who definitely set the bar for all future dumb guys to walk right into.

3. Jessica Tate - Katherine Helmond from "Soap": With a stellar cast and some of the best writing EVER in a series, poor rich Jessica seemed to be right with us...not having a clue what was going to happen from episode to episode.

2. Reverend Jim Ignatowski - Christopher Lloyd from "Taxi": Would have made #1 - but in all fairness, his stupidity was drug-induced...uuuh...okie doke?

1. Lowell Mather - Thomas Haden Church from "Wings": Funny without realizing it? Check. Loveable? Check. Deadpan delivery of lines that would make anyone crack up? Check. And the consensus is unanimous on this one...no one did a better job of playing dumb on television. I liken him to the Jimmy Stewart of dumb guys...Church made it all seem so easy and effortless...it looked so natural...it was not over the top or contrived. Thomas Haden Church's acting remains grounded as he soars above the others to nab #1 Dumb Guy.

I Have A Little List...

David Letterman has them, Guinness has had a yearly compilation of them since 1955, Joseph McCarthy ruined a lot of people with his, I have a fascinating book from the 70's aptly titled "The Book of Lists" which is chock-full of them...in fact, the list of people who have at least one of them...grows exponentially each day. I even have a couple contests on my comedy website devoted entirely to them. And if you haven't figured out by now what I'm talking about, I'll tell you...

Lists.

What IS this fascination we hold with "the list" and more importantly, who compiles these lists that we literally stop what we are doing and go read them?

Now, I'm not talking about statistics...those are a whole other ball game...which, by the way, lists a lot of statistics, I'm not even talking about the ones Fortune and People and that Mr. Blackwell guy come up with...I'm talking about random dissociative generic lists.

Even as I sat and wrote this in my doctor's office the other day, I kid you not - there was a laminated print-out of "The Top Ten Most Dangerous Dose Designations" list on the wall. So, as you can plainly see...this obsessive compulsive passion we have with "the list"...is not in my imagination. Many things may be - but this isn't one of them.

Each and every time one of these "lists of note" come out - I think to myself..."Self...who made this list up...and how did they possibly get everyone else out there to take notice OF their piddly little dumbas...um...dumb as a stump list? And can I possibly garner some notoriety doing the same?" Just what DOES it take to compile a list that the likes of AOL news, Katie Couric's replacement, and Ada Calhoun, who, by the way has a blog on AOL's main page (I don't - because apparently I am not on the A-list) talking about "What's the #1 Funeral Song?" just today. What a coinky-dink, huh? (I tell ya - I couldn't write this stuff any better if I tried.)

The way I see it, this is how most of them are generated: Two underage guys get into their parents' liquour cabinet and down a few 'Gin and Vodka and Old Grand-Dad and Rum Tonics', have a website and an account on Digg.com and come up with some unsubstantiated list about whatnot and before they know it, it gets on someone's YouTube and, as anyone knows all too well nowadays...if you can upload anything to YouTube, especially a cute kitten, you WILL get noticed. Oh, don't believe me, huh? Go to YouTube.com and type in "cute kitten". I'll wait.

Tap tap tap tap...

See?

Ah...the measure of one's true worth? Internet hits.

But, just because you and your barely legal friend sucked down a bunch of your dad's alcohol doesn't make you an authoritative figure. Or at least it shouldn't. And you should NOT gain national attention from it. You shouldn't get Google, perky morning show co-hosts or, heaven forbid, David Letterman himself, using your list for fodder. Because...ummm...they should be using MY list for fodder instead.

No, seriously. I have a website - I know young people...and trust me, I can legally drink and come up with a list, too! Where is my slice of the 15 minute pie?

So, over the next few blogs - I'm going to call, email and IM anyone I can think of...young and old, male and female, funny and stoic, drunk and sober...and compile a few lists of my own. Hey, I even know a guy who frequents Digg.com...and I'm not afraid to use him (you know - for this purpose only).

I'll even go as far as to solicit the Internet public...aka all three of you who read my blog...to help me with this endeavour. Got a list you'd like to see but never have? Let me know...I'll take great pains formulating one that is both well-thought out and has some logical basis in fact.

Yep, I'll admit - I'm not proud...but I AM determined...to get my list noticed.

No Brainer?

I was watching the NBC national news Tuesday night and they had this story about a guy who buys our trash from recycling places and then turns right around and sells it back to China for a WHOLE lot more than he paid for it. Our trash, it turns out, is their treasure. Apparently China hasn't had enough manufacturing going on to generate enough garbage to make it worthwhile for them to go into the "recycling biz" themselves - so they rely on us...literally the U.S. - to hand them ours. Why? Well, it costs a lot less to turn our aluminum, paper and plastic back into products such as cans, boxes and plastic bags than it does to mine the materials, such as fossil fuels, and start from scratch. Then the real irony begins...ready? Wait for it...

China turns around and sells us the by-product of our waste right back to us!

And this enterprising fellow is capitalizing on this...in fact he had a banner year selling our trash to them...making more money than you can shake a recycled plastic stick at. All I could do while watching this news tidbit is think to myself, "WHY didn't I think of this first?" Sure, he needs to go out to recycling places and buy the stuff, load it all up and ship it to them (super cheaply as the cargo containers that just unloaded our "reformulated goods" need to return to China anyway)...but still, it's pretty darned ingenious if you ask me.

Hearing this got the gears in my head turning faster than my little fingers flipping through the pages of my handy-dandy blog notebook looking for the first unwritten page so I could write this all down on before I forgot all about it. What other people could I possibly think of who have gotten rich on things we ordinarily take for granted...and then, more importantly, what HASN'T anyone thought of I could parlay into fast cash without much input involved?

Like the "Unclaimed Baggage" people in Scottsboro, Alabama. Who would have thought airlines and airports would sell all the stuff people forgot, lost or otherwise never saw again...to you - if you were the first to ask. And, undoubtedly, some guy in Alabama thought of asking. I can envision it going something like this: "Hey, y'all wanna jus' git ridda all that there junk takin' up space in Hangar #4? (Spit tobacco juice here.) I could maybe see my way fit to buyin' it all from y'all fer a coupla bucks." (And all the airline "tie-men" laughed at the supposed 'country bumpkin hick from Alabammy' as he loaded it all on his truck with his two kids.) Then he sold it for a few bucks more at his store until Oprah told everyone about it on her show and then the prices skyrocketed...so now it's not really worth the trek to Scottsboro anymore...so I don't go anymore. But that doesn't stop countless others from continuing to make this guy rich beyond his wildest dreams...and just like the movie says, "If you build it they will come"...he did and they did...and they still do. And what became of those "tie-men" from the airlines? Oh, I suppose they're still kicking themselves because they didn't think of it first.

Now, how easy was that?

My reply to the above query, "almost as easy as eBay"...which, of course, was a BRILLIANT idea. And I was even around when it first started...and well into my adulthood. WHY didn't I think of this??

But what's even easier than that?

Sitting on your butt back when the "Internet" was younger...thinking of domain names - you know, those "www.BlahBlahBlah.com" things? Back in the day, every single one was NOT taken - and people who were willing to sit on their butts all day and register all the OBVIOUS ones turned around and sold them at a profit later on. And what a profit! Do you have any idea what Drugs.com sold for? Well, a LOT. But not as much as Business.com. That one went for a whopping $8 million. Drugs.com sold for a "paltry" $800,000+ (see the list here) - almost not worth the time to send that domain registering place that $20 a year check to register it...NOT! Certainly there is ONE name out there that isn't taken yet which I can gobble up and then promptly sell to some "daddy-bought me as a present for my 20th birthday" lunatic fringe company for the equivalent of what Bill Gates pulls in for one minute...which I could then subsequently retire off of and live out the rest of what's left of my pathetic little life. But EVERY single time I look for anything...ANYTHING...it's always taken. Hmmmm...in fact, THE only one that ISN'T taken is www.HumorMeOnline.com. Well, actually - it IS taken, but it's taken by ME.

So if someone out there has a bunch of money they'd like to be separated from...I've got some primo Internet property for ya...and I'd be willing to sell it "cheap". Hey, China! I've got a website you might be interested in...even comes complete with some recycled comedy ideas and everything. ;)

"Security" Issues

Here's another office story...brace yourselves.

I knew I had to do this eventually. Whoever it was who came up with the saying "there's only two things in life that are certain: death and taxes" forgot to factor in "sitting in a Social Security Administration office at least once in your lifetime."

Well, I've been in there a few times...mostly taking my mother there (she swore she'd never drive as long as my father were alive...she kept that promise...so I had to drive her) - so I knew all too well what awaited me behind those doors.

The "take a number...we'll be with you sometime before you die" mentality. The chairs all sitting in a big lobby as if we all came to watch some movie on a screen...only there never was a screen, not even a television. The same inevitable talk that you'd either be privy to overhearing or initiate yourself...which kinda goes like this: "...if I would have known it was going to take this long, I would have gotten something to eat first. How long? I've been here since 11:00..." The requisite squirming and subsequent straightening out in their "more uncomfortable than sitting on a cinderblock" chair, like a school kid seeing the teacher oogling them as they just walk in. "Well, I guess I'm in here for a while." Long pause...long sigh...long wait.

Then the "deli-style" barking of the numbers..."Number 31". You know your number isn't next and it conjures up images of that scene in "Beetle Juice" where Michael Keaton is sitting there with an 8-digit number and the headhunter guy next to him has '3'. You know '31' isn't your number...you know your number isn't even next, but everyone still looks down at theirs just the same...hoping their number will somehow magically turn into the next one to be called. It never happens.

The three numbers in a row they will call to which no one responds. The first...you look around and scan the room, as if you have some vested interest in this somehow. You do in a way, I guess. They call the number after...again, no one shuffles off in their direction to be claimed like the waiting baggage we are all meant to be felt like...and by this time you start getting this wickedly ingenious plan in your head. "I COULD say I had that ticket but lost it somewhere on my way to my 'hard as a brick' seat...and by the time I realized it was gone, I had to take another." But you don't...as you have visions of being pummeled by four 75-year-old women sporting muscles as buff as Schwarzenegger's in "Conan the Destroyer" from carting their eco-friendly car-sized purses for years. Years, like it seems you've been waiting for your number to be called. So, you sit...steadfast, hoping this calling of absent ticket-holders will continue but you know it can't - there were 47 people here before you - and more coming in who have to lean against a counter or wall because the people who brought their kids aren't courteous enough to tell them to "double up" in a seat or sit on their laps so the frail 82-year-old guy with the oxygen tank could sit down. "They" were, after all, there first...why should they relinquish their precious chair?

So, now the next form of "entertainment" commences. You look around the room and make a mental note of everyone who has been there before you and everyone who came after...but most of all, you make that all-important "pen on ink" permanent mental note of the people who came in just two steps before you did. You HATE these people...if only you would have leaped out of your car faster, walked a little quicker, parked instead of circling around three times, or didn't hold the door open for them thinking they would gallantly let you pick your number before them when you both got inside. But they didn't. They never do. All's NOT fair in love and war and waiting in any type of line.

One by one people get up and new ones take their still warm vacant seats...but you have them all memorized. You know there is some order in this chaos...you could retell this order by rote to anyone who asked...you know it so well by now. You might not remember your kids' birthdays or where you put your car keys...but by gosh, you know every single person's ranking in this theatre-sized room. And with each passing call and disappearing voice which mumbles "finally", you know it's only a matter of time. Too much time...but time, nonetheless.

Cut to present-day....

My dealings with this antiquated system of yore was pleasantly replaced with a computer that sported "choices"...unbelievable as it may seem. Yes, the Social Security Administration was actually allowing ME an option. Were they serious?

I quickly eyeballed the candidates as it were - laid out before me on this germy computer touch screen...and as I only needed a replacement Social Security card, I pushed that button. Out came a ticket with not only a number, but also an assigned mysterious sub-category letter. This surely was going to put some serious strain on my mental tracking ability now. I was no card counter in Vegas...this was impossible...I was way beyond my element. But I had one more trick up my sleeves: I brought my notebook and pen to write all about my ungodly wait, my "certainality" of catching something along the lines of Ebola by the ubiquitous unruly children who were NEVER taught to cover their mouths or turn their heads when they spewed out a volcano of toxicity rivaling anything any baking soda and vinegar experiment - each and EVERY time they sneezed. Their equally disaffected parents who did the same, smearing nasal drippings of their own on the same exact seats they wouldn't give up just minutes before...and minutes after. They surely weren't going to care if you caught some nasty contagiant-type crud from them, let alone their kids - that even the CDC would feel reluctant to swab wearing a hazmat suit. My daughter and I moved seats twice.

So, pen in hand, I started writing, confident this was still going to take the better part of the afternoon...even thought I had already printed and filled out their handy online forms the night before.

And, just as always, people's number were called who never responded...people walked in and leaned against the counter and walls for lack of a given up chair from the seven kids who had laid stake to them but never occupied them...as any and all public places are undoubtedly a playground to them...complete with "dining facilities" on the floor. Go ahead...pick up your cracker or pacifier...it only fell on the dirtiest, nastiest germ-ridden floor since, well, since that gob of stuff you sneezed out all over Mrs. Simms and her kid when she was sitting near you just a minute ago. Never mind the sign which clearly states "No Food or Drink Allowed Inside". A person who can't decipher a Bingo-style number such as "A23" spat out by the computer when they first arrived - can't be expected to read signs that must be made for OTHER people than themselves anyway. Sigh...that's a whole other blog there.

But...imagine my delight, when in a roomful...and yes, I mean FULL of people - I only made it to the second paragraph of this lengthy story before I was called.

I proceeded to turn in my ready-at-hand paperwork and was literally "out the door" before the bottled water in my car cup holder turned that undrinkable lukewarm temperature...not unlike the reception I received from the office worker; but then again, in all fairness, I was probably the 309th person he waited on that day...and it was only 1:00 p.m.

Tim Russert

I had finished writing a blog at the doctor's office which I started a week or so ago...and was intending to post that up tonite. Usually my blogs are tongue-in-cheek, hopefully somewhat amusing and/or funny, often times cynical, and more or less of the "lighter" variety. This isn't one of those blogs. I HAD to write this...I have been crying now for the last hour or so after coming home from another trip to the doctor and about the 7,019th trip to Fresh Market. While in line, I remember the two older ladies in front of me having a conversation...one said something to the other which went something like this: "Today's Friday the 13th...I don't believe in that 'something bad is going to happen today' thing they say...nothing bad ever happens on Friday the 13th." So, after I came home and put away the groceries I signed online...and she just couldn't be more wrong.

Tim Russert has died.

I, like many others, was completely shocked upon reading this news. My heart just sank...tears welled up in my eyes, my daughter asked what was wrong...I told her. She, having seen him a few times on television...well, I could see her hold back her own tears. Whether they were sympathetic tears because I was crying or because she understood what a hole this man leaves behind - I don't know.

This man was so down-to-earth, so witty, so patient, so incredibly humble. I remember each time he would relate a story of his father, his face just glowed...he loved him so...he was never more proud as when he spoke of the book he wrote for and about his father, Big Russ & Me. This affection wasn't an act...he loved his family - he was beaming each time that subject came up...you could tell these people meant the world to him, it was conveyed in his words and his whole body language also told it.

I could go on and on with adjectives to describe this man - intelligent, caring, sympathetic, empathetic, compassionate, passionate...the list literally does not stop...and there are no bad adjectives that come to mind. Seriously, how many times can you think of someone and not think of ONE unfavourable word to describe them? I would say, from my own personal viewpoint, it's very rare indeed...but this is one of those times and he was one of those people.

He was, without a doubt, a class act.

I always remember, in cases such as these, a quote from Al Stewart's song, "Post World War II Blues" in which he sings, "I can still remember the last time I cried...The day that Buddy Holly died...I never met him, so it may seem strange...Don't some people just affect you that way" - and that about sums it up for me. I never met the man, I would have loved to have known him...the world is a much better place to have had him in it. What a legacy he leaves behind. He will be missed by so many.

My thoughts and prayers go out to his family and friends. God bless you, Tim.

Blogs Transferring Over

I am going to start moving the blogs I do over at the Montgomery Advertiser's new website over to here as, over there, you have to log in and register in order to read and comment on my blogs. While I would appreciate it very much IF you did that, it's the only way they see if (and how many people read these things) - I feel that I have lost readership because people cannot search and find my blogs as they are in a whole different blogging system.

So, I am going to try (I stress TRY) to remember to post one new (old) blog up here from there each nite.

Please feel free to comment, nice or negative things, as I really would appreciate the feedback. Yes, I live on feedback.

Thank you...

Mariann

My Mother's Day Card...to My "Mumzie"

I don't care how bad it makes me look...I'll never buy my Mumzie another Mother's Day Card...as long as I live...ever. Yes, we had a falling out of sorts...she left me. I didn't do anything wrong, and still she left. I begged, I pleaded, I prayed so hard...and still she left. You see, it was "her time", but no one bothered checking with me to see if it was MY time to let her go. If there is one thing I've learned from my stay on Earth, it is that I am indeed a selfish being. She had the choice to "go" and "be with God" or "stay with me"...and I wanted so much for her to spend more time with me. A year, a season, a month, even a single precious day. I needed her...I still need her. I miss her with all my being...luckily I know where the letters on the keyboard are located...they've been veiled in tears since about the middle of the first sentence.

I am sentimental - I have a house full of her things...things she would buy me from the antique shops because she knew I liked them. Our conversations would go a little like this: Me: "Ooooh, that desk is so beautiful." Her: "I knew you'd like it...it's yours...I only bought it for you." You see, my mother never wanted to "will me things" so she'd never see my reactions, she chose instead to give me items which would cause me satisfaction (while she was alive) so she could see the joy and happiness it brought me. She always said "I want to see your happiness...the look on your face when I give it to you...so take it, take it now...what good is it to wait when it can give you pleasure already, which also pleases me." I miss my little presents. I miss seeing just what glorious thing ('worthy' or worthless) would be bestowed upon me at my slightest "ooooh". But most of all, I miss my mother, or "Mumzie" as I had called her since I was a child...and we both knew the thing which made her happiest was making ME happy...and, my, she certainly delighted in giving me things. She will always be my Mumzie, and God-willing I will always have "her things" around to remind me of her...to remind me of the conversations we had about this and that, the talks reminiscing back to her own childhood which she loved to share with me; when I think about it, she probably loved to share those memories more than any tangible thing. Those I have stored up in a sort of box...that I keep in my head...and anytime I want I can unlock that box and unfurl a memory as if it was a precious historical document or banner. And in a way, each one is...as priceless as "The Constitution", the "Magna Carta", or "The Declaration of Independence"...to me.

And I know sometimes there's a bit of "yellowing" at the edges...the facts aren't firsthand and I might get some details wrong now and then...but within me they reside and are alive...alive as any of those memorized books in Ray Bradbury's classic, "Fahrenheit 451". In Bradbury's famous literary work, a dystopian society which burns all their books - the great masterpieces are literally forced to come alive through people in order to live on. My mother's are but a history emblazoned in my memory that I really should put down to paper...stories that are burning to get out. There is no other way to "keep them alive" in Bradbury's "world"...and, in a way, there is no other way for my mother's memories to live on either. I am, literally, the keeper of her flame.

So, it will be a sad and bittersweet Mother's Day for me, and for many others of you who have lost your own Mothers...but I know mine is still with me...and God granted her the good fortune to have her health, her wits, and definitely more energy than I've ever mustered up in a day - until the end. I can feel her presence with me each and every day - it's very hard to put into words - but I know she is here looking over me, and in a way, a part of her is in me, through DNA or some type of biological/mental transfer - I honestly think we are all connected in more ways than of just the flesh. There's a permanence which continues beyond - and perhaps the only bonds of that permanence is love. And that love doesn't stop once the being ceases to walk as mere mortals do...it merely walks with us even if we, with our foolish Earthly follies, continue to rush in where angels fear to tread.

So, from my heart to you, my dear, dear Mumzie...I wish you a very wonderful Mumzie's Day. Always.

With Love,

Your Bestest-Most Daughter Who Loves You So Much...Me

(Yes, this is the silly way I would sign my Mother's Day cards...why change now?)