It's Just a Matter of Time

Well, it happened yet again to me last night.

I call my on-call doctor at 2:00 a.m. to let her know I have increasing right-side abdominal pain. Pain, by the way, which I mentioned when I saw a physician on Monday. Pain, which I mentioned when I saw another one on Tuesday, and pain, which I mentioned to yet another one, on Wednesday.

But, I guess I broke some unwritten on-call doctor rule: I woke her up.

I didn't mean to wake her up - I don't know what time she goes to bed - if she would have called me at 2:00 a.m., I wouldn't have had any problem with it. And, silly me for not timing the severity of my abdominal pain at a "more convenient" time for her.

I got the requisite "Are you vomiting, diarrhea, fever, etc.?" questions - and I answer, "No, no, no, well, yes...but I'm on a drug that does that anyway." The rest of the conversation (and my fleeting ongoing phone-call thoughts) goes a bit like this...

"My pain? Right lower side - it started getting really severe about 30 minutes ago...altho it seems a bit better now. I was just concerned it was appendicitis."

Well, I'm 48 - apparently not the "ideal" age for appendix problems. Silly me, again...I should have checked online first before I called...altho I've been chastised by nearly every single doctor about online self-diagnosis, even if that diagnosis was via WebMD or MayoClinic.com.

"Can you wait until tomorrow to go to Pri-Med?"

"I hope so...what do YOU think? I called you to make sure it didn't sound like appendicitis or something else to really worry about."

"Well, only YOU know if it's bad enough to go to the ER or wait. Apparently it was bad enough for you to wake ME up at 2:00 a.m. to tell me about it."

Well, so sorry to have bothered you - next time I'll try to time my increasing pain better - in fact I'll just set up on appointment next week to have it. (No, I didn't say this...but I was thinking it the whole time.)

Bear in mind I was once verbally scolded by a doctor who said I shouldn't eat apples at night. It felt like a big chunk was lodged in my throat...and, after waiting about five hours for it to dissolve or slide down, I finally gave up and called. I remember the exact exchange like it was yesterday...

"You should be in bed at 4:00 a.m., SLEEPING, like I'm going to get back to doing once I hang up the phone. If you can still breathe...YOU'RE NOT CHOKING!"

"Well, I didn't say I was choking, it just feels like it's stuck in my throat like right where..."

Click.

Yes, he hung up on me in mid-sentence. This happened about eight months ago.

So, after I hung up the phone last night...I cried and cried.

I don't want to be a pain in the butt - I don't want to call doctors on weekends - I don't want to call them at 2:00 a.m. - but, isn't it also a fact that an "on-call" doctor...IS on-call?

I didn't call because I had an eyelash in my eye. I didn't call because my cat scratched me. I called because I honestly was worried I was having something which could lead to a even worsening situation and/or death.

But, after I cried, I cried and cried some more -- feeling like I'm just a waste of skin and promising myself the next time, if something happens off-hours or on weekends, I'll just ignore it - preferring death to their guilt-trip-laden third-degree "How dare you bother ME!" treatment.

Seriously, I felt worse AFTER I hung up than before I called...each of these times...and just ended up taking my Ambien and hoping I'd wake up the next day.

But after several nonchalant dismissals of this nature (for both myself and my children), I'm wondering how many people actually get treated this way - or is it just that I've gotten the "red-flagged...oh it's that whiner again" reputation? Did I do anything I oughtn't to have done? How should I handle things like this in the future?

I don't sit around my house thinking of ways I can piss off yet another doctor. I don't like going to the Emergency Room to waste six hours of my life. But I don't want to be another one of those "Oh, she shouldn't have waited to call" death statistic, either.

I fear if I call to complain or to report them (it's happened with base doctors several times)...I'm sure to get treated worse in the future...and it's not like I can change doctors like I do underwear. So, have any of you been where I've been with this? And if you have...or even if you haven't, what is your suggestion to me?


Truth be told, I've had some very nice responses from on-call doctors...especially the ones in Birmingham. In fact, I've never been treated badly by any doctors in Birmingham...why, I haven't a clue.

(Written, but not published, about a year ago...on a Friday.)

Hollywood Lights

So I'm sitting here watching the "X-Men Wolverine: Origins" movie and I'm perplexed as to which super powers this "Gambit" guy has...so I Google it up.

Apparently, according to Wiki, Gambit (and I always thought he was a girl in the comic books) "Possesses the power to manipulate kinetic energy, as well as hypnotic charm. He's also skilled in card-throwing, hand-to-hand combat, and the use of a staff". He also used to be a smoker in the comic books and so was Wolverine...but, of course, as no one can be seen smoking anymore, they made them both quit. Wolverine still chomps away at cigars in the films...but, hey, he can't get hurt...so no harm done, right?

So, I'm thinking...hmmmm...if I'm a kid trying to emulate Gambit - I can see this line of reasoning unfold:

Geez, I'm no good at card throwing...can't get a single one of them to go inside that hat on the floor. I have absolutely no clue what kinetic energy is, so I probably don't have that. I never win any arm-wrestling contests, so that's right out...and I've failed to hypnotize my three-year-old sister altho I did manage to get her to throw up once...but that's only because I told her the spaghetti she just ate was actually worms. As far as that staff thing goes...well, I can't even hit a friggen baseball. But...

...I can take up smoking and be just like Gambit!

I'm always amazed at reasoning.

There's people...correction, mutants...with giant blade claws and teeth and some with powers of invisibility and others that can shove their bare hand up the business end of a tank's grenade launcher barrel...causing it to blow up from the inside out, and of course, walk away totally unscathed. There's a guy with laser eyes and people...er mutants...who basically can't die no matter how many times you stab, throw them into things, or shoot them with your guns...but heaven forbid one of them is also SMOKING when he's tossing back a few brewskies or whiskeys at the end of the day down at some sleazy logging bar that caters to low-lifes and mutants.

So the thing that gets the ax...is smoking? The body count is about 497 and that's just fine and dandy; hell, even Wolverine just had some wild sex with the "powers of persuasion" chick. That's all okie dokie...just as long as there's no post-coital light-ups.

It used to be common knowledge that the code in much older films for "we just had sex" was the "fade to black" gradually panning back to some dual smoking scene. The sex wasn't shown but the deep cigarette inhalations were. Nowadays, the sex is shown but the cigarettes aren't. Go figure.

Oh, well...let your kids turn into gun toting, card playing, knife brandishing, authority rebelling little mutants...because that's acceptable. And while your little Pyro-emulating kid is testing out what he can do with fire, just make sure the cigarettes are way out of reach, because lighting up one of those can sure get him in a heep of trouble.

And, kids, if you're gambling on things illegally (especially in this town), be careful; you could possibly end up in jail...buying privileges with packs of smokes. Oh, wait...but you wouldn't know anything about that. A fine up-standing non-smoker like yourself - never seeing it on television or movies...well, I'm sure if you think real hard, you can find something else to trade while you're in there.

Well, it seems we've now come full circle...and if Hollywood would allow me to show you that circle, they'd look a little like this:

I best tone this down or I'll probably be attacked by the anti-smoking coalition campaign people...or maybe I'm just blowing smoke up your...but...read this if you didn't know it already.

Way Too Loaded

I'd like to know why I'm always the "lucky" one to end up behind the guy who has the back of his truck loaded with a refrigerator and dryer and has either his friend or a bit of clothesline securing it down.

If there's a guy and his passenger out there attempting to hold down two sheets of plywood on top of his car - by golly, you can bet I'm the one behind him on the road. You can also bet it's a "no passing" zone for the next twenty miles.

I absolutely hate log trucks. I hate big trucks in general, but those log trucks typically barrel down the road with those nearly rusted out side restraints...bowed out like they're about to give out - at any given second.

And what's with that measly tattered red/orange flag sticking out from the shortest log they could reach? You know the one...the one that signals "Look, I have a long load and if it's longer than it's supposed to be...tough luck...I have a red flag attached. It absolves me of anything which might happen."

And while I'm at it, what's up with those "Not responsible for vehicle damage. Keep back 200 feet." signs? Any moron can tell you that if I'm reading the sign...I'm a lot closer than 200 feet.

Boy I wish it were that simple for everyone. I could use a couple "Not responsible for speeding or causing any accident" signs to put on my car. They'll go nicely with the one I'll enclose when I send out my checks, "Not responsible for insufficient funds" - and that one goes very well with my "Not responsible if I misinterpret everything you say because: 1) My cat has a better grasp of the English language; and, 2) Was that three or four verb tenses you just used there? And what does "he might could of" mean exactly...or at least kinda sorta.

But back to driving behind trucks carrying things which are destined to fly off and kill me...

I was not aware the laws of basic physics cease to exist inside and around a personal conveyance. Nothing will fly off if you use either your hand, your friend, or a bungee cord. These scientific properties are also known world-wide...but only by a select "intellectual" few.

I once was fortunate enough to witness a rarity in the "things falling off trucks" realm. One of those car-carrying trucks...the kind car companies use to haul the cars to the dealerships...decided it would be a good idea to start jettisoning it's load, one by one, onto the lady a couple cars in front of me. They always look like they are precariously perched on that skeleton of a frame truck to start with...and they look like if you didn't line up Tab A with Tab B, something would unravel. Well, sure enough, one of those angled dangling cars decided to go for it...and took a relatively giant leap of faith. And the "stupid woman" following right behind it, who apparently assumed the cars were somehow affixed to the truck, got quite an unpleasant wake-up call. They started rolling out like toppling dominoes...and she was the first to get hit. The man in back of her, as equally non-psychic as the woman in front of him, hit her. By the time it was over, it looked like the aftermath of some giant kid and his Matchbox cars.

Back to the log trucks...

Did I mention I was deathly afraid of those things? Well, I am. I think I actually saw one that didn't have the scary bowed-out metal side arm railings. Once. Each one always looks like it's about to spill their unbalanced load and when they make that left turn, I have visions of being decapitated...right thru my driver's side window. My impaled skull, just dangling there...that ratty red flag neatly implanted in it for added effect.

You might think I'm a bit paranoid or overreacting, but I know these things tip over, spill their load and kill people. I've read about it and seen it on the news a few times, and so synonymous are they with Alabama (I never saw them in New Jersey), "My Cousin Vinny"'s opening scene features one. While it was probably lost on the inhabitants of the other 49 states, living in Alabama as I have been for the last twenty, I immediately "got it" and sympathized.

And I always think back to an accident which happened here in Montgomery on 5 May 2004. Driving down Interstate 85, 19-year-old Aaron Prevatte did what any driver would do - he swerved to avoid hitting a metal ladder which had fallen in the road, undoubtedly from not being properly secured. The resulting series of events, including flipping his car four times and being trapped inside...led to his untimely and more importantly, totally avoidable death.

I tell that story often and remember it more than I tell it. I don't know why I do, for some reason it strikes an internal chord with me. Al Stewart once sang in his song, "Post World War II Blues", "I never met him, so it may seem strange. Don't some people just affect you that way." And that's how it is with me and Aaron Prevatte.

So, every time I see a load haphazardly strapped on, things sliding back and forth untethered each time the brake or accelerator pedal is employed, tangled metal pieces entwined so high, so rusted and so sharp, no one wants to touch them, let alone tie a canvas sheeting over them, and people trying to maintain their footing to steady an awkward upright entertainment system...I think of how easy it would have been to take the extra time to have tied it down right. Sure, it might take you longer than you planned...you're tired and you want to get home as soon as possible, especially before it rains. But that driver in the other car wants to get home as soon as possible, too. NOTHING gives you the right to do a shoddy job and risk ANYONE'S life because you just couldn't bother taking the extra time to do it right.

And if you feel compelled to do this and I see you on the road or highway...I will call 9-1-1 on you. I've done it before - I'll do it again. It's just not a chance I'm willing to take. I couldn't live with the fact of finding out I could have possibly prevented an accident and didn't call. Hopefully I've made a difference...hopefully someone who reads this will choose to make a difference, too...whether by calling the police or tying their load down better, or by not trying to wing it with holding that mattress down with their hands alone.

If that mattress flies off and maims or kills someone, trust me, you're NEVER going to get ONE good night's sleep on it...probably not for the rest of your life. No matter how many times you buy a new one and have it delivered properly and safely...you still won't be able to get rid of those recurring dreams.

Is that really a risk you are willing to take?



Vehicle-related road debris (VRRD) accidents are typically totally avoidable...and they are responsible for a fair share of accidents and deaths each and every year.

The "AAA Foundation for Traffic Safety" breaks down Alabama's facts regarding VRRD on Page 42: http://www.aaafoundation.org/pdf/vrrd.pdf . "Triple A's site can be found here: http://www.aaafoundation.org/home/

This blog was inspired by the unfortunate accident which befell Aaron Prevatte and is dedicated to his memory and to the memory of many others who also lost their lives by individuals who took shortcuts, used inferior materials to secure their loads, or who really shouldn't have been driving with loads the way they did...be it rain, snow, too fast, bad brakes, etc.

If we choose now to remember in vain...these memories will only continue to grow in numbers. If we choose now to remember with actions and words...perhaps one day there will be only distant memories.

(Originally written but never published in 2005.)

Eschewing the Obfuscation of the Profundity

"You've made an egregious error."

"A what?"

"An egregious error."

"What kind of error?"

"Egregious."

"What does 'egregious' mean?"

"You know...something that's egregious."

"Yeah, but WHAT does it mean?"

"Something that's egregious is...you know. Look, if YOU don't know what it means, I'm not going to explain it."

"So, in other words, you don't know what it means?"

I have to admit - I enjoy doing this: calling people on it. Many people use words they have absolutely no clue what they mean. Oh, sure, they've heard the words plenty of times...and always in the context they use them -- and they are using them correctly, but they are merely "parroting" what they've heard. They honestly have never bothered to look the word up in the dictionary.

Personally, between you and me...I do it, too. Using "ten-dollar words" can be awfully impressive and downright convincing when, say, you're trying to get a lower rate on your telephone bill...or talking to your doctor...or trying to impress the stranger you met in passing...or speaking up to that guy in the office that just irks the hell out of you.

Using big words is like that animal making its hair stand on end to appear larger than they really are. Big words said by certain (not all) people make them appear smarter than they really are. But, just as a turkey displaying its feathers - strip away the feathers and what you've got left - well, is still a turkey.

I guess we all need to ruffle some feathers once in a while and appear larger than life. Words, are, after all...mightier than the sword...or at least they supposedly are when you write them down with a pen.

And good thing (at least for me) there's spell-check, too, as when I originally "penned" this blog, I spelled it "aggregious".

Sheesh...talk about an egregious error, right?

(Originally written, but never published, about two years ago.)

...and now for something completely different...

There was some "stuff" going on at the Montgomery Advertiser's blog site which got quite a few people misquoted and misinterpreted and such...so that's why I wrote this blog. Just ignore the first part and skip to the "question" part. I'd love to see what everyone out there answers to these two questions as well. :)

I thought it would be fun to head away from the "blogger" inspired blogs saying who did what and who didn't do what and who said something they didn't at all mean that way...to find out more about our fellow bloggers here on the paper.

Of course, no one has to read this or comment/participate...but I think it would be fun if we knew something about each of you other than the bios that are up there and the comments that you make.

So...I thought a couple questions might shed some insight about what makes each of us tick...and might make us realize we have something in common other than blogging.

What are some of your favourite movies and why? (Like which ones you could watch over and over and over again and not grow tired of doing so.)

...and...

What are some of the sites you look at routinely? (Dare I say it...just copy/paste the url of each one...and tell us why you like it.)


I'll go first. :)

Some Like It Hot: Hands down THE best comedy ever in my opinion. I can watch that thing 20 million times (and I probably have) and I STILL see or hear something I missed. It also never fails to make me laugh at all the places it's supposed to make you laugh. I absolutely love this film.

My Fair Lady: Okay, Audrey Hepburn's voice was dubbed by Marni Nixon...but no one could have been as "loverly" an Eliza than her. Love her...love Rex Harrison...love Colonel Pickering...love the entire score - and I DON'T LIKE MUSICALS! That's how much I LOVE this film.

The Shawshank Redemption: It took me about 10 years after this film was made to watch it. Why? I don't know why. If I had to write a film and be known by it - and only one film...it would have been this one. Great...superb writing.

V for Vendetta: See above...only it was about four years before I watched it. Plus the V character ended up doing what I refer to as a "reverse Charlie Chaplin". While wearing a mask and only using his voice - he conveyed more expression than I've ever seen. Chaplin did it the other way around...and was also a genius.

The Fifth Element: Best sci-fi movie ever. I love this film. I love Bruce...I love Gary Oldman...I love the ride. It's a fun movie. Not one boring part.

Idiocracy: Another movie that took me years to see even tho my friend kept telling me how great it was. But he liked that Garfield movie - so I never listened...until he told me it was by the same people who did Beavis and Butthead...then I watched it. It's FABULOUS. I don't think a day has gone by where I don't quote something from this movie. It's also so incredibly...um...prescient. Too much so.

Dinner at Eight: I love old films...if you've not seen this one or The Philadelphia Story or My Man Godfrey...rent them. They don't make them like this anymore...sigh.

Anything with Cary Grant in it.


Okay...URLs I go to:

My comedy website: http://www.HumorMeOnline.com - it's funny. Some of the best people in the world - yes world play my site. They are so incredibly witty - let's see YOU top them. :)

http://www.IMDb.com - The Internet Movie Database. I love this site - I am a trivia buff and movie trivia is something I have always gravitated towards. Hands down the best - I can get lost in there clicking and clicking and clicking.

http://www.Epicurious.com - The best cooking/recipe site out there. None even remotely come close...I don't know why others even try. And I love to cook - so this is the place for me.

I didn't want to post anything bloggy - but my friend, Chris...honestly is the best blogger in the universe. If I could write like him...well, judge for yourselves: http://www.knuckleheadhumor.com/

There are others out there - but those are the ones I pretty much go to on a daily basis.


How about everyone else?

Theories About Doctors and Spies

Well, here I will sit all weekend long watching my "Doctor Who" DVDs I rented from Netflix...I also have seven hours and five minutes of "Doctor Who" shows I TiVo'd as BBC America had the good sense about them to have had a marathon last week (some tonite as well)...unlike a certain SyFy channel who couldn't bother to continue with their great tradition of back-to-back "Twilight Zone" episodes for days on end.

I asked my son to come out of his room last nite to talk about what to have for our 4th of July dinner. I'm not too sure if I will grill anything and Alex doesn't want to be bothered with the grilling chore at all; as manly a task as they lead you to believe it is. My daughter's been wanting me to make Beignets, so I guess at one point that will happen...I've only put off making them enough times that my Cafe Du Monde mix is now out of date...but since it's just basically flour and yeast...I'm willing to bet the yeast doesn't know if it's May 30th or July 3rd. Yes, I'm crazy that way...stand back...I'm a risk taker for sure.

So, because "Doctor Who" was playing, my son opted to sit down as well and, after watching the David Tennant "Doctor Who" episodes for a bit, he concluded Tennant was indeed better than the new one...altho the new one isn't bad. Mr daughter is a Tennant girl as well.

My thoughts? I'm still a Tom Baker Doctor kinda girl...and therein lies my theory.

My theory is that you like the Doctor you grew up with. Just as with James Bond...most people will tend to tell you the one they liked the best...was the one they grew up with. I liked the nice campy Bond of the 1970s...yes, don't start throwing rocks at me just yet; I can't help it, I like Roger Moore. I never thought Sean Connery was sexy until he was much older. Pierce Brosnan is hot...and the new Bond, Daniel Craig - eh...he reminds me of a much older Jason Bourne.

But back to The Doctors...I grew up with the toothy, maniacal, long-scarfed Tom Baker who elevated the show when he took it from the original droll military episodes each week and morphed the regimentation of the weekly array of Colonels and upper crust "old chaps" into something else entirely: being silly and fighting a whole different type of monster. When Baker left, a series of other doctors came and went...hardly catching a moment's glimpse of my attention until David Tennant.

David is THE best Doctor to have come along in ages. And now, his reign is no more and his replacement is this little wisp of a bow-tied man-child as the displaced Gallifreyan Time Lord. In fact Matt Smith is indeed the youngest Doctor they ever had. Matt had some big shoes to fill, but he seems to be filling them and running in them extremely well. The only issue I have is with his companion. While Amy Pool is awfully cute and makes nice eye candy for the gents...the show is being "Always About Amy" or "The Amy Show" and I don't like that. She should NOT be the most sought after possession in the whole universe. Time to give more air-time to the Doctor in my opinion. He is, after all...The Doctor.

And then it got me thinking last nite watching one of the David Tennant vs The Master (oh, how I love John Simm as The Master) episodes....that secondly to Bond's, "Bond, James Bond" phrase...announcing that you are "The Doctor" holds about...or dare I say perhaps more, distinction.

So, those of you who are familiar with both shows..."James Bond" and "Doctor Who"...who would you rather be? A time lord who saves the world or a spy babe magnet, who also, ironically, saves the world?

And which "Bond" and which "Doctor Who" do you like best? How about "Doctor Who Companions" vs "Bond Girls" for that matter...which one will always hold a fond place...in your...heart?

Okay, I've Had It!

I have had it with "staycations".

I also refuse to say the word "staycation".

I will, however, as you can plainly see, type the word "staycation" over and over again throughout the body of this blog.

I have nothing against people making up words...I love to make up words and have made up my fair share of them, many times by accident, but mostly on purpose. I saw Snoop Dogg on television once and he said he loved to make words up...hence all the "fo' shizzle" talk. Hey, I'm for it. But when you have a whole society who is saying words like "fo' shizzle" and mistakenly say "pizzle" (yeah, look that one up) trying to be cool, it's time to step aside -- as you aren't.

It's like people who say "bling". "Pardon me, would you have any Grey Poupon? And by the way, nice bling there on your Rolls."

See? It just doesn't work...so stop it already!

Now we have a whole nation who can't get through ANY holiday without saying the word "staycation" at least twice in any one news broadcast...or online newspaper. The airwaves are replete with "staycations". I'm sure any minute now the Go-Go's are thinking of getting back together in the studio to take this opportunity to cash in on changing up the lyrics to their "Vacation" song. In fact, if I remain very quiet, I swear I can hear it in some commercial right now.

Do I?

No.

Will I?

Probably.

I'm not even going over to YouTube as I'm sure it's been parodied there at least 20 gazillion times already by all too eager people willing to do anything to get featured on tomorrow's "Good Morning America" show.

So, I'm calling for a world-wide media ban of the word "staycation". I'm sure there are other words which can get the same point across just as "cutely".

Let me think...

The British probably go on "holistay" instead of "holiday". Or do they do that already? No...I will not Google...will not Google...will not Goo...

...but I will Google "vacation" to see what other words I can begrudgingly massacre in the name of journalism and colloquial catchetudeness.

Break: Hmmm...I guess no one probably wants to go "spring steak"...or "spring stayk". Oh, that one doesn't work at all...forget it.

Trip: Well, people used to take acid trips back in the 60's without ever leaving their houses...but I don't think we should bring that up here, although I guess, technically, it would apply.

Rest: "Rest" sounds more like something you do after you die than during vacation...being "laid to rest" and all. "Oh, look at Bob in this beautiful antique vase all cremated and stuff...well he certainly "urned" this well-deserved rest." Okay, scrap this one, too.

Retreat: I never heard of anyone going on a retreat refer to it as a vacation. I believe msn's thesaurus is wack...but I could possibly use it this way: "Our house was being retreated for fleas and we had to vacate the premises when Terminix tented it."

Leave: I think this is more of the military variety - "shore leave" and "LWOP" and all...Leave Without Pay...ing Anything on a Hotel "LWOPAOAH"...aka day-trip. Nope. That sucks even more than the other ones.

Escape: I never heard of a vacation referred to as an "escape"...and had it been synonymous with it, Steve McQueen's film, "The Great Escape" would have come off looking more like a Chevy Chase film than what it was. "National Lampoon's Great Escape" -- "National Lampoon's Christmas Escape" - eh...has some promise...especially with that methane gas escaping scene and all. But it really is far fetched. Oh, wait...if it's "far fetched" then it IS perfect...for a National Lampoon movie but not for a catchy new wordism.

Holiday: See above.

Well, there you have it. I've completely exhausted my online thesaurus' word bank and nothing has the same ring (not of the bling kind) or appeal as "staycation" - but at least I'm trendy nowadays. And when people ask me where I'm going for vacation I can appear green and hip...and no one has to know that I'm really not going anywhere because I have no money...

...and that's fo' shizzle.

Cougar? I Didn't Even KISS Her!

Cougar—A Cougar is a female, usually between thirty and fifty years-old, who enjoys the sexual company of younger men. Cougars are only usually interested in men under the age of twenty-five.

Well, I guess I could possibly fall into that category if: 1) I was attracted to 20-year-old guys; and 2) I'd enjoy sexual company of them. As it stands I'm about as asexual as I am apolitical. (I know...line forms to the right, guys...what a catch, huh?)

Anyway...

...the male equivalent, I'm guessing , would be the "dirty old man" or "that creepy old dude".

Now, I know it's nothing new for older men to have younger girlfriends, but in my opinion:

1) If you are the guy - other than sex, what's the point? It's not like you can reminisce about the "good old days". But maybe that IS the thing. It's that age-old problem: "My husband/boyfriend never talks to me." Well, this is an excellent way around that, isn't it, guys? Hmmmmm...there might be some logic in this thinking after all.

2) Why would any hot, young chick want to see an old naked guy? I've seen one. Trust me, it's not that pretty...nor is it remotely comical enough to lend itself being seen on a routine basis. Face it, even the best joke gets stale if you hear it a couple times.

But, while I can't relate, personally, with a man's point of view, I can relate to a woman's. There's a couple things I'd like to get off my non-plastic chest (the last of which would be my bra) about this whole "Cougar" phenomenon.

No, seriously women. Think about it. We are vain creatures...you can fess up...it's true. The guys all know anyway. They're worse than us...but that's another blog.

As vain creatures we buy all sorts of things to make us look attractive. We endure 3 and 4-inch heels, that only a handful of people can actually gracefully walk in. C'mon, you know what I mean...and those of you who can't, you know who you are. If it weren't for the fabulous outfit you got at the mall and the impeccable nails you just had done, that hunched over bent-kneed walk you're sporting looks less than runway and more like "run away!" It's a pretty spot-on impersonation of that large striding Bigfoot sighting caught on film...and walking like that or a mountain goat coming down off the cliff side isn't that becoming. If you're doing that, you might want to rethink that heel size.

But I digress once again.

Lipsticks, hair dye, haircuts, manicures, tanning beds, facial creams, eyebrow and bikini waxes, palates, thongs, and push-up bras...are only a small sampling of the things we do to keep up our appearance...but it's inevitable, we WILL age. Gravity happens. "Perky" is not a word you will ever hear describing anything about you once you are on the "slide down side" of forty, unless you are Katie Couric - and even then it's said in a condescending tone.

Why then...WHY...would you subject yourself to the humiliation of some 20-year-old guy seeing you "sans" clothing?

You girls all know you play a certain game when you get in the bedroom and it's not the one the boys think. You've practiced it in countless mirrors...you got it down to a science...it is a science - the science of looking better than you do. You pose yourself in certain ways in certain lights...candles and darkness are your friends...and a couple well-timed Martinis don't hurt, either.

And when you're alone...you have another game you play: you lift your head and angle your face just so in order to take all those photos you take of yourself. You experiment until you get it right. You might even have collagen or Botox injections in all the right grooves...you might even have a boob job, but do you want to see something which will stop you right in your Jimmy Choo Cougar-tracks? If you don't have some surgical interventions...go grab a couple tissues.

Now go and grab a hand mirror outta the bathroom. If you have one with the regular mirror on one side and the magnifying one on the other side...all the better. Now hold it up to look at your face - you still look pretty hot, right? Now, holding that same exact mirror - bend forward at the waist so your face is now facing the floor.

Scary, huh?

Now, take that same mirror and lie, face-up, on the bed. Whoa! Instant face lift...a good 10 years shaved off without any surgery...maybe 20 comes off if you HAVE surgery.

But, unfortunately for all us ladies, there's not too many legitimate jobs which require you to lie flat on your back all day. So, this is why my next piece of advice is one I'm sticking to.

I don't know about you, but I certainly would rather be the better looking naked one out of the pair of us. Maybe that's why I was never attracted to those Chippendales guys...I don't want to compete with someone whose body looks better than mine. I already have a complete lack of self-esteem...give me the most out of shape guy (well, maybe not THE most out of shape guy) with a brain. Sixty? Fine. 40? Eh. 20? Hell, no! I'm not incredibly vain but I'd also like to keep those last three shreds of confidence that I do have.

So, me...a Cougar? Nah, more like a gray panther.

(Originally written, but not published, approximately three years ago.)

WSFA's Reporter - Eileen Jones

Eileen Jones interviewing Governor Bob Reily.

As there's no way to comment on the ongoing and unfolding story regarding WSFA's reporter, Eileen Jones (at least not through AOL's browser), I have decided to make a blog about her...or at least what I know about her.

I have been a big fan of Ms. Jones since I first noticed her on the news here in Montgomery many years ago. She's an incredible reporter and I have written to WSFA over the years voicing my opinion that I don't think they use her to her own and the station's utmost potential. I think she's one of the most underused and overlooked reporters they have on staff.

She's eloquent, classy, and always extremely professional in my opinion. I've read her biography years ago and I hold nothing but admiration for this woman...or should I say person -- as I would say the same about anyone, male or female, who impressed me as much as she's done...time and time again. She's an exemplary reporter and I hold her in such high regard I can't even begin to convey it.

I've run into her around town, repeatedly, typically in a grocery store and clothing store I won't divulge the names of...as I want to respect her privacy.

I've gone up to her...giddy with delight...she probably thought I was just bonkers and some crazed maniacal fan...and she was always extremely genial, remarkably gracious and tolerated my unending compliments. In fact I ran into her just last week again...and she, as usual, thanked me for my kind words...which were totally true. As far as reporters go in this town, if someone quizzed me about which one I put on a pedestal and nearly idolize...it's no secret -- I wouldn't have to think about it once, let alone twice -- it's Eileen Jones.

While I don't know the full circumstances which took place and I cannot comment on anything regarding her alleged "assault and escape"...I just wanted everyone to know what I've born witness to over the years...on television and in person.

I certainly hope and pray this doesn't hurt her career. I wish Montgomery, the whole state, and the country...had more reporters of the caliber of Ms. Jones.

Of Ripples of Butterfly Wings

I decided I would re-run this blog because someone told me earlier tonight they always liked this one...and over the years I've gotten many compliments about it. Perhaps the majority of you haven't read it (as my friend pointed out)...so here it is again - originally posted 30 March 2007. I hope you'll enjoy it.

Daily things that are within our ability to do...yet we don't do them...and wonder what would have happened had we gone out of the way, if but for a minute, to take the time to do them...

Things whiz by my car window as I drive my daughter to school, they whiz by when I go to Fresh Market to buy food, things whiz by everyone on their daily day-to-day doings. We must look as bewildering and complicated from above as an ant colony looks to us from our perspective as well. We all have our destinations...we are determined to get there, our aim is predetermined...we shouldn't waver from it...we must be good scout, soldier, and worker ants...don't deviate from our mission. "Git 'er done!"

But at what cost? Is there a cost...is there just a tiny little butterfly effect that we might cause if we alter our daily doings...just how far would those ripples be felt...and most of all, would it be worth it in the end?

I was driving my daughter to school this morning, down Congressman Dickinson Drive...and right before I passed the Montgomery Humane Shelter on the right side of the road, there was a dog sitting on the side of the road...a big dog...a brown mastiff-looking lug of a dog...the canine equivalent of those not-so-bright mugs that protect the corrupt bosses in those old 30s/40s black/white films. But he wasn't a mean-looking type...he's one of those lovable mugs - just out of his element. I could tell he was lost...but I had to get my daughter to her school...she couldn't be late and I can't look up the shelter's number and drive at the same time. I COULD...but I refuse to drive that way...everyone should refuse such things.

I made it to her school - just in time and exited out of the parking lot - I take a different route back, so I don't know what became of that dog. Had I made a call and let them know about the dog...had I flapped my wings a little...they would have flapped theirs...and a whole other outcome would have come about. But I don't know the outcome...not that I would have known the alternate outcome. It's unlikely I would have called back to check on his status at the shelter..."don't ask...you might not want them to tell". But...I won't ask here as well...I might not want to hear it either. My choice to remain out of it...to step off that mental platform that calls each of us to do more than we do...called to me stronger than the one which would have gotten me involved.

The dog is now a blur as I go past, continuing on to my journey...my journey which is set, in mental concrete...that shouldn't have cracks in it. There must be no cracks...continue looking...but don't touch...don't make waves with those wings. I turn left onto Coliseum Blvd...there's a man, looking sad, a white plastic grocery store bag in his hand...bending down picking up trash from his yard. You can tell this is a daily stop on his personal journey...his that is also probably set. No verbal exchanges I'm sure from any passersby...do any of the littering culprits ever drive by to catch him picking up THEIR stuff they threw in his yard because they didn't want to clutter up their own cars? Do they drive by and snicker? Do they repeatedly throw the stuff in his yard all the time? Perhaps they work at the same store his grocery bag, now used as a trash bag, is from. I thought of that all in that millisecond time-frame that seemed to freeze-frame and then speed up again, like it does in films. As with the dog...my first and final contact with him. I'm almost to my destination - I'll not be late after all...keep it all in the parameters of my initial plan...don't get sidetracked.

I drop my daughter off...a few kids are being let out of their parents cars and running toward the school...you aren't supposed to do that - they are supposed to be accompanied by a parent when they are in the parking lot...they aren't being good ants...they aren't helping their colony. The small children are oblivious to the fact that the majority of the cars dashing in and out of the parking lot can't see them over the top of their hoods...let alone a rear-view image...but they still scurry. The cars, seemingly having their own agendas, must get to the next destination...a series of stops...move along...next station...move along again...and nothing is supposed to slow them down. But there are tiny little delicate cogs that can throw that system totally out of whack...these children, who probably have heard that old proverb..."children should be seen and not heard"...don't realize they are neither seen nor heard in a parking lot among the massive metal giants. Giants that can squoosh a child like a bug. So, I've decided today...I will be their champion...I will come to their aid...I will notify the school about these goings on before I hear what we all don't want to hear. I will pick up my phone, I will get online and write an email, I will dare to be that ripple that happens when I start to flap my wings...I will alight on my mental platform...I will take the time and I WILL be heard. It's only just a whisper I know...but a whisper can stop an accident, save a dog, or the person's life who might end up swerving to avoid hitting it. Whispers have started and stopped wars...whispers are much stronger than you can imagine.

Just think if we all spoke up from a whisper once in a while and beat our little wings until they made ripples...and if you ever saw ripples in water when you toss in even the tiniest pebble, you know they just keep going out further and further. I believe even a seemingly inconsequential phone call, intervention, deviation from our set norm...can set things in motion we've never dreamt of...and perhaps a deed we do will soar...even without anyone even knowing it.

"Hey, let's talk about sex!"

Give me any woman and ten minutes...and it will lead to sex.

Well, not actual sex, mind you, but the conversation will eventually end up with us talking about some facet of sex. I'm almost convinced I've had more sex talks than Dr. Ruth and Dr. Laura Berman have...COMBINED.

There's something about complete anonymity which people seem comfortable enough about, to start spilling out their most private details right there at the card, produce or coffee section in the supermarket.

These are women of all ages - all ethnicities and all social statures. For some reason I must come across as a great sex therapist, as this has been going on with me for ages. Maybe it's my talkative nature, maybe it's my ease to listen and actually pay attention at the same time...maybe it's just that a whole lot of women like to talk about sex with complete strangers. Who knows?

All I know is that 98 percent of women out there (based on my "research in the field")...are not at all satisfied with their sex lives and/or their partners. Oh, they all go home and act like they are...or maybe they don't; but if it's any indication of the information I've been told, women clearly aren't in happy relationships...sexual or otherwise.

"Why do these anniversary cards have to say, 'You're the best thing that ever happened to me?' or 'You make my life complete.' or 'You're the best husband a wife could ever wish for!' ...why can't there just be generic 'Happy Anniversary' cards without any sentiment on them, whatsoever?"

Oh yes, I've been privy to that conversation a zillion times. Do you know how incredibly hard it is for these women to actually pick out a card? There's not many "un-sappy, un-gushing, un-laden with sexual innuendo" cards to choose from. And the ones that do fit that bill...look like "Here, Bob...you shoulda bought this yourself and saved me the trouble." Nothing in between. But I guess Hallmark wouldn't make too many sentimental brownie points if they had the "Andy Rooney Line of Anniversary Cards"...

"Whatever happened to our marriage? How come you don't do anything nice for me anymore? You don't think socks just pick themselves up DO you? Oh yes...all the waitresses in the best restaurants LOVE to be reminded that you could BUY the whole bottle for the price they charge for two glasses. Class like yours only comes with age...and we've been married HOW LONG, again??"

Those Hallmark gems aren't in the aisle you'll be looking thru. You'll be finding couples who look nothing like you holding hands, hiking; in a yacht, cuddling beneath a starlit sky, and for some reason - worshipping the game of golf.

Pay attention next time you go card shopping...on the surface it looks like it's only a sea of blank faces faced with the daunting task of choosing "just the right card". But...look closely...their apparent blank gazes twitch and grimace...and do that "eye roll" thing...and if you're very quiet, you can even hear a little whimper sounding like "yeah right" spoken under their breath. And these are the people I speak to because you can always spot them...they are there, and by the third or fourth card (like that third or fourth drink)...they're willing to open up to anyone who will listen.

It's really quite disconcerting when you come to think of it -- a whole slew of people so dissatisfied with their lives, secretly confiding in someone they know they'll never see again about a topic they probably rarely ever talk to anyone else about. It's sad that they're pouring their hearts out to someone who really doesn't matter to them...about something that...really does matter.

Apparently it also matters to over 50 percent of Americans...as they wind up divorced. Many get divorced, directly or indirectly, because of sex: the lack of it, the incompatibility over it, the infidelity because of it...the list is literally endless. And the stigma attached to talking to someone in a clinical setting about it...is most likely the key factor as to why so many women are tight-lipped about it.

Except, of course, when they run across a talkative perceptive stranger in some beauty salon, TJ Maxx, the doctor's office, Fresh Market, or any store with a card aisle.



(Originally written, but not published, about three years ago.)

Write On

A few of you might know that I passionately entertain the thought of one day being a "real" writer. That being said, I like to extol the virtues of writing...or at least using your imagination once in a while and writing something with it. I also believe there should be a lot more writing in school, especially in the elementary grade levels.

A few years back I talked my daughter's (name withheld because I'm like that) English teacher (also name withheld because I'm like that) into allowing me into her classroom to talk about my limited (but still very special to me) writing experiences. Some of the things I touched on were my methods of undertaking various aspects of writing...and how I hoped they'd embrace writing instead of being scared of the whole entire process.

This is that talk I gave to my daughter's 6th grade class...and, as such, you have to remember I tried to appeal to a year 2007 6th grade English class. Also, I ad-libbed a LOT as I tend to talk a LOT...and that's not in this basic outline of this "speech".

By the way, last year I was invited to speak at AUM (Auburn University at Montgomery) to a group of English students regarding my 2003 Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest win...and if you're interested, I'd be more than happy to share my limited "life-long" writing experiences in other settings (classrooms, auditoriums, etc.) as well. All you have to do is ask me.


Allow me to introduce myself - I am Mariann Simms...Mrs. Simms...but most of you know me as my daughter's mom.

The reason I'm here today is because I talked your teacher into letting me come here and tell you that you should all WRITE some more. LOTS more!

A little about me...when I was young, about your age, I wanted to be a writer...then I grew up not knowing what I wanted to be until I realized, not too long ago, that I still wanted to be a writer. Imagine my disappointment knowing how much further I might have actually gotten had I just listened to myself years ago.

I have an online interactive humour website that I've been doing since 2001 that you shouldn't go to and I've also won tons of prizes, including a TiVo, by entering "funny" and or "writing-type" contests online. But my biggest claim to fame to date was winning the prestigious Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest in 2003. For doing this, I was interviewed by CNN...American, Australian and Canadian radio and television programs, and had a front page write-up at the Montgomery Advertiser. I was on the front page of USA Today...and was literally (and I Googled myself, so I know for sure) mentioned in newspapers from Algeria to Zimbabwe. Yes, my name was mentioned in the Zimbabwe Times...or whatever they call their paper.

How many of you have ever heard of the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction contest? (Excluding my daughter.) How many of you are now somewhat impressed by the fact I won it? Professor Scott Rice, the man who came up with this contest back in 1982 and still judges it, asked all the previous winners the other month (for his upcoming Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest book) what, if anything, did we notice that changed or happened to us since our winning it.

I told him I found that people whom I've told about my winning this contest seem to look upon me with an amount of admiration and respect...ESPECIALLY those who hadn't a clue what it was. Who here ever heard of the saying "The pen is mightier than the sword?" Well, the man who wrote that saying was Edward George Bulwer-Lytton, who lived back in 1803-1873. He also wrote a novel entitled "Paul Clifford" which has the distinction of having, possibly in all of history, the worst opening sentence ever written and printed. How many of you have seen those "Peanuts" cartoons where Snoopy is typing and starts off..."It was a dark and stormy night..."? Well that was how Bulwer-Lytton started his novel...but then it went on and on and on and on...and really ended up getting worse by the word...only I'm sure he wasn't trying to do that intentionally. What I did was intentional. In 2003, I was judged to have come up with the "worst opening line to a fictional novel"...but keep in mind...I was the BEST at writing the WORST. It's not easy to write badly well...or is that badly good? Anyway, here's my winning entry:

They had but one last remaining night together, so they embraced each other as tightly as that two-flavor entwined string cheese that is orange and yellowish-white, the orange probably being a bland Cheddar and the white . . . Mozzarella, although it could possibly be Provolone or just plain American, as it really doesn't taste distinctly dissimilar from the orange, yet they would
have you believe it does by coloring it differently.

Seventy-one words...yep, 71 words...in one opening sentence; many different forms of punctuation, but only one period allowed. And I did this all on my first attempt ever at sending in an entry...and I only sent in the one entry. Yes, I had to throw that in for posterity.

This brings us to one of a writer's most annoying, perplexing, head-banging, paper-crumbling, pencil point breaking event: Coming up with that "stupid" first sentence to anything you write. Face it, after you get that part written, the rest usually comes a lot easier, right?

My advice to you...is to write the way you speak. How would you say it if you were just telling your friend? Just write the way you'd say it. Try it...it works.

Most of my favourite authors don't write to baffle and impress - sure, some do - but I find it most annoying to stop every 8th word to go look it up. Ray Bradbury, a science fiction writer who wrote such classics as "The Martian Chronicles", "Farenheit 451", "The Wonderful Ice Cream Suit", and countless other stories...writes extremely simplistic...but since it's told WELL, it captures you and draws you in. You WANT to keep reading to find out what's going to happen next and he hardly ever gets all "super intelligent" with you. Not that writing with big words and expanding your vocabulary isn't a good thing...I just don't think most people talk like a scientific journal reads...so, especially when you have characters in a story having a conversation...it's best they talk the way they would if they were real people.

My second piece of advice...get a good dictionary and thesaurus - a REAL one, not one of those online ones...and just keep it handy when reading or writing. How many times do you just skip a word that you read but you don't know its meaning? LOOK IT UP! When I was a kid or when I worked, during lunchbreaks, I would read the dictionary. No, seriously, I would. Sounds kinda spooky, huh? One of the most fun things to do with a dictionary is to just open it up on a random page and look at a word you don't know. You really can't do that kind of thing with an online one...so invest in a real one.

Now on to the "flow" of words...how they are strung together...how they sound. Are you redundant...using the same word over and over again? At the risk of sounding redundant here...get a thesaurus! Altho, sometimes redundancy is called for...as one of my favourite movie lines of all times from "The Shawshank Redemption" (which was a short story written by Stephen King...you know that scary guy?) shows. Bear in mind the word "hope" itself is used throughout the movie in many scenes...and it's used again toward the end of the film by the character Morgan Freeman plays, a man who's just been released from prison after serving about 40 years. As he's sitting on a bus that will ultimately take him to see his former-inmate friend, he thinks to himself:

I find I'm so excited, I can barely sit still or hold a thought in my head. I think it's the excitement only a free man can feel, a free man at the start of a long journey whose conclusion is uncertain. I hope I can make it across the border. I hope to see my friend, and shake his hand. I hope the Pacific is as blue as it has been in my dreams. I hope.

Anyone know a quote from a film or book? What would have happened if it were strung together differently...think about that when you write...does it flow...does it sound nice when you say it? Does it have the impact you want it to have? How about if you change it around? Would it lose or gain something?

Coming back to myself here...I also write a blog at the Montgomery Advertiser's online site...only if any of you have seen blogs, they are all like "Oh my cat jumped on my car today and I think I have to get it washed...bummer." In other words, I don't think they're very interesting. Well, I write a blog there, but I like to think of them as "blogumns", or better yet, very short stories. But I'm not talking about newspaper-type stories...let me explain...

When you read a news story in a paper, there's a format journalists are supposed to follow. How many of you read the paper or have ever read an article in the paper? How far down in that article do you usually get? Do you read the whole thing...or stop after the first couple paragraphs?

Now, how many of you read books...like the Harry Potter ones? Did you read the whole thing or stop after a few pages? You read the whole thing, right? Did you ever stop to wonder...WHY?

You see, in the paper they have this thing called the 5 W's. Who, What, Where, When, and Why? They typically put all the most interesting and important bits in the first two paragraphs. The rest is just incidental stuff, filler, and probably some back history, quotes, and biography work-ups.

What would happen, say, if JK Rowling would have said ALL her interesting ideas in the first couple pages...or even the first couple chapters and then just dwindled off into "filler" the rest of the story? Wouldn't be much of a story, would it?

And don't get discouraged if it doesn't come out right the first time...JK Rowling took six years to write her first book...and she was turned down nine times before someone signed her. And guess how many times Daniel Handler aka Lemony Snicket was turned down for his first book? Thirty-seven times!

My last piece of advice to you would be the next time you sit down to write a STORY, keep in mind you need to capture AND HOLD the reader's curiosity to get him to turn that next page. Remember not to cram ALL your good stuff in the first sentence...or else it just might end up being a worse sentence than even MINE was...but probably not intentionally.



"It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents--except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness." --Edward George Bulwer-Lytton, Paul Clifford (1830)

Never Forget

I am late doing this...but let us not forget those who gave their lives...or part of their lives to keep us free. Be it whichever war it was...remember, they did it so that people like you and me can breathe the air we breathe and live the life we lead. Let us honour them (and ourselves and our family and our family's family) by living good, honourable lives...worthy of their sacrifice.

Photos I took in Washingon, DC - 2009.

From top to bottom the photos are as follows:Washington Monument
Marine Corps War Memorial aka the Iwo Jima Memorial
Korean War Veterans Memorial
Changing of the Guard at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier at Arlington National Cemetery
Arlington National Cemetery
Korean War Veterans Memorial

I've Got Mono

Here's a proposed Craig Ferguson (host of CBS's "Late Late Show") monologue I came up with long ago. Keep in mind this was written the first year he started hosting - so his "voice" has changed some...i.e., he doesn't say the same things like he used to. This was purely for my entertainment...it's not like Craig asked me to write his monologues or anything...it was just for fun. It also helps if you have seen Craig and know his mannerisms and vocal intonations...if not, you can always call me up and I'll read it to you in my best "Craig voice". :)

Please be aware I'm posting these blogs how I originially wrote them years ago. Consequently they aren't going to be timely and they aren't going to be like my regular blogs -- mainly a lot of these are just "comedy snippets" of sorts.

Jane Birkin and the Hermès bag named after her.

I was walking around the "ritzy shopping district" the other day, and I can't believe what these stores in Hollywood sell for kids.

"Oh yes, why my daughter just HAS to have a pair of $5000 Hermès earmuffs...ALL the kids in her class do"...like whatever happened to getting your kid a Barbie!?

When I was a wee lad growing up in Scotland...I got to name a sheep - and it wasn't even MY sheep - it was Mr. Flannagan's across town. THAT was MY lousy Christmas present - not some poofy $5000 earmuffs and a Birkin bag. What the hell's a Birkin bag, anyway - and why does it cost $30,000??!

What's even worse, is that you have to wait TWO years if you want to get one...unless you go to eBay and then it's anyone's guess. Would YOU know a fake Birkin bag if you bought one? I certainly wouldn't. "You know, Marge...your tag looks sooooo three-thousand dollar-ish."

I know what you're saying...here's another late nite talk show host talking about expensive 'to die for' purses. But this is true!

These Birkin bags were named after Jane Birkin...who was an English actress who did a lot of French films in the 60s. I Googled her, I did...and she was NAKED in EVERY SINGLE photo......with Brigitte Bardot, even!

Hey, when you have Brigitte Bardot telling you to "put some clothes on, girlfriend"...you know you have something.

So, I guess the Hermes designers were sitting around one day saying, "Well we have the Kelly bag named after Grace Kelly -- and that one has style, can we maybe...oh, I don't know...make a bag with a lot more slutty appeal? How about this Birkin one? Sure! And let's say you have to wait months to get one...that way it will be like an adult 'Tickle-Me-Elmo' doll..."

...and speaking of tickling...I think THAT'S the movie where Birkin was actually wearing those muffs.

Well, the photo WAS a little fuzzy.

C'mon..it's true!

(Originally written 9 December 2005)

What CAN I do?

The following was written by me as a silly comedy snippet (you know...if I ever tried to do a stand-up comedy routine...and if Montgomery, Alabama ever had a comedy venue to try my hand at it)...apparently serving no real purpose until now (and even now I question its purpose)...

So, anybody here have trouble sleeping?

I seriously have problems sleeping...that I've had since 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.

So, I go on down to the library because you can pick up used books there for like a quarter...and I picked up a few, including one big-ass one by Stephen King called "Insomnia".

Well, I'm no genius, but I figure the reason these books are for sale for less than a buck is because no one wants to read them...and who the HELL's going to want to read some horror book about not sleeping when they're trying to sleep?? Just what was he thinking??

But I've got to hand it to him...he thinks of an everyday happening and then makes a scary as hell story out of it. I just figure he's sitting there at home at the typewriter...going..."Dogs...yeah...really mean dog..."Cujo". Corn...people like corn...how about "Children of the Corn"? Ooh, what else do people like to do? Drive...yeah..."Christine"...okay...talk on their cell phones. I got it: "Cell"!"

Okay, so I can't have a dog, can't bury it behind my house if it would ever die...can't eat corn or talk on my cell phone...forget about talking on it IN my car...and I'll never sleep again. What's going to be next? A horror story about a toilet?

Oh gee, thanks, Mr. King.


Originally written 28 Jan 06.

Prelude To Some Blogs

My next series of blogs (don't get bent out of shape...I am not doing another three-parter on Sea Monkeys)...will be older ones. Not that I've posted them before...but they remain old, nonetheless.

A little back-story if I may...

A while back I took to carrying around this brown, faux-leather notebook in which I would write when I had to sit waiting in doctor's offices and whatnot. I even half-convinced myself that I would look massively impressive and "writer-ish" like Johnny Depp did in "Finding Neverland". And anyone who was fortunate enough to glance in my direction would automatically think of Depp's portrayal of J.M. Barrie...and be stricken with the worst case of awe he ever experienced (good thing they were at the doctor) in his entire life. Imagine me...a budding Oscar-winning, future Pulitzer Prize-winning, AND former Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest-winning (yes, that last one already happened - go read my side-bar) writer, sitting right there next to them and they'd not even know it! Oh, they'd sense it alright as I had, clutched in my hand, a highly elaborate "look at me...I'm someone important" pen...and no one need ever know I purchased quite a few of these for next to nothing when the Office Max store up on the bypass went out of business a couple years back.

Yes...while I basked in the glow of my pseudo-self importance - in the end I probably just came off looking like an aging buffoon who hadn't yet realized you could email people instead of write them. So much for instilling people with a sense of "awe". Awesome? No. Awe-kward? Yes.

Then I misplaced this notebook for a time and only found it the other day. While it is true that common sense dictated I could just pick up another one at TJ Maxx and start anew, which I did; the new ones, equally majestic as those "on sale" pens, just didn't hold the same kind of magic to me, so I decided I'd start bringing a book along to read instead. Yes, I traded writing for reading...but the arithmetic undoubtedly came out the same: I still probably looked like just another old ailing chick sitting in a doctor's office.

As far as these blogs (or very short stories, as I like to call them) go...I was thinking about just scrapping them all, but then I figured I'd use them and let everyone know why they might seem out-of-date...as "I do believe" they have some worth.

So, there -- I've said it...and with further delay, I present to you...some old blogs.

Sea Monkeys III: The Final Seaquel

Because you are all dying (faster than my cannibalistic Sea Monkeys) to have me wrap up my final installment of my three-part foray into Sea Monkey raising...I certainly won't prolong this agony any longer than is humanly tolerable.

As you are all aware (if you had been following along with Part 1 and 2), I found a treasure trove of endless fun - and something I've always wanted: Sea Monkeys.

While Sea Monkeys might not be all they're cracked up to be...and certainly not all they are hyped up to be, they did do something in my house which rarely ever happens.

No, they didn't make the kids clean their rooms and I didn't finish that book I was writing; but there was actual family interaction involved in spurts, and these little freeze-dried "time-travellers", mutant as they may be, caused it.

Oh, I'm not reporting there were any "Gee, Wally, will ya look at that!" moments - and sadly, despite years of comic book-inspired anticipation, they have yet to live up to the mystique these ads insinuated. In other words, they haven't built any underwater castles - a fact which I am still upset over...and probably will be for life.

But, true to their word, my "family" hatched in a mere 24-hour time frame. Apparently we kept the thermostat in the house set to "optimal Sea Monkey breeding temperature". We were careful to put them on a north-facing window (as instructed) and barricaded them ingeniously against the windowsill with rocks so we didn't, one day, wake up to the sound of tacky plastic containers falling due to overzealous curious cats.

We, so far, have never had to make some split-second decision of whether one would even be capable of extruding minute aquatic squiggles out of carpet pile - or whether a good stomping up and down on the poor misfortunate mutant life form would be a far, far, better thing to do. So...no such "Tale of Two Cities" moments...yet.

The following days were "filled" with such family entertainment as feeding them, replacing Sea Monkey water, which evaporates at an astronomically slow rate, and wondering how I was going to clean their aquarium. Face it, microscopic egg sacs could easily be mistaken for dirty water. Perhaps when I "strawed" some out to toss it...I threw away 75 whole families.

Oh, I am sure there are ways to ascertain your Sea Monkeys live for ages - because they sell enough extra Sea Monkey stuff to guilt any caring person, i.e., a mother of a six-year-old, into purchasing. And if they don't live after you plunk down $3.00 for "Sea Monkey Medicine" (yes, I kid you not) and another $3.00 for a "Sea Monkeys 'Million Bubble' Air Pump", etc., etc., - well, there's always that "Amazing 2 Year Warranty!" of theirs.

And then, for people like me...who never acquired their Sea Monkeys until much, much later in life...there's the "Executive Sea Monkeys For Grown Ups" kit for a mere $12.00.

Oh, yeah...these guys "Sea" you coming...but I'm not falling for any of it...

...but I am half-tempted to send away for an official "Sea Monkey Diploma" from the prestigious "Crustacean College" certifying me as a "Sea Monkey Scientist". It's only $16.00 with shipping and handling included, and just think how THAT would look on my resume...and how all prospective employers would look at ME for including it.

Sounds to me there's literally hours of fun to be had right there!



Now for some amazing Sea Monkey photos...

Small Hatchlings:

Sea Monkeys front and center..."Primordial Pool" in the background:
Sea Monkey - Up Close:

If I Can Have Your Attention, Please...A Toast to..."Young Boozer"

Niftiest name ever for a candidate?

I'm sorry - I'd vote for this guy regardless of which office he's running for. I don't even need to hear his platform - his name is AWESOME!

At least he seems to have a sense of humour as he's poking fun of his name as well at his website.

If they would ever allow me to come up with campaign slogans...I'd enlist a few of my players on my interactive comedy website ("yes, I have one" - and "why haven't you played already?")...and, in a few years, this guy would be President!

I challenge you all to come up with actual candidates over the years...with a name better than this.

Good luck.

Coming to a Mailbox Near You: Stamp Out Pesky Raccoons this Saturday!

(I know I owe everyone Part 3 of my Sea Monkey blog...I will get to it tomorrow or the next day...but for now, I had to promote and voice my concern over this food drive.)

I must commend the United States Postal Service...in conjunction with the National Association of Letter Carriers...for their thoughtful idea to try to "curb" hunger via asking people to donate "non-perishable" food items. They are asking that items be left by your mailbox this Saturday, 8 May 10, to be picked up by your mail carrier (yes, mail WILL be late this Saturday)...to be taken to a local food bank and distributed to the needy.

The thought is very nice. I don't have any problems with this - but I have problems with this whole idea and I'm never one to mince words...I'm one to say them, or in this case, to type them out.

Number One Problem: The notification in my mailbox today. Had I not noticed I had TWO of them...I wouldn't have paid any attention to either. I saw the word "stamp" on both - and automatically shuffled them to the back of my pile of bills and "To the Manor Born" Netflix dvds I had in my hand. It was only when I saw it on the newscast tonite that I paid any attention...and then I just balked at the fact I got TWO of these. Either it's easier to put two in every other mailbox than to put one in each...or they just made about a bazillion of these things...at some astronomical cost. These things don't print themselves. Granted, they've pretty much bypassed the "buying the stamps" thing - but I bet even the Post Office has to shell out X amount for some bulk mailing fee. So, yes, I have an issue with this.

Number Two Problem: "Non-perishable food items". I looked this up...it's basically food which doesn't decay as rapidly as other food...that doesn't decay as fast as the ones which decay faster. Yeah...I know...the little postcard...oops...correction "postcards" I received today stipulate that "non-perishable" food items include canned meats and fish, canned soup, juice, pasta, vegetables, cereal and rice. The two postcards go on to say that we shouldn't give expired items or those in glass containers. I don't know about you...but I've had to toss out stuff like they're asking for because it had bugs in it, was dented, tasted nasty, etc. And I can't shake the feeling that scores of people are going to be raiding their pantries and just tossing out the things they don't like...like that bulk pack of generic Ramen noodles your kid bought when he was going off to college...but forgot to take along when he moved out, the six-pack snack-sized blueberry applesauce cups (minus the one your kid ate and hated), that questionable box of spaghetti with an undecipherable "company code" instead of an expiration date, and so forth. Hey, you won't ever eat them - but that doesn't mean someone else might, right?

Number Three Problem: Critters. Let's say I take a nice grocery bag or two full to place next to my mailbox for pick-up whenever they deliver on Saturday. I live out here in the rural-ville area...and we have possums, raccoons, rats and mice, armadillos and various other miscellaneous creatures which prowl around looking for tasty bits of pasta, chips, and plastic containers of Jell-O pudding cups...in fact they probably can smell them from two blocks away. I'm not even taking in consideration dogs and cats that might come by. And even if they don't rip them open...there's always "marking" things up...and I'm not talking about prices. They like to "claim" things as their own and there's only one way they go about this...and I'm not sure the Postal person going to know whether or not that moisture's from humidity or from the big-headed feral cat that lives on my property. To borrow and change a phrase from "Look Who's Talking"..."Could be green beans...could be urine-soaked Pringles!" Yum!

Number Four Problem: Ants. See above reason...only modify it some.

Number Five Problem: Humans. Far be it from me to insinuate there are people out there who would...a) steal bags of food people have placed outside for this cause; b) vandalize bags of food people have left out for this cause; and c) do other things I failed to think of to said bags of food.

Now I'm no rocket scientist (insert incendiary blog comment here) - but I'm thinking perhaps this could have been thought out better before they acted. I'm also not stupid...I Googled and I'm positive they collected thousands of pounds of food which helped out enormously to people who are needy. I'm not saying this is a bad cause...I'm just figuring "leaving it at your mailbox" outside...which most people are putting out the nite before...isn't the safest and most sanitary way of going about donating food. And no one associated with this cause wants to make someone sick inadvertently I am sure...but I'm sure this is going to happen if there aren't better ways to police this.

And...if you haven't heard about this worthy cause...please go here for more info: www.usps.com/stampouthunger -- but I would stick to canned foods for your piece of mind...I know I am.

Monkey Sea Monkey Two

Okay, I've kept you all on the edge of your seats for a while now. And when I say "you all" it's not like the Southern "y'all"...it's more like the collective three of you who read my blog. But...the anticipation is going to be partly over soon...and soon you will know what I mean by "part"ly over.

The last blog I left you wondering about my Sea Monkey nurturing - will they hatch? Will they grow up and build a castle? Will they cling to the edge and die...or will they just sit on the windowsill totally forgotten as easily as I tend to forget about watering plants?

Well, first...yes, they did hatch. I had a bunch of those little squirmy things the size of microscopic lice in my Sea Monkey habitat. They really paled in comparison to the huge things my backyard pool grows in the off season...and speaking of comparisons...

...let's compare what the instructions for Sea Monkeys say vs what they really mean, shall we?

Sea Monkey instructions are a wonderful study of contradictions of sorts...as they rather are written with failsafe legal loopholes built in.

Apparently the Sea Monkey folks decided long ago that there's nothing more detrimental to the Sea Monkey business boom than a class action law suit filed by disgruntled Sea Monkey owner lawyers. Yes, when you stipulate that these things have an "Amazing 2 Year Warranty"...you have to, 1) Be able to stand behind it; and 2) Be certain that the majority of Sea Monkey owners are going to lose interest in these things in a fortnight.

Now I'm not claiming to be the brightest bulb in the chandelier nor the sharpest tool in the box, but I'm certainly not one fry short of a Happy Meal, neither.

If, for some reasons my little denizens of the sea fail to hatch or I fail to feed them or my cat drinks the water out of their bowl or whilst in the throes of wild monkey sex (not to be confused with Sea Monkey sex) knock the bowl on the floor and they all die...the fine folks at the Sea Monkey headquarters will send me a water purifier packet, a packet of Sea Monkey egg pouches (valued at the astronomical sum of $6.00) absolutely FREE! They will also send me the "Official" Sea Monkey Handbook (an additional $3.00 value)...also absolutely FREE! And all this will be sent to me FREE of charge if I send them a self-addressed stamped envelope and $3.00 for handling. Heck, that's a deal - as I incur absolutely NO SHIPPING CHARGES! How great is this??

But...even while I realize by doing the above I would have already paid the shipping charges...I have to wonder...so the instructions that came with MY Sea Monkeys were the...what?? UNofficial Sea Monkey Handbook? Certainly I must have been gypped with my original purchase not to have a genuine handbook. What I have is a measly 8 1/2 by 11 inch instruction sheet. Granted, it IS printed on both sides...but the more I look at it as I type this, the more I think it's not even a full 8 1/2 by 11. Seriously...what a letdown.

This flimsy excuse for a handbook goes on to try to convince me that I am to be congratulated on "becoming the owner of the most fantastic pets to ever live and breath!" Yes..."live and breath" is what it says...as apparently I can't hold any claim that they really aren't at all in the same league as my cats...as, well...my cats "breathe". Danged loophole again.

They further tell me that I'll have more fun with them than any sea creature I've ever owned. I don't know about you - but I've owned fish. Fish are pretty boring. They might be nice to look at, but it's not like you can pluck one out of the bowl and sit with it on the sofa. At least not without it smelling after a bit.

These little flecks of sea things will also reward me "with endless hours of pleasure and enjoyment" - and unlike make-believe toys, pet Sea Monkeys are really alive and ready and eager to put on a show. And unlike the insane lady who felt compelled to feed her Tamagotchi while driving...you probably won't kill a cyclist if you're too busy sitting at home, mesmerized, watching your Sea Monkeys.

I have to give the writers of the instructions some credit as they stopped short of saying they are the "Doctor Who of the millennia" - but they might have well said it with this ludicrous statement, "Sea Monkeys are real Time-Travellers asleep in biological time capsules for their strange journey into the future!" Hmmm...perhaps they can get Tom Baker to smile his toothy grin and hold up a packet of eggs and a TARDIS-like container to put them in. Hey...anything's possible - plus he probably hasn't been doing anything lately anyway.

But, wait...I gotta ask...aren't these things just brine shrimp? Once and for all...they aren't brine shrimp! Stop already! They are a "species" of brine shrimp...but they are unique. Not only do they claim to have unlocked the secrets of their life cycles - they've also hinted at creating some mutant sea thing: A hybrid they've crossbred (not unlike England's "Royal Family") but now they will grow larger and live longer than any "natural" variety of brine shrimp. Oh, yeah, they're royal for sure. In fact they mention something about Egyptian Kings in the literature they provided. So, chances are good my Sea Monkeys are blue-bloods -- you know...if they had blood.

My amazing two year warranty eludes to the assumption that my Sea Monkeys live at least two years...but just how long DO these things live? Well, according to my UNofficial 7 3/4" x 11" paper (yes, I just measured it), due to "new computer-driven processing technologies and ultra-pure, non-toxic chemicals, twice as many Sea Monkeys instantly hatch, grow larger and live longer than ever before". Wow! That's a mouthful...and impressive. But wait...just how long DO these things live? Apparently my instructions were not only written by Sea Monkey biologists but political biologists as well!

Now I know everyone is going green...and so's my Sea Monkey water...but that's for the next blog (yes...it's going to be a three-parter, folks). Some of you out there might be wondering..."Mutant royal brine shrimp? Just because they're hybrids...doesn't make them ecologically-friendly, ya know." But, let the fine folks at the Department of Sea Monkeys in Maryland assure you these things are really safe. So safe they can make this disclaimer: "Sea Monkeys are in no way harmful to humans or the environment. If they somehow find their way into natural water ways or sewer lines, they simply will not be able to survive."

So relax, everyone...if I "somehow" FLUSH THEM DOWN THE TOILET, they won't come out as giant alligators on the other end.



(Speaking of ends...stay tuned for Part 3 of my fantastic foray into the fascinating...oh, forget it...just stick around and read my last part when I write it, later on this week.)