The Dead Sea Monkeys

(That fuzzy brownish-green stuff growing on the bottom and the green floating stuff growing on top...um...aren't stalagmites and stalactites; and I highly doubt either is supposed to be there.)

Well, it was destined to happen, but considering I got them last April, it probably wasn't the shortest longevity record ever set, but nonetheless, it was pretty devastating...

...my last Sea Monkey died the other day.

Now, I don't know if you kept up with my Sea Monkey blogs I did a few months back - if you didn't, you could always go here...then here...and finally here if you're interested.

I also don't know exactly what went wrong, but I'm willing to take a few half-educated guesses, and, as usual, I'm willing to share them with you.

First off, let me tell everyone that I didn't buy any of the gimmicky things they had for sale, like water purifiers, pumps and "executive-sized desk aquariums", so perhaps, by my frugalness, they were doomed from the get-go.

I did do some things, however, which might have, oh, speeded up their demise a tad slower than just chucking them down the toilet.

First off, the Sea Monkey people don't give you any instructions on how to scoop out the "dead Sea Monkey sludge" from off the bottom of the Sea Monkey container. Now, granted, it might have been addressed in the "Deluxe Sea Monkey Booklet" I could have paid extra for, but I didn't because I thought I'd be able to accomplish this menial task without spending $3.99 and another $3.00 for postage (or whatever it cost...I'm too distraught to actually check).

Sad to say, I couldn't.

I figured the easiest way might be to pour off the alive Monkeys into another container, but since the Sea Monkey container itself doesn't have the pointed/angled pouring spout like a Pyrex measuring cup...I probably spilled about 329 Sea Monkeys all over my counter before I figured out it wasn't going to work. They just dribbled out over the side of their home and, I, filled with horror at the thought of them being maimed in some way if I tried to slide them off the countertop and back into their happy habitat, decided "death by paper towel" would be much more humane.

It was, however, a noble try.

A less nobler try was the "suck them up with a straw" procedure.

Let me elaborate a little.

It seemed like, in theory, this would work. You get a straw, insert it down to the bottom of the container...which, by the way, has the plastic terrain equivalent of the Mariana Trench, i.e., it's not smooth and suck-uppable...and then put your finger on the top of the straw, and then draw their remains out, siphon-style.

Yeah, right. Again, this works ONLY in theory.

In reality, what happens is that you only manage to stir up the debris on the bottom and each time you try to pull the straw up out of the water, most of the water just manages to dribble back out of the straw. Then you are left with the agonizing decision of what to do with the mucky "yuk" you just removed and put into that Pyrex measuring cup (hey, give me some points for thinking ahead here). Do you then wait two hours for the sediment to settle to ascertain which specks are alive and which are dead...or do you just toss it down your sink...or do you do the moral thing and just pour it all back into the original container?

Yep...my morals won out and I ended up pouring it all back into the original container, thereby stirring up more dead bodies which probably really freaked out all the live Monkeys. In fact, this agitation action of the water alone probably killed another 128 of them.

But I tried. Oh, and remember the forethought of the Pyrex cup, too.

The last way to do it proved as futile as the other two...

...I found out that you cannot logically scoop out enough water, one tablespoon at a time, to catch all the live ones...what you can do is scoop out about 1/8th of a cup of Sea Monkey-laden water before you say "Screw this, it's going to take an eternity". I then tried my utmost best to at least separate the old water from the Sea Monkeys and, in that process, lost at least another 72 of them doing this.

At that point I'd pretty much determined it was best to just give up thinking of new and innovative ways to kill my Monkeys by trying to save them. I would just let nature take its course.

Well, at least tell us, Mariann, what exactly happens to Sea Monkey water that's been virtually left to evaporate over the course of four months?

The answer to that is: It gets very cloudy and the bottom of the aquarium, which has now become a Sea Monkey burial ground, starts to resemble some primordial Chia Pet.

Now, I'm not terrible, I was adding more water to keep it at the optimum Sea Monkey level and all...but after a while, it just seemed like all I was doing was probably creating a super-concentrated inevitable death lab of sorts, where, had I managed to keep them alive for a month or two more, might have had the chance to see some Frankensteinian/Re-animator thing happening.

As it just so happened, it didn't happen, and the last Monkey is now among the "rotting dead".

I'm not getting any ideas they will start hatching out of eggs again...but just in case there ARE such things as Sea Monkey Zombies...I think I'll let the water sit around for another month...or two.


You know...just in case.

It's Not What You Say...It's How You Say It

(As you can plainly see, my copy has long since lost it's bright yellow cover; the colourful words inside, however, remain intact.)

"We lost our empire, we suck at tennis, our food is lousy, but our television sure kicks ass!" - BBC America's new slogan of sorts they just started airing.

On BBC America's "Being Human" tonight, the werewolf guy was dealing with some anger issues...and kept cussing throughout the show. I think he was not only pissed...but pissed as well. (Oh, go look it up - it's British slang interspersed with American slang...a two-fer, if you will. Mind out of the gutter!)

"Fluffernutter". Just wrong on so many levels. Seriously. I'm surprised no one's complained or that the Marshmallow Fluff people don't have a very crude commercial on the air. Heck, I would if I were them.

And even more shocking, is William Shatner, starring in CBS's "$#*! My Dad Says". Personally I think it should have starred Clayton Moore (The Lone Ranger) years ago. The whole "Who was that masked man?" would have been really funny in my opinion.

In 1972, George Carlin came out with one of the most recognized and repeated bits in history (that was "bits" with a "B"...not a "T"...which, had it been a "T", it would have been number seven on his list): "Seven words you can never say on television." It's been nearly forty years; some of them have crossed over and some have not.

As a Jersey chick, I am well-versed in the art of vulgarity. When I was the tender age of twelve, me and my friend from across the street, Robin Howard, (if you're still out there Robin, say "Hi!") took my often used Monopoly game, pretty much worn out to the point where, had it been real money, would have long since met the incinerator...and decided we'd give it the "naughty treatment".

On the back of each of the bills (and there are 240 of them in a brand-spanking new game) we put "naughty phrases". Taking into consideration we were naive pre-teen girls and there might have been some bills missing, we still had to come up with at least 200 semi-offensive phrases. Offensive enough to make us giggle like pre-pubescent idiots, yet not offensive enough to make a parent within earshot suspect we had put 200 "Beavis and Butthead"-like utterances on the backs of "not so legal" tender.

And we were determined not to repeat ourselves. Granted, some of the bills mentioned boys in town we had crushes on...like Kenny Lear and all three of the Cook brothers, but most were just scrawled with the rudest words we could think of. Some words we really had absolutely no clear knowledge of what they meant, and most words we didn't even have a vague notion. Remember, this was pre-Internet days and Webster's didn't list "vulgarities". "Slang and its Analogues" did, however, and I was never quite sure if my mother knew exactly what she gave me when she presented her flea market find to me when I was about eleven.

This book, besides being a huge book of slang originally published in seven volumes from 1890-1904, is a treasure trove of "all things naughty". I think the guy who wrote "Mrs. Doubtfire" did exactly what I did (the one scene where Robin Williams, as "Mrs. Doubtfire", is talking to Pierce Brosnan about his intentions towards Sally Field, is pretty much a straight read from this book) when I first got my hands on it -- which is, turned to three select locations: "Male Genitalia", "Female Genitalia", and "The Act Itself". As they always say, "Location, Location, Location!", right?

So...when we finally completed our Monopoly money mission, we were downright proud of ourselves. We had the "usuals" in there...and also some others, like...the defunct "Trans World Airlines" acronym with an "extra" initial after it, oh, perhaps initials of Bon Jovi (they were, after all, from Jersey) before they made it famous (it, not IT, famous), and possibly Bruce Springsteen's as well (hey, he's from Jersey, too) and I'm pretty sure we mentioned the illustrious "C" word.

Way back in my day, back in Jersey, the "C" word wasn't primarily used as a euphemism for the "P" word, or for the even more naughty sounding and clinical "V" word. The "C" word was something we used for descriptive purposes...kinda like using the "B" word today. Like "Oh, stop being such a 'C'" - unterstand me now? Ooops, sorry, typo..."understand". And, again, how some words managed to get "letter recognition" status and some are still okay to say...in a way, is beyond me. I never got any of the memos.

Of course, the "mother" of them all...is the "F" word. That's my personal favourite. It's so handy. It can be a verb, an adjective, a noun, and I probably have used it in the past imperfect tense and didn't even know I was being so incredibly correct when I did so. Grammatically correct - not politically.

But, as the Bee Gees sang way back in 1968, "It's only words...and words are all I have...to take your heart away." Granted they probably weren't thinking about naughty words, but I'd like to get a feel for which words, be they on Carlin's list or not, take your heart away, or at least raise your blood pressure some.

So, which "bad" words are you okay with...and which would never touch your lips? Are there exceptions to the rule? Are there any films or TV shows you'd say called for their usage...or would you rather see them cleansed entirely from the screen and you totally wash your hands (and mouth) of them?



For the longevity of this post, please be a "good ranger" and mask your words as well.


(The above statement was for the Montgomery Advertiser's online site commenters. I left it stand because I thought it was witty.)


(For those who are wondering, I still actually have that Monopoly game. It's fun to get it out now and again and read about the good old days. ;) )



A blog forethought on this subject matter as an afterthought: I'm more of the mind-set that it's really not the words you use...but the intention behind them. Unfortunately, in my life I've been called many certain words. These certain words were not naughty, dirty, vulgar words said in jest...but common, everyday words which hurt much more. When someone does that...it doesn't matter what they say...it's how they say it and the meanness put behind it. People don't need to resort to cuss words to be cruel and put you down...regular words do just fine.

Words, are, after all, only words.

"Slater"ed for Fame

By now everyone has heard the story of Steven Slater, JetBlue Airways' flight attendant, who, fed up with the non-compliance of a passenger, and after getting bonked on the head with her overhead baggage, threw a hissy fit, cussed at the passengers through the plane's intercom system, grabbed a beer (or two - depending on who you're listening to), told everyone where they could put his job, opened the emergency hatch and slid his way into relative fame online.

He somehow managed to drive back home where he was then later arrested and taken into custody.

Well, this whole thing spread like wildfire and everyone and their mother is sticking up for this guy.

His mother, by the way, unfortunately, has been diagnosed with lung cancer and is dying. Some attributed his strange behaviour to this, which, of course, is never easy to deal with. I never had to deal with my mother dying while I tried to maintain composure on a plane-full of people who listen about as good as a pit bull on steroids.

I tend to be one of maybe 18 people who think this guy did the wrong thing.

And I think the media attention he's getting for flying off the handle and quitting in this way is only opening another door for much more deranged workers to emulate.

Think about being the person standing downwind of the cashier at Walmart when she has had it with the guy trying to pass off an extra item in the "15 or less" line. She grabs his can of hominy grits and throws it at his head, but being that she has carpal tunnel syndrome from doing the repetitive scan "bip bip...bip bip...bip bip" plus coupled with the fact her hearing is shot because you can hear the scanning dinger bell in aisle 12, it whizzes past his head and hits yours instead. She claims it was all due to a nervous tic she developed over the years from being hit on by the octogenarian greeter who also claims he's gone deaf from the incessant "bip bip" noise and mistakenly took her "tic-wink" as a come on.

Your last vision before you depart this life is seeing everyone applauding her as they always thought a case of Coke should be counted as 24 items, too.

Or, there you are, waiting in line for two hours for your six-year-old kid to get a photo op with the drunken Santa they just fired but can't replace as it's nearly closing time so they let him stay on to finish the night. You and your child, totally oblivious to this fact, gleefully await your turn when he suddenly stands up to leave...gets an alcohol head rush and has to sit back down (those of you who've had this happen know what I mean...those who don't - ask someone who does). After grabbing your kid "Ralphie-style", he gets some whack epiphany and starts off on a tirade that would make Mel Gibson blush and your kid is now scarred for life and lashes out worse than a bull each time he sees red.

The people in line who didn't get to see Santa start some rant about commercialism and how Santa has about as much place in Christmas as a bunny does during Easter. Someone captures the whole event on their cell phone and posts it up online. It goes viral overnight and your kid's picture ends up on about 57 comedy website photo caption contests and is further taunted after school starts back up in January.

Then there's the Post Office. But I won't go there as it's really not funny.

And I don't think this is, either.

Luckily this guy wasn't the pilot.

Chasing Dummies aka "The History Channel Jumps the Shark"

(Bear in mind I was going to submit this last week only I didn't get around to it, i.e., didn't write anything other than the opening four paragraphs.)


How appropriate is it that I'm writing a blogumn about The History Channel "Jumping the Shark" right smack in the middle of "Shark Week"??

Okay, granted "Shark Week" is on another channel, but still.

What can I say about The History Channel that hasn't been said by me before? I love this channel...or should I say, I "loved" it.

The other day, I'm going through the "scrolly guide" as I call it, trying to find out what's on. It's a fairly simple task as there are less and less channels I seem to watch.

A typical night on the sofa for me goes as follows...

Computer on, various stages of dinner preparation, some wine or a Martini on the table next to me and both my television and TiVo remotes located and within reach.

Yep...check, check, and more check.

Now it's time for me to check what's on...and this is how I systematically do it:

Step 1: Channel 65 - TCM. Any old films I care to watch? No? Proceed to "Step 2".

Step 2: Channel 58 - The History Channel. Some interesting show or documentary on? Something besides gangbangers in jails or trucks on ice would be nice. Nope.

Step 3: Channel 51 - National Geographic Channel (I refuse to call it "NatGeo" - nope, that's almost as silly as changing "SciFi" to "Syfy"). Eh...saw everything already...twice.

Step 4: Channels 401 and up - aka "All the Movie Channels I Pay for and Only Watch 'Kate & Leopold'...93 Times as Everything Else on Sucks". Nope. I'm not going to watch "Thinner" for the eighth time and I can't watch "Busty Cops and the Jewel of De" because: 1) I have kids, and; 2) I think I already know the plotline. Noticing that "Spanking the Monkey" is on yet again, I snicker for the umpteenth time about it and keep on scrolling.

Step 5: Channel 140 - BBC America. Nothing on and I'm not too keen on watching "Top Gear" and "Doctor Who" isn't on until the series starts up again in the fall. I'd watch "Being Human" just for the eye candy factor of the vampire guy, but you see one episode and you've seen them all - at least for me, as I'd still only be staring at the vampire guy and not paying any attention to the show. Move on.

Step 6: Repeat Steps 1-5. Over and over and over again all night long.

So, the other day I notice a new show on The History Channel: "Chasing Mummies". First off, I LOVE Egyptology...if there's a documentary with a pyramid, Pharaoh, or mummy...oh yeah, I'm there.

And joy upon joy, the guy who's hosting is foremost Egyptologist, Dr. Zahi Hawass! Oh, this will be great! He did for Egyptology what Carl Sagan did for astronomy.

"It's about time they put something interesting on" I think to myself, and I actually gaze upward and away from the computer directly in front of me. I mean, c'mon, there's only so many times I can check my email in one day and I've way since surpassed that number.

Granted, only a true Egyptological connoisseur would probably know this guy - but I've seen him on numerous documentaries over the years and I happen to know this guy is brilliant. He didn't become world-renown for nothing and now he'll become a staple every single week in my very own living room! I am, honestly, in my glory.

I catch on to the premise of this show quite quickly and it seems hokey but, what the heck, it's MUMMIES! Basically, a camera crew tags along with Dr. Hawass and a couple of archeological students as he goes around showing them stuff and quizzing them about what they're seeing.

Now, I never studied Egyptology. I did, however, Google what credentials you have to be in order to be an Egyptologist as I was hoping I could still be one. But, it's really quite an undertaking and one should probably not start whilst in their mid-forties (okay, smarty pants, I know...but I Googled this a few years ago). You can check out the daunting mass of stuff you have to study here (I'll wait while you go read it): Egyptologist

Done?

Okay, I'll continue. So, after studying all the studies you have to learn and gathering all the expertise you have to possess when you come into (and onto) the field, you'd figure someone would at least have a small practical grasp on Egypt-like stuff -- or at least be able to pronounce a two-syllable word, right?

Wrong.

Someone who runs things over at The History Channel must have figured for "comedic affect" they should throw in a totally inept female student and for even more "comedic effect" the camera crew should also participate in the show and talk a lot ON camera. There's the camera director guy, an affable fellow by all outwardly appearances, but I was under the impression this show might be about a guy who holds a doctorate in Egyptology showing me interesting things on camera whilst the camera crew remains BEHIND camera.

Silly me.

So, what we have here is a very skilled Egyptologist, a bumbling airhead (think Suzanne Somers from "Three's Company") and a camera director and his crew getting in on the antics, kinda like "The Keystone Cops".

While this alone was quite enough for me to make the "WTF?" face, they decided a bit of Jerry Springer was what this show really needed.

And when I say "bit" I mean a "big dollop of".

Dr. Hawass, whom I have always respected before, either had been in the sun too long or he's been sniffing way too much mummy dust lately. This guy has taken "insane God complex" to the nth degree and added a bit of annoying on top of it. Oh, did I just say "bit" again? Sorry. See above statement.

He is yelling at the students, yelling at the camera guys, demeaning the students, demeaning the camera guys, yelling some more and then saying how much he knows and then demeans everyone some more. All the while he's doing this the cameras are rolling and we never really get to find out just how much he knows as he only spends about two minutes showing anything of interest.

One episode I saw had him yelling at the airhead student (sorry, not to demean her some more, but seriously, my cat knows more about Egypt than she does) because she couldn't hold her bladder on what turned out to be a much longer than "five-hour pyramid crawl-thru" to view five burial chambers. Not only was this girl terribly afraid of going further up, she did after all, have Dr. Hawass constantly yelling at her and reminding her of the plain fact that "every single expedition he'd been on...he never knew if he was GONNA DIE or not!" And if she wasn't going to risk her life that day she had no business choosing this field and she certainly wasn't going to be on any future "chamber of secrets" missions with him.

She had a mini-panic attack (understandably) and then she mysteriously (but predictably) showed up after the others crawled on further. Then, Dr. Hawass spent pretty much the next half hour chastising the poor girl for peeing her pants. "How dare you desecrate this sacred place!" he bellowed relentlessly at her. Then the camera director guy had his own panic attack and the next thing I knew - the credits were rolling.

Now I've never been on an archeological expedition, but if I'm going to go hang out in 120 degree heat in tiny little confines of burial chambers for five-plus hours I'd figure one would have to hydrate constantly. And when you hydrate constantly your kidneys do this thing...and then your bladder does this thing...and they don't exactly have public restrooms on "Burial Chamber #3" level, so I'd figure perhaps wearing a Depends-type undergarment would be of common, or at least practical, knowledge.

I tried watching a second episode the following week, but I had to turn it off. Dr. Hawass had them all sitting around in his hotel room or somewhere on big comfy chairs, which didn't seem remotely Egyptian to me, screaming at them some more in another of his previous episode-like egotistical rages.

Sigh.

Seriously, "History Channel" people, it's time to change the catch phrase from "History Made Every Day" to "History Made Unwatchable Every Day".

And, unfortunately, in my opinion, with this series debut, they officially "Jumped the Shark".

A Whole Lotta Shakin' Goin' On

"Bigfoot started it, dammit!"

"You mean sightings of paranormal things, Mariann?"

"No."

"The whole Sasquatch craze of the 70s, Mariann?"

"No."

"The idea for Chewbacca's costume, Mariann?"

"No."

"Then spit it out already...what??"

"The shaky camera technique."

Personally, I'm getting a bit more than miffed at the whole thing. It seems I can't watch a show which doesn't employ some of this annoying jumping thing. Films have it, television shows have it - in fact documentaries are using it to the extreme.

I've never been schooled in the cinematic arts, but you can bet I can qualify as a camera operator. I mean, think about it...how much knowledge of being able to jerk around a camera is there? Are there actually "Less Than Steady Camerawork" degrees being handed out? Can I get one online because it seems to me I already qualify...maybe I should add it to my resume - it's not like I couldn't do it, right?

And those paranormal shows with people looking for ghosts and Chupacabras have taken this "Blair Witch Project"-styled theme and ran with it.

In fact I don't think there's anything filmed IN those shows which isn't taking you on a nauseating roller coaster ride...it's annoying and I can't stand it. It hurts my eyes and gives me migraines...I also keep thinking I'm going to go into seizure mode worse than listening to Mary Hart's voice.

And, if that wasn't bad enough, who's the idiot who decided each of these shows would also have the "night camera" going? I'm tired of seeing things in shades of blue. I'm tired of seeing their eyeballs glowing. I'm tired of seeing people toting flashlights wherever they go...if I want to do that, I'll watch an episode of "The X-Files". At least they were able to shoot it with a guy who knew how to operate a damn camera.

I mean, heck I'd be able to scare up the whole viewing public of my ghost show if all I did was jump up and down in the dark going, "Oh my God...did you SEE that???"

"NO! I can't! You're filming in the dark, you hop-scotching moron!"

Every single episode I see advertised looks like every single previous episode I've seen advertised. Do they ever catch a ghost? Do they ever find the "Jersey Devil"? Has anyone ever filmed one of these episodes without a camera falling over and someone screaming in traumatized fashion about it? It's on a tri-pod and you set it up on the side of a mountain...ya think perhaps maybe it MIGHT possibly fall over???

Consequently, I refuse to be lured into watching any more shows with the words "Ghost Hunters" or "MonsterQuest" in the title.

But, while these may get my goat...and not in the "Goat Sucker" kind of way, what takes the cake is on my favourite and unfortunately rapidly "Jumping the Shark" network: "The History Channel".

Stay tuned for it...in my next blog.




I didn't mean to insult anyone's intelligence, but I linked a couple phrases...just in case.

Blind Ambition

I'm in Walmart the other day and we needed to get new band-aids. We pick up this one box and it has Braille on it. Now, I realize there are blind people out there and this is probably a good thing to do - they have menus in Braille and such...but, picture this scenario if you will:

A blind person walking around in Walmart trying to find the band-aids fumbling around with 20 million other products on the shelves that don't have the Braille "band-aids" raised dots on them...knocking things over left and right.

First off, I think the blind person would probably have had someone "not blind" drive them to Walmart, right? Most likely - unless they came on a bus - but since there's no buses where I live to go to Walmart...I totally discounted that idea.

Anyway, if they had a "not blind" friend, wouldn't they just ask them for the band-aids? A "not blind" person doesn't need to have the little Braille dots on the package in order to find them. Or perhaps, in a perfect world, a Walmart worker would see the person needed aid of some sort and offer to help them out...but since this has probably never, ever happened in recorded history...it probably wouldn't then, either.

So, okay, the blind person goes to buy the band-aids and pulls a $20 bill out of his wallet. It has no little raised dots and the cashier gives him change back for a $5. Then the blind person takes the band-aids back home and puts them in the top right drawer in their bathroom.

I'm not blind - but if I put them in the top right drawer of my bathroom - they'd probably still be in it when I go to look for them later (no pun intended). And, if I closed my eyes and went into my bathroom right now, I'm sure I could deduce which box in the top right-hand drawer is band-aids - c'mon it's not shaped like a tube of toothpaste or the jar of Vaseline. Even if I had eight boxes of other stuff in there shaped just like a band-aid box, I could always open one box, stick my fingers inside and go "Nope, not band-aids...nope again...yep, band-aids".

So what is the friggen REAL reason Braille is ON the band-aid box???

I figure the band-aid people were gathered around their conference room one meeting-day thinking of new and innovative band-aid technology and couldn't really think of anything new in the adhesive, print, or bendy realm...so one guy in the back who was filling in for his boss who was enjoying his "Three Martini Lunch" piped up, "Uh...how about Braille?"

Three of the people sitting there laughed - but the guy in charge, in typical board-room executive decision-making fashion, fired them and appointed "George the accounting dweeb" head of "Box Design" and the others learned an important lesson about stifling all laughter until you get back to your cubicle.

The executive-in-charge then told some other dweeb guy to gather up demographics costing in the hundreds-of-thousands of dollars to ascertain if the mere presence of Braille made the company look more sympathetic than their competition - and, face it, who really needs to look more sympathetic than a maker of things like "ouchless" band-aids?

No one.

So, naturally, I bought the other brand of band-aids.

That'll teach them to let three people go in this economy...the unsympathetic bastards.

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)