Martini Cartwheels

Every day, and I mean every day, "Anne from Account Services" calls my cell phone and home phone telling me that this is the final offer for me to lower my credit card rates. Some days I hang up. Some days I press 1 for an account representative and I talk gibberish. One day I pressed 1, placed the phone in the desk drawer and repeatedly opened and shut it hoping they would get the message. I have asked them to stop. They call me while I am at work, they call me while I am home. Today they called me on my cell phone at 2:00pm and on my home phone at 2:03pm. And then they called me back at 4:30pm. During the last call I pressed 1 and when the account representative came on the line I asked "Whatcha wearing hot stuff?". To which she replied "Ohhhhh whacha you wearing?" which only served to piss me off even more. I got scared as she sounded like she may have been calling me from a maximum security prison (I will not be your bitch Anne!).  I put the phon

Holy  REO   Speedwagon  Batman, it time for me to fly to my class reunion again. The following is an excerpt from a blog post I wrote back in 2007, slightly revised. Here goes my practice run: "Hey  CJ , I have five boys. What about you, any kids?" "No, I hate kids. You can't legally crate them like you can dogs.  Ughhh , what I meant to say was I just plain forgot to have them. That's why I look so much younger than you.  Ummm , no really, I love kids. It's just that I have awesome great nieces and nephews and I can play with them when ever I want and then I can return them. ( CJ  thinking - I'm in really deep you know what now). Hey, that's a great dress you're wearing. Husband? Oh no. None worthy. Actually I like girls. Yeah, it was a shock to me too. ( CJ  thinking again - Oh &^%$*, why did I bother coming here). Springfield College. No, I didn't major in PE. Correct, I said I had dogs, not cats. Why yes, this is the same hair sty

In case you are a first time visitor or perhaps have forgotten, Irene, my 87 year old mother, resides in a nursing home. And she is not very happy. On one of my recent visits the issue of the day was her bra. It was the kind with the underwire, something I myself find only slightly more comfortable than having a root canal. Apparently, even though Irene says she hates the food at the nursing home, she has somehow manage to gain about 30 pounds since living there, making said bra a little bit snug. I helped her remove the offending undergarment to offer some relief. This of course led to issue #2. "What will I wear when I go out to the TV room tomorrow? I can't wear that bra. It is too uncomfortable." I changed the conversation -  which somehow quickly switched back to "What will I wear when I go out to the TV room tomorrow? I can't wear that bra. It is too uncomfortable." So like any good daughter, I took off my bra, right then and there. I remove

Our good friend McMeaty came by with a little surprise for us - a bottle of bacon infused vodka. He suggested we try it in a Bloody Mary, which of course started the wheels turning in my head. What else could we concoct with this stuff? Fill a shot glass with bacon vodka and layer the top with Vermont maple syrup (the good stuff). I would call this shot "Breakfast". Line a rocks glass with iceberg lettuce, pour in 3 ounces of bacon vodka, and float a slice of tomato on the top. I would name this drink "Lunch". Take one scallop, place into a shot glass. Add once ounce bacon vodka. I call this one "Scallops Slapped in Bacon".  Fill a martini glass with meatloaf. Top with ketchup and bacon vodka. This drink would probably make you sick. We won't call it anything. Your ideas?

Here's just a note of caution.  If you ever go to the Big E with me and I ask you to pose on one leg while making a pawing motion with your hand and arm, I would suggest you ignore me. Also, the sheep called for you. She wants to know when you need your shirt back.

It seems like every post lately starts with "wow, I can't believe it's been this long since I blogged." Things got a little crazy with work the past couple of months. I pushed myself too hard, got run down, and then got pneumonia*.  I'm still feeling the effects with my energy levels but I'm trying to be good by going to bed early and not putting in so many hours at work. Anyway, enough with the boring stuff. Let's move on to a really exciting topic. Here's Bo Bo the Trash Mouth Clown. I was afraid to throw anything into his cake hole for fear he would grab onto my arm, pull me into the bowels of his soul, and eat me. Oh he's colorful and certainly catches your eye. I'll give him that. But I've seen one too many movies where it's not all about balloon animals and tiny cars. No thank you Mr. Bo Bo. I'd rather take my chances with the the big green plastic barrel surrounded by hornets. *Pneumonia can decreases the amount o

You never buy beer. You just rent it. And when you are at a summer party complete with great food, awesome bands, and port-a-potties, you just know a situation will materialize worthy of a blog post. Two beers and one sweat tea in it was time. I couldn't ignore it any longer. So I trotted off to the portable toilet, opened the door, and stepped in. I prayed my thighs could hold prop me high and steady above the hole. Oh why, oh why did I look down into the sea of blue below the lid? Never, never do that. I looked over to my right. What's that strange sink with the pink soap sitting in the middle of it? That's no sink! And why is it located so close to where I need to hover?! Yuck. What if I topple over and land face first into this thing? I made it through the first round unscathed.  Round 2 came quickly, after just one more pint. Blondie headed off to the Leaning Tower of Peesa first and I hopped in line shortly after she shut the door. Blondie was kind enough

Here's a pic of Irene rockin' my sunglasses. It was hot today, but here she is in her turtleneck and pearls.  My father bought her those pearls when he was in Hawaii during World War II and she wears them proudly every day. I had a good visit today, despite the fact I had to fix Irene's teeth a couple of times. Sometimes I look at the people in the nursing home and just think what the fuck - why don't they have a mini bar in each room for these people? Let them have a little fun.  They should be having a party every day. So tonight I'm gonna party like it's 1925.

Since the Olympics started I've been watching more television. And I've decided I hate the "tease". You know, the previews for the nightly news where they lead into a story in order to pique your curiosity so you will tune in after your show is over. Well, WWLP News, I'm not gonna do it. "Meteors plummet towards the U.S. Will they hit your house? Tonight at 11:00." "Five inmates escape from the state penitentiary. Are they hiding in your yard? Tune in at 11:00." "Evacuations ordered for flood surge. Is your neighborhood on the list? Find out at 11:00." "Free hot fudge sundaes until 10:00pm this evening. Find out where at 11:00." "Fecal parasites detected in local water supply. Should you boil your water? Watch our investigative report tomorrow morning at 6:00am". That's it's. I'm going back to watching the cute girls in little bikinis playing beach volleyball.

Since I last blogged, I got in a car accident and sold my motorcycle. The car was hit by a motorcycle from behind. A little unnerving to say the least, to watch a motorcycle go flying out sideways from behind your car while you are driving on the highway. I was fine, the motorcyclist survived (thank you Angels!) but he did suffer some broken bones. I had planned on selling the bike prior to the accident and was on my way home to meet a prospective buyer the night the accident occurred. Odd. The car is still in the shop and will be for the next couple of weeks at least. Thankfully it is not totaled. Once concern I do have is a box of books in the back of the car that I didn't get a chance to remove prior to it being towed. They were books I had planned to donate - until I discovered that there was quite a collection of, umm, lesbian themed books. Hope the guys at the auto body shop don't get too distracted. I need my wheels back!

What was that saying -  "She's so small her bra has front and back tags"?  Or was it "Her bra actually fits better when she has it on backwards"? Whatever it was, it appears to pertain to bathing suit tops as well. Yes, someone, who shall remain unidentified, had her bathing suit top on backwards this past weekend while hanging out at The Wet Spot.  If it were not for the protruding cups in the back, I'm not sure anyone would have noticed.

We saw the movie Ted this weekend and laughed - a lot. A drug using, profanity spewing teddy bear can equal funny if you are in the right mood. I was surprised to see so many young kids, accompanied by adults, at an R rated movie. Not quite sure what these "parents" were thinking. This is definitely an adult movie.  If you like exposing your kids to gratuitous profanity then maybe you should have them read my fucking blog. Anyway, while walking to the car after the movie ended, I noticed our buddy Stiffy had her bra neatly folded under her arm.  Somewhere between bites of popcorn and handfuls Sno Caps, Stiffy had managed to remove her brassiere. Had I known that, I would have placed the cups around my ears and fastened the bra under my chin. Hey, if you can't have a little fun at the movies then what's the point of going?

So glad I bought the extra large jumbo bag of "Wholesale Warehouse Ladies' Razors". The three-blade pivoting head has done a great job cutting the shit out of my shins. You should get a box of  "Wholesale Warehouse Bandages" free with each purchase. All I can say is that it's a good thing there are no sharks in The Wet Spot. 

I turned 48 over this past weekend. Or, as I like to call it, thirty-eighteen. A few months back, I convinced myself I was already 48. So when the actual day arrived, it was no big deal. Because in my mind, I haven't been 47 since March. Trust me, it works. As a side note, I had a nice visit with my mother Irene. She can't remember when my birthday is which is very convenient since I didn't have time to visit her in the nursing home on the actual day. This originally stirred some guilt but it dissipated after the 5th time she asked me when my birthday was. I was in the clear. Irene told me that if she gets to vote in the presidential election that she would vote for Obama because "Obama is for the gays."  Good to know.  Suddenly I have a vision of 87 year old Irene sitting in a wheelchair by the rotary (or roundabout as it is called in other places) in East Longmeadow, holding a sign that reads "Vote For Obama. He's For The Gays!" You go girl! Wh

C'mon! Don't be a wimp. A little rain never kept us away from our pints and nachos. Cheers!

Well, maybe you did. And if so, here is the product for you.

My apologies for being among the missing lately. I have not, nor will I willingly, give up posting on Martini Cartwheels. To prove I am still as klutzy and crazy as ever, I will share you with this picture which demonstrates the hazards of leaving lip balm in your car in the summer and applying said lip balm immediately upon entry in the vehicle. It's clumpy. Lots of goings on, primarily with work and a recent changing of the guard which has forced me to start looking for a new job. My goal is to find something closer than 68 miles from my home and one which pays closer to the going market rate. I tried my hand at being a professional gambler yesterday. After losing at roulette and 4 card poker, I have changed my mind. The free drinks are enticing but they will not pay the mortgage. I'll stick to application development (that's a 25 cent word for programmer/analyst). If I had my druthers however, I would prefer to be one of the following: 1. Professional blogge

Here's a novel idea. Why don't I post something? So tomorrow starts the summer flex schedule at work which means I have to get up a bit earlier and therefore I should really get my arse to bed. But I'm installing Photoshop Elements and I really want to see it complete so here I sit. The summer schedule is 4 xx hours days (what ever 35 divided by 4 plus a 45 minute lunch equals) with Fridays off. Fridays off are good because by the time it rolls around, I am so freaking exhausted. Not sure why I do this schedule exactly, as it gets to be a real pain. Somehow the thought of having Fridays off in the summer sends some sort of endorphin rush to my brain whereby my mind then tells my body that leaving the house before 6:00am and returning 12 hours later is really not so bad after all. But it is. Can I get some cheese with this whine?

pool  1     (p l) n. 1.  A whole in the ground into which you throw money. The The Wet Spot chlorinator was leaking today. I took it apart and knew almost immediately that it needed a new o-ring. Luckily, the pool supply store had it in stock. A nice young man helped me find what I needed. Unfortunately there is one other product that goes with the purchase of a new o-ring. Store Clerk: "Do you need any lube?" CJ: "I have some at home - for the treadmill" (nice recovery CJ). Can I just use that?" Store Clerk: "Depends - is it petroleum based or silicone based?" CJ's Brain: Petroleum based? That's the kind you are not supposed to use with condemns. But for treadmills? I don't think treadmills care. Store Clerk: "We sell it here." CJ: "Great, I'll take one tube." Then the other clerk chimes in telling me the all pool parts that could use a good greasing. Now I have two young men talking to me

Can't I have it both ways? If I have it tender does it have to to be unnatural? If I have it natural will it be tough? Then again, I was the "chef" the evening the we had the pork. So it was none of the above.

I'm kind of pissed at Hewlett Packard. I bought an HP digital photo frame for my Mom's 86th birthday. She's pretty miserable living in a nursing home so anytime she gets a gift she actually likes, it is a big deal. I loaded up something like 150 pics, set the frame up in her room, and programmed it to run from early morning to her usual bed time. And don't you know, the effing thing stopped working 3 months after I bought it. Customer service was only slightly helpful. Long and short of it is they won't replace it without a receipt (which I don't think I have). I could accept that - if I hadn't read so many threads online about how other folks had similar issues with their HP digital frames. Or should I say digital shames? I saw today that HP is laying off something like 25,000 people.  Maybe if your frames didn't suck you would sell more of them thereby making enough money to keep your workforce intact.

Attention! Attention! The Wet Spot is now open! Unfortunately, The Wet Spot is currently a little green, dirty, and foamy. It smells like bleach but that odor should subside in a week or so after treatment. I haven't submerged my hand yet, but I may stick my big toe in The Wet Spot this weekend if the weather cooperates. Now all that is left to do is trim the surrounding bushes and wait for The Wet Spot to heat up!

This is your bra. This is your bra on CJ. - Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Happy Sunday morning! Stiffy is up for a visit but currently out for the count. I shouldn't be too harsh, considering I got up this morning to find a text message from her that included a pic of me sleeping on the couch last night. Damn margaritas. Anyway, Stiffy, Blondie and I are supposed to check out a winery today. The weather has finally cleared up and I think it will be a good day for a little ride. I'm looking forward to taking some pictures of my own with my new wide angle lens. It will come in handy for capturing Stiffy sampling 5 glasses of wine concurrently. I worked out this morning - ran for a half hour on the treadmill. I kind of feel like throwing up now. When are all those exercise endorphins suppose to kick in? Probably won't happen until after I have a donut. Enjoy your day. And as I tweeted a few minutes ago, don't let your Monday spoil your Sunday!

Hey! Wasn't I just blogging like 8 hours ago? Yesterday our cleaning person came over and like always, I removed all the shampoo, soap, etc, from my shower to make it easier for her. This morning I grabbed all my supplies and put them back in the shower. All good except for the fact that what I thought was shower gel was actually thermo micro peel face cleaner. And since I wasn't going to hop out mid shower to grab the shower gel, I was left with two choices for "soap" - the aforementioned thermo exfoliater or tea tree shampoo. Needless to say I am now fully awake and have a little spring in my step. Have a warm, minty fresh day all! Addendum: Just thought of an idea for a revised line of product : Summers Eve - now in Thermo Nuclear Mint Bomb. For those mornings when regular soap and water just won't do. I think I'm still over-tired.

I heard a discussion on  NPR  the other day that got me thinking. When two people are engaged in conversation or communicating by email, the person with the lower social status will typically use the word "I" more frequently than the individual that has the higher status in the relationship. I didn't realize that. I would have thought it was the more confident person but apparently using the word "I" means you are more self conscious.  This could be an interesting social experiment.Walk over to a co-worker's office tomorrow morning and start up a conversation about the upcoming weekend. Make a mental note of how many times you use the word "I". After lunch, walk back over to that same co-worker and start a new conversation. This time however, make sure your fly is down and that you have broccoli in your teeth. If you have any of that clear plastic goo the credit card companies use to stick your new card to the piece of paper they include in

9:00am on Patriot's Day, 2012. It's a floating holiday for my company, and I'm drifting along on a current that's ripping through the chore list. First task - fertilize the lawn while the grass is still wet with the morning dew. Figuring time was of the essence, I threw on a pair of sweats, a t-shirt,  sweatshirt, socks, and sneakers. That was it. No time for undergarments here. Yard work is best done when one is going commando. That is, until you realize you do not want to be wearing your fertilizer covered sweatpants when it is time to go back into the house. Unfortunately when I walked into the kitchen bare-assed (I removed the offending sweat pants and socks in the garage) I discovered the dogs had peed on the kitchen floor. I just hope none of the neighbors caught a glimpse of me bending over to mop up the puddle. Ok, time to exercise. I threw on some shorts and hopped on the treadmill. And I learned that the extra minute or two I saved by not putting on a br

At the start of April, I told myself I would post every day until the end of the month. I have failed miserably. I could ramble on about how busy work is, how much there is to do in the Spring with respect to yard and house work, and how I barely find time to visit my Mother in the nursing home, let alone write posts or read my favorite blogs. But what would that get me? A straw hat in a blizzard maybe, but not much more. I mentioned on FaceBook that I bought a book on time management but have not yet found the time to sit and read it. So what's the secret? I know there are those of you out there who accomplish a gazillion things a day and I want to know how you do it. Do you only sleep 6 hours a night? Do you not watch television? Do you not ever have a hangover on the weekend? Do you pay someone to do all the house chores? What are you best tips and tricks for setting goals and keeping them?

Happy Birthday To Stiffy, My Mom Calls You Jiffy, If You Fall Off That Bike, You'll Feel Like A Dickie

Boo Boo proves once again, it's not the size of the dog in the fight, but the size of the fight in the dog. Or something like that. Pippa is heavier and quicker but Boo Boo wants  the toy. And what Boo Boo wants, Boo Boo gets. Here's to all the little alphas everywhere.

Another case of "brain has instructed mouth to start speaking even though warning messages were firing". So this guy comes into our building at work and he is carrying this cardboard box the size of Nebraska. And I look right at him and I say "Wow, somebody has a big package". Hey - I probably made his day. I'm pretty sure his package is bigger than my brain.

If you were charged full price at a restaurant and only got half a steak, you would probably complain. Well, I paid full price for an airline ticket and I expected a full size plane. Why is this considered an "express" flight? Maybe it's because you can only bring 8 items or less on your carry on. Otherwise, it won't fit under your seat or in the overhead purse. Half a plane warrants half a blog post. The end.

Ok, so nobody told me you are supposed to empty your pockets prior to stepping into the body scanner at the airport. And apparently, having your pocket light up on the screen is considered to be a bad thing by the TSA. Four pockets must be really bad since it warranted an emptying and examination of everything in my pockets, a pat down, a hand-swab-check-for-bomb-residue thingy, and an admonishing from the TSA agent for trying to put my shoes back on while waiting for the test results of said hand swab. Sorry! Here's what I had in my pockets: wallet, luggage keys on a key chain, money, gum, tissues, several individually wrapped hard candies, a pen, and folded up papers with flight info. The agent went through my wallet, opened my pack of gum ( I should have offered her some) , and felt up my jean's pockets, back and front. She was cute so I didn't mind. I just love a girl in a uniform. All for the common good right? Things just got better from that point on - a two hour de

Boo Boo, Pippa, and Hillary have created a work of art. Yes, the girls have combined their talents to make Mickey Mouse on a pee pee pad. I'll start the bidding at $10,000. Who's the leader of the club that's made of dog pee pee? M-I-C, K-E-Y, M-O-U-S-E! Hey there, hi there, ho there, you're as yellow as can be. M-I-C, K-E-Y, M-O-U-S-E! Mickey Mouse! (Donald Duck!) Mickey Mouse! (Donald Duck!) Forever let us keep their peepers dry, dry, DRY, DRY!! Come along and sing the song and pass the toiletries. M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E *Oh Oh. This is my second post in a row about pee pee. Time to move on to something else.

I normally don't drink tea before heading out the door or have a second cup in the car or hit a 40 minute back up. The perfect storm - in my bladder. Oh there's going to be a big wave alright. In my pants. I walked into the women's room at the rest stop and saw two ladies wearing knee high boots and holding a hose. The look on my face must have said it all. But they told me the bathroom was open so I walked through the 1/2 inch of water on the floor and headed into a stall. The seat was wet, the handle was wet, even the toilet paper was wet. Eeeeewwwwww. All I could think of was all the germs that were once on the objects in the bathroom were now on the floor - and I was standing in them. Thank goodness the woman in the next stall, who was equally as horrified, had fairly dry toilet paper and was willing to share. Not that it mattered. The nastiness of it all threw my game off. My hover was a bit too forward. And I'm pretty sure I peed on the back of my pants leg. Hope

As I mentioned in the last post, I spent a couple of nights at Stiffy's house this week. I like staying at her house. She is a great person and I always find something to blog about, especially after I use the bathroom. When I saw this on the counter I didn't know whether I should eat it with a spoon, dip some bread in it, or put it in my hair. Stiffy has two young sons. Both are just so sweet to me. The older son said it wasn't like having a friend of his Mom's staying over when I visit because I like to hang out and chat with him. I was more like a grandmother. I was hoping for aunt or maybe cousin. I got to sleep in the younger boy's room. All snuggly buggly in the Thomas the Train sheets, I looked up at the ceiling only to see a huge face with buck teeth staring back. Agghhhhhh! WTF Stiffy, are you trying to give me a heart attack? Hope you all have a great weekend and are blessed to have buddies like Stiffy.

We had snow a couple of days this past week. Instead of making the commute from Boston to western Mass, I stayed over Stiffy's house. Stiffy's car was in the shop but she did have a loaner - a Subaru that had to have gotten quite a bit of use over the past 15 years or so. We had to go meet Stiffy's ex to pick up some things that belonged to her boys. The ex works for the state. He helps with plowing and sanding. I got to spend some quality time with my girl Stiffy while waiting for the ex to arrive. And although the location says Faneuil Hall Marketplace, it is definitely not Faneuil Hall.

We celebrated Irene's 87th birthday this past week. Highlights included: Irene calling her 3 year old great grandson Daniel by the name Donald all evening Irene's table-mate Josie calling Daniel by the name Shannon all evening (Shannon is my niece and Daniel's mother) Josie sharing the story of how the last time she was on a horse she laughed so hard she peed her pants Serving cake to Irene and her friends and then 10 minutes later answering the question"Did I have a piece of cake?" Seeing Irene actually smile

My buddy Dawna of Kada Films left this very clever comment on my recent Candy Girl post. The following is a list of quotes from some of her favorite movies. Can you name the movie from which the following quotes originate? First one to get all ten wins a gently used pair of granny panties. Oh, and I added one of my favs at the end of the list. 1. Rosebud 2. Ditto 3. My Precious 4. Sssmokin! 5. We'll always have Paris 6. Resistance is futile 7. Yippee-ki-yay, mf 8. I solemnly swear that I am up to no good 9. Have fun storming the castle 10. Those who are tardy will not get fruit cup 11. I don't want to talk to you no more, you empty headed animal food trough wiper. I fart in your general direction. Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries.

A little while back, I wrote a post about the merkin . There's something about which I have been curious ever since. And finally, this weekend, my question has been answered. Oh sure, the spelling may be different. But that is just a clever ruse. Those of us in the know are happy we no longer have to stock up on Woolite and Liquid Plumber. My weekends just got a whole lot less busy. Oh happy day!

Remember when you were in grammer school and you used to go around passing out Valentine's Day cards to your classmates? And those candies - the ones with the little sayings like "Be Mine", "Purr-fect", "Love You", "You're A Prick". Ahhh, the good 'ol days. If you could only pass out a candy heart with one saying, what would that saying be? I'm torn between "I Rarely Wear Underwear But When I Do, I Wear Granny Panties" (not sure if that would fit on one side of the candy however) and "With Enough Pinot Grigio, You're Pretty". And you?

Oh it is going to be a good weekend :) From left to right, starting in the back row: A co-worker of mine recently returned from Switzerland and brought me a box of Swiss chocolate. Eating these truffles is like getting a 3 hour back massage in your mouth. Aunt Sally's Creole Pralines elicit three words - Oh my God. Friend and fellow blogger Laine and I had a bet on the Super Bowl. I lost. But, because she is so sweet and thoughtful, she sent me a box of pralines anyway. Eating one of these makes me want to dance in my kitchen. They are my new favorite breakfast food. King's Cake (Yankee Style). Not only is it tasty, but if I find the baby that is allegedly baked into some of these cakes, I win a prize. I will find that baby. Eating a piece of this makes me want to go look for buried treasure in the back yard. Focaccia bread with veggies and cheese. This smells great, looks great, and tastes wonderful. It feels like it weighs about 4 pounds which coincidently is probably the am

Tonight Blondie cooked me a delicious dessert. She cooked it in the dog's bowl. And I ate it. You see, most of the dishes were still in the dishwasher. Oh well, any port in a storm. The batter was already made. It had to be cooked. Besides, the dog bowl was clean - it had come out of the dishwasher on the previous run. No worries. I feel fine. After I ate it, I went pee pee on the pad and took a nap on the floor by the fireplace. Hey! Is that a cat...........????!!!!!!

I had a little surprise from Blondie this evening. You know, if you just read the first line after the header and title, you might be a little alarmed. I thought to myself "I just got home from work and I'm starving but damn it, I can't eat this if there is a freaking baby baked inside." Then I realized it was a fake baby and the worst thing that could happen is that I could choke. But I would still win a gourmet deli sandwich. It's well worth the risk in my opinion. I'm making my way through it now. Updates to follow. See below.......

Found it! Yay! Now if I could just find the teeth that were knocked out during this whole process.....

Dear Million Moms, I could quote statistics and ramble on about tolerance but I don't think we would still see eye to eye. So let me put it in terms you can understand. Your organization is like a big stinky diaper filled with poop. And it's creating a mess everywhere. It's time for some wipes and a change. ================================ I wasn't even aware of the whole controversy regarding Ellen DeGeneres and J.C. Penny until I was enlightened by Taradharma whose blog Out of The Lotus is one of my all time favs. For those of you haven't heard, a group called One Million Homophobic Big Dummies That Can't Think For Themselves Moms has their chastity belts knickers in a twist because J.C. Penny has elected Ellen as a spokesperson. I'm proud of J.C. Penny for doing the right thing and keeping Ellen. Thank you for refusing to bow to pressure from right wing religious political extremists. They probably don't even shop at your store anyway. How do I kno

Ok, naive me was totally shocked to learn today that they actually pay celebraties to Tweet. And that most of the time, it is a ghost writer who creates the post. This is almost as shocking to me as the merkin. And if I stumble upon Demi's 911 call one more time, I am going to smoke whatever spice I have available in the cabinet (a little Mrs. Dash perhaps) or maybe attempt a whippit (although I'm sure all I will get is whip cream up my nose) just so I don't have to listen to the tape for the 100th time. Can we leave the poor woman alone already?

Dear Stiffy, Thank you very much for letting me stay at your house last night. It was so nice to spend time with you and the boys. Your friendship is something Blondie and I treasure. When did you start collecting Kama Sutra bears? Lions and tigers and bears with erections, oh my. Oh I can hear you now. "CJ those are his arms!" Ummm Stiffy....I don't know any member of the animal kingdom that has arms originating from the crotch area. Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me. Sort of.

Oh goody. I found a Yorkie brownie while re-arranging a blanket in one of the dog beds today. Before you all "ooooohhhhh" me, I had this in my hand before I actually knew its origin. It's not liked I picked up after I figured it out. This morning however, I had a treat that I look forward to every year - a paczki (pronounced poonch-key). I was so excited. These delicious stuffed donuts are only available for a few weeks each year. So when I called my niece Shannon to wish her a happy 36th birthday I had to rub it in. Me: Guess what I ate this morning? It's really yummy and it begins with a 'P'. Shannon: That's a bit personal, don't you think? Me: Not that! A paczki, a lemon filled paczki! Imagine. She thought I was eating pickles for breakfast. That's funny.

I'd like to blog every day but funny doesn't happen all the time. And it rarely happens on this blog. Question of the week - Am I the only person in America who doesn't know what a merkin is? I was listening to a radio show on the way to work where a reference was made to a "pet merkin". I thought it is was something like a ferret. Oh sure, there are similarities, but they are definitely not one in the same. It's 9:30. I should be in bed and not sitting on the couch Googling merkin. You know, there is actually a vineyard by that name. Can you imagine the wine tastings? "Excuse me, but I think there is something floating in my drink." "Oh, yes, we know. 1992 was an especially good year for merkins. Slight acidity with just a hint of apricot and melon." See, I told you funny doesn't happen every day. Addendum: If my profile pic somehow gets associated with the search result for merkin (as it did for world's largest kielbasa) I'm d

Is it just me or does anyone else find this commercial makes them smile? I think life should be about having more "WEEEEEEEE" days! Now go shake things up and have some fun today. That's an order!

A picture of our good friend Stiffy came up during the photo viewing session mentioned in the previous post. Irene should probably consider wearing those hearing aids.........

I was showing Irene* some pictures in my phone this evening when I came across this one. The face has been blurred to protect the innocent. Anyway, Irene wanted to know why this person was standing between two bowling balls. I asked her to look closely. She mentioned bowling balls for a second time. After a few seconds she blurted out "Are those tits?!" Yes Irene, those would be them. *Irene is my 86 year old mother who resides (much to her chagrin) in a nursing home.

Just doing a little math here. If I spend an average of 3 hours a day commuting (not counting those occasional 3 hour one way hellacious trips) and I go into the office 4 days a week, that's 12 hours a week in the car. Multiplied by 4 weeks a month and that is 48 hours. Taking into account vacation, holidays, and personal time, I'll conservatively say I work 10 months a year. So ten months at 48 hours per month is 480 hours per year commuting. Considering I am actually awake and productive for about 15 hours a day, I waste 32 days a year sitting in the car (20 actual days if you want to count a day as a full 24 hours). That's fucking * crazy. Is it really worth it? *Removed gratuitous  profanity as I do not want readers to think I have a potty mouth.

So if I was in my living room watching the game, how could I be at Gillette Stadium taking pictures of Tom Brady? I took the bottom picture of the television with my Canon camera. I wasn't wearing a vest or a hat. And I didn't have the black camera strap around my neck. But it is still weird.