This is a quickie, because I have to get to sleep before Santa comes, and he’s close by according to Santa Tracker. I’m linking my favorite Christmas Carol of this year. It’s worth waiting out the commercial.
May you all have a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!!!
As I write this, Thanksgiving is just a few hours away. I’m lucky…I don’t have to cook. My in-laws put out a great spread every year. And all I need to do is go to bed and rest up for tomorrow.
Yet the media has been pointing out these crazy Black Friday people, such as the ones at Best Buy that have been there for days already.
My apologies to all Black Friday shoppers who may get offended here. I did it years ago when my girls were young. I understand saving some bucks. I get it that the economy is bad. I also understand that the current economy has now directed that this stuff starts earlier and earlier each year. Back in my day, all I had to do was wake up at 4 or 5 a.m. in the morning. That was nothing.
But It’s gotten ridiculous.
In short, if you’re currently sitting in line, camping out, at Best Buy, missing the entire Thanksgiving holiday with your loved ones as you strive to save a few bucks on your Christmas gifts, you need to stop and question the meaning of gift-giving, family, and the holidays entirely. Just my 2 cents worth…
I’m done. And I refuse to rant any further on Thanksgiving-Eve.
However, I would like to take this post as a chance to wish all my internet readers a really Happy Thanksgiving, and in particular, I offer this advice:
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!
It’s been a while. Life has once again gotten in the way of blogging. The great thing about that is that taking time to live gives you great blog material. In fact, I had a great topic for tonight and was fully prepared to write a humorous, yet insightful post.
But after a quick check of recent comments, I’ve taken a complete U-turn and am going a different route. A nerve has been touched.
Sigh.
It was bound to happen. When we bloggers put ourselves out here as we do, we’re fair game for vicious attacks from those who hide behind their anonymity. In particular, when you make attempts at humor, some posts are going to fall flat. Some posts will be funny only in your own mind. And yet other posts are going to be met by readers who thank you for giving them a good laugh.
And any of the above posts could be read by a person who not only fails to find humor in your subject matter, they find it offensive enough to blast you in your comments. By “blast”, I mean make personal attacks by calling you a cyber-bully, a hater, one with anger issues, one who needs a life, or one who spends too much time carrying on in a blog when she should be spending quality time with her children. Wait a minute, she forgot “mean girl”. Is that still a hot buzzword? Can I be one of those too?
This is me. Cold, shiny, hard plastic.
Puh-leez.
Television needs more advertising. Specifically, there just aren’t enough pop-up ads invading my screen. My world would be a better place if there were more logos, animated figures, and flashing ads to distract me from whatever trainwreck reality show I’m engrossed in at any given moment.
Multi-tasking is my life, and I don’t have nearly enough sensory overload to keep me in check. So what if my entertainment gets invaded just a little bit?
I don’t really need to focus on that how-to project on HGTV, because I need to know now what is coming on next. Or tomorrow. Or next week. I don’t really need to know who just punched whom on The Bad Girls Club. And if I’m watching Titanic for the 90th time, I already know Jack’s going underwater, so that animated guy dancing in the bottom corner pointing at Jack as he meets his demise is completely acceptable.
I will, however, need to be able to read the subtitles as I watch Here Comes Honey Boo Boo, so TLC, please take note.
As I watch the Real Housewives, there is currently a network logo in the lower right corner occupying a mere 15% of the screen. There’s another ad running across the bottom with 3 animated women, advertising a new show I will now be determined not to watch. And simultaneously, some other ad or logo popped into the upper left corner.
I’m perfectly capable of watching Ramona telling Heather off with Pinot in hand as I absorb all the subliminal messages being thrust at me as I do so.
I say give me more. I mean, between the volume of paid commercials that run and the massive cable bill that I pay every month, I can’t possibly be contributing my fair share toward the costs of programming.
I estimate that there’s a good 30% of the viewing screen left to abuse, and it’s a travesty that it’s being wasted. Maybe a banner ad across the time telling me when this show’s going to air again, since I didn’t get the full effect this time. Perhaps a ticker tape at the bottom with the current weather conditions and stock market data. Get creative guys, and just force the reality TV stars to wear network logos on their clothing. They could walk past billboards advertising your complete programming schedule. They could be drinking their wine from glasses with a Bravo logo. Honey Boo Boo could expose her belly to show a henna TLC tattoo.
Or you could take some cues from the world of internet advertising and zone in on me personally, displaying ads about that woman who lives in my city who has figured out how to banish wrinkles. Or my favorite ever-present ad that promises to reveal the secret of getting rid of belly bulge.
Then maybe at the end of the show, just as I’m turning the TV set off, you could have a big red NetFlix ad lurking in the background that I’ll have to exit out of. This would completely cap off my viewing pleasure.
A protest may be in order, and I’ll need some signs. Lots of them, just to make sure I get my message across.
There are times when you need to make a quick trip to the store, buy an item or two, pay up, and make a quick exit.
Now tell me, how does that work out for you?
I present you with a slightly exaggerated, but not-that-far-fetched scenario as we follow the defenseless consumer who wants to buy a simple bottled water, paying cash.
Clerk: Do you have your rewards card?
Me (lying): I dunno. It’s somewhere deep in my purse. Why? Is there some kind of discount on this water?
Clerk: No, but do you have your rewards card?
Me: It can’t be that much. Just ring it up please. I’m in a hurry and my husband’s outside with the car running.
Clerk: It’s probably under your phone number. Just tell me what it is and I’ll pull it up.
Me (sigh): It could be any of 3 phone numbers. I don’t care that much. Just please let me pay for this. I have cash.
Clerk: Well, if you don’t have a card I can sign you up really quickly. It only takes 5-10 minutes, and…
Me: No, please, I’m in a hurry, and the gas just isn’t worth saving a nickel, ok?
Clerk (annoyed): Okaaaaay. Can I have your zip code?
Me: Now why would you possibly need my zip code?
Clerk: I don’t know, but I need it to ring you up.
Me: Ok, it’s 12345
Clerk: Great! Now I just need your email address.
I’ve barely slept this week. An admitted night owl, sleep tends to take a back burner when there’s a lot going on. I know that sleep is something I need more of, from an energy standpoint, but whoever coined the term “beauty sleep” was on to something. I’ll refrain from including a picture of myself with dreaded bags under my eyes.
But there are times when your sleep patterns seem to be out of your control. That’s how it seemed for me this week.
Monday: I’ve started hitting the gym hard again. This means I’m in constant pain. And since all good diets start on Mondays, I ate half of what I normally might and burned as many calories as my out-of-shape body would allow. My armband that tracks my calorie burn tells me that I burned 660 calories in my workout. My knees think I burned twice that. And the sick irony of this is that the more I seem to work out, the hungrier I seem to be.
But you’d think I would have slept well after such exertion. Instead it had an adverse effect as I found myself hypnotized by late night television and instead of dreamland, I was analyzing old sitcoms on TV Land.
As anyone who’s ever had a bout of insomnia knows, the evil alarm clock will taunt you endlessly. With every flipping minute, the stress level builds and the possibility of sleep seems even more remote. Minutes, hours, the dreaded PM to AM flip. You know you have work in the morning, and you know tomorrow will suck a big one. You toss, you turn, you get up to pee, you strain to relax, you cover your pillow over your head to drown out your partner’s seemingly louder-than-usual snoring and wish it was at least rhythmic. You channel surf, you play with the volume, you toss and turn again. This pattern could go on for hours.
And then you realize you’re hungry, and no sleep is going to happen until you do something about that. So you break the “no food after 8 PM” rule. When you get up to drag your aching knees downstairs to the kitchen, you will then spark the cat’s interest. And by the time your belly is somewhat satisfied, said cat will be wreaking havoc in your bedroom as he plays trapeze artist across your furniture, knocking down all your little knickknacks.
…and apparently doesn’t think I need to lose 20 pounds.
I’m ready to focus on happy things now, and for some reason this old song by the Brady Bunch keeps playing in my head. And luckily, those little voices have quieted down. I’ll tell you why this song has special meaning today in a bit, but for now, I’d like to take some time to reminisce about simpler times.
I’m referring to the world of the Brady Bunch. Where a fun-filled day meant potato sack races in the backyard. Where using your Greenbax stamps meant learning to compromise and buying a family TV instead of a sewing machine that would enable you to make groovy clothes. When a pay phone in the house taught you to limit your phone time and share the house phone with the rest of the family. Where a broken nose was a life lesson in dating. And where all your “problems” were resolved in a mere half hour.
Wouldn’t it be great to have been a part of that? I mean, BEFORE you found out that the family was closerthanthis when they later published their autobiographies?
Regardless, that saccharin-sweet, if slightly twisted, family unit stood together through thick and thin. When they needed extra dough, they joined together and entered a talent show, wrote a hokey song about sunshine and walking in the park, put on their finest neon orange and yellow duds and WON the freaking contest.
Well, maybe that’s not as far-fetched as it seems. Awards are rampant these days, after all.
And though my last few posts have centered around orange people, crying, and crazy fear, it seems ironic that I’ve been nominated for The Sunshine Blogger Award. Not once, mind you, but twice! Can I get a whoop whoop? Or should I just settle for “Groovy”?
It doesn’t matter. I’m tickled orange. Marcia’s got nothing on me!
So I’d like to thank Dawn of April. She’s a fairly new blogger who shows great promise, and I look forward to watching her blog develop. She’s real, she’s personal, and she’s a good writer. A great combination.
And another big thank you to Stuff I Can’t Put On Facebook’s Blog, another blogger I really enjoy. You’re going to have to visit her blog to find out what “shit dipped in glitter” means. Classic–she makes me laugh.
Evilness slithers,
Staring me down as I scream.
The lizard loathes me.
That’s my first haiku in decades, and I’m sure I could have done better if I had spent some more time on it. Besides, I’m no Jim Morrison. He is, in fact, the Lizard King.
On the contrary, I am irrationally afraid of lizards. Those little evil green creatures have already started scurrying around, making my life miserable. I love summertime, but this is the time of year in which I live in fear.
I realize that this may sound strange to many of you. I know that the point of the lizard’s existence is not to cause personal harm to me. I know that people see them as great creatures to have around, because they eat bugs. I understand that they are supposed to be more afraid of me than I am of them.
Yet I know that not to be true. I am utterly terrified of lizards!
Their mere presence freaks me out. The way they scurry across the sidewalk with their little tails swinging. The way they blend into the scenery, hiding in the bushes until I realize that it’s not a leaf that I see shaking but a raging reptile ready to attack. The way they puff up and blow that orange freak-ish bubble out of their neck. They way that they continue to eyeball me as I back away in fear, daring me to take another step.
Yes, they are truly evil creatures.
This irrational fear of lizards is known as scoliodentosaurophobia. I am comforted by the fact that there is a name for my phobia, because this means that I am not alone. Somewhere in this world, others cower in the same fear that I do. Perhaps a support group will open one day in my area.
Until then, I must learn how to cope with it, because I do live in the Southern region of America, and these things show no sign of extinction. I can’t spray them with bug spray, call an exterminator, or set little lizard traps all over the place. And even if I could, I could not bear to live among lizard corpses.
So in the meantime, we I must learn to co-exist. This gets me to the point (finally) of this post. I read a suggestion today that piqued my interest and promised to help me overcome my fear. This involves getting used to the little beasts gradually, and then moving on to the next step, until I’m able to actually have a lizard right next to me without pissing in my pants.
First, I’m supposed to put pictures of lizards around me. The more comfortable I get with their visual images, the more comfortable I will be when I actually encounter a lizard. Here we go…
April 3rd marks “Don’t Go To Work Unless It’s Fun” day.
I promise I didn’t make that up. But while I can find nothing on how this holiday originated, let’s just say that since it’s on many of the national holiday calendars across the web, it’s official in my book.
As I see it, this holiday leaves us with two options. Option #1 is to have fun at work.
Now be warned that I’m not recommending you to follow all my suggestions. Throwing such caution to the wind could result in a reprimand, alienation of co-workers, a tarnished professional image, and worse yet, getting fired.
You know I’ve got a disclaimer for everything.
But here are some things you can do to celebrate this day…if you just don’t care about all that. Maybe you’ve won your fair share of a half-billion dollars in the lottery or something recently. Yeah, I’m talking to those 3 people.
