Posts Tagged ‘humorous musings’

I feel it in the air, the summer’s out of reach

Monday, September 7th, 2009


It IS out of reach! It’s slipping through my very fingers as I type these words.

I’m heartbroken and grief-stricken: How did Summer figure out it’s September!?

Who told her!?!?

I thought I firmly instructed you to say nothing. Nada. Zilch. Zip.

Traitors!!! All of you!!!

This is maybe a LITTLE more sun than I need. But only a little.

This is maybe a LITTLE more sun than I need. But only a little.

Okay, okay. Sorry about that. I’ve composed myself. Seriously though, who does that woman think she is? It’s only September 7th, for crying out loud.

Why did she already start passing the baton to Fall? And when I tried so hard to fool her: Hiding the fallen pine needles and random leaves in my pants. Sleeping with the windows open and nearly freezing to death. Braving some highly unpleasant and distinctly northerly winds (was that snow???) in a bikini.  And, who can forget, slathering on SPF 50 even though there was zero trace of Summer’s warm, happy sun?

And all this pretending and posturing and outright lying and for WHAT?

Another freaking winter, that’s what.

(Dear Hawaii: Save a place for me at the table.)

Meanwhile, it’s ironic that I’m quoting The Boys of Summer, because I have always hated Don Henley’s The Boys of Summer. I think it has something to do with the melody, and definitely there’s a long-standing beef with the synthesized noise of seagulls.

Seriously, who would want to listen to seagulls if you don’t have to?

It’s not even like they’re localized to the sea anymore. Seagulls are as equal-opportunity as pigeons.

Don’t believe me? Name any American lake, and listen for the hideous squawk.

Lake Michigan? Seagulls.

Lake Mead? Seagulls.

The Great Salt Lake? Seagulls.

A large puddle at your average Wal-Mart? Seagulls.

Speaking of which, I got crapped on by a seagull yesterday, and I am so not making that up. I wish I was, but it’s the 100% USDA-certified truth.

What’s white and brown and warm all over? My crotch and upper thigh area. (Sorry. Is that horribly vulgar? I now realize it is – which wasn’t my intent at the time – but now that it’s written I find it a wee bit funny, and I’m kind of inclined to leave it.)

So back to the non-vile point, it was not a small amount of crap either – a solid two tablespoons/half a shot worth. Admittedly, I was sitting on the beach and there’s a certain amount of risk inherent. At the same time, it seemed like there was more than enough unoccupied sand to use for target practice, in lieu of my privates.

Jerk seagulls.

I’ve heard people say that if a bird poops on you, it’s good luck. If you ask me, that’s rationalization in its purest form.

Some random lame thing happened to you?

That’s a sign that some random good thing is going to happen to you!!!

As if.

Moreover, as further proof to my pudding, nothing particularly good happened to me yesterday in light of my bird crap shower.

Oh well.

At least I’ve still got the disenfranchised Boys of Summer (who are these boys, really? Punk teens? Guidos? Old men with metal detectors [given the name in jest]?) to keep me company through the short, cold days and dark nights ahead…

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I have a theory

Tuesday, August 18th, 2009

And normally I don’t go there, largely because I have no interest in senseless arguments or other blowback, and I completely respect everyone’s right to have differing opinions (but don’t so much want you to try to change mine), and so – simply stated - I just really don’t want to fight about it.

Can't get enough of those tired and poor...

Can't get enough of those tired and poor...

Nonetheless, this health care thing has finally gotten to me. I have to say something.

And I hardly know where to start I’m so appalled.

See, this morning while making some scrambled eggs and french toast (I know. I’m so domesticated.) I put on Comedy Central and watched some of Jon Stewart and Steven Colbert’s shows and inadvertantly learned that people are showing up to these town hall health care debates with semi-automatic weapons.


Apparently they’ve gotten confused and think their first amendment rights require them to execute their second amendment rights, and I guess in their minds showing up to have a rational and intelligent discourse about differing opinions requires bullets.

But I digress.

When I see this stuff I can’t wrap my brain around it. I really can’t. And I can’t honestly believe that people think making sure that everyone has acess to an equal level of care is socialism. And I can’t understand how you would actually believe that ANYONE in this country wants ‘death panels’ and thinks it’s okay to kill babies with Down’s Syndrome. (Trust me. If that happens, I will be the first one in line waving a torch.) And when they make it about religion or Christianity or Hinduism or Confucianism or anything other than what it really is about – health care for all – I get confused.

Here's where we keep the fine print.

Here's where we keep the fine print.

Moreover, if this is about taxes, I can’t fathom why if you have more than me, you wouldn’t be willing to throw a little extra in the pot to cover me - because I would certainly do it for you.

So here comes the (probably offensive to some, and apologies if so) theory: America was founded by a bunch of religious zealots who left their own country so that they could do whatever extreme weirdness got them banished or shunned or otherwise forced them out of their homeland and then those same folks risked their lives on a boat for several horrific months in the hopes of surviving long enough to get here. And then most of them didn’t survive the first winter, anyway. So you figure only the toughest of the nut bags were left to procreate, and that’s saying something.


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Jesus should’ve been so lucky

Wednesday, July 29th, 2009

And by Jesus, I mean Jesus…like the Hispanic name.

And speaking of which, I have a vivid memory which comes to me once in a while of being ten or eleven years old and in Manhattan with my dad, my brother, and my dad’s girlfriend at the time, (and maybe her awful son. If so, I’ve blocked him out of my memory. Poor kid. He really was a train wreck, and at this age I feel empathetic. However, when we were all the same age, my brother and I just thought he was an insufferable jerk. [He was.])

So anyway, we’re in Manhattan and in some kind of establishment selling kitschy gifts and there was a big display of New York license plate keychains, and I thought MAYBE I could find one with ‘Vanessa’ on it.

Sufficed to say, in the early 80′s – the emergent time for Vanessa Williams and Vanessa Huxtable – there was no Vanessa ANYTHING. I spent my whole early childhood being asked, “Were you named after Vanessa Redgrave?”  and even though I had absolutely no idea who that was, I would always say, “Yes.”

So anyway, I was frustrated at (yet again) not finding a single Vanessa trinket and ran across a keychain that said ‘Jesus’ and I remember being outrageously annoyed that they would make a Jesus (not knowing, again about ‘Jesus’ as in the Spanish version, so I mean Jesuschristo) keychain and not a Vanessa.

I mean the LORD gets a keychain, but I don’t!?!?!

(and is it any wonder I now write a self-indulgent and self-important blog? Not so much.)

But I digress…

I’m worn out on book writing (and yet bearing down on my 8/7 finish date. Yay me!), and received the following from a good friend. We spent all day together Sunday, so she is well-aware of my recent…um…adventure.

Which makes this all the funnier.

Water or Wine

To my friends who enjoy a glass of wine.. and those who don’t.

As Ben Franklin said:

In wine there is wisdom,
in beer there is freedom,
in water there is bacteria.

In a number of carefully controlled trials,
scientists have demonstrated that if we drink 1 liter of water each day, at the end of the year we would have absorbed more than 1 kilo of Escherichia coli,

(E. coli) – bacteria  found in feces.

In other words, we are consuming
1 kilo of poop.

However, we do NOT run that risk when
drinking wine & beer (or tequila, rum, scotch, vodka, whisky or other liquor), because alcohol has to go through a purification
process of distilling, filtering and/or fermenting.


Water = Poop,        Wine = Health .

Therefore, it’s better to drink wine and talk stupid,
than to drink water and be full of sh*t


And pass the tequila…

(and enjoy the random font-size craziness, because – as usual – I have absolutely no idea why that happens or how to fix it.)

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Five signs you might be living above your means

Sunday, July 26th, 2009

So I saw an article on Yahoo with this headline and followed it, hoping for some kind of awesome insight. Sadly, it was super boring and predictable. Mortgage is some gargantuan chunk of your income? Can’t pay your credit card bills? Duh.

It occurred to me that some of you may be living beyond your means and not even know it (and besides, since when does a 600 or less credit score mean you’re living beyond your means? It could just mean you’re a deadbeat or a total f-ck up or think repaying student loans is for chumps).

Regardless, I thought I’d offer some REAL tips to clue you in that maybe it’s time to cut back a little on the champagne wishes and caviar dreams.

1. Your revolving credit card balance is in the high-six or low-seven digits.

The key word here is REVOLVING. It’s one thing if you’re racking up the big bills every month and able to pay them in full, and it’s another thing if not.

(By the way, if you’re of the former group, could you shoot me an e-mail or buy me a beer or several hundred beers or whatever seems reasonable?)

2. You have a gold plated swimming pool with a custom mosaic of your face on the bottom…and you’re paying that off with your job as night manager of a Taco Bell.

Enough said.

I know I keep picking on him, but it's meant affectionately. Really. Probably.

I know I keep picking on him, but it's meant affectionately. Really. Probably.

3. You’ve turned your face into a sphinx, have a $50,000 a month pill habit, your own amusement park in your yard, and at least three doctors on permanent staff, one of whom puts you to ‘sleep’ with anesthesia.

Doesn’t sound so bad?
Did I mention you haven’t really had a hit album since like 1988?

4. You just chartered a private jet to Mustique for a week and got home to find your gas, cable, and electricity have been shut off.

Not judging. Just saying you might want to make sure you can cover the basics before you start sharing Mai Tais and tanning oil with David Bowie and Mick Jagger.

5. You’re on a first-name basis with your local repo-man.

Once again, enough said.

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Greetings from Mexico

Saturday, July 11th, 2009

I didn´t tell you about this, because I didn´t want you to worry.

And also because I thought perhaps they´d have heard of a little thing called wifi. Or at least a cord with a line to the internets in the room. Turns out, not so much.

So Im here in the fancy resort ´cyber cafe´using their impossibly slow and wildly overpriced computer access (and I can´t even find a place to put a USB drive to load the funny blog I wrote for you yesterday during my TWELVE HOUR ride from Morelia to Acapulco. Don´t even get me started on that.) and feeling a little irritated.

There. I said it.

I´m annoyed.

It´s almost 2010. Unless you´re African Bushmen or living in a grass hut along the Amazon, I expect you to provide me with some freaking wifi somewhere in your building. I´ll sit in a lobby. I´ll pay $10 or even $15 for a day´s privilege…but can you at least let me use my own computer!?!?

In other news, it´s lush and green and hot as Hades (I went on a seven mile run this morning that damn near killed me), and there´s not much I like better than lying around in the sun by the ocean or a pool or even a stagnant pool of fetid water and reading  a book. And maybe slugging the occasional cerveza.

So, minus the fact that I have no way to keep in touch with my friends and loved ones (and that includes you. If you´re reading this blog, I automatically love you.) all is well.

So hold tight and as soon as I can find some other way to get my computer online, I will get back to the business of amusing and delighting you )or whatever it is I´m doing that´s enough for you to be reading this blog at this very moment.

Gracias and Hasta luego!

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