Whew!

OK, I know. I need to finish the Quiet Man Saga. But, I am trying to get the hell out for a vacation and its been hellish with the passport thing and all, and I don't have the time, so it will have to wait until I get back from Europe in mid to late July.

And I still have not packed one thing and I still need to get more things. I am now trying to get organized- ie should I take my digital camera or buy a small newer one? I have a "bulky" sony one-a cd mavica-nice camera but large; should I take my lap top? Should I rent a GMS phone?

Should I bring curling iron and try those horrid plug converters? Should I buy new converters? What the hell am I going to do on the plane for 6-8 hours or whatever the damned flight length is or is not?

How many outfits should I bring-about two per day? How many shoes can I bring versus how many I want to bring? Where can I get a damned lightweight shawl for visiting the the Vatican when I get to Italy since you can't go sleeveless in the tempestuous heat and can't wear shorts either.

What should I bring besides Benadril if the sun gives me a rash as it usually does but has not lately, but as of late, yes it has and a weird one at that: on the tops of my hands by each thumb- just some slightly raised bumbs that do not itch, but make me scratch them lightly every onece in a while. What the hell is that crap anyway? Another thing to figure out, in addition to whether or not my fantastically pink Victor Longo lip gloss, acted as a magnifying glass to my lips last week when I somehow got a bad case of chapped lips after hanging out in the sun with it for about 1.5 hours.

Should I buy running shoes- I don't run- for the support or buy those nice pink NIKE sneakers that look like shoes but are not but look like they don't have any cushioning either?

So these dopey questions are what are occupying my thoughts at the moment, including the poundage permitted to fly-suitcase I mean. I can only take ONE DAMNED SUITCASE!!!!!!

Wish me luck in remaining sane, while holding ad infinitum with the passport people and hoping to GOD that it arrives Thursday as my local congressional office was told it would-WHEW!

Country Club Crap

As a new reader of the Uber Rich over at Wide Lawns-the post about the divorcing swingers was really good-led me to click on dressing like a wlw-wide law woman-and lo and behold, I was directed to prepville-now, I do like the prep look and on occassion dress it, but having gone to such a preppy college, I know for a fact those people not only make it THE lifestyle fore themselves, it is also a mind-set. I particularly love the leathery old preps who let their flopping wrinkly [yet very tanned] arms hang out of tank top dresses with sailboats and what not on them. Very pathetic.

I actually did look through a crap load of photos, confirming regardless of how cute you think your outfit is, whatever is wrong with you will not be corrected-yes I am talking about the snotty rich, yet ugly no matter how you cut it. All the pink and green in the world is not going to cast the glow of glamour or style on you, honey. Think about it. If you can..

Here is my commentary on some of the choicest selections:


I am fugly, pregnant and an apparent boozer-
see the liquor behind the beverage cooler?

What do you know? A cornball muffy model....or at least she has a shot at Taco Bell....



This poor little girl has log legs....


I kinda feel sorry for this one........and her mother actually put her in a fish dress....like it was not an underscore for the poor kid.............



I did not know they made Mickey Mouse Ear Bows....



Envelope Flap baby.....the vampirish hairline is what stood out to me....No, come to think of it, the poor kid looks like she has toast points on her head.



And is it me? Check out this kid's head in relation to her feet; she kinda looks like she could be a "Fairly Odd Parents" cartoon sample...

RATS Jones

Ever since I heard of her name, Rats Jones, it stuck. I actually laughed and giggled a lot about it. Clever, I thought. Intriguingly funny, I also thought. Such a simple thing- her name spelled backwards, was what made it cheesy hilarious.

This is another story of how men don't care what their women look like as long as they look good to them. I am talking about he saw her in a bathing suit and still kept going. Presumably he saw her naked before the bathing suit and still hung around.

In a wierd way its weird and encouraging. Well, you need to take that with a grain of salt and the knowledge that he has been dubbed "almost gay".

So what does that make her?

Hmmmm...... let me think about that.

Walmart

I read a post the other day on LegalEagle's blog-which is by the way very funny-I think it was a "dear so and so" letter-a good style of writing.

Well the post was about Walmart and a woman breast feeding her kid who was still in the cart seat-whips it out and then the kid latches on after it hung and swung for the kid to get-the whole thing is sick to begin with, which brings me to relate my own Walmart story of today.

Walmart. Sometimes I wonder if it is really worth it to even go there. At my local Walmart, they now have the Greeter back-do I have to be annoyed from the get go before I even get into the damned store? I am just trying to stay away from the riff raff that is also trying to get into the place.

It was crowded today-screaming kids- I mean screaming-this one little girl with parents who where not only floppy fat, but who let her scream all over the store-the husband was holding her but since he was smaller than his wife [that gargantuan] I figured he did not wear the pants in that family.

You could not get into any aisle without some idiot with a cart rushing in the other end. I kept "bumping" into a white trash mother with her daughter whose stomach was proudly falling over the waistband of her denim mini while wearing black stockings and the ugliest 1970's styled backless shoes with a thick heel. The gross part was when she walked, you saw that one of her heels was so filthy, it showed right through the black stocking. I guess that was her going out to Walmart outfit.

Also I have to deal with the snooties-you know those fugly prunes roaming around with their noses up in the air and their Mercedes shoved in between two Neons in the parking lot. When they show up, they expect you to immediately move-yeah right. I just plant myself idly looking at crap I would never buy so not to cow tow to them, even when they squat and reach over the front of my calves to pull something out. During these times, do you think the white trash come in the aisle? No. No where to be found when you need them.

So there you have it- Walmart; but today was a day that took the cake. I was at the check out with the crap it took me 1.5 hours to find and with an oriental checker who could barely, and I mean barely speak English, when she starts to freak out-holding her shirt over her nose.

I was like WTF-my batteries rang up wrong, I tell her, and she sticks her nose in her shirt and her eyes are wide as saucers?

She begins to point-and I see above me, coming from the back of the store, this smoke like mist coming fast towards the front. I don't smell fire, but the oriental checker is now screaming she is going to leave her register while furiously smashing her call button-the only time I understood her was when he yelled out she was not going to breath in that poison.

I was pissed. I was now faced with not even being able to buy the crap I wanted. I was gauging how fast the smoky mist was moving while like an idiot breathing deeply to see if I smelled anything. By this time, the oriental checker was out of there. I leaned up on the check out bag rotary; by this time the air above me was filling in with that white stuff that really did not smell.

Figuring I was not going to check out because someone came to the register to cancel my sale, I walked out of the store. A few minutes later, the firemen came.

Gossip at the front had it that a fire extinguisher was dropped and went off. HA! It must have been like 20 because that huge store was filled pretty quickly.

I am now just waiting for my body's reaction to whatever I breathed to kick in because I would then, thanks to Walmart, be calling LegalEagle and not ever be shopping there again.........

Bottoms Up

Hey girls, ever run out of acrobatic moves to impress your man, or just to keep it lively?

I thought I would post this photo I saw on the web somewhere. It looks impossibly uncomfortable.

Not only can you tell them to kiss your a$$, you can show them how to do it.

I can't imagine anyone is flexible enough to do this anyway.

Too Hard to Figure

It has been somewhat of a phenomenon. Or maybe I was just too self absorbed to have noticed. No, I think I was just busy doing my own thing.

A lot of women, girls, females or however we want to be addressed, stress over what we look like, what other women think we look like, or to most, more importantly, what "THEY" think we look like or don't look like. By "they" I mean those irritating yet captivating MEN.

First of all, ALL (well, MOST) men are just basically, plain and simple, pigs in a lot of ways. Even those goody goody types have the same thoughts as those evil slime balls a lot of us women have dealt with one way or another.

So we basically torture ourselves to ends, that in our later years, we will find unimaginable. We starve, sweat and drag out sorry asses to where THEY will notice us, or where we hope they will.

How discouraging is it when you are avoiding any guilty pleasure in the name of keeping it together, when you see it-there it is, plain as day?

Oh woe are we. Now don't tell me not one of you have seen it-you can't miss the contrast.

The most handsome and attractive man with the most unlikeliest of women. A good personality can only go so far. But its very prevalent. Its depressing and wonderful at the same time, yet I have a hard time accepting the whole thing.

I have heard stories of men who are personal trainers whose girlfriends are out of shape-they like a woman with some meat on her bones they say- you see the young stud with a woman who looks like she could be his mother or with one who is so unbecoming its almost revolting ( the variety is amazing- bucky beaver teeth, or, leatherette skin for example).

You see a slender or well built man, helping an obese girlfriend into the booth at the local buffet, tending to her as if he had grabbed the golden ring-the nice looking man at the beach who can't get his eyes off a woman sitting at an outdoor bar in a bikini with fat rolls openly showed off-I just don't get it, and such sightings are more commonplace than not.

I have got to stop going out in public. It's too depressing. Really, it is.

Wiped Seats

"If you sprinkle when you tinkle, please be neat and wipe the seat"

Can you imagine? I am sure many of you have seen this ditty in the home toilettes of friends or that you have the same sign hanging in your bathroom in vicinity of the toilet.

Now, does this posting make me feel assured your toilet seat is cleanly and safe? It does not.

What am I to think when I see this? I tell you what, it makes me squat above your toilet, hoping like hell the backs of my thighs will NOT TOUCH your assumingly wiped toilet seat that was probably sprinkled on more than you know or apparently care.

Since the placquard is usually done up with a white lace border, or with a sweet cartoon child emblazoned next to the instructions, many find it a wonderful little craft to adorn the throne area.

Apparently, its directed at men and women. Men who do not lift the seat to pee-yes, they are out there and women, who do God Knows What when they enter the facilities. And all these bathroom indiscretions, are merely wiped away, as instructed to do, without any care about what lingers on that seat after the wipe.

Are there homeowner's out there that are so lazy they have their guests responsible for what they feel is toilet cleanliness? Apparently the answer is a resounding YES.

I find this entire bathroom mindset particularly gross but also it has a much heeded warning: don't sit on the seat, it has only been merely wiped when peed on, nothing more, nothing less. EEWW.

Where the HELL is the LYSOL?

Split Hoofed Animals

I was at a baby shower today. I was sitting down, minding my chips and dip they had out to munch on while I was chatting away with the person next to me, trying to avoid the puffs of bad breath coming out of their mouth while I was dipping my chips. The less than fresh breath is not the point of this post.

Intermittently, I would turn my head while eating the dipped chip, to catch some halitosis-free air. This went on for a while, enough so that I had to switch from sour cream and onion chips being dipped into sour cream onion dip, to regular Lays which held their crisp shape while dipping. I was quite enjoying the snack.

Since I was sitting there, turning my head every now and then, I noticed another of the girls at the shower. She was standing on the other side of the table chatting with someone standing next to me. She was dressed casual, in jeans. That was the problem. The jeans.

Well, it was not the type of jeans or the color or anything like that.

I was dipping and munching by myself at that point, with the one who was stinking up my little area with her breath that could have used a swig or two of Listerine, sitting quietly next to me, with her mouth SHUT.

The jeans had caught my attention. The camel claw was quite evident. With every shifting of weight, every twist of her torso or crossing of her legs. Now, had I not been sitting there, enjoying the Lays, and had she not decided to stand in front of me to talk to the other behind me, I would not have had that middle-eastern moment. Really.

Well the shower was over and I was here tonight, thinking about it, since its like when your sibling's other half decides to tell you about their sex life and gets in a disgusting detail before you can shut them up. It sticks in you mind, most annoyingly.

So I was wondering, what is the point of wearing jeans, to a baby shower, without underwear? What is that all about? Is it necessary? Is it obligatory? Is it comfortable having that denim all caught up in there? Oh, its not caught up in there? Then tell me, the claw or cloven hoof if you will, is a figment of the imagination?

I don't appreciate being put into the position, even if "accidentally", to bear witness to that!

Girls, do me a favor-save it for the men, if you are desperate, save it for your cat night out, but put on the underwear, on a regular basis. I am begging you.

Phone Etiquette

I really don't get it-and I have given it some thought. After that effort, I really do not have an answer, nor an acceptance of such behavior.

I am talking about people who PEE while talking on the phone. It's sick, really, it is.

I have this one particular girlfriend who does it on the "sneak", or so she thinks. She refuses to politely and discreetly end a conversation and call me back in order to use the "facilities". She prefers to keep talking and give herself the bum's rush on the john.

Like I can't her the tinkling in the toilet? Like I can stop from picturing her squatting on the toilet, releasing herself? Like it's NORMAL?

Talking louder or faster to me is not going to disguise the pee sound, nor the flush when she is done. EEWW.

I think I will have to use drastic measures with her-and clink as soon as I hear the tink.

Mini Vans

Apparently these are STILL an attractive mode of travel, especially in America's suburbs. And, I thought regular vans were bad prior to the introduction of these horrid sliding side door contraptions.

Today, as I was out and about, I unwittingly was forced to notice that every annoying "driver" was in a mini van.

I sauntered over to McDonald's, as if going around the drive thru was not bad enough (people who go to McDonald's do not know how to align their vehicles properly within the boundary lines of the drive in section) and what is in front of me? A baby blue mini van. I believe the driver of this wretched vehicle believed he was driving something else, something that others would envy.

Now, could the mini van keep up with the moving traffic in the drive thru lane? No. Could he order quickly? No. Why did he have to keep the hind end of his mini van hanging out between the order window and the pay window? Who the hells knows?

So I get to the pick up window and I look up and what do I see? The Rolls Royce of mini vans parked horizontally taking up FIVE, yes FIVE, parking spots. I saw the back of his head bob up and down, stuffing all that trans fatty food down his throat, and probably littering the pristine floor that is a part of all mini vans with the fall out from his mouth.

If he had his window open, I would have thrown my grilled chicken snacker at the back of his head, which would have hopefully ruined his fine dining moment. But, would it have been worth it? Nope. I particularly like the grilled chicken snacker and what a waste that would have been.

This is but one example of the elephant of the road. Usually there is some mini van sow at the wheel- you know who I mean- the manly woman who has a firm grip on the wheel with the double chin protrusion trying to maneuver her vehicle into any free space between two cars on any stretch of road, while sucking down a Big Gulp. I usually wonder how mini van front ends keep stable with something like that driving at the helm. I also wonder who the hell would marry something like that?

Mini van drivers can't park. They sashay into the spot, usually with the back wheels into the space next to them. WTF is that? I usually find this out AFTER I come out of the store. This is why other cars don't like mini vans. This is why I don't like mini vans, in addition to the grimy, icky sweaty children that hang out in the middle seats, who slide open the side door before a complete stop while in the parking lot, during the heat of summer, screaming, running, hitting other cars in its vicinity while trying to get out of that hot death trap.

And you still continue to drive one, don't you?

Picking Your Nose

Another topic on the level of peed on toilets. And, I began to think about it last night, in disgust, while watching the mindless VH-1 "I Love New York"- mindless, yet entertaining, well except for one thing: Mr. Boston's nose picking. On national TV. Right there in full view of his competitors and Ms. New York.

Finally one of the guys said something about it in a commentary. But, there he was at elimination shoving his fingers in and out and in and out of his nostrils, rolling whatever he dug out around between his two fingers, and then continued on; and Ms. New York still kissed him! Gross. I have to believe she did not see it or know where his fingers where, but she did eliminate him, so maybe his nose picking had something to do with it. He seemed perfectly fine doing out in the open.

Now, this is not only a problem on this reality show. It's something that, well as we all know, is a regular thing A LOT of people do, much to my chagrin. They do it while driving the car, and they do it pretty good, too. How many times have I been minding my own business, driving on the highway for example and I turn to look at a passing car, and there is some old man sticking his narly finger up his nostril while keeping an eye on the road in front of him? Plenty.

Does he care if I see him? Apparently not. Does he have any shame in doing what he is doing? Apparently not. Does he do it quickly and discreetly? Absolutely not, because if he did, I would not be watching him poke around in there like he is digging for potatoes or something similar.

Maybe he does it on purpose. Maybe he thinks we can't really see him while he is in his car, driving and picking his nose like he was harvesting cherries. Maybe he does not even care.

It's true. Many don't care. And I will give you another example.

You are waiting on line at a deli counter and it's your turn. So you put in your order, telling the deli clerk what you want, they mentally take it in (if you don't make them overload with more than one item) and then they do it. Mostly quick and swift. Nonchalantly, with the protection of that ratty plastic hand glove: as they go to open the deli case, there goes their finger in and out of that nose so discreetly and fast, that if you glanced at the salami wondering if you could handle the salt content, you would never know they sliced your cold cuts with a finger that just had a rendezvous with their nose. That is when I just walk away. JUST WALK AWAY.

The Real Housewives of Orange County

PUH LEEZ! Why do I watch this drivel? It is actually repulsive. HELL OH!

These women not only look like they have pulled their skin [ that looks like partially melted in the microwave plastic] over those bony faces, but they all have that fake looking Colorado Red Rock tan.

The one who works in the travel agency or whatever that business is [the one that is run by the woman with the crater pit dimples- geez, have you ever seen dimples so deep and nasty?]- who was moronic beyond belief, and is now engaged? What is up with that? She looks like she is 55-60 with a really bad face lift [eh, stretch], but supposedly she is only 45- HA!

All of them, EACH AND EVERY ONE OF THEM, are completely useless. Charity? Altruism? Non existent there in COTO as long as these parasitic women are around.

Who I think are worse, are the men that WANT to support them-WTF is that all about? Support for useless women-blah blah blah about money and things and money and things and things and money- The beautiful people? Maybe, but there is alot of beautiful fruit with rotten insides that no one wants.

You can't take it with you and when you are standing there being called to account, its not going to matter about money, things, money, things... now will it? Now that is something they all can take to the bank.

Foot Arches

OK, I admit it-I have this particular repulsion with fallen arches. I prefer an arch that is defined and visible. I detest high arches, they look uncomfortable.

I was recently at a house gathering and the host, who most would consider particularly handsome, had his shoes off, in his own house, and all I could do after noticing his socked feet, was to try and not stare at his arches: fallen and protruding.

With each movement of his foot while he spoke, I noticed the arch lift as he rose his foot and squat as he put it down. When he turned the foot in, the arch pivoted the foot ever so slightly off of the floor into a 45 degree angle due to its touching the floor.

I was repulsed; I thought even the socks could not hide that fallen arch. What would it look like bare and naked? Probably riddled with little bumps that appear when there is weight put on the foot.

Why do I notice these things and why do they bother me? I don't know. All I could think of was why his girlfriend was seemingly unfettered by the fallen arches. Strange.

Women Who Drag Their Males Shopping

How many of you have gone shopping, say at the Mall, and you decide to go into the lingerie section of a store or Victoria's Secret and there is some sow and her middle aged and nerdy BF in tow, who, no matter where you are trying to go, there he is, lingering, with a stupified look on his face.

And, all he does is STARE, when you are trying to look at a underclothings; there he is, STARING at what you are trying to look at, and then you notice him, and he keeps looking and you are pissed. You are thinking: how can I look at this stuff with that bloated and balding specimen of a man watching what I and everyone else is doing in the lingerie section? And the woman with no clue that he is with, runs around like she is the most desirable vixen looking at lingerie. How?

WHAT KIND OF NIT-WIT brings a man to a women's store? Apparently many do. I can attest to this fact many times over. And to report, they are stuck up and unattractive women who get some ego boost by having their, oohh, man in the lingerie section with them.

Why is consideration a dead concept to these people?

These men just plop themselves behind their women's hind end, and really do not care if they are taking up all the aisle space. They usually stand right in the way of anyone getting to a rack, buggy eyed, not even paying attention to who they are with. They hold their bags, droop their shoulders, and usually move their head in a slow-mo rotation fantasizing about what is around them.

Does anyone want to see this usually 40-50's type, who are utterly faithful the khaki pants, thick soled loafers and the standard leather bomber accented by the buttoned down pink oxford? No. We don't.