Northeast Snow Makes Us Heartier Folk Than Warm Weather Wimps

2 Mar

I live in Rochester, NY and I’m sure many of you have heard over the last couple of months that those of us in the Northeast (and some Great Lakes/Midwest states) have had an absolute brutal winter. You’ve either read about it in the news or have seen people bitch about it on social media. I’m here to testify that it’s true… it’s all true. And it sucks. It sucks more than wearing sandpaper underwear.

Facts are facts, Rochester suffered it’s coldest month ever (broke the record held in 1934) with a daily average temp of 12.4 degrees. Add to it, it was one of the snowiest as well. There have been mountains of snow covering the ground since early January. We had several days with below zero temps, some double digit below zero temps! I know a lot of folks with frozen or burst pipes and collapsed roofs. It’s been relentless. I just bought my house in the beginning of January, I’ve had to shovel every. single. day. Sometimes two or three times a day. However, I now have great biceps… but have tennis elbow.

Another pitfall of this not just annoying but dangerous weather is the a-holes on social media that live in warmer climates that say stupid things like “It’s 80 degrees here!” or “At the beach here!” or “Here’s the shoveling I’m doing!” with a picture of a sand pail and shovel on the beach. You all just get a big F-U! You’re not funny, you look like a douche. No really, you do. With a capital D.

And furthermore, and I say this with all due respect, you folks that live in warmer climes after running away from parts of the country with “inconvenient” weather… are wimps. People who were born and raised in warmer climes, it’s all you know and you probably have all of your family there so you are excused. But you’re still not excused from being a putz to people suffering bad weather.

Yes, I say that the people who left the Northeast for the South, just can’t hang. You aren’t strong enough. You feel entitled to not be bothered and have things your way. (before you get all pissy, realize this is a humor blog and sarcasm is my middle name) We up here in the Northeast may have incredibly crappy weather sometimes in the winter, but we are much heartier souls for it and we have a better sense of community. And usually a better sense of humor.

Bosses be like

(This would be funny if it weren’t so true in the Northeast)

What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger. And what kills us, makes us dead… so there’s that. But seriously, the smaller stuff doesn’t bother us as much because we’ve had bigger fish to fry. I’ve lived in other areas of the US, in warmer climates that did have snow from time to time and the people were of absolutely no help to each other. Here, your car gets stuck, all of a sudden there are 3 different people coming out of their house to push or dig you out. Out there, people would look out their window just being annoyed at the sound of your wheels spinning.

Here, a neighbor knows you are older, or a single woman, or not so mobile, they will snow blow your driveway. Out there, they would come out and see you shoveling, snow blow their own driveway, get done and still see you shoveling and shoveling, and just close up the garage and go in.

I find it funny that many people in other parts of the country think people in the Northeast (especially New York City) are the grumpiest people in the world. I think they are some of the friendliest and most helpful. We may not all have the Michele Duggar vapid smile on our face, because actually our faces did “freeze like that” while grimacing during the winters. But it doesn’t make us less friendly.  In my experience people are far more friendly and helpful in the Northeast.

Take 9/11 in New York. I have never seen strangers help strangers in such ways for months and months afterward. People feeding rescue workers for free, doctors working for free, people fixing widows homes for free. Can you imagine that happening in L.A. or Florida? They might write out a check to the Red Cross, but it’s unlikely many would want to get their hands dirty. Sorry, just my own experience.

We may have lots of cold and snow, but I’ll take the character of the people here over anywhere else. Gives us that at least, while you’re gloating. I don’t recall anyone from the Northeast writing stuff on Facebook like “Hey, I still have my house and no wind here!” on someone’s page who just lived through a tornado in Kansas. I don’t see anyone in the Northeast posting stuff about “We have plenty of water here!” with a picture of Lake Ontario to a friend in California who is suffering a drought.

It’s the I, Me, Mine mentality. “I got mine, I can’t be bothered” Yea, that’s right, I said it. You can have your warm weather, umbrella drinks, and suntans. I’ll keep my pale cancer-free skin, my layer of blubber, and my sense of caring and community. And even though you act like a schmuck, I’d still shovel your driveway… ‘cuz that’s the way I was raised. So there. :-)p

The History of Super Bowl Half-time Shows

2 Feb Up+with+People+1970

Holy Mary Mother of God, where has the time gone? Well I have just had a boatload of things going on in my life, lots of writing projects and the big time-sucker was buying a house. I’ve been working on the house like crazy, and well I’m in love with my little house.

However, this past weekend I had a wicked horrible virus and was trapped in the house and was forced to view the Super Bowl from my couch as I was prisoner of other’s viewing pleasure. But as a pop culture aficionado, I like to tune in anyway just to catch a glimpse of the Busby Berkeley spectacle that is called the half-time show, just so I know what others are talking about at the proverbial water cooler.

This year was God-awful. Not a huge Katy Perry fan, just think she’s over-exposed, and not just her breasts. Hiyo! I’m just sick of hearing her very purposefully crafted pop songs everywhere and seeing her “Look at me, I’m so cutesie and quirky with big cans”. I don’t hate her, I’m just tired of her. Ya’ know like Taylor Swift. Anyway, the performance was so blatantly G rated,it looked like Disney and Nickelodeon had a baby and it was so sterile you could eat off it. Way over produced and choreographed. Just not my thing. It was like a modern day version of Up With People. However, Missy Elliott kicked ass. I wish she was the main performer. Although it was a bit of a non-sequitor, did they just like draw names out of a hat to see who would perform? “Let’s see who no one has seen in a while and will be so dumbfounded they won’t care about Katy Perry’s ugly outfits?”

But this got me to thinking, when did all this schlocky half-time nonsense start? Well, there is a definite, very specific turn of events that brought on the schlock but we have precursors and foreshadowing. Allow me to demonstrate…

According to Wikipedia, Super Bowl I in 1967 half-time performers included: University of Arizona Symphonic Marching Band, Grambling State University Marching Band (always a kick ass show), Al Hirt (trumpet dude), and the Arcadia High School Drill Team and Flag Girls. What an extravaganza! And go figure, their setlist featured John Phillip Souza’s “The Liberty Bell March”, better known as the theme song to Monty Python’s Flying Circus. Take note of AM radio favorite at the time Al Hirt as a sign of things to come. (cue ominous music)

College marching bands were the regular fare until 1970, when another pop culture figure was slipped into the show. They brought in a shocker with that rabble-rouser Carol Channing! Edgy, edgy, edgy. No doubt she sang that tribute to devil worship, “Hello Dolly!”

Dolly

The 1970’s stayed pretty constant with marching bands, the annoying Stepford Children’s chorus that was “Up With People”, and the occasional broadway or AM radio star – Andy Williams, Ella Fitzgerald, more Carol Channing, more Up With People. Not much change.

Up+with+People+1970

The 1980’s was pretty much more of the same – marching bands, Up With You Know Who, Disney produced crap, Mickey Rooney, George Burns… and then I think somebody got bored around 1987. They tried to get edgy again with Chubby Checker and the Rockettes. Nothing says hip like featuring a performer who’s last hit was 25 years earlier. Then in 1989 they featured the shenanigans of something or someone called Elvis Presto and some 3-D card tricks. WTF? Too much cocaine that year, apparently.

1990 was a tried and true marching band perhaps due to a prestidigitation fail from the previous year. But 1991… 1991 was the culprit. 1991 was the year it all went to hell. The sons of bitches at Disney go and bring in New Kids on the Block. There went the bar. That bar was set higher than the Empire State Building and producers have been chasing it ever since… and I hate them for that. I completely missed the half-time show that year because I was travelling from one party to another since my beloved hometown boys the Buffalo Bills were in the game, everyone was having a party. Don’t get me started on that heartbreaker against the Giants. I’m verklempt.

Anyway, that was it. Game over. The following is a list of the crap left in the half-time wake…

1992 – Gloria Estefan

1993 – Michael Jackson

1994 – Clint Black, Tanya Tucker, The Judds, Travis Tritt

1995 – (a mish mash that seemed to have strayed) Patti LaBelle, Indiana Jones & Marion Ravenwood, Tony Bennett, Teddy Pendergrass, Arturo Sandoval and Miami Sound Machine. Tha hell?

1996 – Diana Ross

1997 – Blues Brothers (sans a dead John Belushi), ZZ Top, James Brown

1998 –  Boyz II Men, Smokey Robinson, Martha Reeves, The Temptations, Queen Latifah, and just for old time’s sake Grambling State University Band.

1999 – Gloria Estefan, Stevie Wonder, Big Bad Voodoo Daddy, Savion Glover (these last 2 years sound entertaining)

You can find the rest of the list here. I’m sure you all have vague memories of the past 15 years. It was basically whoever was on top of the charts – Aerosmith, Britney Spears, Phil Collins, Janet Jackson, No Doubt, Sting, Justin Timberlake, Paul McCartney, Bruce Springsteen, Prince, etc.

Thankfully, the had the decorum to use the half-time show in January of 2002 to pay tribute to the victims of 9/11 that had just taken place 4 months before. However, they used U2 as the performer to deliver the goods. Eh, I guess when you want somber and self-righteous you bring Bono in.

So, I guess we have 1991 and Jordan, Jonathan, Joey, Donnie and Danny to thank. (seriously I had to look that up, they were a little passed my time, although I do like Donnie now, thanks to Wahlburgers on A&E) . Actually I blame Disney, they produced the show that year. I pretty much blame them for everything evil in our society. It will be interesting to see what’s in the years to come, with each year trying to top the last. I wonder how long we’ll have to wait for Jesus, Gandhi, Elvis, and Mr. Bojangles to appear as the half-time super group? Oh trust me, with holograms it will happen in my lifetime.

Interview with Amazon Kindle Singles Best Selling Author Mishka Shubaly

3 Dec

I became acquainted with a very interesting gentleman on the internet by way of me leaving a not so favorable review of a Kindle Single he had written on Amazon.com. The review was favorable for the story but not so for the main character, which happened to be the author. He responded to my comment and an exchange began and I better understood him. It turns out my views were fueled by my own experience, which actually meant the author did his job, he made me feel.

Let’s back up, what is a Kindle Single, you may ask? They are short stories or works between 5,000 and 30,000 words, a sort of novella only available in digital version using Kindle or an online reader. Works are submitted or chosen by Amazon and promoted by them. Not just anyone can sell a Kindle Single, it’s pretty much like they are a publisher and they say yay or nay. It has become quite lucrative for some.

Mishka

So, enter Mishka Shubaly. Mishka has written seven, count ’em 7, best selling Kindle Singles! The poster boy for Amazon Kindle Single success stories has recently published his seventh hit Of Mice and Me.

I absolutely loved this story. I read it from beginning to end in just a few hours, I couldn’t put it down. The description from Amazon is most accurate…

“At 37, writer/musician Mishka Shubaly thought his life was going great. He had a beautiful new girlfriend and sudden prosperity as an author. But when he adopts an orphaned infant mouse, his world is turned on its head. The mouse comes to symbolize everything left unresolved in his life — his relationship with his divorced parents, his fear of family and commitment, and his inability to feel true happiness and love. By turns hilarious and moving, Mishka Shubaly’s latest Kindle Single captures the journey we all take in life — from being loved, to giving love.”

While clearing brush he finds a baby mouse in dire straits and somehow feels compelled (maybe guilt) to help the mouse. Help turns into care and nurturing, which haven’t been natural instincts for Mishka thus far in his life having never been married nor a parent and being a recovering addict. It’s funny, it’s moving, it’s insightful. I highly recommend this Kindle Single. I also recommend all of his other works which can be found here at Mishka Shubaly’s Author Page on Amazon.com.

As an added bonus, I had an interview with Mishka to gain more insight on the author and Kindle Singles, excerpts are below… (my questions/comments in bold)

Where were you born and raised?
Born in a small town in Ontario, Canada. Moved to Los Alamos, New Mexico when I was 8. Moved to New Hampshire when I was 13. Started college in Massachusetts when I was 15. Then… the wind sorta took me. Saskatchewan, Colorado, Massachusetts, Virgin Islands, time in California and Virginia. Wound up in NYC at 21 and been here ever since. Moved here with $300 16 years ago this month. Jesus.
Damn, girl! Ok, what college for undergrad?
Simon’s Rock for two years, then University of Colorado for BFA, then Columbia for my MFA. I mean, none of that shit matters, though…
No, I know but in a way it does. It doesn’t necessarily “matter” but it contributes to who you are, good or bad.
What’s remarkable is how little I’ve done considering how much $ was spent on my stupid education
You sound like you’ve had a Kerouac-esque life.
In some ways, yes. I wanted to be like Jack Kerouac until I read his writing and realized that I had nothing in common with him. I was way more into Burroughs and Bukowski.
Well, I mean I read a biography on JK and he moved around a lot.
I hated the whole ‘Beat’ movement until I read the description of it not as a drumbeat but as in ‘tired, worn out.’ That made a lot of sense to me.
I realized in the book that I didn’t like him because he was an irresponsible, bored, dick. And I’m not comparing that part to you at all, just the moving around. So, when did the interest in writing start
I can’t remember ever not having an interest in story– telling stories, hearing stories, reading stories. Apparently, I wrote narratives in my head before I could write. (this is from my mom) when I was six, I wanted to be a kind of troubadour/ roustabout, just traveling from town to town with my guitar and, Jesus, I don’t know, a bindle?
hahaha
When I was 17, despairing about what I would do with my life, my mom said “you’ll probably be a writer” and bought me a subscription to the New Yorker. That was a fairly pivotal moment for me. I think that’s when I started getting serious about it. Or “serious.” I mean, I was 17.
Has your Mother always been supportive, encouraging like that?
FUCK YEAH

I can’t remember which of your stories contained the story about grad school.
I think it was Beat the Devil, the one you HATED, the one that made you HATE ME!
Oh stop with the pity party. I was internalizing your story. lol
To be fair, that was a pretty rough story to start with a lot of people had negative reactions to it.
Self-examination can blow. But can be as healthy as a colon cleanse when it’s done.
It was a brutal time in my life, and it’s a brutal aspect of my personality. I’m as proud of the writing as I am unproud of the behavior described. But it’s not really a story that leaves the reader eager to read more by me. C’mon, Madge, grill me! where are all the gotcha questions?
I’m tricking you right now and you don’t even know it.
grrrrrrreat
Um, so where was I? OK, so did you feel guilty making money off stories of being a train wreck and leaving people in mangled bloody heaps behind you? How was that for gotcha?
Well-played
*curtsies* Was your first published work a Kindles Single or was there something before it?
I feel guilty for a few things, okay a lot of things, okay almost everything. But I don’t feel guilty about my writing or the money its generated. I earned those stories the hard way. Yes, I did hurt some people but, even when I was fucked up, I did my best to shield people from the worst because I understood that I was fucked up. I didn’t really have a long-suffering enabler who I abused and took advantage of. One thing we tend to forget is that being wrong doesn’t necessarily make the other party right. I was wrong for a lot of my drinking career… but a lot of the other folks involved were also wrong. I published a few reckless accounts of my drug abuse in the NYPress before I published via Kindle Singles. But that was certainly my first publishing of note.
Wow. I’m really impressed with your insight.
Well… I worry about my past professionally, you know? I sort of get paid to go through therapy in public.
It ain’t always fun, but it beats having a real job.
———–
Beats having a real job indeed. I had a lot of fun interviewing Mishka Shubaly. I’m going to keep trying to get my stuff on Kindle Singles, I want to be just like Mishka when I grow up, sans being a male recovering addict. Big kudos to you sir, and I look forward to reading more in the future! Again visit Amazon.com to see the collection of his (and others) Kindle Singles.

 

 

Why is the Path I Usually Choose to Take, Covered With Horse Sh*t”?

28 Oct

Ever wonder what the hell it is you are supposed to do in this life?

It’s been a lifelong struggle for me. Well, I mean the only thing I’m sure of that I was meant to do was be a mother. Now back in the day, no not that day, that day, it was ok to just want to grow up to be a wife, mother, homemaker. There were books and magazines dedicated to that shit. “Good Housekeeping”, “Redbook”, “How to Keep Your Husband Happy”. Then somewhere along the line, feminists threw that all out the window. To just want to get married and be a homemaker was a disgrace, a loser, a simple minded woman who couldn’t do anything else.

Ouch.

But my struggle started way before realizing that being a mother was my calling, that came later. Early on, in the 1960’s I was raised in a family of overachievers. My parents were both Penn State graduates. My Mother was a 1948 college graduate, which put her a little ahead of her time. A very intellectual, very strong woman, very driven. My Father, another driven guy, went to college, left to serve in WWII, then came back and finished college. Having no high money earning or intellectual dreams wasn’t acceptable in my family.

Soooo, lucky me, I was born creative into a family where you must choose one of the following career paths – teacher, lawyer, doctor,scientist,  engineer, counselor, nurse, or business management. I seemed to have no viable skills as I was growing up, so I thought. And if you didn’t have viable skills you were chastised, or maybe I just told myself that. Looking back, in parts of my life I was an A student… usually until boredom, anxiety or depression hit, then I tanked. I loved history, I was really good at English basics (spelling and grammar, however I later almost failed  Composition Writing in college), I was a good swimmer, and I was pretty decent in theater. Yup, so… what am I supposed to do with that? Doesn’t amount to much, so I thought.

I thought I finally figured it out in high school! I want to be an actor! That’s it! I’ve always been a ham, I crack jokes, I got the female lead in “Fiddler on the Roof”… I’ll be an actor! So, come college search time and I excitedly tell my parents I want to major in theater. Great, right? “We’re not paying for you to go to college to become a waitress”, was their reply. Exact words. Wham! Thud. A blow right between the eyes of my self-esteem, hopes and dreams.

However, in the last few years in my period of rediscovery, with no real preparation I tried auditioning for a few things and failed miserably, so maybe my parents did save me some time.

But to their credit they gave me an alternative to ponder. My Father’s brother had been the President of ABC News until his death in 1974, “Why don’t you go into broadcasting like Uncle John, that’s a new major now.”. Hey ok, I always wanted to be a DJ. It was the early 80’s it was a new thing. It was great until I got out of school and my hopes were dashed realizing that being a DJ on the radio didn’t mean you could play or say whatever you wanted. It was cue up the record, announce it, then say “we’ll be back after these messages”. Then all the corporations came in in the 1990’sand bought up the stations and I just wasn’t a good corporate, yes-man team player. I grew bitter. If I could only just be a coporate guy.

I had just gotten married and within 2 years gotten pregnant. After my son came along is when I realized I wanted to be a full-time mom. My ex-husband said no. I begged for a few years then I got to because I was on bed rest. I was happy, all the while him telling me that I was useless because I wasn’t bringing any money in. When my third baby was about 16 months old, we called it quits for good. Being “just a mom” wasn’t an option anymore. I was told I had to work. I scrambled to find something that would bring in money. I was working to cover daycare, nothing extra. How fucking stupid. I wish I’d had the guts back then to say no, until these kids all get in school I’m staying home and you’re paying. (believe me, he made enough) But I was stubborn and wanted to show I was no “freeloader”.

I jumped from one job to another over the last 13 years trying to figure out what it was I was supposed to do. However, I never really had the opportunity to find something I love,d it was always “grab the first thing so you have an income”. I was never happy, I was never really any good at any of those jobs, and I was always late or taking a sick day because to me, kids came first (they certainly didn’t to their Father, so someone had to). Sorry, a 6 year old can’t stay home vomiting by themselves. I kept taking sales related jobs because everyone thought I had such a great personality for it and had the prospect for good money. I hate sales! And I suck at it. “I wouldn’t buy this either, put your money to better use.”

About once a year or so I’d find myself looking for another job again for a variety of reasons. The main one I’m finding is because I didn’t choose wisely, I just went for the first paycheck I could find. I’m tired of that. I’ve been trying to leave that behind. I think I’ve finally found what I love but the pay is somewhat lower than craptastic right now and not enough hours. Doesn’t fit into the plan my family always told me I was supposed to take. And it’s hard when you’re trying to feed, house, and put three kids through college.

I lost a job recently that was really good pay for part-time and it was helping to keep the boat afloat. But due to cash flow problems, I was let go from that sinking ship. It was a blessing actually because it was emotionally draining for various reasons, but losing it left a big money void, so here I am once again figuring out what to do. At least I have recently been blessed with realizing that I don’t have to tow the party-line. I don’t have the pressure of believing I need to do what my parent’s thought I should do. I’ve been blessed to have several articles and books put in my path that said there are a lot of famous, brilliant, happy, and sometimes rich people that failed out of college, been fired from jobs, and had several failures in their life until they found their purpose.

Albert Einstein, Jack Kerouac, Buckminster Fuller, Lucille Ball, Bill Gates, Thomas Edison, Oprah, Emily Dickinson. All either failed school, were called dumb, been fired, or had countless business and life failures… but all ended up becoming revered in an area which they finally thrived and persevered. Yay, maybe I found a club to join, losers unite!

We’re not all conformists with a perfect path. I have accepted that I don’t conform. And that’s ok. I think. Some have gifts we haven’t quite figured out what they are yet. Some of us think we have gifts but spend too much time listening to the expectations of others. Some of us think we might have figured out the gift or purpose but just aren’t quite sure how to exactly use it and break out of the wrong path we’ve been travelling on.

Buckminster Fuller spoke of the epiphany he had after trying to kill himself because of several recent failures. He said:

“You do not belong to you. You belong to Universe. Your significance will remain forever obscure to you, but you may assume that you are fulfilling your role if you apply yourself to converting your experiences to the highest advantage of others.”

Or sometimes you realize you just really want to lay concrete for the rest of your life. That helps others, right?

Isn’t that a nice thought? I don’t know how realistic it all is, but it proves my concept of figuring out what you’re supposed to do and still try an earn a living. You guys are lucky that have a specific vocation, “I want to be a hairdresser”, bam! Fulfillment, success and money. Those of us who can’t seem to put our finger on our purpose, feel rejected. It gives me food for thought, but still doesn’t tell me what the hell I’m supposed to do.

 

 

Why Do I Care About You, I Don’t Even Know You?

10 Sep

Holy cow, it’s been a while eh? Well it’s been an action-packed six weeks or so for me.

Most of August was spent caring for my significant other as he had to undergo surgery for prostate cancer. Everything eventually turned out ok, and we are monitoring things over the next few months to make sure it isn’t anywhere else. He was in the hospital for almost a week as he had developed an infection, so it was a little stressful.

I also had to get my son home from working at camp in Massachusetts and then get him back to school at NYU. Then had to prepare my 2 daughters for back to high school. I’ve also been crazy busy with my new position as Associate Editor at Rochester Woman Magazine.

Soooo… how’ve you all been?

Other than that stuff, it’s been kind of and emotional week or two. A lot has happened that has little to nothing to do with me but I find it emotional… and I wonder what the hell is wrong with me?

For one, Robin Williams. Enough said. Then Joan Rivers died. I enjoyed watching Fashion Police every Friday night, and her shows after each award show were a must-see. I saw her in a whole new light after I saw a documentary on her about a year ago called “Joan Rivers: A Piece of Work”. That woman had been through everything, was educated and had to fight her way into show biz. She worked like a fiend and was a fantastic writer. She wrote every day. She was an entrepreneur who wasn’t happy unless her schedule was full from dusk ’til… dusk. She was a role model and idol to me. I was very sad. I was so sad this week after Martina Navratilova proposed to her girlfriend… Joan would have had a helluva’ joke. She had the best lesbian jokes.

Also a police officer was killed in the line of duty here in my city of Rochester, NY. A 32 year old young man, with 2 young children and a wife. Gunned down by some piece of shit parolee that he was chasing. All kinds of pomp and circumstance and rituals and traditions. Such dignity and honor, somber yet uplifting. Moving, really. But so sad. It really hit my heart hard.

You may have seen the unresponsive plane that went flying through Cuban airspace and then crashed off the coast of Jamaica? The two people in the plane that died were a lovely couple that belonged to our country club and pillars of the community. I was glued to the TV feeling dread while they followed the plane. She built a catalog company from the ground up, he was a millionaire real estate developer that was re-building downtown Rochester. Only in their late 60’s. Just nice decent folks.

Then all the stuff with Ray and Janay Rice. Geez, what do you say? You watch the video and you’re just… in disbelief. You wanna’ knock him out and you want to cry. Then she comes out with that “Why you gotta’ hurt my man and me?” statement and I just wanted to… take her away, or shake her, or tell her how that’s not how she deserves to be treated. I know how hard it is to leave. The batterer threatens the woman that if she leaves he’ll kill her or the kids or himself. Leaving is scary, whether it’s fear for your safety or fear of losing financial stability.  It brought back old memories that just turned my stomach in knots.

So, why do I get so emotional about stuff? I guess maybe because I was born with a caring heart, which sometimes makes me a big ole pushover and let’s others take advantage of me, it also makes me waste energy on caring about people that have no idea who I am. But I guess it’s good, it’s good to feel things, experience a full range of emotions, that’s living life to it’s fullest. It’s also made me a good parent.

Although sometimes I wish I didn’t care because I could probably be further in business. Sociopaths (people who don’t have empathy) are usually the most successful people. It’s true, I read it on the interwebz. I probably also wouldn’t spend more time than I wanted to on men I didn’t really want to date. ha I mean sorry but I’ve had more than my share of pity dates (I’m sure I’ve been the recipient of some too), I’ve also spent much much longer than I wanted to painfully listening to a guy in a bar telling me all about his love of Nickleback (Ack), just because I thought it was rude to walk away. In the meantime, Prince Charming who made a witty remark to me and was waiting for me to come back to the bar had already left. Sad face.

I guess it’s good to have a big heart but it can also be emotionally exhausting. I’ve learned how to curb it, I don’t let it consume me and I don’t bring it up to others (most of the time) because I don’t want to seem like I like to insert myself into emotional stuff just to get attention. Like some sort of Munchausen Syndrome. I bring it up today because well, I’m kind of curious if I’m a freak or not. I’ve always been this way. Tomorrow is 9/11, guaranteed I will have a bout of tears just like I have every 9/11 since 2001. Is that weird? Do I like humans too much? I wish I could give the whole world a hug… and maybe a reach-a-round if they’re lucky.

Maybe it’s just PMS. A lot.

Please take care of yourselves and each other. That is all.

 

Wait, How Did I Start Watching Kangaroos Mating on TV?

31 Jul

Did you ever start watching something on TV, get a little sucked in, and then suddenly realize, “Why the hell am I watching this?!”

The man of the house was flipping channels and he stopped on a show which I never would have pegged him to watch. Oh wait maybe… oh yea, I see it now… see the title of the show was “Sex in the Wild.” So I get it now guy = sex. But anyway it was on a channel that he never ever watches – PBS. I think he thinks it’s a liberal commie pinko channel. lol (you know I’m kidding dear, kind of)

However, I think he was a little disappointed when he clicks on the station and on the screen appears a kangaroo giving birth. But ya’ know with some people sex is sex, and me being a mother I was a little interested. I didn’t want to see the baby coming out the birth canal (as was being shown) but I found it interesting what the narrative said about the process. Did you know that kangaroo joeys are about as big as a gerbil or hamster baby and after they come out they climb their way up the mother’s belly and into her pouch and incubate there for a while until they are done cooking.

That was all fine and good, then it got a little weird. First it showed the normal wildlife type scenes of the mating rituals of roos, you know hopping around, chasing, then finally the dude mounts the victim potential mate. All right. Then the narrator starts talking about the kangaroo penis and they show a diagram of what it looks like and how it enters the female’s vagina. Ew.

kangaroo-boxing-300x256

(This is all I want to see kangaroos do)

 

Then they show them humping and explain how the male is holding the female and thrusting her onto his… ya’ know. So, um I took a little walk to… any other room in the house but there. The man continues to watch and laugh.

When I come back they are showing koalas.  Awwww, how cute! So they show a little koala dude up in a tree and he starts making this bellowing sound, it sounded like Mr. Limpett’s noise combined with a Chewbacca cry. Apparently that’s his mating call. Fair enough. All of a sudden there is some vet showing this contraption and nearby there are a male and female beginning to mate on a tree (which  they go into great detail of the process). The next thing I know the doctor has delicately pulled the male off the female and inserts his private bits into this contraption. The next thing I know this vet is ummmm,  well manually uh gratifying the male into this basically fake vagina to collect his sperm! What What?!

koalas

(“Privacy please.”)

 

My first thought was, why in God’s name did someone give these people a grant to study koala sperm? Second thought, why are they studying koala sperm? And third, why the hell am I watching this?!

Because… science. I’m interested in stuff. Ok, I watch some of that stuff because I think I should, you know to get edumacated. But generally I do find it interesting. But, excuse my language… jerking off a koala is where I draw the line.

I can’t unsee that. And of course writing about it makes me relive it. And ok it’s a little funny, like funny odd, not necessarily funny haha. But it’s just… have you ever just started watching something like it’s a car accident? You want to look away but are oddly curious to see what happens? Much like an episode of Full House?  I felt that way about mating and childbirth but when it came to koala sperm harvesting, it was time to go to bed and read.

Madge is So Short… How Short is She?!

17 Jul

I’m short. I’m 5’2″. That might seem average to some women, really short for some guys, pretty tall for small children.

All I know is I can’t reach or see shit most of the time.

I can’t reach the top shelf at the grocery store if something isn’t right up front. I’ve caught people looking on in amusement to see if I start climbing the shelf or fall on my ass or what. Yea, thanks for you help there, pal. Luckily a couple times I’ve caught someone out of the corner of my eye, I turn my head and it’s a male employee with a slight smirk coming toward me saying, “Can I help you reach something?”  I feel grateful, although embarrassed. To the ones that simply stand by, I say “I couldn’t afford a gym membership, that’s why I come to Wegmans and climb the shelves” and walk away.

gotta-hand-it-to-short-people

I also get snickers when I’m at the drive-thru bank teller and I have to open the door and step one foot out to grab the pneumatic tube. I half expect the teller to say, “You OK little fella?” Bastid…

I can’t reach the shelf in my daughters’ bedroom. I have to get the taller one to help me, my younger daughter is cursed with my height.

I can’t reach wall displays in retail stores. I have to go get an associate to reach the one in my size. And I love it when they loudly announce, “There isn’t a 34DD up here ma’am, maybe I can find you a 34DD over there. Wait here’s a 34D, do you want to try that?” Thank you so much for announcing my bra size to the world. I can just imagine everyone cringing as they visualize (because you know they do) this 49 year old woman in just a bra. I feel their eyes piercing me.

I can’t trim bushes that go higher than a window sill. Ladders and long handled clippers aren’t a great help because I usually have to trim blind then. Rather than nice even bushes, I end up with unintended topiaries.

Some sexual acts are more difficult. I won’t go into it but just think about a short girl or girl with short legs with an average to tall guy. And please don’t visualize me in this endeavor.

If something rolls under the couch or bed, forget it.

Can’t reach under a sneeze guard while keeping my head above it.

t rex sneeze guard

I can’t scratch my own back past my shoulder blades. It’s rubbing against the ole corner of the wall if I have an itch any further down my back.

I can’t pull the cord on a combo light/fan fixture on the ceiling, so everything runs whether I want it to or not.

I have to hem everything.

It’s not all terrible… being short enables me to sit reasonably comfortable in an airplane seat or the back seat of a compact car.

And… ummmm… that’s about it.

Whatter’ ya’ gonna’ do, ya’ know? I just deal with it.  Can’t change it. However you could cut me some slack and stop calling me, munchkin, shorty, peanut, and small fry. If you don’t I’ll just go with my new nickname for you… asshole. :)

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