Archive | October, 2013

My Biggest Halloween Costume Fails

31 Oct

Happy Halloween and all that jazz.

I used to love Halloween.  Because you know, creative idiots like myself, love that crap.  I was always a bit out of step, though.

Wait…

I just got distracted… Vanilla Ice is performing on the Today Show.  Oh it’s a flashback theme… well that makes sense.

Anyway, believe it or not I’ve always been a bit odd.  Starting as a little kid, I just had to be different.  While all the other kids in my Catholic elementary school were wearing princess outfits and cool store bought outfits of like Woody Woodpecker or something.  (I”m not kidding, it was like 1972 or 1975, you know in there, stuff was lame) I was dreaming big.  But it was good because Halloween hadn’t become real commercial yet.  So what did I really want to be?

Carmen_Miranda_8120719

Yes, Carmen Miranda.  My Mother and I made a hat out of a paper plate with a bunch of plastic fruit piled on it.  We had a Mexican peasant girl outfit in the dress up box, so I wore pieces of that.  I thought it was fabulous.  The other kids thought it was stupid.  One of the younger priests got a chuckle out of it though.  But it figures ‘cuz we always thought he was in the closet.

Thus started a long line of costumes I thought were hysterical but everyone else thought was stupid.

I remember having an epiphany in junior high.  Remember I’m the youngest of 6.  My oldest brother was in his 20’s, just out of college and living in an apartment in Buffalo.  He went to a party there, then came home to Dunkirk to hit the bars in Fredonia (town right next to us where Fredonia State University is) for Halloween and brought his costume to wear again.  He put it on, he was dressed as an Arab shiek with a large Exxon logo on the back of his head-dress thing.  Ok it was 1977, there was a huge gasoline shortage, the oil embargo and all that.  This oil thing was all new to Americans.  We never had a problem before.  To me it was hysterical.

As a 12 year old, didn’t I go and borrow the costume.  Total bomb.  Completely lost on 12 year olds.

*heavy sigh*

This went on for years.  Finally some of my friends enjoyed my college costumes.  Freshman year I bought a little kids Spiderman costume from K-Mart.  Yes, I was that small then.  I wore that by itself the first time, and by the end of the night on the dance floor, I had blown out the seat of the pants.  So out of necessity and creativity I kept tweaking the costume for several parties over the next 2 years.  To cover the split I wore bermuda shorts and a Hawaiian shirt over it and was Spidey at the beach.  Then I wore a big yellow raincoat and rainhat I found at a thrift store and was Spidey goes fishing, or Spidy Gorton, or the Gorton’s of Gloucester.  (remember that?)  Then I wore some punk-wear that I had and… Spidey goes punk.  While other sorority girls were starting to be cute kitties an devils… yea… me.

Then my junior year I acquired the nickname Madge from all the guys with thick Maine accents who were trying to call me “Marge”.  I was a college DJ and named my show, “Soaking in it with Madge”.  So I went to K-Mart (again) and bought a pink polyester smock and wrote Madge in cursive as if it were an embroidered nametag, wore a skirt, sensible shoes and carried around a bottle of Palmolive.  Voila, I was Madge the manicurist from the Palmolive commercials.  That was kind of a hit.  Although fraternity guys kept sticking their hands in my beer saying, “I’m soaking in it?”.

Palmolive

However as an adult it was fail-city again.  One particular poor year out of college, I cut a hole for my head in a fitted bed sheet, draped it over myself and went as… a bed sheet.

Then there was the year I was pregnant with one of the kids (like really pregnant) and I went and bought a Lil’ Red Riding Hood costume.  Pregnant Red Riding Hood?  Come on!  Ok, nevermind…

Then for a few years I used that same costume and went as LRRH gone bad, I pulled the stretchy neckline below my shoulders, wore lots of makeup, drew on tattoos, wore fishnets and heels and had a cigarette hanging out of my mouth.  I called myself Little Red Riding Ho.

*crickets*

Ok, so about 10 years ago I wore a polyester wrap around dress, big high heels, feathered my hair, lots of chains, big hoop earrings, caked baby powder on my upper lip and had a purse full of fake drugs (baggie of oregano, baggie of baby powder, pill bottles) and went as a Studio 54 patron.

*crickets*

I finally gave up a couple years ago after I wore a long gown, a long black wig, really elaborate overdone makeup and went as a drag queen.

*huge crickets*

Maybe one of those years I should have gone as a sexy kitty or sexy policeman or sexy sanitation worker or something.  I maybe would have at least gotten a drunken grope rather than a blank stare.

So I got nothin’ this year.  Maybe beehive my hair, wear a 50’s dress and go as Lucille Ball.  I’ll probably get a polite smile after I get asked 100 times “Who are you supposed to be?”.  *heavy sigh again*

Oh wait, tonight I’m going with my best gal pal (ok it’s a gay guy) to a gay bar for Halloween, I bet I’d be a moderate hit if I resurrected my old childhood Carmen Miranda costume!

What are some of your biggest Halloween costume fails?

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The Art of Naughty Words

24 Oct

In the past few years as I have tried to expand my writing opportunities, and in doing so I have often encountered the dilemma of profanity.  The naughty word, the swear word, expletives, obscenities.  Should I use bad words if I am trying to appeal to the masses or get a certain job and need to have a certain image?  I’m still trying to figure it out.  I keep going back and forth.

One thing I have ruled out is profanity just for profanity’s sake.  I’m beyond the whole “shock value” thing and I really don’t have that filthy of a mouth.  I have been known to go a little heavier on the obscenity-peppering in the past but that was when I was writing for a different crowd.  And the subject matter was a little more on the raunch side.  Now I like to be the fabulous proper lady who shoots a zinger here and there.

swearing-at-work

^ That’s me.

In several reviews for my book people mentioned the profanity but they said they enjoyed it.  However, the fact that they mentioned it makes me a little squeamish.  Maybe there was too much?

And then I had an extremely self-righteous ex-friend… huh I won’t even give him the privilege of calling him a friend, he never was.  Anyway he’s one of those assholes (whoops there I go again, but this is warranted) that feels it is far better to be “brutally honest” (emphasis on brutal) in what he is thinking rather than be kind.  As if his opinion is somehow the be-all, end-all and he is giving you the honor of a critique.  What a douche.  Now I welcome criticism but when you do it in a mean way, well you’re just being mean.  Criticism should be in the form of suggestion, not in a “you are wrong” manner.

So this person who I have known for almost 10 years finally reads my blog and the first thing he says is “Only people who are not smart enough to have something to say use profanity.  I tune out the minute I hear or see fuck.”  Oh really, Joe Righteous?  I’ve heard you use that word a few times, along with calling your ex-wife a c*nt.  He’s just incapable of giving a compliment and must always remain superior to everyone, thus the real reason for criticism, not because he’s so unabashedly honest.  I’ve accepted that and just decided it’s not worth dealing with his negativity anymore.

Ok, so maybe I should tone down the profanity, he has a valid point.  But to insinuate I’m stupid or low brow so I have to use it is just insulting.  And if I wasn’t so refined and intellectual, I’d give him a gigantic, “Go fuck yourself”.

Now here are my examples of use.  If you are one of these street types or low-lifes that all of your sentences are constructed in the exact same manner of every other word being profanity, then yes I’ll give you the “doesn’t have anything more intelligent to say” theory.

Example:  “Bitch-ass motherfucker comes up to me and fucking asks for a motherfucking cigarette. I’m like get your own fucking cigarettes, cocksucking bitch.”

Sorry if I offended anyone.  That greatly offended me, I don’t like that at all, but that’s what I hear out on the street a lot.  Or in an interview with a rapper.  That type of swearing has no merit whatsoever.  It makes me cringe and weep for our youth.

However, I believe a well-placed profanity can be funny and creative and serve to drive home a point.  It’s all about context.  I love “out of character” moments.  You know, like a tap dancing monk, or something.

For instance… if I’m telling a story about sitting in a business meeting where everyone is proper and business-like and a co-worker is rambling on about some office procedure or a problem therewith  and I say that I think in my head “What the fuck are you talking about?”, I think that’s funny.  Because it’s a direct contrast to what’s going on… proper – improper.

Or sometimes I enjoy the randomly placed expletive within syllables to prove an emphatic point.  “Absofuckinglutely” has always been one of my favorite words.  I don’t go around saying it all the time, I don’t say it to children or nuns.  We’re all adults here.  It’s like I would say it if someone asked me “Would you like to go to Europe, all expenses paid?”… “Absofuckinglutely!”.

However, I was just approached about a job.  It would be a high profile job working for a non-profit that deals with a serious social issue.  Will these writings with this language usage somehow discredit me?  Or paint me in a bad light?  They can’t take me seriously?  Well, I look into some high profile people and there causes and how do they jive?  Pamela Anderson is campaigning to ban pro bullfighting.  She likes the animals apparently… does her kind of bimbo appearance cause people to not take her cause seriously?

So what do you think?  Should you just be authentic at all costs?  Or should you try to compromise and use decorum most of the time?  Or should you try to please the  masses and be totally G rated?  I’m guessing that I’ll eventually find my way by losing out on jobs or becoming famous for my salty language. 🙂

 

 

The Difference Between Younger Women and Older Women

17 Oct

Just a short one today, I’m out of my mind busy.  Lots of projects and I’ve been in and out of doctor’s offices and hospitals all week with a daughter with a jacked up back which was first diagnosed as a kidney infection but is not… don’t get me started.

I was looking at some items online that were written by 20 something year old girls about dating.  I already knew this but women of different ages are vastly different.  Yes, yes there are exceptions to every rule but I also know that I thought I knew it all when I was in my 20’s but I was really pretty unknowing and immature.  And I’m sure by the time I’m 60 I’ll think I was kind of stupid in my 40’s.  So, whatever I’ll write another blog then…

So as a public service, I just want to give all you men a quick guide for women below 40 and above 40, give or take 5-7 years.   I will henceforth refer to below 40 women as B40 and women above 40 as A40.

 

*   When a B40 woman says “Just leave me the hell alone!” to a man it really means, “You better chase after me or I’ll be even more pissed than I am now.  When an A40 woman says it she means, “Just leave me the hell alone!”.

*  When a B40 woman says to a man, “Oh that was so nice of you!”  she really means it.  When an A40 woman says it she really means, “Wow, you just did as little as humanly possible to please me, didn’t you?”

*  When an A40 woman walks through a crowd, she says “Excuse me” to get by.   A B40 woman just whacks you with her handbag and keeps going.

*  When a B40 woman says to a guy, “I can go all night!”  she really means it and she does.  When an A40 woman says it she means “If it’s good I’ll stay up, if it’s bad I’ll either just fall asleep or fake it just to get you off me so I can leave”

*  When a B40 woman says, “I’ll be there in half an hour” she means she’ll be there in and hour.  When an A40 woman says it, she means “Ill be there in an hour”  Hey, somethings don’t ever change.

*  When a guy says to a B40 woman, “I’ll love you forever” she believes it.  When a guy says it to an A40 woman, she says “Ok” but thinks “Uh yea, or until something younger, prettier, or more entertaining comes along or until I become a bitch because I’m tired of you”

*  When a B40 woman asks a guy “Do you have a girlfriend?” and he says no, she believes him.  When an A40 woman asks the same question and he says no, she then knows to ask “Ok, so then do you have a wife?  A fiancee?  A lover?  A friend with benefits?  Are you separated?…”  and so on because she knows he could be apt to use the loophole after she finds out he’s taken of “Well you didn’t ask me that!”

*  When a guy tells a B40 woman “I don’t have a job right now, I live with my parents.”, she says “Oh that’s ok, I’ll buy”.  When an A40 woman hears that, she politely says “I need to use the bathroom” and never comes back, never looks back, and runs very far away.

 

You learn things as you get older.  Well then again I know some women who don’t ever learn.  But more often than not we become wiser… and perhaps a little bit jaded.  Sometimes I wish I still had the optimism I did in my 20’s but I’m glad I have the wisdom and experience of 40 something.  I can’t wait to see what I write at 60.  🙂

Dream a Little Dream of Naked Tony Danza

10 Oct

Do you think dreams really mean anything?  I’m not sure.  Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t.

Sometimes I think they may be a slideshow of all the things your subconscious is thinking, you know all your worries and such.  Other times I think it’s a function of what you saw or heard last before you went to bed.  Other times it’s just random crap.

I frequent the dream dictionary sites after my dreams.  I want to see what their take is on my dream, and most often it’s worry.   I’m big on the anxiety dreams.  They’re very popular in the Madge noggin.  I often have dreams about trying to get somewhere and I can’t.  I was a swimmer in high school and a little bit of college, and I always dream of being back in HS and trying to get to swim practice but I can’t find the pool or my swimsuit or whatever.  My other anxiety dreams include; 1.) Being back in college and trying to get to class and I can’t find it,  2.) Going to take a test and I haven’t gone to class all semester, and 3.) Going to get married and can’t find my dress or the church.

Yes yes, obviously I’m a big load of anxiety, thank you dream dictionary.  Another dream I have often is of my teeth falling out.  Either just one accidentally being pulled out or they fall out by the handful.  What the f*ck is that all about?  That is probably the most bizarre.  But according to various dream dictionary sites it means either I lied about something or something new is starting in my life or as usual… I’m worried about something.  Well, if that isn’t the biggest damn fall back excuse of all time, my name is Stanislaus!  (I don’t know, just go with it)

Another strange anxiety dream I had was when I was pregnant with my first child… in it I was carrying around my baby in a shopping bag and I misplaced the bag somewhere and I looked all over then I found the bag and put the baby in my pocket.  (yea, I know, I can’t explain this stuff)  But then the baby jumped out of my pocket and… you get the picture.  And yes of course that was all anxiety about having my first baby.  I didn’t need a dictionary to tell me that.

Then occasionally I get a respite from anxiety dreams and get the gift of a sex dream.  Awwwww yea!  Sometimes they are freakin’ awesome and I wake all rarin’ to go and realize I can’t do anything about it.  Wah.  But they were fun while they lasted.  Then of course it wouldn’t be the mind of Madge without throwing in some bizarre-o world stuff.  One that stands out… I was seduced by Tony Danza.  I can’t remember if it was “Taxi”, “Who’s the Boss?”, or current Tony Danza (I think Who’s the Boss?) but boy was he hot.  Which I never thought he was in real life.  Actually, I don’t think I ever thought of him, period in real life.   I think that was a product of seeing a promo for TVLand before I went to bed.

tony-danza-towel-thumb-248x253-154733

I wish I had prophetic dreams or at least saw dead relatives but I don’t.  😦  I keep waiting for my Dad to come in a dream and offer some advice but he’s been a no-show.  I have sometimes had dreams about someone I haven’t thought of in years and I feel the need to reach out afterwards.  That has lead to some good things so I guess that was maybe prophetic or a sign or something.  I wish my dreams were more meaningful.

But no, I just keep having more dreams about being forced to live with or remarry my ex-husband or some other guy that I dated that I now hate.  You would think my anti-anxiety meds would prevent this, but nooooooo.  (think John Belushi on Weekend Update)  Maybe it goes back to my last blog, if I start think about sparkly unicorns maybe I’ll dream about sparkly unicorns?  I just wish I would stop having anxiety dreams.  Well at least I’ve cut back on the Cold War era bomb dropping dreams where our town has to evacuate and I get separated from my family.  (Thanks for starting those Richard M. Nixon!)  Baby steps for me, I guess.  Sweet dreams everyone!

Tell me your strange dreams…

Does Joy Only Originate From Our Loins?

3 Oct

I wish I was romantic.  Not necessarily in relationships but in life.  Ya’ know like those in love with life people?  Would I feel better if I did?

Ya’ know what I mean, it’s like people who post stuff like this on Facebook:

The_love_of_my_life

Or this

Jumping people

Or this

LoveLife

And then like all their friends leave all these comments under the picture… “Gorgeous!”  “Amen!”  “That’s how I feel!”  “Inspirational” “Love!”

Me?  My reaction?

IMG_20130219_160427

“Who gives a shit?”

*Crickets* Those pics mean absolutely nothing to me. I just keep scrolling down my feed lookin’ for dick jokes.  (not literally, it’s just a metaphor for “off color” jokes, dicks aren’t that entertaining to me, errr wait…)   While to some other people those pics inspire and warm their heart.  I just feel… nothing.

I never really thought about it before but… I wish they did elicit a response from me.  Maybe it’s my cynicism?  Well, I’m not really that cynical anymore, just I don’t know, I guess I lead more with my head than my heart.  Well I can be like warm and fuzzy.  I mean sometimes I do.  I think.   Like babies… babies make me stop dead in my tracks and grin from ear to ear.  I want to love them and hold them and pet them and call them George.  (5 bonus points to anyone who gets that)  That’s about the extent of my involuntary warm and fuzzies.  Well, also when my kids do something sweet or wonderful or makes me proud that’s a given, but that’s it.

I’m not a cold fish by any means but my heart just ain’t “swellin'” right now, if you know what I mean?  I think it has to do with what my life has been like for the past 20 some years.  I’ve either been destitute, struggling, alone, or in a chilly relationship.  I guess I haven’t had much time or need to “swell”.  I mean, I think I did, like when my kids were little.  I do remember being “joyful”, I guess that’s the word I’m looking for… being joyful.  I was joyful a handful of times when I stayed at home, my babies were little and cute and smart, and my ex wasn’t being a nasty drunk and we had money.  I think that was approximately 3 different days in a 22 year stretch.  Ok, maybe 6 times, I remember having an absolute euphoric feeling right after I gave birth to each of my 3 kids.  I’m still in love with my babies but it gets hard now that they are teens and can be in those “get the hell away from me Mom” moods.

And no offense to my current situation, but he knows we just have a very love/hate thing going on.  We’re both extremely sarcastic and neither of us is particularly happy with our lives or situation at the moment so, yea it’s no lovefest.  Never has been really, he, or we together just aren’t that way.  You know how some guys just aren’t mushy?  I can be mushy…?  But I think we have too much underlying animosity to be mushy.  I’d love to be mushy and romantic.

I know I was at one time, I had some old notes that my high school boyfriend and I had written back and forth.  I wore rose colored glasses at one point.  But does looking at the world romantically have everything to do with your relationships?  Does joy only form from our loins?  Maybe not, I’ve had sex that produced no joy.  Well, I do think relationships have a lot to do with it.   I mean my relationships in the past 25 years have either been with men who are sarcastic and emotionally unavailable or guys who just want to do me.  Ya’ know, no emotional involvement whatsoever, just a sexual tryst.   I’ve had a lot men wanting  the latter, maybe I should stop showing so much cleavage.  Hmmm.   You reap what you sow?  So, what’s to be joyful about?  I’d like to be cherished… is that still a thing?  Do people still do that?

I know it’s that old chestnut… start thinking a certain way and that’s what you’ll attract or whatever.  It’s the old chicken and egg thing… I need to start thinking joyful and romantic and that will bring that into my life?  I’d like to but I guess all I keep thinking is warm beer, stale chips, and unemotional men.   Maybe I should think champagne, caviar, and love?  Ugh, that’s too much like work.

So how do you get yourself to feel that way?  Any suggestions?  I was raised on a healthy diet of Irish negativity and  sarcasm, it’s kind of hard to break the cycle but I think I’d like to give it a go.  And please don’t steer me to that “The Secret” thing… I read that a while ago, it just didn’t click with me.  I tried to visualize and all that but I don’t know it just didn’t “change my life” like some people say.  I’m just not one to buy into schools of thought like The Secret or Tony Robbins or any other methods.  Maybe I’m just depressed and need more pills.  Jesus Christ, that’s all I need.

So… anybody else feel this way or is it just me?  Do any one of you feel joy when you look at those pics?  I’d love for you to tell me what it’s like…

More Madge Bang for Your Buck

1 Oct

Hello and welcome to Tuesday.

Just a short little blog today to tell you I am changing things around.  I’m very happy to say, I have a lot going on.  Cross your fingers that Madge, Inc. may be a huge national conglomerate soon.  Ok, well at least that I’ll be having a nice little brand going for myself.  So, since I’ve got a lot going on and I’m writing various blogs for other sites and publications and such, I am changing my schedule. (as well as my underwear)

I will no longer have two blogs a week here.  I will only post here on Thursdays.  I will post at http://www.singleparentmadge.wordpress.com every Tuesday.  In the next week or two that blog will be integrated into http://www.divorcedmoms.com when it launches but you should still be able to use that link.  So today I posted a blog there… which you can find here.  Please go check it out and follow and all that good stuff.  Tell your friends, (it’ll be just like Amway sans the membership fee and pressure to buy).   It is mainly about single parenting and divorce, so if that’s not your thing I understand.  It’s still a chuckle, though!  (allegedly)

Other things going on… I’ll be featured in a video presentation of a colleague that is launching a book this month.  More details to follow.

I am speaking at this event tonight.  Please come out if your are local.

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I have a new little coffee table companion book to “Lemons” coming out at the end of the month.

And of course, as always my book “When Life Gives You Lemons… at Least You Won’t Get Scurvy!” is available here

Sorry if this blog is like one big commercial but I just had to let y’all know what was what.  Sister’s gotta’ earn a dollah… somehow other than hooking.  See you on Thursday!

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