Booty-licious.

I got these boots (BCBG) for Christmas.  I'm not a boot person.  I'm a flip-flop person.

WAS a flip-flop person.

Praise Jesus (and all God's) for the return of the "chunky" heel.  

Spiky heels and pointy toes (all things spawn from the devil) be GONE!

Amen. 

What's in a Name?

Yesterday, I called my fiancé "Gary".  (His name is Jerry.)

It wasn't the first time. (More like the 40th.)

Jerry is a weird name.  Like the name of the guy living in a trailer missing a front tooth.  Sometimes  I can't even manage the word "Gary".  When referring to him in conversation, to my sister perhaps, my mind becomes confused.  I can't remember his name, like some reverse form of Tourette's Syndrome.

I open my mouth over and over again without making a sound like a fish plucked from the ocean trying to breath air.  (Please visualize.)

Eventually, I exhale and say, "what's his name" or "that guy I'm going to marry."

My nephews scream, "Oh my God duh, you don't even know the name of the man your going to marry?"  The youngest nephew fills in the blank, throwing me a verbal life raft; "You mean Jerry" he says.

"Yes Brody.  That's exactly who I meant.  You're a very good boy." I say. "Please have some candy."

My mother called my father, "Pete."  I was 16 when I learned his name was really Richard.  Who creates "Pete" as a diminutive of Richard?

When I call Jerry "Gary"... at least I'm close.

Year in Review.

I Canyoneered in Utah. I was the fool that attached the backpack straps across my boobs..assuming they were seat belts.

Seatbelts don't work here. Yes, that's me.

I met new friends. I couldn't wait to tell them about the weird Mormons I'd met earlier, like the strawberry blond zombie waitress engaged to the restaurant owner (she pointed him out).  He was already wearing a wedding ring.

"Can you believe these Mormons?" I asked.

"We're Mormons," they replied. 

Driving past our lodge 12 times, we were still unable to find it. We called the innkeeper.  She said, "after the second bend in the road, there is a creek, the road swerves left and then right.  You'll see grass. There is a tree...THAT'S where we are located." "Are you Irish?" I asked.

The view of from my bedroom.

My girlfriend, Linda talked to the animals. Until he spit in her face.  Imagine Saint Bernard drool...times 50.

We hiked.

We experienced rock formations.

I embraced nature.

 Cows were perched in a front yard. I rattled the gate to summon the darling creatures, and was electrocuted... by the fence. I'd like to notify the Psychiatric community: Electroshock does NOT make one less depressed...it makes you want to kill someone.

We became annoyed with Utah, the Mormons, rock formations and high voltage fences.  So we drove to Telluride, CO.  No mormons were in the Gondola we rode to the top of a mountain for dinner. 

I got a new car.  It roars, literally.

I drove to Newport Beach and rented a house with a dock and boat.

I took flying trapeze lessons.

I went four wheeling with my nephew. We raced. 

He won.

I managed a political campaign.  We raced.

They won.

But now I'm on a first name basis with the Mayor.  "Hey Murphy", I say when we cross paths. 

I'm cool like that.

Hello South Beach...

...diet.

Dr. Drew:  "When did you first notice you had a problem?"
Charmaine:  "I don't have a "problem".  I can stop "using" (butter) whenever I want."

I had a big Christmas Party. I invited Jerry's kids, grandkids, the baby daddy's, his mother and...

..his X-wife.

There should be a girl scout badge...

I went Martha Steward on their asses. I made adorable invitations, cooked, juried the "ugly Christmas sweater contest".  The white elephant was hilarious due to my mens Santa Knickers with matching hat that ended up on my 13 year old nephew.

I made videos for each guest...from Santa.

Jerry dressed up as St. Nick, offering each guest a personalized ornament.

X-Wife:  You've done a great job with the Condo.  The invitations, the food, such fun...it was amazing.  Is there anything you CAN'T do?

Charmaine:  Smiles sheepishly.

Why Marry Late in Life?

To have conversations with my sister (married 20 years).

Charmaine:  "Jerry is driving me crazy.  All he wants to do is shop.  He buys everything. It's exhausting.  Last week BCBG didn't have boots in my size.  He went BEHIND MY BACK...shipped them from Utah. He is dishonest!

Baby Sister:  "Ahhhhhhhh!"

Charmaine:  "Eating out every night is embarrassing. The Valet guys know us by name. I'm getting FAT. Jerry doesn't understand women.

Baby Sister:  "Ahhhhhhhh!"

Charmaine:  "How do you handle the endless, 'You're so beautiful' remarks? Doesn't it get old?

Baby Sister:  "I hope you die."

The Mother-in-Law

The FUN thing about getting married late in life is acquainting yourself with the family that came before you:  Kids, x-wives and....

The Mother.

I am marrying into an Italian family.

I spent the afternoon with Shirley making home-made raviolis (including the pasta) for Christmas.  It is a 40 year old tradition.  She's adorable...but I keep one eye open.

I've seen episodes of Everyone Loves Raymond.

Bowl of flour, eggs, water, ricotta, cheese, parsley and bits of ham.

She made pasta, I made the filling.

ITALIAN Mother:  "Charmaine.  Place the pasta sheet over the rack, fill with cheese, cover with pasta sheet.  Press out the air, dust with flour, roll with rolling pin and release the ravioli".

Charmaine:  "It's pretty easy, eh?"

ITALIAN Mother:  Silence

ITALIAN Mother:  "That's too much filling"

Charmaine:  "No problem.Voila."

ITALIAN Mother:  "That's not enough filling."

Charmaine:  "Oh."

ITALIAN Mother:  "You didn't dust with flower."

Charmaine:  "Flour, dust thyself upon my raviolis." Dramatic flourish of flour. I giggle.

Husband-to-be:  "You have flour on your stomach."

Charmaine:  "If it was on YOUR stomach we wouldn't have any left."

ITALIAN Mother:  "You'd better be nice to my son.  He's my baby, you know."

Charmaine:  That's one BIG baby.  "I know he's a mama's boy."

ITALIAN Mother:  Gazes at me.

Charmaine:  "In a GOOD Way."

On the 107th ravioli I thought; Why don't we buy these fuckers at Whole Foods?

But traditions are fun.

On the way out... I gave her a hug.

ITALIAN Mother:  "Next time, work faster.  The pasta dries out."

(She lingered, sweetly, at the door, waving, until we were out of sight.)

Later, I recalled the strong smell of the Ricotta.  It smelled "off". I didn't want to say anything.

(It's Christmas Day and the family is vomiting...racing for the bathroom....)

ITALIAN Mother:  "Charmaine made the ravioli this year."

Engaged VS Dating

I don't have to tell YOU the difference, eh?

Okay, I'll tell you.

The difference is HUGE!

A man that wants to MARRY you versus the man that wants to DATE you ad infinitum...it's like apples and oranges...they both serve a purpose.

The marriage minded man wants NOTHING MORE then to please you.  Like the beginning stage in dating a guy (he want's to please you too)...then it wanes to the final stage where you want to KILL him for being such a schmuck.

A schmuck is any man that DOES'NT want to marry you.  It's my blog, I get to redefine words.

I'd been "asked" before.  My mistake was to say, "no" then STAY in the relationship...forever.  Or WORSE, stay in a relationship with some guy that didn't EVER want to get married.

You give yourself to some guy...for free.  He get's all the benefits of a "wife" with none of the obligations.

Screw that!

When you say, "yes"...it keeps the ball rolling.

When you say, "yes" your man stays plugged in.

Let's view sample conversations depicting Dating Man and Marrying Man:

      Dating Man:  "You look nice."
      Marrying Man: "Have I told you how gorgeous you are?  You are so beautiful. I love you so much. Thank you for making my life so fun.  You are just so wonderful and full of life.  I feel like the luckiest man on earth.  Do you want a Vespa?

That about covers it.