Wednesday, February 25, 2009

White Women CAN Rap!

...and so can my 10 year old nephew, Brody.
He accompanied my "rap" by performing what is called "beat boxing". Auntie Charmaine didn't know what that meant.
In the language of the aged and "un-cool", that means Brody and I did a "duet". See that big guy? That's DJ Rico. When we completed our, "rap" he reassuringly laughed out loud.

We were not "good". We were, however, ON THE AIR.

Details to come. (Worth the wait.)

Saturday, February 21, 2009

I AM a whore.

It happened last night.
I became a whore.
We all have ideas about what constitutes a whore.
Evil Surfer Dude came over and refused to take me to dinner. I was dressed up, he wanted to work out. He waited for me to bend to his will. Hey Evil (in case you are reading...Nobody puts baby in a corner.
I love saying that. It merely means that you walked out in a huff because you didn't get your way...for the last time.
In an unprecedented act of whorishness I called The King of Produce. Well, I called him back. We''ve had 4 dates. I've never kissed him. In his last email he enclosed this song, Essence, by Lucinda Williams.

It made me feel funny in my tummy.

He IMMEDIATELY offered to take me where I wanted to go, Javier's in Crystal Cove. His two favorite "things" are fine dining and intelligent women. Bingo. (I can "act" smart...sometimes.)

Three hours (2) martinis, filet Mignon, prawns and (3) glasses of wine later I made out with him. a
I made out with him IN the restaurant....where people could SEE!!!! I have never, EVER done that. This is NOT the behavior of a lady. Can I get an "intervention"? Can I get a hallelujah?

Hell, can I just get some coffee and an aspirin? (faints)

Friday, February 20, 2009

DJ Chris and Charmizzle

I'm flying to Denver tomorrow to visit my college buddy, Chris.

I haven't seen Chris for 25 years.

After, "blowing up" my cell the bill was $200.00. In an act of chivalry he sent a check to cover the cost. I would NEVER have accepted but for the fact that I am not working and things are getting "tight".

I thought about getting impregnated with 8 babies and having America support me through this difficult time...

Chris asked me to visit and I said yes. He has a hip hop show on Sundays at 7:00-10:00 PM Mountain Time (6:00 PM Pacific) He has agreed to put my 10 year old nephew on the air. How hilarious. If you want to listen click below while the show is airing this Sunday. Select "The Eclipse" show. Maybe he'll put his old pal Charmaine on. I will say "hello" to one special blogger. Man, all I do is think of you people. Gotta tune in to see if it's you.

He's taking me to dinner for my birthday. He sent another check to cover the airfare. I will NOT, however, cash it. That would make me a hoochie. And you know, because I tell you all the time, I am NOT a whore. I have, however, a strange fondness for word especially when preceded by "Dirty".

Message to Katie (Verns girlfriend who reads my blog and reports to him what I say). (Communicating to my X Vern's Harem might become a regular feature of Middle Aged Dating.) "It's fun", she said laughing maniacally.

1. Vern said that he advised you to "hold on tight" or you would lose him. Not only did I NEVER "hold on tight", I never held on at ALL for seven (7) years. Don't let a man condescend to you like that. He should be holding onto YOU.

2. Behaving like an unpaid whore never works out for the woman. Just look in Vern's guestroom. Stop sleeping with him until he puts a ring on your finger. How can you spend the night when the woman he professed to love 6 months ago is SLEEPING IN HIS GUEST ROOM. Mother of God, what is WRONG with you people? Were you all raised in trailers by toothless hillbillies? Behave more modestly. Try to be a lady. Todays lesson is now over.

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Ten (10) Things

Oh jeez, I’ve been tagged by my pal Shakespeare’s Housekeeper.

I’m meant to tell you ten (10) interesting things about myself. Zzzzz. Under no circumstance would I do such a thing but for that fact that the request came from her.

Here we go. Try not to fall asleep.

1. I was arrested at 18 for “tagging” making me, perhaps, the first white upper middle-class tagger in New York. The gang slogan I felt compelled to express on the side of the drug store wall with spray paint at midnight was, “Hi mom”. I am, inexplicably, proud of this.

2. I once sued a man for sexual harassment and won. Before you get all crazy on me, you know that I am the most puritanical woman on earth, right? All of those women who slept with their bosses and then sued inspire my hatred. My case was classic. So classic that the Dean of Pepperdine Law School begged opposing council for the opportunity to film our mediation in order to use it as a learning module.

It was a fascinating case that almost landed me in a mental health ward. You can't possibly imagine what I endured. They subpoenaed my gynecological records. Huh? Two firms were hired to investigate my background. Striking a perplexing resemblance to the Virgin Mary worked out for me. The day before we were meant to go to trial I was curled up in the fetal position in the corner of my living room crying, hand clutching the phone ready to call my attorney to scream, “call it off”. I wrote my attorney’s closing argument. I didn't want money, merely justice. I learned, in the end, there is no justice. A lawsuit is, at best, legal extortion. Despite winning, I died on a cross that day. I made my point. It cost me everything.

3. I have gray hair.

4. I love my baby sister Briana more then words can express. She is on my blog list under, My Baby Sister the Attorney. She’s smart and kind. She has never lost a case in her life.

5. I have another crazy sister named Erin. We don’t talk about her to strangers.

6. My mother used to be an alcoholic. My sister Briana and I did an “intervention” on her. I thought nothing could be more difficult then my sexual harassment lawsuit but I was wrong.

7. My nephews Aiden, Gunnar and Brody are the most perfect people on earth. So is my niece, Chloe.

8. Blogging might actually be keeping me sane. I try to be funny about my failed dates but, secretly, I’m getting scared.

9. Lot’s of men have crushes on me so don’t feel sorry for me.

10. My grandfather was second in command of the IRA. My grandmother, a nurse, was a spy. They spend time in prison. My grandfather was sentenced to death. The IRA blew up the prison and he escaped to New York. Later, he was granted amnesty and returned.

It is now incumbent upon me to pass the torch. No pressure. Ignore me, puleez.

Simplicity A beautiful young woman that I, frankly, adore.

This is Braja. There is no way in hell she will play. I love her for this. She would sooner punch you in the face then play a blogger game. Still, her compassion will astound you.

Bern this would never lower herself to such a request. But check her out because she is fall down fuuny. Love her.

Vodka Mom. This woman defies the imagination. She is hilarious. She is our hero and...uh...spiritual blog guide.

Hedgie. This man is a mystery to me. He is literary, obviously very intelligent. Why would he talk to ME? His ten (10) things are the "things" that most interest me.

My Three Sons. Lastly, my favorite person on baby sis. She pretends that she will never give free legal advice again...but she keeps doing it. She can't help it. Email her. She will help you.

Sunday, February 15, 2009

Valentines Day

I hate holidays that require gift giving. I enjoy giving, it's the receiving part I have a problem with.

There is nothing I cannot buy for myself. If I must receive a gift I always say, "Give me Ugs".

The reason I am specific is because I am incapable of pretense. I know I should be gracious when presented with an unwanted gift. I simply can't do it. I have some version of the malady Jim Carey suffered from in the movie, "I Can't Lie". Pretending to like that really great set of kitchen knives or that super duper set of Tupperware is, frankly, impossible. I'd prefer a card to having to gaze into your expectant eyes and coo, "I love it".

Ug (boots) are the only gift I have ever requested, size eight (8) thank you. But that’s not the point. The point is Mr. Man I am dating, why won't you listen? Why?

I dated “The Vern” for years. He appeared recently “Charmaine, I was going to ask you to marry me. I would have given you everything you ever wanted.” he said.

“All I ever wanted was a pair of Ugs.” I said meanly.

In a later visit he advised me that his former and current girlfriend are both reading my blog. Huh? What kind of man would lead you to my blog? A man whose hubris just backfired.

Hello Ladies! I humble myself to Katie (current girlfriend). Your man was making out with me on my couch. I had no idea you existed until the moment you called. He acted like you were nothing. He lied to you and continued to kiss me. He took me to dinner. We laughed and had a grand time. I thought you were a fabrication. I had no idea my “Vern” was such a schmuck.

"How many times had he done the same to me?" I wondered. Katie, be smart. Email me at charming_mary @ for further evidence of his shenanigans. Girl power.

My Valentines Day date arrived with my favorite flower, tulips.

He presented a heart-shaped box of chocolates. I responded, “You know I don’t eat this sh*t.”

Is it any wonder I'm not married?

Later, dressing for dinner, I was putting on a necklace and he said, “stop”. He handed me a diminutive box. Uh oh.

Thankfully it was merely a heart shaped necklace with diamonds so small they could only be detected by an electron microscope. There was another box. I saw it. He tucked it into his jacket.
I was not a "fun" date. When we returned home - I plopped onto my couch and fell asleep. He was so mad he packed up his things and left. I never saw the other box.

This is the actual necklace magnified for obvious reasons. Had he presented me with the only thing I have ever asked for, the lad might have gotten lucky.

Lunch - Pannini, Corona Del Mar, CA
This is a little Mediterranean cafe with indoor and outdoor seating. If you sit outside you will enjoy the mouthwatering aroma of fuel emissions emanating from the cars driving past.

I had the grilled chicken panini with pesto, artichokes, sun-dried tomatoes and melted Brie. It was served with cous cous flecked with mint, raisins and walnuts. Yummy.

Cocktails - A Restaurant (formerly Arches, Newport Beach, CA)
This is a restaurant your parents might have enjoyed when they were dating. You Naugahyde booths in the shape of half moons? Skip it.

Dinner - Gulfstream, Corona Del Mar, CA
It's like a bustling restaurant in New York. The service is spectacular. The lighting is romantically dim. Dining tables are draped in crisp white linens centered with candles sparkling inside glass cylinders. You can watch the chefs prepare your food. I once had a date consider this dinner and a show.

Outside, a fire pit sends flames reaching into the night sky surrounded by Adirondack chairs to inspire conversation among strangers. It works. Some fellers smoke cigars. I recommend the fish, salad of arugula, Gorgonzola with slices of pear and caramelized walnuts or the delicious rib-eye with mashed potatoes, green onion and haricot verts....that is if you MUST eat meat and kill the beautiful, sensitive, doe-eyed cows that exist only to love you. Hi again Braja...smiling innocently batting eyelashes. blink. blink. (Braja, in case you don't know, owns a pet cow. She lives in India. It was not accidental that I added descriptions of beef AFTER she commented on my post. )

PS: I won another "One Minute Writer" award. It's puerile and insignificant. Still it thrills me to my core . I clapped my hands as if I were 8 years old. Yipee.

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

My New Boyfriend.

This is my new boyfriend, Hannibal. We have some problems including the fact he’s 10 years old, kills people and tends to eat them. Then there’s the whole have-to-wheel-him-around-on-a-dolly-all-day situation. I’ve overcome more formidable obstacles in my quest for love.

Months ago, after two dates, I decided to discontinue seeing “The King of Produce”. He ships produce from around the world, repackages it and sends it to grocery stores throughout the nation. We have this joke that he is going to hire me as an apple washer. In the ensuing months, he continued to email, text and call me. I never picked up.

Recently I discovered I need reading glasses contrary to my original assumption that shampoo bottle manufacturers were intentionally making the print smaller in order to save money on ink.

Hence, discerning the identity of an incoming call on my cell is no longer possible without the assistance of an electron microscope. One day I picked up (I had no idea who was calling…couldn’t see a thing). It was “The King of Produce”.

He advised that for the past 5 months he has been visiting my two (2) favorite restaurants (steps from my house but miles from his) every weekend in the forlorn hope of bumping into me, accidentally.

“How sweet,” I thought.

So we met again at Bandara in Corona Del Mar. He was taller then I remembered and had nice big hands. He was confident. We each sipped a dirty martini. He did not tell me I looked nice. Fool.

I looked nice, I thought. Especially since it was dark and in the dark, frankly, I’m a knock-out.

We had a fantastic dinner. The conversation was pleasant but there were no sparks and insufficient laughter. I detected that he was very successful which, for a moment, made up for the sad lack of laughter. But you know me…. I’m incapable of pretense…damn it!

After dinner he took to me to the former Four Seasons (you know I love me some Four Seasons) now called The Island Hotel in Newport Beach. The house was packed. I ordered very expensive wine. I don’t usually do that. I am also a pathalogical lier.

He drove me back to my car where I perfunctorily kissed him on the cheek, jumped into my car and drove home drunk. Luckily it was only two blocks.


Bandara, Corona Del Mar
It’s dark, cozy with a flaming fireplace. Tiny amber lamps romantically illuminate the dark wood bar. Candles flicker on the dining tables. The crowd is older. “The King of Produce” pointed out women he sees every Saturday night. I imagine they drive in from Isuza to score a wealthy husband. I've been here for 14 years. All I have been able to score is an airplane builder from Midway City (Vern) and a Scientist (Evil Surfer Dude) from Carlsbad with small hands. Groan.

I had the Tuna Poke. Mother of God it was a delicious concoction consisting of raw Ahi, avocado and peanuts drizzled with a cloyingly sweet Hoisin Sauce that artistically surrounded the perimeter of the plate. The Rib Eye was grilled to mouthwatering perfection with a smoky meaty flavor so delicious that I almost fainted. It was served with gigantic ruby red tomato slices, possibly from Jersey. In betwixt each slice a leaf of basil was nestled with a shard of blue cheese and drizzled with balsamic vinegar and olive oil. It was delicious.

The Island Hotel, Newport Beach
If you are in the mood for Las Vegas style entertainment, albeit toned down for Orange County, check out the bar at The Island Hotel on Friday and Saturday nights. It features a bloke with blond spiky hair. He is too old to be sporting this look but you will forgive him because he sings and plays every manner of instrument along side a classical violinist and drummer while being, simultaneously, funny.

I ordered my favorite wine all night. I can only imagine the bill.