Uh...nobody wants to hear from "The Angry Woman".
You have a point. It is, perhaps, more constructive to be adaptive and supportive.
I can make a case for outrage on many things. I was conditioned into anger. It runs rampant in my family. While the things my family is angry about are legitimate...the angry people are not happy.
Being "right" can polarize a person into radical behavior vs. spiritual understanding. Anger can be assaultive and close the heart you are trying to reach.
Hmm.
Like those people who were fanatical concerning animal rights. They were correct in concept but they expressed their opinions by throwing paint on women wearing furs. Trying to get paint out of my hair would never polarize me into your camp. Right concept, wrong action. That's why the movement didn't work.
Like Feminism, it was correct in concept but it's expression was too angry and assaultive to men. That movement didn't work either.
Radical vegetarianism. Right concept again. But Mother Teresa ate meat. Would they judge her too?
It's important to catch yourself before you spiral down too far...in my case, into anger.
You can do the right thing without judging the people that don't. I don't want to be angry at you know who anymore.
In life and love, you never know what you are missing until it arrives. You never know what you have until it is missing. So appreciate what you have.
Hey, look at me...I just transformed into Mother Teresa!
It's important to apologize sometimes. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0C_zEuk6fvU
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Everybody's Somebody's Fool
The Nerd called.
His voice was deep and maudlin. He said, "I hope you are noticing my lack of enthusiasm." (It was a play on words from my blog post wherein I compared his enthusiasm on our date to that of a Golden Retriever.)
Here's the problem. Every man I know reads (or pretends not to read) my blog.
The Nerd confessed to reading it start to finish. "You're hilarious," he said.
Humour is a mask. Otherwise how could I go from dancing a jig one day to the pits of dispair after breaking up with my guy because he was three (3) minutes late picking me up at the airport? (Being late is very rude.) When someone has been late EVERY time for a year you can travel from anticipation to anger in a flash.
Him: Why couldn't you just wait an hour, 3 minutes, half an hour? (Interject any span of time.)
Me: Why couldn't you just leave an hour, 3 minutes or half hour earlier?
Picture two Long Horned Sheep on a mountainside flecked with snow in Colorado ramming their heads together.
Yet, there were extraordinary acts of kindness.
Do women really wait around for men? If so, you are responsible for creating the Prima Donna's I currently have to deal with.
Ladies, there is no reason to consent to this. The younger generation is better at separating their physical selves from their emotional selves. But old broads like me, can't do it.
If you look at the animal kingdom (I'm only going here because men use this analogy to prove they were meant to spred their seed with reckless abandon) you will notice only the strongest males gain access to females for reproduction. Male horses, rams, tigers have to fight each other.
Only the strongest prevail, hence making the genetic pool of progeny...stronger.
Now the fat cats don't have to fight anymore.
It takes a strong man to deal with me.
I say picking a woman up for a date on time is NOT weakness. It is showing a modicum of respect. Showing someone you don't respect them is not strength. It is an attempt to require an unecessary humbling or submission.
Some women can play these manipulations to their advantage. You just have to play along.
It's a skill I never cultivated. I don't want to, I don't respect it and I won't do it.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2NkiyCFt1rs
His voice was deep and maudlin. He said, "I hope you are noticing my lack of enthusiasm." (It was a play on words from my blog post wherein I compared his enthusiasm on our date to that of a Golden Retriever.)
Here's the problem. Every man I know reads (or pretends not to read) my blog.
The Nerd confessed to reading it start to finish. "You're hilarious," he said.
Humour is a mask. Otherwise how could I go from dancing a jig one day to the pits of dispair after breaking up with my guy because he was three (3) minutes late picking me up at the airport? (Being late is very rude.) When someone has been late EVERY time for a year you can travel from anticipation to anger in a flash.
Him: Why couldn't you just wait an hour, 3 minutes, half an hour? (Interject any span of time.)
Me: Why couldn't you just leave an hour, 3 minutes or half hour earlier?
Picture two Long Horned Sheep on a mountainside flecked with snow in Colorado ramming their heads together.
Yet, there were extraordinary acts of kindness.
Do women really wait around for men? If so, you are responsible for creating the Prima Donna's I currently have to deal with.
Ladies, there is no reason to consent to this. The younger generation is better at separating their physical selves from their emotional selves. But old broads like me, can't do it.
If you look at the animal kingdom (I'm only going here because men use this analogy to prove they were meant to spred their seed with reckless abandon) you will notice only the strongest males gain access to females for reproduction. Male horses, rams, tigers have to fight each other.
Only the strongest prevail, hence making the genetic pool of progeny...stronger.
Now the fat cats don't have to fight anymore.
It takes a strong man to deal with me.
I say picking a woman up for a date on time is NOT weakness. It is showing a modicum of respect. Showing someone you don't respect them is not strength. It is an attempt to require an unecessary humbling or submission.
Some women can play these manipulations to their advantage. You just have to play along.
It's a skill I never cultivated. I don't want to, I don't respect it and I won't do it.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2NkiyCFt1rs
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Return Of The Nerd
He recently send me a message on Facebook: (Our date was in 2008) "Hey, it's the nerd. First of all, my teeth are tan. Also, i have been trained to untuck and lower. My enthusiasm was significantly diminished by the lack of response, i.e. throwing yourself at me most wantonly, the jersey tomatoes inspired, so i no longer wave 'vigorously' - ever. Anyway, i think a second date is in order.2skin.E"
Me thinks he found my blog. The little rascal. Below is my review of our first, and only, date in May of 2008. He had a deep voice and an enormous Adam's Apple. That's a wierd thing to say, isn't it? (The things one remembers...) He was jovial and self-effacing. Unlike "The King" he would never accuse me of "bad behavior", call me to "discuss my inadequacies", leave me in reastaurants or insult me just because he could or leave me waiting for hours just to prove how busy he was. I liked him immediately. He would have given me a Christmas Card. He deserves a second date.
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I met Revenge of the Nerd at the swap meet. His pants were pulled up WAY too high and his t-shirt was tucked in. He was wearing white sneakers. He had yellow teeth.
Me thinks he found my blog. The little rascal. Below is my review of our first, and only, date in May of 2008. He had a deep voice and an enormous Adam's Apple. That's a wierd thing to say, isn't it? (The things one remembers...) He was jovial and self-effacing. Unlike "The King" he would never accuse me of "bad behavior", call me to "discuss my inadequacies", leave me in reastaurants or insult me just because he could or leave me waiting for hours just to prove how busy he was. I liked him immediately. He would have given me a Christmas Card. He deserves a second date.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I met Revenge of the Nerd at the swap meet. His pants were pulled up WAY too high and his t-shirt was tucked in. He was wearing white sneakers. He had yellow teeth.
But he was as enthusiastic as a golden retriever puppy. I could almost a hear the tail wagging. Thump. Thump.
He carried my 10 bags in one hand, a Boston Fern in the other with my purse slung over his shoulder. He wore an ENORMOUS straw hat. (He looked hilarious). He held my hand until it got sweaty.
When we left he followed my car in a beat-up red Echo. In my rear view mirror I could see him smiling and waving vigorously.
a
We took the auto Ferry to Balboa Peninsula. He jumped out of his car, walked with determination to the front of the ferry and jutted his arms into the sky. (Simulating the "I'm king of the world" scene from Titanic.)
Oh yea, he was nerd alright.
Oh yea, he was nerd alright.
We visited the "Fun Zone" an amusement area in Newport Beach frequented by 6 year olds. When you play Skeeball the machine spits out coupons used to purchase prizes like superballs and black widow rings.
a
After pushing a 7 year old out of the way (being tall has it's advantages) we made it to the counter to purchase our prizes. I purchased my favorite...the black widow ring. He purchased the manila envelope stamped with a picture of a rattlesnake. Beneath the picture: Rattlesnake Eggs. Caution: Store in a cool place to prevent hatching.
a
When you open the envelope a device within shakes with a buzz.
a
It malfunctioned every time I showed it to people at work... until I opened it. I screamed every time. Who's the nerd, now?
a
I called my sister to ask if I could send it to her boys. She said, "How cold do I keep the eggs to prevent them from hatching"? (She's normally intelligent.)
He emailed me the minute he got home" "I know the rules say I should wait at least 24 hours but I had to tell you I had wicked awesome time". (He teaches high school math hence the vernacular.)
Seriously. He's a nerd. But he's a confident, unapologetic thinks-he's-a-rebel, nerd.
I like him... but I'll never see him again. He's too skinny.
a
"White and Nerdy" by Weird Al Yankovich. Click below to see him.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E6Zc9NyYH-k&feature=PlayList&p=6C00A321AC9BA6A1&playnext=1&playnext_from=PL&index=1
The making of the video with Donny Osmond (below). Even funnier:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vq6OncN6_Fo&channel=alyankovic
a
The making of the video with Donny Osmond (below). Even funnier:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vq6OncN6_Fo&channel=alyankovic
a
"Hi, my name is Bob".
I was getting out of my car, lugging groceries. He appeared beside me.
He'd been chatting with the neighbours down the ally. The ones whose lives I covet. She is beautiful and blond, he is tall and handsome, their newborn child is precious. Their dog is named Bella, they drive Land Rovers and live in a big house.
No, I'm not stalking them. Here in Corona Del Mar we live on top of each other. Everyone hears and sees everything.
"I was just standing behind you at the grocery store." He said.
"You were? What did you buy?"
(I hate myself when I say things like that.) I mean, why did I say that?
He extended his hand. "My name is Bob. I live a few houses down. I hope to see you around.
He'd been chatting with the neighbours down the ally. The ones whose lives I covet. She is beautiful and blond, he is tall and handsome, their newborn child is precious. Their dog is named Bella, they drive Land Rovers and live in a big house.
No, I'm not stalking them. Here in Corona Del Mar we live on top of each other. Everyone hears and sees everything.
"I was just standing behind you at the grocery store." He said.
"You were? What did you buy?"
(I hate myself when I say things like that.) I mean, why did I say that?
He extended his hand. "My name is Bob. I live a few houses down. I hope to see you around.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Love is a Four Letter Word
This is a long post. Run for the hills.
New Years Eve was filled with children. When Aunt Charmaine shows up...so do the kids.
I sprung into action. I made a New Years Eve party, I bought noise makers, silly string, tiaras and helium balloons. I did my famous scavenger hunt. The kids ran around the house squeeling. The fireplace was crackling.
They decided to inhale helium from the balloons (my sister accused me of corrupting her children) forcing them to parrot what I told them to say like, "I hope when I hit puberty my voice will change". I took them to this trampoline place. Trampoline dodge ball where Aunt Charmaine morphed into a soccer mom.
"Kill them" I heard myself say. "Now is not the time to be polite".
The little boy on the opposite team, a brilliant dodge ball player, waved me into the game. I was going to annihilate him.
He annihilated me instead. He threw the ball so hard it knocked me over. I had nothing but admiration for the lad, except that he cheated. He was so good, he didn't need to cheat. "The ball hit you, you're out!" I yelled. "Whose running this show", I thought. Where are the adults?
Who knew that my tiny nephew, Gunnar, smaller then the other boys,the kind that writes love songs on his guitar and sneaks up to say, I love you"...would be the one to knock their socks off? It's not size. It's tenacity. That's him below with my beautiful sister. He kicked their butts. He was a poised...focused warrior. Our team won against Herculean odds.
I was proud of him. He had justice and fire in his eyes
On the way home he was bemoaning the fact that the other team had cheated. The injustice of it. One of the cheating thugs had red hair. Gunnar asked Chandler, his 15 year old cousin, how could they cheat like that?
"Don't worry" she said. He'll never get anywhere in life. He's a ginger.
Ginger is a derogatory term used in Evergreen, Colorado to describe people with red hair.
I'm not politicaly correct. I laughed. I'm a little "gingery" myself.
I
The car pulled away and he chased us. We pulled away again, he chased again. He let me kiss him TWICE! My mother returned to say, "I don't want you to go".
Still, I was excited to depart and see my King. We all know how that turned out. Big fizzle. When we got back together recently he texted, "Call me when you are prepared to discuss your character flaws."
Well try this on King. Call me when you are prepared to apologize for yours.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2kuna7sC5ek&NR=1
I had a great trip to Denver. My brother-in-law picked me up at the airport. He was not late.
On my return to Orange County, The King asked me to call when my plane landed. He could be there in 15 minutes. I called. He wasn't there. I took a cab instead.
Then he arrived at my apartment. "Why couldn't you wait?" he asked. It's a theme with us. Me waiting...eventually getting fed up and leaving. I'm such an evil woman. I guess the fact that he is consistantly late does not qualify as bad behavior.
Always...he goes on about my "bad behavior". How I left his house on Christmas Eve while he dined with is X and children at her house. I baked a pie. I waitied as long as I could.
In Denver I made dinner every night. I invited neighbourhood kids for sphaghetti. I packed Dan's lunch. I made the kids lunch. I helped Brody with his homework. Oops what's that? Oh, Gunnars arms around me, "I love you" he said. New Years Eve was filled with children. When Aunt Charmaine shows up...so do the kids.
They decided to inhale helium from the balloons (my sister accused me of corrupting her children) forcing them to parrot what I told them to say like, "I hope when I hit puberty my voice will change". I took them to this trampoline place. Trampoline dodge ball where Aunt Charmaine morphed into a soccer mom.
"Kill them" I heard myself say. "Now is not the time to be polite".
The little boy on the opposite team, a brilliant dodge ball player, waved me into the game. I was going to annihilate him.
He annihilated me instead. He threw the ball so hard it knocked me over. I had nothing but admiration for the lad, except that he cheated. He was so good, he didn't need to cheat. "The ball hit you, you're out!" I yelled. "Whose running this show", I thought. Where are the adults?
Who knew that my tiny nephew, Gunnar, smaller then the other boys,the kind that writes love songs on his guitar and sneaks up to say, I love you"...would be the one to knock their socks off? It's not size. It's tenacity. That's him below with my beautiful sister. He kicked their butts. He was a poised...focused warrior. Our team won against Herculean odds.
On the way home he was bemoaning the fact that the other team had cheated. The injustice of it. One of the cheating thugs had red hair. Gunnar asked Chandler, his 15 year old cousin, how could they cheat like that?
"Don't worry" she said. He'll never get anywhere in life. He's a ginger.
Ginger is a derogatory term used in Evergreen, Colorado to describe people with red hair.
I'm not politicaly correct. I laughed. I'm a little "gingery" myself.
I
Brody rushed out to the car as I departed for one last kiss. "He doesn't do that with anyone" my sister said.
Still, I was excited to depart and see my King. We all know how that turned out. Big fizzle. When we got back together recently he texted, "Call me when you are prepared to discuss your character flaws."
Well try this on King. Call me when you are prepared to apologize for yours.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2kuna7sC5ek&NR=1
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Music and Lyrics
It was a stupid movie that featured Hugh Grant.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v8AU2n6hf24&feature=related
My mother once mailed Hugh Grant pictures of me, advising that I was perfect for him.
Now all the Hot shots of me in my 20's are gone. But it's a funny story. The fact that my mother believed what she saw on TV.
Below is "the song". The best woman in the world, Charlotte Vale Allen sent me her recipe for Chicken Divan and I'm gonna cook it for my nephews. All is not lost. Oh yea, I forgot to mention...The King dumped me.
You don't know who your real friends are...until you need them.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2vS49_v4ZlU
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v8AU2n6hf24&feature=related
My mother once mailed Hugh Grant pictures of me, advising that I was perfect for him.
Now all the Hot shots of me in my 20's are gone. But it's a funny story. The fact that my mother believed what she saw on TV.
Below is "the song". The best woman in the world, Charlotte Vale Allen sent me her recipe for Chicken Divan and I'm gonna cook it for my nephews. All is not lost. Oh yea, I forgot to mention...The King dumped me.
You don't know who your real friends are...until you need them.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2vS49_v4ZlU
That's him. Just a playboy I'm thinking now.
Saturday, December 26, 2009
A Christmas Story
Sometimes you need family to remind you.
After a last minute change, heart broken, I spent Christmas with my local family: My Aunt and cousins.
Christmas is about family.
It was the best Christmas eva! Moments after arriving at the Brentwood style mansion owned by my cousin Dara (nuclear scientist) and her husband Tom (attorney) I was brought to the backyard to meet Molly (age two.) She was squatted, like a dog, on the backyard patio, having removed her diaper and pants, she pooped on the ground. Yep, right there on the Mexican Tiles.
"At least she didn't do it in her diaper. We're trying to potty train her", my cousin said.
"When Molly turns twenty one (21) I'm going to tell her what she was doing the first time I met her." I said.
An hour later the little cherub wrapped her arms and legs around me and it was love. I carried her around in my arms until they hurt.
I haven't seen my cousins or Aunt in years. I was busy. I made up excuses.
My Aunt couldn't believe I showed up. She is the woman that emmigrated to America with my mother when they were 23 years old. She married my mother's eldest brother. She cooked a delicious rack of pork marinated in garlic, Rosemary and Thyme with roasted vegetables, Au Gratin Potatoes, Butternut Squash, Sauteed Kale and Homemade rolls slathered in butter, parsley and garlic.
Everyone had a story to tell about the first time they met me, as if they knew I felt disconnected. Andrea (cousin Gavin's wife) recalled meeting me when I was 19. She said I was cooking in Aunt Mary's kitchen. I exclaimed, "I don't know what to do! What does Saute mean? I don't know what Saute MEANS!" (Funny because my mother and I started a catering company a year later.)
The kids opened presents, jumped and screamed.
The house was perfumed with delicious aromas, kids squeeling and running wild with dogs poking their noses into this or that. I was feeling the love. For the first time, I needed it.
We watched a video on a TV screen larger then my apartment, of the girls singing in a Church Christmas Pageant. It was hilarious.
I called my little sister Briana. My phone was passed from person to person. "God I just love her," my cousins chanted. Cousin Thurlow called in on speaker phone, "Merry Christmas Molly. Merry Christmas Clair." The girls gravitated to the sound of his voice, touching the phone like it was magic.
There was Prosecco, dessert and conversation. Tales from our mutual pasts and present day updates. It was with this family I spent many childhood holidays. We played in the mud. My father sprayed us with a garden hose as we ran in circles...shrieking with delight. Later, after our father's died in close proximity...we lost touch. Their father was my Godfather. He had a heart attack while cycling with my cousin Thurlow. Thurlow tried to revive him. He died in his arms. His mother, like mine, never re-married. Maybe real love ruins you.
Life and sorrow got in the way. I stayed away for 20 years.
My sweet cousin Elva sat me at "the kids table" and read a story aloud from a childrens book. A 45 year old woman read a 48 year old woman a book called, Gerald the Giraffe Can't Dance. See, Gerald was "different". He needed a "different" song to dance to. My cousin paused and gazed at me. We giggled. Time seemed never to have passed.
Except certain people were now bald.
My Aunt Mary (Mary is my middle name) and Cousin Dara begged me to stay the night. "Don't go Charmaine" they trained one of the two-year olds to say. (The air mattress was already on the living room floor and Molly, naked, was jumping up and down on it.)
On my drive home Elva called: "I love you," she said. "Thank you for making Christmas special this year. You changed things. We've never had so much fun. You're such a bright light," she said.
How lucky am I? I'm broke...but I feel rich.
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