Tuesday, August 28, 2012


I myself have never been inside a confessional. And, I'm pretty glad about it too, since I can't even imagine how that sort of deal must play upon a youth's mental health, for example. Take 15 year old boys for instance. Boys who by all natural signs of human nature, must think about sex approximately every 23 seconds. Boom. Next thing you know, they're doing the FORGIVE ME FATHER FOR I HAVE SINNED bit for fear of going straight to Hell. Like exactly how cleansing could THAT possibly be? 

On the other hand, I myself might have plenty of items that would probably rank right up there for going to the confessional deal and then in turn, the going right smack to Hell deal. But me? I don't care. I'm perfectly content with my pretty decent morality quotient. And thank God I never did have to confess such items for in the end... I'm pretty much a perfectly wonderful person who tries to hurt as few people as possible and who carefully follows most laws of life and/or government. As in: Sue me. I love dope. And great sex. In fact, if mixed together forget about Hell... I'm in HEAVEN.  

However...  today, I realized I could possibly be going to Hell, afterall. Especially since I have never confessed ANYthing to a Man of the Cloth. Besides, if I'm going to be doing any confessing, I'd much prefer the guy have no clothing on at all, since I'm thinking that the nudity alone, would soften the blow of what I may unload. No pun intended.

Anyway... I was walking out of the salon where I had my manicure and pedicure this afternoon and from outta nowhere this startling thought popped into my head: 1.) F*** it. I think I DO love gossip and 2.) I DO love impulse buying. Oops. Sounds like these could indeed be considered sins, yes??  

Case in point: Give me an opportunity to hook up with a girlfriend for lunch let's say and bingo. I'm happily and willingly all ears for any great juicy story she has to offer up. I'd soak it all up in a FLASH. Plus, they'd even get extra points for beginning the story with: NOW DON'T REPEAT THIS TO ANYONE!! Boom. That's my clue to focus and listen but GOOD.

Naturally, I'll  swear to never repeat the story and actually, for the most part I never do. Unless the story is just so deliciously potent and/or outrageous that I simply HAVE to share it with someone.  ENTER:  GOSSIP. I also have to admit that if the story has someone I truly hate as the main character... zammo... AN EXTRA HUNDRED POINTS for the story teller right off the bat. Meaning, I just may have to pay for their lunch when all is said and done.

The other confession I have is that yes, I am indeed the target audience for all retailers who prey upon impulse buyers. I'M THEIR PRIME SHOPPER. For I must confess... I get a major kick out of standing in line, touching everything possible in the surrounding displays at the check out counter. And if the product looks the least bit interesting... DONE. THE ITEM IS IN MY CART lickety split. You'd be AMAZED at what great crapola you can pick up at the last moment.

And.. matters not if you're in Target or Nordstroms. The goodies can have equal allure, if you ask me. Granted, I'd rather be standing in Nordstroms, but never discount the lower end stores, either. They too have earned a wonderful place in my shopping cart time and time again.

I suspect I have a shitload of other confessions I could be making as well, but why tempt the Hand of God. For while he's going to love me regardless and still hold a wonderful place for me in Heaven as is, some things are just best held closer to the vest for the moment. In fact, I can't WAIT til I get to the entrance of the pearly gates and am questioned about this and about that and about 439 other things. For already, I have my reply all set up in my mind.


And bingo... next thing you know... I'll be prancing my way clear up the heavenly stairs. Besides, I truly believe in a forgiving God. So basically... now's his chance to prove me right.

Monday, August 27, 2012


Gulp. Here goes nothing. Two days from now, I am REALLY going to look horrible!! As in: horrible scars, horrible bruises and horrible swelling. Better bring out the sun glasses and head scarves but FAST. And bring them out for about the next two weeks also, I guess.

To get the week off to a great start, I hosted a fabulous BEFORE PARTY last night. Had a dozen women here and we drank, laughed, ate and played for three and a half hours, having the time of our lives. There's my favorite pict from the evening, up there on top. See the happy smile on my face? Well, come Wednesday it's going to be a whole different sort of look, trust me. Not only will I be looking horrible BUT I'm predicting a lot of moaning and groaning, too. Well... until the pain pills kick in, that is. But whatever. I am sure the procedures will improve my face just fine. Time shall tell.

To help kick start the recovery, I've hired Denise to come stay with me from 7:00 p.m. until 7:00 a.m for the first two nights. I'm imagining she'll be making about a zillion runs for the ice packs I'll be needing to apply. Not to mention helping me with everything else. And.. get this... I'll have to sleep in my recliner for TWO DAMN WEEKS. Granted I love my recliners but I love my bed WAY more.

I think I've got everything down pat as far as my pre-op instructions go. I've got my stupid little errands completed, knowing I'll be out of commission for bit. I've got my refrigerator loaded with food for all the visitors I may have and I've got the most important of all scheduled for tomorrow... my manicure and pedicure! SOMEthing about me has to look spiffy, right? Boom. Done.

On Wednesday morning, I have to be at the doctor's office by six thirty. OMG. Don't ask. Which means I' have to be up no later than five thirty. EEEKS. Then, once I get to his office, I'll be taken to THE room where the procedure is done and given about 40 milligrams of Valium. Talk about a silver lining, huh? Things get underway about 7:00 and by 11:00 I should be all stitched up and ready to go. YIPPEE. Let the magic begin.

Oh yeah... I also have to do one of THE most important things ever. Tomorrow morning, I'm calling the florist so I can have beautiful flowers delivered on Wednesday to... who else?... ME! I love sending myself great things. I mean seriously... what could be easier let alone happier, than picking up a phone, order some beautiful stems and then sending a bunch of flowers to someone you truly love? And trust me... NO one loves me as much as I love me.

Sunday, August 26, 2012


Oh man... this online banking is going to be the death of me. I can't even beLIEVE the hours I've put into setting it all up. Well, Bonnie and I, to be precise. Without her? I'd have shot myself WAY before today.

About a year and a half ago, we began paying all my bills online. It's taken me that long btw, to even get the navigation of the site down pat. Whatever. Finally we got it all up and running and I've been cloud nine ever since.

The reason I REALLY wanted to do this was so that whenever tax time came around, the site would make life so easy for me since by the mere click of the mouse, it would spit out a report 1-2-3 of all the people to whom monies went. As well as total up all the monies spent in each of the categories I created. Or, I can get any OTHER sort of financial report I wanted. Yippee. 

Okay. So that's easy enough. I can now know exactly how much I spent for the entire year on medical expenses, utilities, insurance policies, groceries, home maintenance, whatever. Naturally, I wouldn't even conSIDer looking at the tally for clothing or entertainment, btw... why ruin my day?? Talk about masochistic. Anyway, I can also spit out a report by Payees only or one of Payment History, etc. etc.. These reports are basically magical if you ask me.

In the meantime, I'd THEN be able to print out whatever information I wanted, to hand over to Alan, my CPA. Who should thank me plenty, btw, for doing the work HE should be calculating. Which is kinda funny given that in order to even take advantage of tax deductions, don't you first have to have an income of sorts? Oops.

Anywhoo.... all this online banking works perfectly fine as long as Bonnie is here each Monday, helping me to issue the online checks. BUT... only one glitch. What happens when Bonnie ISN'T here? As in: when she has her knee surgery sometime this Autumn. SHOOT ME NOW.

So a few weeks ago I came up with a solution. I decided NOW we'd have to actually set up hard core monthly automatic online DEBIT payments so I wouldn't even have to WORRY about my bills being paid if Bonnie and/or I aren't around. Don't ask. it was SOME freakin' task but sure enough we did everything we needed to do and bingo. We got everything lined up.

Big mistake. Turns out NOW, since the payments to everyone are automatically taken from my account by the different companies, yes I get an alert, BUT I no longer have the payments being tracked in my online banking reports! Thus, goodbye easy tax info! Or spending totals. Or anything. WTF??

Basically... only when you pay via the bank's website can I get a full report. If you set up the auto debit deal, you can't, since THOSE payments originate from the companies and not online bank itself. Therefore: OMG... I HAD TO NOW RETRACT MY AUTO DEBITING plan altogether! Turns out... the entire project was a fucking WASTE OF TIME. Geez... 

Which of course meant: I then had to go BACK, get the hell out of auto debit and INSTEAD revert to online banking once again! But THIS time... I had to make everything a RECURRING PAYMENT for everyone. Which would THEN let me have all my reports correctly set up once again AND show up in my banking reports.  

UH... CONFUSED?? Yeah, me too. What can I say. It's complicated to explain.

But, trust me... this works muuuuch better. It was crazy, but we did it. Of course that meant I also had to kind of estimate what each month's bill would be for everyone, but that was easy enough given the PAYMENT HISTORY tab. Water and Sewer? Approximately $40.00 per month. American Express?? Uh... approximately zillions.

Anyway... MISSION ACCOMPLISHED. We finished the project yesterday morning and man am I glad. I could even leave this heavenly earth altogether and STILL everyone would get paid. Forever, if they wanted. Kinda gives a whole new meaning to: working the Graveyard Shift.


Jeez... I'm plenty freaked right now. No major biggie. Not yet, anyway. However come later tonight... I could be hurting but plenty.

While I'm pretty particular about who hops into my bed, I do have to say tonight would not be a good night for ANYone to do so. Why you ask? Easy.

Earlier this morning I was redesigning a garment... a dress to be exact... and after I finished doing the work that was needed on the sewing machine, I then went to my bed to sit down, get comfortable and complete the hand sewing I needed to do. I had the needle and thread in hand, but oops. The thread color was totally wrong. Soooo... like always, I stuck the needle in my comforter, got up and went to grab the right colored thread instead. Bingo. I'm ready to get back to work. UH... NOT SO FAST.

I sit back down.. and then... where the hell is my NEEDLE??? IT'S GONE! IT DISAPPEARED! NO WHERE TO BE FOUND!! I COULD KILL MYSELF TONIGHT WHEN I HOP INTO BED!! EEEEEEEKS!!! Don't ask. I'm soooo doomed.

I could not beLIEVE I lost the fucking needle. In my bed, no less. In the meantime, I immediately started  fluffing out the comforter. And shaking out the top sheet. And scanning the bottom sheet, moving my hand all along it. I even man handled my beloved pillow. WTF?? The needle escaped right smack into thin air??

Oh man... this SO can't be good. I even check the carpet next to the bed. IT'S JUST NOT THERE. IT'S JUST NOT ANYwhere. Which meant: time to say the hell with it and merely chalk this lost needle bit up to... easy come, easy go. As in: accept the mystery, pretend I'll never be able to ever solve it and just forget about it altogether.

Which is exactly what I did. I plopped myself onto the bed once again, threaded a NEW needle and went along my merry way as if nothing ever happened. As if there WASN'T some strange sewing needle lost in my bed forever, just WAITING to stab me sometime tonight when I roll over. Can you IMAGINE???

Which in my mind, gives a whole new meaning to: my possibly having a prick while in bed. Oh well... I guess it probably hasn't been the first time. Maybe it won't even be the last. 

Tuesday, August 21, 2012


Last night I was thinking about my big event next Wednesday. Gulp. Indeed, I'm PLENTY nervous about it, but I'm also kinda psyched since I am counting on this plastic surgery deal going really well. That could be my first mistake, but whatever. I'm just hoping Aphrodite, the Goddess of Beauty, will be on my side that morning. Actually, even the Goddess of Decent Improvement will work too, now that I think of it.

Anyway, I decided that maybe I should have a little celebration to help take my mind off things. Which is why I sent email to 16 of my girlfriends last night, inviting them to come over Sunday for a casual dinner get together so they can send happy vibes my way. And, so maybe I can even look like Monica when all is said and done. While all my girlfriends have some great facial features, Monica is outstanding in my book.

In fact, she's the one to whom I keep saying I CAN'T STAND NEXT TO YOU IN PHOTOGRAPHS ANYMORE, since next to HER?? OMG... even the best of beauties would look crappy. In fact I decided to rename her: M Squared. As in: Monica the Model. Man was she ever blessed... long and lean, nice and tall, stunning face, magnificent hair, figure to die for, etc. etc. Too bad I love her cause boy I could EASILY learn to say F.U. whenever I'm with her.

Regardless... already today I've heard from several of the girls. And, so far all have accepted except for the two who will be out of town. Of course now, I have to figure out what easy as hell dinner I can possibly pull together although if the truth be told, I would LOVE to serve hot, fresh off the grill, juicy Burger King Whoppers. I haven't had one in years and it's possibly my favorite burger of all time. Talk about easy prep, right?? But... why poison all my friends.

In the meantime... in the invite I also included the fact that we'll do an AFTER party, too. Like maybe two months later? THAT'S the night I'll get all dolled up for the compare and contrast test. Which means, I had better have a picture taken of me sometime on Sunday night so we can compare it to one I'll take in about eight weeks from now. I had SO better see a major improvement. If not... then I decided I'll have to have switch blades as my party favors so I can... what else... slit my wrists.

In the end I hope I don't have to, though. For just WAIT til you see what I have in store about three weeks afterwards. YIPPEE. Am SO  excited.

Monday, August 20, 2012


I have to admit... I have been known to string together some rather interesting little verbiages from time to time. Okay. Pretty often, but who's counting. Kinda like... having my very own personal way of expressing myself; especially in ways most others do not. Take a true, genteel lady, for instance. She'd NEVER speak like I might. But ME? Oh man... when a situation calls for it... bingo. I'll spew it. Plus, I have lots of friends and it just kills me when they are conversing with me and next thing you know out of no where, THEY begin using my exact sort of expressions. It's like I'm hearing myself all over again as they speak. I get a major kick out of this, too. Imitation IS the best form of flattery, yes? 

Anyway, one of all time favorite sayings is about people I hate. Granted there are only about four such people on this planet but when I need to explain how I feel about any of them, it's really quite simple to do. I sum up my total feelings for them in seven simple words. As in: FUCK YOU, DROP DEAD, GO TO HELL. Boom. Done. No one ever has to question exactly what my feelings about this person might be. Like could I even BE any clearer? So basically, this descriptive line is one I particularly love. And while no one I know personally, has ever copied this most... ahem... shocking of speech patterns, who cares. For me, once you earn this Title of Hatred, it works like a charm. And... it sticks forever.

Another interesting bit of personal verbiage is a saying I use when something doesn't necessarily go my way. As in: suppose I am grabbing something in the refrigerator and the entire blueberry container happens to fall, spilling about 439 blueberries all at once, on the floor. In every direction possible. When THIS happens my go to line would definitely be: DAMNIT. DAMNIT. SHIT. DAMNIT. Apparently just one damnit doesn't do the trick for me. Once again... no one has to ever wonder whether or not I'm annoyed. Whammo. They get the point immediately.

As it happens, this damnit bit is one of my son and nephew's favorite sayings of mine. Not because they've necessarily adopted it for themselves but rather, because they merely love mimicking my profane command of the English language. And, getting a great chuckle for themselves while doing so. This became their favorite Linda quote ever since they were both in high school and it still is, to this very day.

MY favorite line lately has been the one I use each Wednesday when I wake up, walk out of my bedroom and see Teresa, my house keeper. As way of a good morning greeting, I used to say: LORDY, LORDY. I WISHED I WERE FORTY. Bingo. Teresa knew I was now up. After a while, I got tired of that though, so I then came out saying: LORDY. LORDY. FEEL LIKE IM HUNDRED AND FORTY. We both got a real kick out that one. NOW however, I've even switched that one up too. Lately, I wake up, walk out and shout: LORDY. LORDY. I WEIGH TWO FORTY. Talk about starting your day off with a great laugh! In fact, last night I was at a Bar B Q party and I was telling this story to these new people I had just met. To which the lady replied: But you don't really weigh that much, right??? I took one look at her and said: ARE YOU KIDDING ME? DO I LOOK LIKE I WEIGH 240?? Jeez. What an idiot. Thank God she said NO. Although to be fair, she herself only weighed maybe 117 so what the hell does she know.

What's really hilarious is something that happened to me just last week. My florist called, telling me that my FLOWERS OF THE MONTH were ready to be picked up. I always love when she calls since I know I'll be getting a present. Thus when I see the caller ID I always answer: YIPPEE. YIPPEE. YIPPEE. And bingo. She then always has a great laugh. So get this... THIS TIME when Pam called, I picked up the phone, said HELLO and SHE was the one who began with: YIPPEE. YIPPEE. YIPPEE. I burst right smack out laughing.

Naturally, these are but a mere few of my personal expressions. For if you actually lived with me, you'd hear way many more. Besides... just as I'd never want to bore you... even more so, I don't want to bore ME. Bingo. Mission accomplished.

Saturday, August 18, 2012


And, I'm not talking the kind that take me to cloud nine where life is filled with happy days, sweet romance, laughing and smiling and having all around me gentle and perfect. Rather, I mean the kind that fucking freak me out totally and scare the living shit out of me. Which is why I'm now sitting here, writing at five in the morning. Don't ask. I just awoke from yet another one of such scary dreams. It's crazy.  

Turns out that so far this summer, it has been a pretty intense past couple of months for me. Naturally, I've been TRYing to keep the intensity down to a dull roar and maintain control over everything. Including my brain. But, apparently that only works while I'm awake. When I'm ASLEEP, oh man... whole other story is going on altogether. One in which I'm always at the total mercy of others, with them dictating what's going down and how, and in the most bizarre of circumstances.   

I have had THE most terrifying dreams ever this summer. And ALL of them have to do with my having no control over ANY event whatsoever. Like having men chase me with guns, or me   being whisked away by total strangers while on vacation or having 5 people in one dream telling me to do this, do that, or do whatever. Oh yeah... and just my luck there is also an element of major fear in all the dreams, too. It's as if my heart is constantly pounding or I'm miserably saddened or the craziest of scenarios are occurring. Like right smack out of MISSION IMPOSSIBLE or the BOURNE IDENTITY series or something. Movies I'd NEVER go to see btw, for just these reasons. Who wants to be scared out of their freakin' mind, sitting on the edge of their seat when instead they could be kicking back, watching mindless romantic comedies, laughing their ass off?  

Anyway... tonight's dream, like most of the others... involved my almost feeling panicked, left behind somewhere and I had to figure out how the hell I'm either to get back home or at the very least, get back to safety. Tonight, the ending dream sequence had me in an airport terminal getting into a cab that was filled with seven other people, two of whom had a gun which was never fired but certainly threatening. Then... when I finally was extricated from the cab scene, come to find out my wallet, etc. was stolen and I wound up being left all alone somewhere, where I had to walk home over a LONG dusty gravel road, but only after enduring the freakiest of circumstances which occurred at the beginning of the dream.

I'm telling you...  whoever is writing the scripts to these dreams of mine needs to be SHOT. Enough already with my subconsciously living life on the edge, having no control of any situation whatsoever. Were I a novelist of thrillers or chilling mysteries or horror... man would I ever have prize winning stories to publish. Along the lines of Stephen King, I think. All I know is SOMEthing is trying to test my sanity.

And frankly, the madness over all this testing had better stop SOON. For, the funny thing is that I live life best when I AM in control of what's going on in my head and my surroundings. I try like hell to stay away from soap operas and heart break and bullshit but every other night, not only is a soap opera taking place while I sleep but an emotional roller coaster, as well. YIKES. Who needs this crap??

So my take right now is pretty much: you will eventually find me either at my local insane asylum or... on every talk show known to man, pushing my latest best seller. Found of course, in the Horror aisle of your nearest book store. SO not up my alley. In the meantime... for now, I'm headed back to where else... sleep! 

Praying of course that I dream of the arrival of autumn. Ahhh... the ease, beauty and gentleness of Fall. I am SO ready for my summer dreams to be over and forgotten.

Monday, August 13, 2012


Okay... so everyone makes such a big stink about zillions of folks being WAY too technologically connected. Including me. It supposedly takes away from personal socialization, takes up way too much time, takes away from hard core conversation and takes away from actually doing something productive.

Well, I'm here to tell you: try having your computer crash for just one day and THEN tell me how disturbing it is to be too damn connected. Because I was just that... disconnected from the online world... and I swear. Was I ever disturbed. IT WAS FAR FROM GOOD, trust me. And, the fact it wasn't going to be MORE than just 24 hours was sheer music to my ears. It COULD have been worse... like for 48 or God forbid 72 hours in which case, I would have had to slit my wrists altogether. Seriously.

I was happily surfing the net yesterday morning, searching for some lyrics to a specific song. BIG MISTAKE. Next thing I know, I have some crazy ass software on my screen called: LIVE SECURITY PLATINUM. And IMMEDIATELY it begins scanning my entire hard drive. WTF??? Who the hell asked for THAT? I could see right off the bat that this was NOT my real security software so I closed the window out within seconds.

Wasn't easy to do either, since THEY wanted to call the shots and keep it right on going. The program WANTED me to think they were helping me... by alerting me to all the damage that was being done to my harddrive. InSTEAD they were hacking into my computer and grabbing God only knows what kind of info. Anyway, my brain registered in a flash that boom. I was fucked, but good. Which basically rendered me DISCONNECTED FROM THE ENTIRE INTERNET. Let alone everything else on my computer. Gulp. Eeks. Help.

Which is why THANK God I had my iPad and smartphone. Uh... so naturally I could then promptly use them to announce to the entire world on Facebook that I was royally screwed. Hey... why should I suffer ALONE?? Which made it all the nicer btw, since several of my sweet friends sent encouraging messages which in turn let me know I wasn't going to have to jump off a cliff, afterall. Besides, it was too early to pick up a phone and bitch to everyone I know locally.

Anyway my alltime favorite Geek showed up this morning, got me all up and running lickety split and yippee. I'm now back on track. I hope. HELLLLLLO WORLD... I'M RECONNECTED. Whew. So now... it almost makes me wonder if I have to be way more compassionate to all the idiots that are apoplectic if God forbid they have to actually put down their smartphones while dining in public. Since... oops.... I THINK I'M NOW ONE OF THEM. Yikes. Talk about never judging a person until you know their whole story.

Saturday, August 11, 2012


Actually, Queen Farrokh, if you want to get metaphorically technical. Turns out Farrokh is Freddie Mercury's real name. As in: Farrokh Bulsara, from Zanzibar, Tanzania. As in: lead singer in the rock band, Queen. As in: one of my all time favorite rock stars, ever. As opposed to Elvis, who is the King of Rock & Roll or Michael Jackson, who is the King of Pop. Both of THEM are to die for while Elton is my FIRST favorite of everyone. Freddie, on the other hand, is way more hard core than any of these other three. But man oh man... I can't even tell you how I adore so many of his songs.

I'm actually learning alot about Freddie lately. No wonder. I'm reading his biography and I suggest you do, too. Especially since a movie is apparently in the works, which will star Sacha Baron Cohen. Excellent choice if you ask me. I will go NUTS when this film is released, trust me.

Freddie had major love affairs with two women in his life... to one of whom he left most of his estate. He was very self conscious of his buck teeth. His mother was from India. He was sorta bi-sexual, but mostly did men towards the end of his short life. He recorded in some of the most famous music studios ever. He loved antiques and clothes. He was hard working but loved drugs. Well, didn't we all. Sorta. Anyway...

You'd EASILY know of Freddie if you ever went to a stadium. I can guarantee you've heard: WE WILL... WE WILL... ROCK YOUUUU. You can thank Queen for that little ditty. But there are hordes more of his music you should also know. Such as one of my personal favorites: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yziGiVua0Dg  OMG... so fantastic. I hear this and almost have to jump right outta my seat and start dancing all over the place. 

As for Freddie himself, his personal favorite Queen song  was: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2pMM4iwC-ag  Also fannnntastic.

So basically, I am loving this book I'm reading. Talk about sex, drugs and rock and roll. Freddie's life had it all. Fame. And wealth. And flamboyance. And drama. And tragedy too, I'm sorry to say. Jeez... what a loss of a most fabulous rock star. Which naturally was a loss due to AIDS, damnit.

I love the fact btw, that this guy's absolute favorite musical genre of all... was opera. Real opera. Not TOMMY or JESUS CHRIST SUPERSTAR or something like that. Real opera. As in: ITALIAN opera. Which you can get a feel for in one of Queen's MOST famous tunes: Bohemian Rhapsody. THIS you've got know. If not, watch... all the way through, too! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VNeNRG3FpCg The creativity, arrangement and musical production was simply groundbreaking for it's time. 

Bottom line: Neither Queen nor Freddie are for the faint of heart. But for me?? Oh man... absolutely THRILLING. Go ahead... take the plunge. I dare you to get into him.    


For years, I have wanted a generator. The big huge kind, that sits outside my house and would hopefully render me completely empowered rather than totally powerless. As in: snow storms, thunderstorms, meteor storms, you name it, whatever storms. But for years I was without the bucks to ante up for such a pleasure so the desire was never even up for consideration.

That all changed however, once I had sold my parents' house about a year ago. It was then that I was able to consider this little luxury. So boom. I got Maxie on the job lickety split. I put him in charge of finding me three estimates from different companies and then help me analyze which generator from which company I would then proudly own. I was pretty adamant, too, about which company would also give me the best service, once the generator was installed. I'm telling you.. NO one is as good to me as Maxie in solving problems within my house. No wonder... he built it!

Okay. So the decision was made, the big monster was installed and the gas lines were connected. Bingo. Done. Now, every Wednesday you can hear the generator self test itself for about 15 minutes, to be sure it's running perfectly. In fact every house close to me can probably hear it too, since it's LOUD. However, who cares about them. I've got the backup power I wanted, needed and paid for. So, sorry neighbors. I win. Anyway... now fast forward to last February. There I was, hosting a lovely dinner, not having a care in the world. Everything was as happy as could be. Until that is, when things got a hell of lot MORE happy.

What brought on this further bliss?? You'll never believe it. About a half hour after dinner maybe, my company and I slid my favorite comedy into the DVD player and JUST THEN holy baholy. THE LIGHTS BEGIN FLICKERING. THEN THEY'RE OUT. THENNNNNN... WITHIN SECONDS THEY'RE BACK ON. Along with the tv, the computer, the applicances, the DVD player, the heat, the everything! OMG... WHO KNEW?? THE GENERATOR HAD KICKED IN!!! I swear... once I realized what was happening, I was like ready to begin dancing on the damn ceiling, for God sakes. IT WAS SIMPLY INCREDIBLE.

Turns out: the entire city was practically in a black out mode. Uh... but not ME my friend. I WAS IN HEAVEN. We checked out the other houses down the street... Sorry folks. NOTHING. NO LIGHTS. NO POWER. NO NOTHING. I can not even TELL you how excited I was. Sure the generator cost big bucks... but talk about money well spent!! What a fantastic invention this power supplier turned out to be. Not to mention a life saver. Entertaining in the dark? Major hassle. Entertaining with the generator?? An F-ing breeze!

Anyway, no worries on that front anymore. I'm am now SO good to go. What I loved most about the whole black out incident was that I actually had a chance to PRACTICE with the generator. To be sure that it actually WORKED. Just what I'd want. No power AND no powerful engine to get things rolling once again. Man... am I ever a happy lady. And OH so grateful.

Kinda like the way I am indebted to: paper towels, toilets, chocolate, microwaves, computers and Diet Coke. You have all these things... bingo. You can survive almost anything. Even a black out.

Which is good. For supposedly... as the ole wives' tales say up here... when you get such extreme heat before July 4th, then you can almost COUNT on a really horrible winter. Which of course translates into power going down due to snow and/or ice. Which of couse then translates into: Hotel Linda filling up plenty fast when all my friends need a comfy place to ride out the storm. Well... depending upon whether or not there's a vacancy.

Thursday, August 9, 2012


I am so not into the Olympics. Yes, I loved the first two nights, but that's only because I was watching it with a whole bunch of people. Here at home I'm merely pissed that they are overriding several of my favorite TV shows. Which is pretty hard to do given I have so few.

On the other hand, just yesterday my interest in the Olympics were piqued quite a bit more. Check out the photo up above and you'll see why. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?? THIS IS A PHOTO THE PROUD PARENTS CAN ACTUALLY FRAME?? OMG... I soooo love this entire deal. Boom. I'm back into the games, afterall.

The guy of... uh... note... in this picture is Henrik Rummel, one of the four members on the winning rowing team from the U.S. They only received a Bronze Medal, but in my book?? THEY SO DESERVE THE GOLD. Especially Henrik. I mean seriously... this photo is SO up my alley.

Henrik swears he is not erect. Yippee. Even better. And, naturally no one has any way of proving it. Not that they even have to. The mere delight of this shot makes me smile plenty, as is. I just can't beLIEVE how the camera caught the best shot in all of London, as far as I'm concerned. Thank you indeed Mr. Photographer.

BTW... according to some doctor, this guy HAS to be a rower. Or, anything but a swimmer. Turns out having a sexy sized dork only gets in the way of making great time in the swimming competition. Which makes me feel sorta badly for Michael Phelps, I guess. Yes, he's received more Gold than any other participant but oops. He may not be as blessed as we thought, afterall. Sorry Michael. Can't have everything, as they say.

Which is why I thank Henrik for re-igniting my interest in the most famous of games. Up until now, I was counting the days until they ended. Now I'm just counting on seeing way more of the rowing team. If that's even possible given what I'm seeing already. YEA RUMMEL.

Tuesday, August 7, 2012


So last week I was at a Fashion Show Luncheon. Normally I'm pretty psyched for this sort of event... happy friends, happy clothing, happy food. Except this time I wasn't really up for it. I was feeling pretty crappy so I sort of had to force myself to go. Which I did.

However, neither the fashions, the friends nor the food actually put me back at the top of my game. Thus by the time the whole deal ended... my girlfriend decided I needed to be cheered up. So bingo. She took me to my favorite clothing store.

Still didn't work. In fact, I began to feel even worse. So... next thing you know, we decided I better go to the ER and see why the hell my heart felt like it was racing, palpitating, etc. After ten minutes of being there, I almost wished we hadn't gone.

First thing they told me was: my blood pressure reading was: 82 over 46. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?? Jeez... I was this far from waiting to see if a flat line was about to happen. Then, they decided I should check in for the night so they could monitor my heart, do all the tests, whatever.

Turns out my heart is spiffy, thank goodness. BUT my cardiologist did suggest I lower the intake of my blood pressure pills each day. AND to get a blood pressure cuff for at home. Gulp. I'm now a nurse??

Apparently. Wanna guess how long I was at the drug store learning how to USE this medical toy? Don't ask. Actually, it wasn't all that difficult and naturally, now I'm addicted to taking my BP every two hours or so. I'm major intrigued by the way, with the automatic way it blows up my arm and kicks out the results on the display panel.

Check out the info up there in the pict and you can see my latest reading. Yippee. I'M ALIVE AND WELL. I think. Oh yeah... I also like the way it tells me my pulse reading, too. Of course I have no clue what my pulse SHOULD be but hey. I'm merely in like Blood Pressure Cuff 101 so cut me some slack. One of these days I'll figure out what ALL the readings should be.

For now though, I do have to say... I kinda like this new toy. Although this so can't be good when in addition to all my techie toys, I now have to add medical ones as well. So far I have two: my blood sugar testing kit and now this BP kit. On the other hand... when the day comes that I begin buying Home Pregnancy Tests.. oh man. Shoot me now.

Sunday, August 5, 2012


This is the craziest thing I ever saw. At the beginning of summer, I was about to head out to my local nursery to buy plants for the pots on my back deck. However, one thing led to another and I never actually got there. And, apparently I didn't need to, either.

Turns out I had a garden alREADY growing inside my pot. Without my ever even knowing it, too. I was just so damn mystified by these little tiny leaves I began seeing, that I did absolutely nothing at all. Boom. Mother Nature did the rest. I AM STUNNED AT HER POWER.

Every day I watched these little baby tiny leaves grow bigger and bigger, not knowing what the fuck kind of plant it was going to turn out to be and the next thing I know... I not only have these little flowers blooming from outta no where, but also THIS FREAKIN' WEED POPS UP THAT WOULDN'T STOP GROWING. Every day it appeared as if inches were added to it's height in mere hours at a time!

I could not beLIEVE what was happening. All by itself, too! No plant food, no nuturing, no nothing. BINGO. I HAVE A BEANSTALK. As I watched this beanstalk grow, all I could say to myself was: OH MAN. NOW I SEE WHAT THEY MEAN WHEN THEY SAY HE/SHE IS GROWING LIKE A WEED. I have my very own living proof for God sakes!

For in truth, that's all this plant is. A no good damn weed! A huge one, yes... but does it ever love shooting up, taller and taller, no matter what. It's incredible. I know... most people do all they can to weed out the weeds, yank them up and throw them away but I just CAN'T. I'M ASTOUNDED BY THIS PLANT. Seriously... one day it was a quarter of an eighth of an inch high and the next thing you know... whammo... right before my very eyes, it's bordering on becoming a small TREE!

Also.. I'm becoming very protective of it, too. I swear... if this weed survives the autumn, I am so bringing this in the house during the winter. If it grows THEN?? Then I'm definitely calling the 4H club and entering it into some category next Spring for some sort of a prize they must have. Oh yeah... and just WAIT til I feed it some Miracle Grow. Blue Ribbon, here I come. I swear... I could so win.

Who knows? By the end of all this, I might even be inspired enough to grow ACTUAL weed. Now THERE'S a thought.



How much?

How long?


See this ring? I have one almost exactly like it, except no diamond bagets on the side. Damnit. That could have REALLY anted up the value. Regardless, I love this ring. I wear it often. And, everytime I wear it... I get hordes of compliments from total strangers.

Take yesterday for example. I went to get a manicure and a lovely lady sitting next to me starting talking. At first she wanted to know what I had been saying in an earlier  conversation I had with a different customer about insurance companies. I filled her in on the said conversation and then she began going on and on about what a beautiful ring I was wearing. She asked if it was it was tanzanite and I said no. I should have said yes.

Turns out tanzanite is a precious stone considered by many to be one of the most beautiful gems in the world. Especially the one I was supposedly wearing since it's about 15 carats, at least. It has this most stunning deep royal blue color which worked perfectly with the top I was wearing. Anyway, this ring gets noticed by EVERYone. Boom. Mission accomplished.

In the meantime, the lady talking to me was pretty impressed with my stone. She SO needn't have been. While I have made it my job to buy fantastic looking faux jewelry, naturally hoping to fool even the best of jewelers, this tanzanite looking ring wasn't even close to faux. It was more like a Cracker Jack ring.

Turns out that my ring was a mere party favor I had bought for a luncheon a couple of years ago. AND USED AS A NAPKIN RING HOLDER at each place setting. Can you imagine?? Not only that... the price of the ring set me back a mere... sitting down???... $1.39!!!

WHOA. Talk about fooling the eye, huh?? Can you believe it?? A $2500 ring for only 1.39?? Now THAT'S a bargain if ever there was. I so wanted to tell the unsuspecting lady that she too, could have this for mere pennies but why spoil the fabulous illusion I had going?? Am telling you... you want bling? Then you want this ring. Or the one I have in Ruby, Diamond or Amethyst.

Saturday, August 4, 2012


First of all, this is possibly my alltime favorite song by Cher. OMG... the outfit she wears in this video is major drop dead sexy. Especially given the fact that the video was made in what?? The late '80s?? Oh man.. was she ever hot. Let alone way ahead of her time. Forget the fabulous song.

The hot,edgy bathing suit is simply to die for. The tattoos on her ass are amazing. Those legs!! The fishnet stockings! The hip chain! THE GARTERS. Plus, you can be sure she's SO got the Brazilian wax going on all over the place. 

And let's not forget the fact that... THE SAILORS IN THE VIDEO ARE BUT MINUTES AWAY FROM NEEDING A PRIVATE MOMENT OF PLEASURE, if you catch my drift. All I can tell you is after watching this, even I may want to consider switching teams. Here... watch for yourself. You can thank me later. 


Bear in mind... when this video was originally shown on MTV... they could only air it after 9:00 pm. Way racey for it's day. And WAY up my alley. 

In the meantime, Cher goes on the battleship USS MISSOURI to turn back time. Me?? I go to Dr. Harley. Afterwards I can then go do the battleship gig. Well, okay. That's a bit of a stretch, but get this. I, too, will be turning back time. Like 15 years, maybe? Time shall only tell, although I'll be happy with just ten.

So... what's Dr. Harley's trick?? Easy. THE BILTMORE FACELIFT. Yeah. That's the ticket!! Oh man... I have such high hopes for this deal. Not to mention high fears as well, but what the hell. I was no great beauty to begin with, so if he screws it all up I'll just be less of a not so great beauty. Although I'll have to do him in if I wind up looking really crappy.

But I don't think I will. Turns out I've seen a few of his patients walking around town lately and I have to say... THEY LOOK GREAT. Man, I hope I do, too. And, I should.

First of all, I have to have 30 milligrams of Valium during the surgery. Then I have to sleep sitting upright in my recliner for two weeks. Then I have to be all friggin' bruised and swollen for a few weeks. Plus, I have to keep putting ice packs all over my face for God knows how long. And, of course lastly, I have to pray that the surgery actually takes. DEAR GOD, PLEASE MAKE SURE DR. HARLEY KNOWS WHAT THE F&%$ HE'S DOING AND PLEASE LET ME HEAL PERFECTLY. AMEN.

So while Dr. Harley would have work on me for months and months to turn me into a Cher lookalike, I'm willing instead, to give him three hours to help turn back my facial time clock. Just so long as my neck and chin and eyes are improved... bingo. I'll be headed back to my 50's in no time. Gulp: here goes nothing.