Saturday, February 20, 2021

FRUIT AND DAIRY


I try to be careful in terms of what I eat. Well… at least for the month leading up to my testing for sugar levels, that is. THAT month, I am VERY careful about my food intake given I am not into any doctors yelling at me for not maintaining good health. The two months prior to testing however, I pretty much eat whatever the hell I want, throwing all caution to the wind. I totally have this scam down to a science, btw. Two months, eat crap. One month eat salads and protein. Boom. Sugar testing numbers come out perfect. With that, I do have to say, I eat a lot of fruit and… some dairy.

Which is why the picture up above is PERFECT for my scam diet. Fruit, check. Dairy, check. YAY STRAWBERRY CHEESECAKE! I cannot even reMEMber the last I ate this sensually delicious treat. But believe me, I’ve recently made up for it, but plenty. It began a week ago, when I went to the grocery store because HALLELUJAH! my son was coming to spend several days with me. I totally wanted to stock up on all his favorites. Isn’t that what EVERY Mother is supposed to do? Bingo. I did.

While in the grocery store, given it was just before Valentine’s Day, there was this whole big display of all kinds of goodies for the holiday. Naturally all the baked goods were either red and white, or pink and white. However… there was only ONE item, and one item only, that caught my eye. THAT CHEESECAKE YOU SEE ABOVE. OMG... the strawberries were the size of tennis balls and the cheesecake was screaming my name, yelling: BUY ME. BUY ME. It needn’t have screamed however… I was on board to buy it in seconds flat.

And man… am I glad I did. It’s a total favorite of mine… and my son’s. So there was never a discussion in my mind whatsoever what I was serving for dessert that evening. Of course, he’s lucky he arrived when he did for you have NO idea what sort of restraint I had to use, to not dive right smack into the cheesecake just after mere hours of my bringing it home. Can you blame me? Just LOOK at it. Talk about something calling my name over and over again.

Okay. So basically… dinner was over and YIPPEE. I cut a small slice for him and then for myself. TO DIE FOR is all I can say about it’s taste. Hence… it was so worth the wait! The Gods of All Cheesecakes smiled down upon the both of us that night. And the days after, too.

For it goes without saying that everyday after that I slowly, deliberately, meticulously, began to eat away at this cake… one bite at time. I COULDN’T HELP IT! I was an addict in no time flat. And then, the next thing you know: two days later, my son opened the refrigerator and said: WHOA. YOU’VE  BEEN DOING SOME JOB ON THIS, ALRIGHT! Damn right I did. I told you... I WAS ADDICTED. And SOMEthing, I don’t know what, was taking over my body and made me have a bite for breakfast, a bite after dinner, a bite before bedtime, and a bite any damn time I felt like it.

And then, you know what? THE GODS OF ALL CHEESECAKES PUNISHED ME. AND PUNISHED ME BADLY.

For… on the morning my son was leaving… I was about to take one tiny bite just for good measure, and GUESS WHAT?? 

THE WHOLE DAMN CAKE FELL RIGHT SMACK ONTO THE FLOOR!! The entire damn thing!!

I was literally frozen with fright, if you must know the truth. And my kid must have recognized it IMMEDIATLY for in seconds flat, he bent down, started scraping all the cake back onto the plate, even asking me if he should throw out the huge strawberries that fell five inches away from the everything. HELL NO, DON’T THROW THEM OUT. This cake is going no where but right smack back onto that plate, as if nothing EVER happened at all. Including the rolling strawberries!

Don’t even fucking ask. It was a disaster! Yet not so much a disaster that I didn’t resurrect this prize of a cheesecake and made certain I had the chance to be sure every last bite of it could STILL get into my belly with no trouble at all. I was NOT going to let that cake die under any circumstances whatsoever. And… I didn’t.


I am happy to report that ever damn bite of the cheesecake, having been on the floor or not, eventually was eaten by piggy little me. CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?? A grown woman eating cake from the floor?? AM I OUT OF MY MIND? Well… clearly, the answer is yes. After all, there are people STARVING in this world and I refused to waste one damn bit of it. Granted… it took another 3 days to polish off this fruit and dairy mix, BUT I DID IT! In record time, too. I so deserve gold medal. 

In the end btw... I can not TELL you how happy I was when this cheesecake was finally GONE! KAPUT! EATEN! FINISHED! Whew. My addiction was finally over, thank God. I could even once again, look in the mirror, feeling no more remorse whatsoever, over what a degenerate I obviously am. Meaning: my happiest day was when I bought the cake and then again, when I threw out the cake. I’m telling you… seriously… I was SICK OF LOOKING AT IT, ALREADY. Well… until the very last bite that I had left of it, anyway. 

So… a couple of lessons here: 1.) fruit and dairy are indeed excellent sources of nutrition 2.) disasters do in fact happen 3.) things also eventually get better 4.) old ladies with an otherwise high amount of dignity can in fact easily, in no time at all, become a low life… and a major disgusting gluttonous degenerate. Yay me!

I A O J  

Monday, February 1, 2021

JOBS I MIGHT LIKE

I never really liked working outside of the home. I never even liked working INside the home. I am basically pretty much a lazy ass kind of woman. In fact, my favorite part of the work force is hiring people. More to the point... hiring people to work for ME.

I’ve pretty much perfected that deal, too. It all started when I was first married at the age of 23, living in a two bedroom apartment. I was a stay at home bride and my job was probably nothing more than joining others for going shopping and having lunch. Oh, I did the laundry, the grocery store, and the cooking, but I totally did not do toilets, vacuuming, and dusting. THAT I left for my housekeeper to do.

It wasn’t until I was about 25 that I began working outside the home. I had graduated college with a degree in teaching and I went for an interview in an upscale private school and bingo. I got the job teaching third and fourth graders. That job lasted about 20 years.

In my second year of teaching, I remember sitting on a bench during recess with Nina, a teacher who would immediately become one of my all time favorite BFF… and telling her that if every cent of my salary went to paying my househelp, I wouldn’t mind one damn bit. After all, I loved teaching these children, and I loved where I was working but more… I loved coming home to a house that was spic and span. A house I DIDN’T HAVE TO CLEAN, MYSELF.

If I remember correctly, Clara, my housekeeper at the time, came to clean twice a week. Which is kind of crazy now that I think of it, given there was only my husband and I living in this apartment… and probably the messiest part of our lifestyle was clearing the joints and ashes off the cocktail table in our little living room every evening. We had friends over almost every night for dinner and/or getting high, so actually that job wasn’t always as easy as you’d think. In any case…

After a couple of years as newlyweds, we moved into a brand new 5 bedroom home where naturally, we used only the master bedroom and bath. It had a beautiful pool and backed up to a wonderful canal that happened to lend itself nicely to growing LOTS AND LOTS of our own weed, but that’s a whole different story for another day. More importantly… Clara still came to clean twice a week. Uh… until my husband kind of stole her away after we had divorced. The piece of shit. 

Mattered not however since lickety split I found Claudia B. who was with me until forever. Even when I eventually had live in help for when the children came along. Marie was my first live in whose main job was to basically entertain the kids when I was too lazy to do so. She also cleaned up after dinner and babysat so my husband and I could go out with friends and have a jolly ole time whenever the mood struck. 

By this time, I was taking a break from teaching, btw. Eventually, I went back to the classroom, but I also eventually had Marie, Lorena, Luz, Lynn, Tisha, Delinda, Pat, and some other women whose names I can’t even remember, who were either my personal assistant or live in help with the kids. Of course Claudia B. was still around, so I was totally still able to hang out with my friends at the drop of a hat, if I wanted. Which all points to the fact that, as I said, my favorite part of the job force is: HIRING PEOPLE. People to help ME.

Now don’t get me wrong. I was a hands on kind of a Mother, a fantastic home manager, a wonderful wife and a great employer. Obviously however, I was also apparently a lady heavy into personal leisure. Who skillfully delegated responsibilities, I might add. Now is that so bad?? Uh… not really. I deliberately and meticulously oversaw each and every person who ever worked in my home. Even Teresa and Bonnie who work with me today. You know... now that I think of it… I’d probably be a perfect Human Resource Manager! I’m excellent at sizing up home employees. Anyway…

Given that if I HAD to join the nine to fivers at this point in my life, I’d first have to shoot myself. BUT there are some jobs I think I’d really love. Of course my favorite job is one I totally can’t discuss here, if you catch my drift… but it matters not. For there are a few that I actually can, so with that in mind:

One job I think I’d like of course… would be writing. Except I’d have to be pretty strict with my boss and let him and/or her know that I will only write what I want, in the manner I want, and only when I want. With absolutely no changes to my written word. THAT ought to impress them right off the bat, right?

WHAT? YOU’RE GOIN TO GIVE ME ORDERS AS TO WHAT THE TOPIC SHOULD BE? OR WHEN THE FINISHED PIECE IS DUE? OR RE-WRITE MY PEARLS OF WISDOM IN SOME OTHER FASHION? UMM… I’M SORRY BUT I SEE WE HAVE A PROBLEM BEFORE I EVEN BEGIN, MR./MRS. BOSS. APPARENTLY IT LOOKS LIKE I THINK I’LL PASS. THANKS ANYWAY. I'LL TOTALLY HAVE TO FREELANCE. Talk about easy come, easy go.

I’d probably even like editing. For while I am the first to admit I make grammatical errors up the kazoo, I often can’t BELIEVE the misspellings or sentence misconstruction I see in all kinds of things I read! The big difference is, however: those folks are getting PAID to be professional. I’m merely killing time here at my home computer. Which kind of means: I can make as many errors as I want. But when professional writers have horrible sentence structure or can’t spell correctly and have borderline poor language skills, then trust me. I am pretty damn quick to pick up on writing mistakes 1-2-3. Well… except for when I’m doing my OWN writing. I know. It’s funny how that seems to play out. I can miss my mistake all the time. But YOUR mistake? Boom. I can spot it in a heartbeat.

Another job I think I would love is to go around the city and telling women: UH… TIME OUT. WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU THINKING? HAVE YOU NO MIRROR? DO YOU NOT SEE YOUR HAIR CUT? OR OUTFIT? OR SHOES? OR MAKEUP?? Man, could I ever set them straight in 2 seconds flat. True… I don’t claim to be a stylist for Vogue in any way, but Jesus. I see women walking around all the time with no fashion sense at ALL.

In fact, I was talking to a friend the other night about people I know who are SO off base when it comes to fashion, that it’s mind boggling. DO YOU NOT CHECK YOURSELF BEFORE YOU WALK OUT THE DOOR? I mean, come on. Seriously. Having good taste absolutely does not cost a cent. Polish up your look SOMEhow, okay? Obviously, I would probably get punched in the face over and over, but the public at large would probably thank me profusely.

Your city needs a professional Fashion Police? Boom. Your search is over. I’m your man! And I would be pretty damn good, too. For instance… here’s a tip: every single woman should totally be wearing a beautiful gold, delicate ankle bracelet at all times. Unless of course… you never go for a pedicure and your feet look like some animal’s, prancing around in the wild all day. In which case, you have WAY bigger problems than getting a pedicure. Besides, men love women who are attentive to their personal grooming. And, yes… you’re welcome for this little tidbit of advice, btw.  

Another job I would love, is being a food tester. Not the kind that has to detect poisonous ingredients, mind you. I have no interest in culinary death. The kind I’m talking about has to do with determining whether or not a meal is fantastically outstanding. Now, THIS IS A JOB THAT IS TOTALLY UP MY ALLEY! Anything from fast food to lobster thermidor. Can you even imagine?

HOW WAS WORK TODAY, HONEY? EXCELLENT, THANKS. I HAD TO SPEND AN ENTIRE DAY TASTE TESTING LOBSTER BISQUE, GOAT CHEESE WITH CAVIAR ON GOURMET MULTI GRAIN CRACKERS, PRIME RIB ON A BONE WITH LARGE FRESH GREEN BEAN TEMPURA AND OH YEAH… LOBSTER AND SCALLOP DUMPLINGS. Jesus. I would SO be first on the job, and the last to leave every day. 

I’d also be just as dedicated to my work if I were needed to taste test hotdogs or cheeseburgers. Or pancakes and Belgian waffles. Or any meal you want! I’ll be Johnny on the spot, alright. I would never taste heart or brains, however. I’d totally have to put that on my application.

The last job I think I could happily handle would be is that of an assistant to a milliner. I love women’s hats. Granted, I would have no clue whatsoever how to make one, but I would certainly be thrilled to be the main assistant to Stephen Jones let’s say, a top hat designer in the world of haute couture. Actually… maybe I would be better as a hat model. 

My head is small, believe it or not, so I always have to shop in the little girl’s department when I need a hat to fit properly. And btw... I’ve never worn a baseball cap in my entire life, in case anyone is interested. That's not a hat, but I shan't get bogged down with that discussion now. In any case, we’ve all seen plenty of hats on women who go to the Kentucky Derby or Ascot in England, who look absolutely RIDICULOUS in the hats they choose. Talk about Halloween costumes. A way far different look than the one you see in the picture above. THAT hat is one right up there with those you'd call absolutely stunning. Put it on Audrey Hepburn and bingo. You've the #1 look ever. Anyway...

The flow of the lines of this hat is simply beautiful. The size of the brim is remarkable. Of course the color of the black is outstanding. Granted... the brim is being held down by the model but when it's not, it is a stunning shape. Too bad I can't see what it would like were the brim folded back from her face a bit, but it matters not. And... speaking of model. Did the photographer not pick THE most elegant look with the exact perfect color of red for her lips and nails?? Man. The color is sooo spot on for an astoundingly elegant look. Oh yeah... while the model has WAY too much Botox going on in her lower lip, the nail color is the exact one I normally wear on my birthday each year. And... in case you give a shit, I ALWAYS wear white a white outfit on my birthday given it's my favorite color. 

Were I lucky enough to own this hat, btw, I would totally practice with a strand of small pearls all around the band of the hat. Or maybe a 1.5 inched width ribbon to match the model's red. Even a diamond pin just a bit offset to the left might work. All I know is, this is a smashing look even on it's own.



One of my own favorite hats btw, is one my husband bought me years and years ago…  a big brimmed straw hat kind of like the one Hillary Clinton wore to her husband’s inauguration 1993. Except hers was made of a of deep blue velvet, but she does wear brimmed straw hats a lot. And speaking of Hillary…

Yes, brilliant. Yes, experienced. Yes, formidable. BUT HER FASHION SENSE? Omg… it’s HORRIBLE. Only when on the campaign trail, when she has a stylist on hand at all times does she ever look somewhat decent. When left on her own? Don’t even ask. You’ve seen her lately? Man, does she ever need me policing her wardrobe and makeup. Plus… her hair style is abominable. And always has been. 

Anyway… that sort of wraps up my choice of jobs. I’m into anything not too taxing. Anything not requiring a long work day. Anything that pays big bucks. And anything that lets ME take charge of all that’s going on. Thus.. if you happen to know of any openings meeting these requirements, totally let me know. I promise to deliver. 

GYADHI