So I had a pretty good evening last Saturday. I went downtown for a tribute performance to Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons.... the Jersey Boys. Excellent show I might add. I love these kind of deals.
For about nine months of the year, there is a monthly tribute to everyone from Patsy Kline let's say to Elvis Presley. From Motown to the Rat Pack. From The Bee Gees to George Burns in Say Goodnight Gracie. So up my alley. Besides, I know every word to every song any of these people sing. Talk about being from "my era". And, everyone can just jump up and dance all over the place if they want. I particularly love when the oldie goldies... no pun intended... get up and dance to either BENNIE AND THE JETS or NEW YORK, NEW YORK or even SURFIN' USA perhaps. The place does sorta rock out, actually. I think the week after next is a tribute to Eric Clapton, but I'm not sure. Naturally I have tickets to that, too.
In the meantime, I did indeed have lots of fun Saturday but the day didn't quite begin that way. Wanna know why?? Get this... the guy I was seeing... boom. HE GAVE ME THE HEAVE HO. As in: IT'S OVER. NICE KNOWING YOU. WE'LL CERTAINLY BE FRIENDS BUT SORRY, WE'RE NOT A MATCH. Which is completely true but still. Can you believe it?? OMG. I was dumped. Which is pretty unusual since truth be told, it's usually ME who does the dumping. But no big deal. It happens to the best of us.
On the other hand, maybe dumped is a harsh word. For the fact is: that although I had a lovely time being with him, and we did go out for like maybe nine months, the bottom line is: we just didn't ring each other's bell. And I DO love it when my bell is not only rung, but rung so loudly that it can be heard clear cross the city. This particular match was sorta like a meek ding dong at best. However... in spite of his calling it quits, I did find another who was thrilled to go with me, using HIS ticket of course, and whata ya know. Bingo. We had a great time at the concert!
Plus, we had GREAT seats in the second row, center. Perfect for scanning the adorable songsters to see which is the one that if I were only 30 years younger, I could try to bring home for fun and frolic. On the other hand... who wants anyone THAT age? Man, not me, thanks.
I much prefer men who not only know history but who, like me have LIVED history. As in: actually having LIVED life from the late 40s to the present. I always say that I love being from the era where I lived through the British Invasion, was in Haight Ashbury, was around when the Civil Rights Act of '64 passed, watched Kennedy's funeral live and who basically was there for the sex, drugs and rock and roll revolutions. Now THAT was growing up. None of this bullshit of seeing Sky King and Leave to Beaver and Make Room for Daddy and the Donna Reed Show in reruns only.
Anyway, the Jersey Boys sung a slew of wonderful hits and I sang right along with them. So did everyone else who was there. Now that I think of it, I have BEEN to New Jersey. Several times, in fact. No wonder... one of my best girlfriends live there. Back in the good ole days I even DROVE on the Garden State Parkway... something I wouldn't do now if you paid me MILLIONS. I'd rather just go ahead and have my heart attack right smack there in the parking lot of the car rental place rather than have it on the actual highway itself. I can't even believe I ever DID that, now that I think of it. Ahhh... to be young again. But whatever.
All I know is that the guy who dumped me missed a great show. And that I had a fabulous time, regardless. I know ... easy come easy go as they say. The good news however is that I still have an extra ticket for the Eric Clapton tribute. Anyone free next Saturday night?
I swear to God... I woke up Tuesday morning feeling as if I had just performed fellatio for like two hours and therefore MY JAW WAS IN MAJOR PAIN. I know... crazy ass description but it's TRUE. I couldn't believe it. Nor could I figure out why the hell I was hurting so much! Nor what could have caused it especially since I can't imagine giving ANYone oral for two hours straight.
But I had to explain the pain SOMEhow. Which is exactly how I did it when I got to my surgeon's office. He of course was outta control laughing when I told him what it felt like, but we DID have to come up with not only an explanation, but certainly a solution, as well. This was just the best way I could explain the feeling. I mean it... I couldn't even open my mouth enough so I could even eat. And trust me, I was hungry. So basically, after the doctor stopped laughing, he sort of got the picture of my pain situation.
Anyway, we had to first rule out that it could have been caused from my surgery so that I could then run to my dentist if need be, and figure out if this was then a dental problem. Basically, the surgeon luckily ruled out any complication from his end, although to be on the safe side, he did prescribe some antibiotics and pain killers. Which by the way, did help, but only minutely. Therefore my next call was going to be to my dentist.
However a miracle happened. I had a bunch of people over for dinner last night and naturally, I had to tell them of my newest ailment. Then out of the blue, someone came up with the idea that lately I've been under alot of stress... thus maybe I was grinding my teeth at night which of course would then exacerbate any TMJ which I've certainly experienced before.
Bingo. I decided they were on to something. SOOO... to kinda relax myself while asleep last night, I decided to take an Ativan at bedtime. GUESS WHAT?? I woke up this morning and YIPPEE I could eat again! No more lockjaw!! It was gone as quickly as it occurred. I can not TELL you how happy I was to be able to actually open my mouth once again! This was sheer genius on the part of my guest's diagnosis!
I even tested the recovery this morning by trying to eat a bagel and was THRILLED I could! Didn't even have to take baby bites, either. My mouth actually worked again! Man... talk about thanking God for small favors.
On the other hand, I can promise you I STILL won't do oral for two hours. Locked jaw or not. And, btw... I recommend you don't either. There is NO way your jaw will feel good afterwards. HE might love it but you won't.
What can I tell you... a month ago today I had my face done and here we are 30 days later WITH NO CRAPOLA NECK AND NO POUCHES ABOVE OR BENEATH MY EYES.
It's incredible. I was thinking earlier about those folks who have been kind enough to tell me I look 15 years younger.... I need to tell them... I think maybe I look BETTER than I did 15 years ago! I swear. It's crazy.
There's pretty much nothing more I can possibly add to what I've already posted about this entire experience but suffice it to say... I SO WISHED my Mother were still here so she could see this. It would be SO up her alley.
She had a facelift when she was but 50... 14 years younger than when I did it.... and she was a beautiful woman still, when she passed away at age 84. So according to my calculations, when I kick the bucket, no matter how old I may or may not be... I'll be pretty damn decent looking no matter what.
Until then... yippee... mission accomplished. So many thanks to all of you who were such wonderful friends to me during this entire deal. What a blessing. I thank you and my Mother thanks you. Man... I miss her every day.
Yippee. Thank God THAT'S over. I'm back in tip top shape once again.
For the past couple of weeks or more, I have had to be at my eye doctor's every day and/or every other day. It was becoming a major pain in the ass, but then I finally had no choice and decided: forget about the bitching... which I'm pretty good at actually... and just go with the flow of it all. It's amazing how nicely things can work out once you just say the hell with everything.
Anyway... that's just what I did. Kinda like: if you can't lick 'em, join 'em. Regardless... I have to do all kinds of shit due to dry eyes and one eye lid not having fully closed yet after the surgery. Thankfully that part's over with. So... now with eye lid closing once again, I'm now back to just dealing with the dry eye bit.
Actually, that's a condition all my doctors knew about before going into this face bit so we all figured I'd have to be diligent about the drops, etc. during recovery. However, I also have to use a greasy sort of ointment just before bedtime on one particular eye to be SURE that it is getting enough lubrication. The reason to use it at bedtime only?? Get this...
Once you apply the ointment to the inside of the lower lid... boom, EVERYTHING BECOMES TOTALLY BLURRY. So you're supposed to apply it, hop into bed and boom. Turn off the nightstand light immediately. Well, that's what you're SUPPOSED to do, anyway.
Me? I had to switch things up a bit. As in: once I applied the ointment, I then naturally had to go to the bathroom, then naturally get a drink since I was thirsty again and on yeah... had to watch at least one short show on TV. Which of course I did relying way more of my other eye.
In the meantime, I decided every once in a while to kinda practice for when I become REALLY REALLY old and lose my eyesight altogether. How do I practice, you may ask?? Easy. I VIEW EVERYTHING WITH MY BLURRY EYE ONLY!! OMG... you can't even imagine. I actually now know exactly what it's like to not even come close to passing your Drivers' Test when you turn 90. It's crazy. You can't see shit!
I mean... I can see outlines of things, and can kinda get around my house and I can maybe see people on TV but as for details?? NADA. BLIND AS A BAT. You could never see that sort of thing. As in: DEFINITELY forget about putting on eye makeup or hand sewing or reading anything or probably even cooking. Well, other than MAYBE making a bowl of cereal but even that would have it's challenges. Couple that with the fact I already have macular vascular eye disease, and I'm telling you... I've got to start interviewing chauffeurs in a no time! God forbid.
The good news however is that by morning, the blurriness from the ointment is pretty much gone. Of course I then have to begin my daily regiment of applying liquid eye drops every few hours ALL OVER AGAIN. Geez. Talk about keeping me on my toes.
The other good news is that for now: I can still see! YIPPEE. Thank God for small favors. And thank God for my doctors. Oh yeah... did I tell you I'll need cataract surgery in like five years maybe? I'm so telling you... my freakin' body is aging... right before my very eyes. Literally AND figuratively.
Well, that didn't take long. After having gone on and on last night about needing a vacation... boom. Next thing you know, I think I'm actually going on one! I think, anyway. Whoa. Timing IS everything, I see.
So... as it happens, I got email last night from a friend of mine, asking if I wanted to make definite plans about going on a trip to the New England area in early November. As in: Boston, Nantucket and my beloved Newport which I'm DYING to see, given my sheer adoration of the homes... ahem... I mean mansions... of the Gilded Age that are located there. Maybe even a little of D.C and NYC thrown in, too. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? COULD THIS BE JUST THE FIX I'VE NEEDED??
Wow. Maybe it is. And... the more I heard about this itinerary, the more excited I sorta became. I can't even believe it... I'LL ACTUALLY GET TO SEE NEWPORT. I'll also be freezing my f***ing ass off of course, but what the hell. I'm thinking this could almost be FUN. Although I DID warn this friend that I could EASILY drive them totally nuts within mere hours, by way of my zillions of anxieties alone... but they were willing to take the risk. So what the hell. They've been duly forewarned is my theory.
In the meantime, we're pretty much going to be taking off just after the election. Which could put a wrinkle into my every four year annual election night dinner that I love hosting, but whatever. For now... I'll pretend I have no worries whatsoever. We've already got plans for a Pre-Thanksgiving celebration with their family and plans to make sure I get to eat lobster three times a day, every day. My mouth is watering PLENTY.
All I am supposed to be planning... for the moment, anyway... is the musical hours and hours they want ready to go so we can sing our way through like what? Five states?? While feeling a bit buzzed too, I might add. Always an added bonus, if you ask me. Supposedly we're to pretend we're in our 20s all over again.
Although even with my new "look" I can't really pull that off but who's counting. I'm calling this trip my GILDED AGE ROAD TRIP. With a bunch of Rock thrown in, I guess. I can't wait to sing every word to every song through every town we pass. Of course it should probably be called my GOLDEN AGE ROAD TRIP since as you know... I'm this far from becoming an out and out senior citizen. But I'll worry about all that next May.
For now... I'm just worrying about what to pack for this little jaunt. Geez... I'll need sweaters, warm jackets AND my heavy winter coat. Plus, not only walking shoes but my high and low boots, too. Not to mention all the other paraphernalia of hair products and meds. Man... it could take me WEEKS to pack. But, fear not. I'm up for the challenge. And for the fun.
I just need now to figure out exactly where all the bathroom pit stops are located and THAT my friend could be the biggest challenge of all.
Man. Either I'm too damn popular or I've got too many friends or I make way too many social plans or I just jam my calendar with far too many damn things. It's becoming crazy and frankly, and I don't see much end in sight. Unless that is, I just say F*** IT. I'M BECOMING A HERMIT.
Which I very well might do. As I walked in the door tonight from an hour and a half of intense socializing at an Open House, I decided: I'm just way too overwhelmed with all this socializing. I need a break. Or a vacation. Or SOMEthing. Which is when I figured I would back up a minute... like since a week ago, let's say... and I'd retrace exactly what's been keeping me on such overload lately.
It kinda boiled down to this: Last Tuesday: eye doctor, lunch with friends and an evening Board Meeting. Last Wednesday: eye doctor and dinner with friends. Last Thursday: core training class, manicure, and fielding zillions of phone calls all night long. Last Friday: eye doctor again, errands and then evening services. Last Saturday: sleep in LATE and then movies and dinner that night. Last Sunday: brunch with four others at the country club and come home and do all sorts of chores around the house. Last Monday: errands, Canasta and Chinese dinner with friends. Today, the ever popular eye doctor, errand and then the ever popular early evening Open House bit tonight.
Now I know that doesn't sound like alot and I KNOW I did way more running around when I was busy raising my family, but NOW? At THIS age? I'm telling you... I'm worn friggin' OUT. And basically... this wasn't all that much of a crammed week, either! Regardless, I just came home tonight and said: THAT'S IT. I'M BOWING OUT OF THE WINE TASTING PARTY TOMORROW NIGHT. I QUIT. MY SOCIALIZING IS OVER. Well, for a while anyway.
Especially since tomorrow I've already got to hit the eye doctor, meet Betsy for lunch and then make a 3:00 appointment with my attorney. I'm telling you. I NEED A VACATION. Which is so ironic since I like have the most hum drum life you ever saw, to begin with. Honestly, I am a perfect poster girl for those who do so LITTLE. Is this the craziest thing or what?
Then, I'm thinking: Whoa. Wait. I've got a concert downtown on Saturday night, 6 people coming for dinner next Wednesday night, two fancy schmancy birthday luncheons in like a week maybe, a couple of major party invitations already for October and then of course, Thanksgiving. Not to mention, my regular card game, exercise class, etc. etc. Hence: what's up with all this socializing I do?? I feel like Susan Powter: STOP THE MADNESS. Oh yeah... I need to factor in the fact Bonnie's not even here for a long while.
But what REALLY gets me is the fact almost everyone I know does TWICE what I do in a day. Their calendars are FILLED with stuff. Really MEANINGFUL stuff too. Me? I do crap. Them? They actually ACCOMPLISH sh*t! In ADDITION to all the socializing, no less. Talk about having A personalities. I apparently am much more into the N personality. As in: nonsense.
Yeah... I know, I know. Busy hands are happy hands and I really shouldn't complain at all. I should be happy that I have a wonderful life, with plenty to do and plenty of friends with whom to do it. On the other hand, if I DON'T get some down time soon, how can I possibly find time to relish in my delight by sitting and watching Mitt absolutely screw up his very own campaign royally. For THAT? Man, I could book hour after hour, easily. Seriously... I'm SO getting off on his f*** ups.
Which definitely feeds into my desire to become a HERMITT. Boom. I can kill two birds with one stone.
So what can I say? I had a great moment last night and I must admit, I'm tickled pink about it, too. This was just unbelievable. Get this...
Turns out I was in my favorite movie theater here in town. It's an independent theater without seating like in regular ones. Instead, the entire place is dimly lit, totally filled with small round dining tables and two really nice chairs with casters that can lean back a little if you want, and it's like a cozy little restaurant let's say. Two to a table. Thus you make friends with everyone seated all around you plus you get the feeling while being there that everyone else is also happy and friendly and of course, equally psyched for a great movie. Which last night, btw, was ARBITRAGE with Richard Geer. Talk about being sweet on the eyes. I'm so telling you... don't miss this film!
Anyway, there we were seated at our table, chit chatting, having fun while I was major busy gobbling down my excellent pop corn and diet coke. This lady in front of us was enjoying a chicken salad sandwich and the people to our left were enjoying cheeseburgers. So I just happened to ask the lady in front of me... very attractive, well groomed, a couple years older than myself, lovely makeup and hair, etc. etc... what she was eating and next thing you know we were in a happy conversation. No wonder. She apparently took a major shine to me!
She began with asking me where I live. I told her I'm from Miami but have lived here permanently for the past ten years to which she replied: "I KNEW you weren't some run of the mill country girl! I took one look at you and could tell you're a REAL fashionista!" WHOA. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?? IS THIS LADY ASTUTE OR WHAT? Like how great is it that your date gets to hear a total stranger rave about you? Seriously. Plus whether or not this lady was a complete liar made no difference whatsoever to me... I was in sheer delight over this woman's comments. Which is why naturally, I fell in love with her immediately.
She began asking me where I shopped, etc. which was kind of surprising since I was basically wearing nothing more than a regular end of summer outfit. As in: black lace leggings, a black soft fabric-ed asymmetrical long tunic top with a scarf styled hem and black soft satin like flats. Which makes me think: it must have been the six inch Camellia Flower pin I was also wearing. But matters not. All I know is that after her rave reviews, the next thing to come out my mouth was: OH YEAH... YOU'LL LOVE THIS. TWO AND A HALF WEEKS AGO, I HAD A FACE LIFT!!
She then went wild with THAT news. I told her all about it and she was just so thrilled hearing me lay it all out. I finished it off with... YEAH, NOW I CAN ENJOY MY 65TH BIRTHDAY NEXT MAY FEELING PRETTY DAMN HAPPY, TOO. Don't ask. That's all she had to hear. I thought I'd have to pick my new best friend up from the floor. WHAT?? 65?? YOU CAN'T BE!! I WOULD HAVE EASILY PEGGED YOU FOR NO MORE THAN YOUR MID 40s!!
Which of course is the exact moment I decided: OMG. IT WORKED! MISSION ACCOMPLISHED! I DO IN FACT LOOK BETTER!! Let alone younger. Which btw, is ALSO a great thing for your date to hear. Regardless, I think I better mark the calendar with yesterday's date since THAT is the first time since my surgery that an out and out stranger was basically fooled. I can't WAIT to tell my plastic surgeon! Since basically, I look at this like it was two party operation.
I supply the crappy ass hanging skin face and he supplies the perfect surgical procedure. All in all... a major match made in heaven. YIPPEE. IT WORKED.
Jesus... this left eye of mine is going to be the bane of my existence. In the past week, I've been to the eye doctor five times and I'll be headed back there once again in about an hour. Don't ask.
Turns out that my left eye lid may still be a tad swollen, thus it doesn't entirely close all the way... about two millimeters from complete, let's say. Which then means air hits my cornea which then means it gets irritated which then means I have to use eye lubricant drops every fucking hour which then means it stings after all day long which then means, I basically want to slit my wrists by oh... I'd say about just before bedtime, I'd guess.
I'm like this far from having a mental breakdown and frankly, I'm not all that sure I can afford cutting things quite that close. I figure I'm on borrowed time as is. In fact last night, I got into bed thinking: OMG. I think I may need a Quaalude for tonight. Ah... the good ole days, right?
Anyway, twice already I've had a clear contact lens bandage put in for a day or two since that basically protects the cornea while the lid is blinking all day long. That's number one. Number two is the fact that my tear duct has yet to reopen completely, which also is not adding to the solution. Given I have never before worn contacts and am pretty sure there is no way I'll actually be able to insert one myself, I have visions... no pun intended... of having to return to the eye doctor every other day. Pretty much like what I've done this past week.
Shoot me now.
It's a good thing I adore my eye doctor and his associate, for I can see already, I'm developing a real buddy buddy relationship with these guys. I'm all but minutes away from having both of them and their wives over for dinner so we can just sorta hang out in the evenings since I'm already pretty much doing that in the daytime. I'm telling you... this is nuts.
Oh yeah... I may have to invite my plastic surgeon too, since I'm on the phone with him almost daily as well. Besides, he gets a real kick out of my personality for some reason. You can check him out, up there in the picture above. He's simply adorable.
Anyway, they all claim my tear duct will in fact come back to life at some point, thus supposedly there IS light at the end of this eyeball tunnel, afterall. Of course that's what THEY say. However, according to the Linda School of Ophthalmology, I say it's but a 50/50 chance. So, I'm giving this deal but one more week... and then of course we shall actually SEE. Pun intended.
For now however... am off to have yet another contact inserted. And, ask for a couple of Ludes. If only.
... ME!! Oh man... I am so in love with this. Click on this link http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z9WxbFzdVLc and you TOO can hear this fabulous tune. Plus, turns out it's a perfect song just for me.
I can't even believe it... I heard this song and went absolutely wild. You have just GOT to hear it and then you tell me if it doesn't make you also, jump up right smack out of your seat, having you dancing all over the place lickety split. For me? This song totally rocks.
I heard it the first time tonight and immediately I knew, for zillions of reasons, that this song had my name written all over it. This is not the official video, but that's on YouTube also, if you want to go search it out. I just figured I'd do you all a favor and post the one that had the lyrics already front and center.
Which by the way, are fantastic. I mean... all I had to do was hear the opening line and boom. They had me right off the bat. From there on in, I fell for the music, the rest of the lyrics, the incredible sound and definitely the great rhythm in a heartbeat. In fact, as a tribute to Dick Clark, let me just say... I'LL GIVE IT A TEN.
I love when I hear music that gets me in my gut and/or heart within moments. Kinda like: Roger Waters' MOTHER let's say. Took me all of 32 seconds and I was sucked right smack into THAT song, too. And just like Cupid's arrow... whamo. This song tonight struck me in a flash. I can only hope it will strike you too. If not... then, ummm... I'd almost have to think maybe you're not completely living in our current musical world. In which case, what can I say? You're just not on my same rock wave length.
Which is sorta too bad since my personal rock wave length IS pretty fine tuned. Case in point: Janis Ian... a minus four. THIS song? A plus 20. And oh yeah... for those of you who, God forbid, HAVEN'T heard Roger Waters... here you go. Suggestion, btw: Get stoned first.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XTgq6t6EjzA
Reality bites. Last night I ventured out into the real world. As in: I actually did my own grocery shopping for the first time in God knows how long. I'm not happy about it in the least, but I do have to admit that it wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be. Which is a good thing, since I'm apparently going to have to be doing this pretty often, for next several months. Damnit.
Turns out Bonnie is out of town right now, visiting her daughter somewhere. And, while I normally can handle that pretty well for short periods of time, after Bonnie gets back... she's then headed to have surgery on both her knees. And while I feel absolutely horrible knowing what that must be like to go through all this, I also feel absolutely horrible that SHE'LL NOT BE HERE ON MONDAYS ANYMORE FOR QUITE A BIT OF TIME. Like three months, maybe??? Oh man... so not what I want to hear.
Poor Bonnie has been suffering plenty with her knees the past several years and yippee, this surgery is going to put her in very good stead. Of course it's concurrently going to put me in the funny farm, but I AM trying to cope. In the meantime, amidst my throwing every kind of prepared food known to man into my cart, I did make a wonderful discovery while shopping last night.
Apparently the store has made a wonderful redesign of the aisles and I was quite thrilled about it, too. There I was, going up and down the aisles and then, all of a sudden, I had a major realization. I noticed that in the center of the store... beginning in paper goods, maybe... boom. I saw that instead of having one looooong aisle running from the front of the store way to its' back wall, they actually cut the aisles in half about mid way through!! Like little baby cross streets that let you go straight through to four rows away if you want, withOUT having to walk allll the way up one aisle to get over to the next.
Thus, I could NOW take a short cut right smack in the middle of the aisle and cut my walking time in half! I could actually walk just half the length of the store, and if I didn't want anything on the rest of the shelves there, boom. I could cut right across and head on over to the Diet Coke shelf lickety split! Sheer genius, if you ask me. Like how long has THAT been going on, I wonder? Well, Bonnie would know, I'm sure. I myself just found out last night.
So it looks like I'm basically going to be living in the real world for a period of time now. I'm going to have to do my own shopping, my own errands, my own everything, etc.... that I totally hate to do. Like calling in and picking up my own meds, like standing in line to mail my own packages, like paying my own bills, and like carrying in my own groceries, which btw, is something I REALLY hate doing. All I can tell you is: while I wish everyone who is dealing with a health issue a speedy recovery, you can bet your sweet ass there is NO one for whom I hope it's speedier than for Bonnie.
Believe me... I this close to calling Kelly Girl Temporary office services.
I swear to God... this is the most amazing thing I've ever done. And... I've done quite a few in my time, I'm happy to say. But THIS? Oh my God. I'm thinking of now joining a college sorority.
Why not?? Today is Day Nine and the transformation has been reMARKable. I can't even believe it. And, I can not TELL you how thrilled I am. Well, I was that is, until I got to the doctor's office today to have my stitches removed.
Get this... I just happened to nonchalantly ask him: Uh... like exactly how much WAS removed from my neck? His answer?? ABOUT A POUND OF FAT!!! Holy Shit. I THOUGHT I WOULD THROW UP RIGHT THEN AND THERE. Are you fucking kidding me???? I was simply flabbergasted. See? I KNEW it was time to do something about my neck!!! Man o man... is that the craziest ass thing or what? Anyway, the Man of All Miracles said that everything went like clockwork and YIPPPEE. I CAN NOW SLEEP IN MY BED ONCE AGAIN! HalleluJAH.
Anyway... that shot up above was taken just before I left for my doctor's visit. There was absolutely no pain in having the baby bandages and stitches removed and I can now wash my face with soap and water and I can have a haircut and I can stop taking the bruising pills and I can even begin wearing makeup again. Of course I first have to FIND my eyelashes once again but the the doctor told me they ARE there. I have to go back in six weeks and THEN he'll do the real before and after pictures so we can both ooh and ahh. Seriously... every major penny I spent on this facelist was SO worth it. The bruising and swelling will continue to subside and then WHAMMO. My job here is done.
For now, I just have to thank EVERYONE who has been such a great help and/or such wonderful encouragement for me. Your love and good wishes have meant SO very much. And yes... I know... it's time I shut up about this entire deal and move onto something else. And believe me, I'll try. I really will.
BUT... my astonishment at the total improvement just so freakin' knocks my socks off. Thus I can make no promises. I CAN'T HELP IT. I'm way too high in seventh heaven for God sakes. Which reminds me... Thank You God for letting all of this go down without a single hitch! Amen.
It's really crazy... everyone I know joins a group. Book clubs maybe. Bridge games. Maj Jongg. Volunteering. Scrabble. Whatever. Me?? I never join.
First of all... how the hell do I know what I'll feel like doing on a particular day? What if I want to do something else? How I can I possibly commit to a scheduled day at a scheduled time? What if I want to just sleep until ten and take my sweet ass pretty little time getting ready to head out? I'm telling you... I'm exactly the kind of person you DON'T want in your group.
Until two weeks ago, that is. I don't know what came over me. All I know is... I got a call: MEET US AT THE JAVA PLACE. WE'RE LEARNING TO PLAY PARTNER CANASTA. Boom. Next thing I know I'm in a weekly Canasta game. HUH? I JOINED SOMETHING? Oh man... I'm in utter shock.
Turns out however, it was FUN. I DID have to tell everyone right off the bat though: BTW... I PLAY FOR FUN AND I JABBER ALL THROUGHOUT THE GAME. AND I DON'T REALLY CARE ABOUT THE SCORES AND IF WE NEED DO-OVERS, THAT'LL WORK FOR ME, TOO. So it's kinda surprising they didn't kick me out lickety split.
As in: THE GIRLS TAKE THE GAME REALLY SERIOUSLY. Oops. And, they follow the rules of the game to a major T! Thus, being quick on the uptake, I decided I better get in to the expected mode but fast, and play like I've got $500 rolling on every play. Bingo. Mission accomplished. I played Canasta for the first time in 55 years!! And, I played with all the cooperation and sportsmanship I could possibly muster. I had to. We play with partners.
In the meantime, due to my face lift... I told the girls last week, come to my house Monday and I'll serve lunch and then we'll play Canasta afterwards. Which I did. However... good thing I made PLENTY of lunch! I was expecting five of us, I think but next thing I know... my door bell kept ringing and ringing and ringing and yippee! Who knew... extras arrived! Apparently one friend spoke to another who spoke to another and bingo. There was eight of us in no time at all. Talk about pushing the limits of my kitchen dining table!
In the end, I have to say I had a ball. First of all, it was great having everyone here yet again and second of all, I got to eat a perfectly fine lunch and third of all, I loved playing Canasta for a couple of hours. Which only means... EEKS. I CAVED. I JOINED A GROUP. I COMMITTED TO A SCHEDULE EVERY MONDAY AFTERNOON. Whoa. Now THERE'S a switch up I never saw coming.
I can promise you however... I'll never join a book club. I love choosing my own books to read and I like to take my time in doing so. Unless of course every book the club chooses is about the British Monarchy. For THAT?? Boom. Count me in, no questions asked. Besides, for that club, I wouldn't even have to read. I know everything about everything on that topic ALREADY. Can YOU name all of Queen Victoria's children? Trust me... I can.
Aren't these flowers BEAUTIFUL??? I swear... I love looking at them all day long. The colors are just STUNNING. Apparently this is the upside to not only having surgery, but also having really great friends.
I can't figure out which of these are my favorite but it matters not. They're all magnificent. Oh yeah... I was also given a potted plant of Mums; but they have yet to fully bloom. However, once they do... they too will be stunners. Actually, I would LOVE to plant the Mums in the ground so I can enjoy them every year, but according to the doctor, I'm not allowed to bend down, so hmmmm. That's a problem. But maybe I'll cheat and do it in a couple of weeks.
In the meantime, I don't normally have a green thumb, I'm sorry to say. Which is why I fill my house with basically "care free" plants. I'm heavy into putting plants in a pot... watering them every week or so... and then: DO NOTHING. Kinda like letting Mother Nature do the rest. Man... how lazy can one person get?? On the other hand, during the Spring and Summer I WILL put effort into my gorgeous Hydrangeas which are planted in several places around my front yard.
THOSE I definitely try to take care of since they absolutely knock my socks off once the flowers start popping out. For them, I even go all out and feed them plant food. Trust me... that's a huge step for me. But they're SO worth it. I have maybe seven different colored Hydrangea bushes all planted in strategic areas and every time I look outside I'm in heaven watching them grow. The BIG payoff of course is when I get to cut the blossoms to fill my vases and place them in every room of my house. Oh man... so outta this world.
In any case... for now... I'm loving all the flowers I've recently received as gifts. I'm also loving watching the bruising on my face gradually disappear. For as the color of my face fades, the colors of the flowers are exploding. Talk about it's a beautiful life!
That's exactly what I told the doctor when he removed the bandages the day after my facial surgery. IT WAS TOTALLY AMAZING. Even now I can't believe it and it's only Day Three. By tomorrow the HORRIBLE bruising and swelling will sure to be down to a dull minimum and already, no can believe how fantastic my face it beginning to heal. Even my kid said, and I quote: SERIOUSLY. YOU LOOK LIKE ALMOST 20 YEARS YOUNGER. Now did I raise an astute kid or what??
So here's how it went down. I got to the doctor's office by 6:30 in the morning. By 7:00 he gave me my medical cocktail which included 40 milligrams of Valium, btw. What could be bad, right? Next thing you know we walked into a room where there is a most comfortable, wonderful leather chair... kinda like a dental chair... placed in the center of the room. Luckily, I can't tell you what happened next, for boom. I was out like a light 1-2-3. For the next three hours the Genius of All Men then worked on my eyes and my sagging neck and finally, wrapped my head with all kinds of gauze or whatever. BOOM. DONE. Painless and miraculous. And best of all... this prince of all miracle makers told me the procedure went PERFECTLY FINE!
Next, Claudia brought me straight home. I then set up my bedroom quarters right there next to the recliner in my family room and I proceeded to lay out all my meds etc. Granted, I looked absolutely horrible but hour by hour I was beginning the remarkable recovery process. That night Denise, the woman I hired for two evenings, came and stayed with me and helped me with whatever I needed. Who could ask for more?
The next morning I went back to Dr. Genius' office, he took the bandages off my head and right smack off the bat, Claudia exclaimed: OMG... YOUR FACE LOOKS HEART SHAPED AGAIN. Which naturally gave me the courage to check it all out for myself. I was handed a mirror and immediately the first words out of my mouth were: IT'S A F-ING MIRACLE!! I LOVE IT!! I CAN'T BELIEVE IT!! OMG. I'M IN SHOCK. THIS IS JUST SOOOOO INCREDIBLE! Bottom line: I could not thank the doctor enough is all I can tell you. I may have to put his kids through college, now that I think about it. HE DESERVES IT. For the first time in 30 years I NOW HAVE A NECK. AND A PROFILE. AND I HAVE NO POUCHES UNDER OR ABOVE MY EYES. Man... this is just the greatest experience ever!
I have pictures documenting each day's progress, beginning from when I first arrived back home. By tomorrow I just MAY be able to post one here. YIPPEE. I'll have to wait to see though, exactly how much I want to scare everyone. Therefore, proceed at your own risk. Although I will admit... whatever I put up, will be FIVE THOUSAND PERCENT BETTER THAN WHEN I FIRST STARTED OUT.
In the meantime, I've had lots of friends stopping by to check it all out and EVERYONE of them are as amazed as I am. In fact, several came over tonight, bringing in Chinese food and we all sat around eating and having a fabulous time. Am I blessed or WHAT?? I'm thinking that if I wait another month or so, I just may be able to register in high school all over again.
So basically... to anyone who is even THINKing of having some plastic surgery call Dr. Harley IMMEDIATELY IF NOT SOONER. You too can look four million percent better. I am SO thrilled I did! Whoops. Sorry... time for me to run take just one more pain killer now, just to be on the safe side. Trust me... those meds are as miraculous as the procedure itself. Which I'm already thinking I may need to take again when the stitches come out Wednesday. Talk about psyched!!
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.
I'll simply say: YES, I DID IN FACT DO THAT AND THAT AND THAT, BUT IN THE END, DEAR GOD... EVERYONE WHO SHOWS UP HERE SHOULD ONLY BE AS FINE A WOMAN AS I HAVE BEEN! SO THERE. NOW... PLEASE GOD, LET ME IN. THANKS.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
