Category Archives: Funny rant

Words With Friends


words with friends

Warning:  This post is contains words I find annoying, disturbing and/or disgusting.  If you are offended by language, this post is not for you!





It began with the constant use of the F word during the 2016 Presidential Campaign. Once I tuned into it, I heard it everywhere and bristled each time.


Hearing “female candidate” I envisioned a cartoon uterus in a pantsuit and sensible heels, a stylish scarf fashioned out of her fallopian tubes, and her ovaries tucked safely in her pockets.

Ridiculous, I know. But,  “male candidate” wasn’t used with the same frequency, if at all.

“Female” is clinical.

Unless you’re employed in the field of animal husbandry, issuing an A.P.B. for an alleged perpetrator, transporting a patient, or working in the coroner’s office – skip the word female. It refers to genitalia.

I prefer “woman” as it encompasses the entirety of a human being.

While I was busy cringing at the F word, the tape of Trump using the P word surfaced.

Ick. Ick. Ick.

For the love of hoo-hoo’s, vajayjays and vajeens everywhere, wasn’t that word left back in the junior high boys’ locker room?

Guess not.

The misogynistic and absurd bragging (among other things) spurred a protest of the new U.S. President. On January 21, 2017,  200,000 women gathered in D.C.  sporting their functional, yet cleverly named pink Pussy hats.

Meow. I get it –  giving the word a different kind of power. Even with those darling little ears on top – I preferred kitty cat hats.

The cringe factor of these words brought to mind a recent girls’ trip where our mutual dislike of “moist” resulted in a conversation about all sorts of awful words.

Just the mere reference to something unappealing like “pustule,” “seeping,” “oozing,” and “ointment” causes cringey feelings. No visual aid necessary.

One friend hates the word “pimple,” and her husband hates the word, “fester.” It’s no wonder these perfectly suited soul mates have enjoyed nearly 30 years of wedded bliss!

Another friend confessed that any labia reference, either major or minor – made her uncomfortable.

We all agreed “scrotum” hits the ears wrong every time.

Coincidentally, one friend was on a run of making her own almond milk and almond hummus. She shared how her teenagers groaned in protest every time she referenced the necessary tool which is key to the process: a “nut bag.”

35 years ago, this same friend was a horrified teenager when her mother signaled the end of a day of shopping by announcing in a department store, “Well, it’s time to go, I’ve shot my wad!” 

Another friend mentioned the word “grundle.” I admit, I had to Google it. It sounded like something out of a Harry Potter novel. Nope. Lemme just say….T’aint what it is.

Of course “smegma” (just for you Madge), “girth” and “lube” are all included on the the repeat offender list. I apologize for typing those.

Some words sound worse than their actual definition, like “chickpea,” “uranus” and “penal” for instance. “Clematis” clearly sounds like a lady part and not a lovely flowering vine.

Personally, I hate the terrible imagery that comes to mind when I hear “blow-out,” and “brain-fart.

While we’re on the subject – I propose we nix the crass “anal-retentive” or “anal” in favor of the more genteel “particular.

It isn’t only anatomical terms and descriptors of unpleasant things that are bothersome.

Mothers can all agree on a mutual disdain for “not me” and “sucks.”

Men are bugged by a words of a different sort.

They seem to have a strong dislike for the apathetic “whatever” and the snippish “fine.” They also lose patience with the incorrect use of “literally,” the often used, but nonexistent “irregardless,” and the redundant “very unique.”

Just mention corporate conference call speak and watch the eyes roll:

We don’t need to think outside the boxregroup, or tag up later. Please, just table it ALL. At the end of the day, we’ve had enough of moving forward. We have fully penetrated and are saturated with equitable outcomessolutions-based everything, and win-win situations.

Yep, there definitely seems to be a “disconnect” here

Words can be so terribly overused that they lose their meaning. Have you noticed practically everything is described as “amazing” on a daily basis. Hey, I realize my generation did the same thing to “awesome,” but we used it more comically, and less earnestly.

The moment I heard a lovely wedding gown described as “badass,” I knew the word had lost its impact. Remember when that only applied to bikers, rockers, and the military?

I realize decorum and manners have waned in favor of an air of familiarity in our increasingly casual society.

This is never more evident than when a server or clerk addresses a group of women as “you guys” or even in Southern California as “dudes.”

Look, I’m not expecting to hear “Madames.”

“Ladies” or at the very least, “folks” would be a refreshing return to the service standards I was taught.

Do you think I’m too easily offended, or being a ball buster?


I don’t even have a pair, and that really makes me wince!




Manic Mondays & Fashion Faux Pas


Manic Monday wasn’t just a 1985 hit for The Bangles.

It’s a real thing. It occurs after the weekend knocks us out of the groove. As we try to slog through the early Monday morning routine, the result can be chaos:  Forgotten gym clothes, lunch money, homework, and signed permission slips. No gas in the car.

A niece of mine was only 4 years old when Manic Monday was in the Top 40. She mistakenly thought Susanna Hoffs was singing, “Just another man naked Monday” Understandable, innocent and adorable.

Thankfully, nudity hasn’t been an issue for for me, but a Manic Monday can result in a fashion faux pas or wardrobe malfunction.

One lovely Spring morning, I wore a brand new purple cardigan embellished with a ruffle down the front. I felt so smartly dressed all day.  I returned home and pulled in the garage. As I removed my seatbelt, it caught the edge of something. What is that? I thought.

I realized my new sweater still had the size tape running along the front. I ran to a mirror, and took in the full view. From just below my left shoulder, it went over my left breast right down to my stomach. A string of evenly spaced scarlet L’s, .

I mentally reviewed my day, the five sales appointments, all the customers I had spoken with. No one had mentioned a word. I’m pretty sure I would have preferred someone seeing something and saying something. Or would I?

A friend went line dancing at a cowboy bar in brand new jeans. She was feelin’ like a fine filly… until her dance pardner spotted the Size 8   8    8    8   8  tape running the length of her thigh – and ripped it right off her leg. In the middle of the dance floor. He twirled it above his head, lasso-style. Clearly, a do-si-don’t.

What could be worse than forgetting to remove the size tag from new duds? I’ll tell you what.

Polka dot blouse. Nude pumps with a bow. I was channeling my inner Chanel. However since I’m more Costco than Coco, rather than the Chanel Boutique, my blouse was from Old Navy.  Again after a full day of appointments, I arrived home to discover I had violated Coco’s cardinal rule: I was over-accessorized. I failed to remove one item.  I should have kept the  pearls, and ditched the price tag. Seriously, how did I not see or feel this big piece of navy cardboard hanging from the underarm of my featherweight, sheer blouse?

Tag on Blouse

Wardrobe malfunctions are the worst when they occur on the days we want to look our most professional.

It is a proven fact, that I will not spill a drop of coffee out of a to-go cup, until the Monday I wear a white blouse while I am out of town and five minutes from an appointment. Yep, that is the day I will get that dang Starbucks lid/cup combo that mysteriously drips, no matter what you do, or how many napkins you wrap around it.

My friend Pat paired a sharp navy blue suit (skirt and jacket) with navy blue pumps for an important meeting at work. As she sat down in the conference room and crossed her legs, she realized her shoes didn’t match…each other. Not only were the shoes different styles, they were different colors. One was navy blue and the other one was black. One of these things is not like the other!

My sister’s most famous wardrobe malfunction involved shape wear. You can read about it here. She is usually right on trend and sometimes even fashion forward – like the time she was ahead of the “wire-free” bra trend…when one underwire worked its way out of her bra, and like one of those creepy serpent necklaces, snaked its way up her décolletage and right out the top of her sweater.



In regards to her bustline at this point? Again, one of these things was not like the other.

Long before my Mother was officially diagnosed with dementia, she had begun to make uncharacteristic wardrobe and accessory choices. The  colorful, oversized tote she carried to my stepdad’s funeral had gone unnoticed until one of my brothers was shocked to spot it during the service, and asked “Mother….. are you carrying a beach bag?” Everyone within earshot tried to stifle inappropriate giggles. On the bright side, at least her shoes didn’t match her purse.

Men can suffer fashion faux pas, too. Even at funerals.

A family member attended a funeral during the week between Christmas and New Years.  He grabbed his wool coat out of the closet in a rush to get out of the house. The coat felt uncomfortably snug over his suit, but the Polar Vortex prevented him from taking it off. Only when walking into church did he realize he was wearing his wife’s coat. Surely the mourners at Mass must have smiled at the dapper gentleman…..and his festive rhinestone candy cane pin.

Photo Courtesy: vintagevixen

Photo Courtesy: vintagevixen

Just last week, Tara Wood of Love Morning Wood, shared a photo on her Facebook page of her OOTD fashion faux pas.

Courtesy of Tara Wood

Photo courtesy of Tara Wood

She was dressed for a day of running errands. While, I think she is wearing cute rolled up boyfriend jeans, I am positive that is an adhesive nursing pad attached to the bottom of those darling gold sandals. It may look like Tara really stepped in it this time, but mark by word: by next summer this wardrobe malfunction will be reinvented and show up on a clever life hack list:

Travel Life Hack #7 Keep Summer feet clean at the airport by securing (2) adhesive nursing pads on each bare foot before going through TSA checkpoint. Once you get through the body scanner, discard the pads and put your summer kicks back on those clean tootsies!

These goofs are entertaining reminders that we are all just human. Or maybe we’re all trendsetters.

What else would explain brightly colored bra straps exposed, tights worn as pants (without coverage of the critical zone) and the long past its prime…pants on the ground?

Happy Monday!

I Don’t Speak The Language


My native tongue is English, but after 25 years in Southern California, I understand Spanish, and can speak enough to get by. I also know a few sushi bars worth of Japanese.

But….I have a mental block and I will never be able to speak, read or write…..Captcha.

I am confronted with my lack of fluency on an almost daily basis.  As I navigate the cyber world, entering my username and password is not sufficient for some websites. Some sites want to verify that I am a human, not a robot or computer.

The verification process begins like this:


Alright, I’m going to guess that is…… offknol MID.

Captcha says, “Nope. Try again.”

Then I get this one:


OK, this seems more difficult. Is that….tobanu usual?

Captcha says, “Haha that’s hilarious, but no.”

Next up, The captcha generator is sure I’ll get it this time:


Yep, clearly it is erpackl certain!

Captcha, the a-hole, says “Wrong again, loser!”

Next up – THIS looks fairly simple:


I’ve got it! It says: has tidelec.

“Hmmm….perhaps, but not likely.”

At this point, I usually just close my iPad.

I know I could opt for the audio version, but what is the fun in that? Isn’t that cheating?

What happened to just asking me questions I can understand….and even answer?

Questions like:

What street did you live on as a child?

What was the name of your 5th grade teacher?

In what city did your parents meet?

What was the model of your first car?

This Captcha nonsense reminds of those autostereograms that were popular in the 90’s. You know –  those prints that were a jumble of a bunch of different colored dots and squiggles that you were supposed to stare at and then a 3-D image would appear. I could never see the hidden image. Ever.

It must be a brain thing. Or maybe I’m less creative, and more black and white than I previously thought.

Then, one day while surfin’ the net, I was once again asked to verify that I was a human, not a robot or computer.

This window popped up:


Woohoo! I made the correct selections. Not to brag, but I’m pretty sure I could have identified them in Japanese, too.

The next time I was required to verify my humanity, this window popped up:

IMG_0253Dessert. Of course I nailed it.

However, my single favorite challenge to prove my humanity was this:

IMG_0254Whew! Thankfully, they thoughtfully provided that sample image.

I look forward to the possibility that internet security will eventually improve, and Captcha will become a lost language. I fear I am too old to learn yet another new language.

Until then, I will pride myself on still being multi-lingual. I’m completely fluent in food and dog or, as fancy folks say, cuisine and canine.

Halloween Hotness


When did Halloween become so……..s-e-x-y?

I mean sooooo sexy that in comparison, the vixen Elvira seems a bit buttoned-up.

Elvira Pic

Sure we’ve had naughty school girls, girl scouts, French maids, Playboy bunnies, cat women and lady devils in red body suits, but this year, the sexy costume selection is out of control.

Last month, I visited a Halloween store with my favorite 15-year old. It was during spirit week at her high school. As we browsed through the store, we accidentally found ourselves in the “ADULT” section.  Believe me, it was most definitely frightening.

We made a hasty retreat, quickly found our two cans of “Ariel Red” hair spray paint for Disney day, and got the heck OUTTA THERE!!

After leaving the store, we discussed costume ideas. I was curious what was popular with the high school crowd this year. I enjoyed hearing the fun/scary/cute ideas my favorite 15-year old and her friends were considering.

There was not one sexy thing on the list. Whew!

We discussed that overtly sexy halloween costumes were tacky,  and had even become sort of cliche.

Apparently, not everyone agrees.

Last week, I stumbled upon There were pages and pages of sexy costumes. Even though I wasn’t in the market for one of these silly get-ups, I couldn’t bring myself to quit looking.

Oh, I get the sexy costume phenomenon – an excuse to unleash your alter ego in the spirit of  Halloween. I realize this is a trend, but I still don’t fully understand it.

Then I discovered that costume manufacturers are now making sexy costume versions of things that shouldn’t be the least bit sexy. This hit me as just plain weird. I couldn’t quit laughing.

I’ve done the footwork for you. For your enlightenment, Here is just a sampling of the weirdness:

Socks. Monkees. Sock Monkeys...None of which are sexy.

Socks. Monkeys. Sock Monkeys…None started out sexy.. unless you are a plushy (but that’s another story)



Is nothing sacred? O'Toodles.....If you sex up Mickey, you are a big Mouskatool.

Is nothing sacred? O’Toodles…..If you dare to sex up Mickey, lemme be the first to say…. You are a giant  Mouskatool.


Imagine if Ronald had worn HIS  pants this tight. Scary Clown, indeed.

Imagine if Ronald had worn HIS pants this tight. His name would have been on a registered offender list, for sure, Scary Clown, indeed.


Oh Dear...I can just see the Seven Dwarves blowin' up social media with up skirt photos.

Oh Dear… those seven rascally dwarves will be blowin’ up social media with up-skirt photos.


If you touch her tentacles, do you have to pee on your foot?

If you touch her tentacles, do you have to pee on your foot?


Stay away from her...she'll take your quarters and run.

Stay away from her…she’ll take your quarters and run.


Hijacking the kiddie characters and making them sexy is disturbing to me. I shudder to think of the trampy turn that Anna, Elsa, Sofia, Amber and Doc McStuffins could take. And poor Tinkerbell. Wait, Tink is already a bit sassy, isn’t she?

The oddest trend is food costumes that have taken a sexy turn.

Forget the traditionally sexy food, like chocolate covered strawberries, champagne, oysters and sushi.

Apparently fast food is what is really HOT!

Who knew? Greasy burgers don’t make you fat. They make you P.H.A.T.


Ummm....sorry, but I must ask..Where's the beef?

Ummm….sorry, but I feel compelled to ask..Where’s the beef?


There it is, but frankly I prefer a bigger, juicier patty.

Oh, there’s the beef, but frankly I prefer a bigger, juicier patty. Wait, maybe I’m just used to looking at own my beef patty.


Oh....and here's your side of fries with that.

Oh….and here’s your side of fries with that. Shouldn’t she see a doctor if she has steam arising from that region?


Naturally, there is a marked difference between costumes for men and women.

Tacos for the ladies...

Tacos for the the senoritas….


vs. Crunchy tacos for the señor!

vs. Crunchy tacos for the señores! You know when he farts, he’ll say it was the beans, right?


Pizza by the slice...

Pizza by the slice….


Double crust or double standard?

Double pepperoni or double standard?


Perhaps my favorite…the ultimate in Midwestern sexy…

Corn on the cob...wonder if she is GMO free?

Definitely sweet corn…sure she looks good, but  is she certified GMO free?


If you got a chuckle out of this, you’re welcome.

If I’ve helped you find the perfect costume, shame on you.





It seems devious downsizing is getting out of control.

Sure, we all made the switch from a half-gallon of ice cream to a 1.5 quart carton of ice cream without a problem, and it certainly hasn’t affected the collective bottom line of America.

But it seems to be happening everywhere.

Without notice, many standard one pound packages are shrinking to 13 ounces and even 12 ounces. Coffee, peanut butter, breakfast cereal, and pasta are just a few of the commonly used products that are quietly being downsized.

Last week, I bought what I thought was an 8 oz. package of mozzarella cheese. When I went to use it in a recipe, I realized it was only 6 oz.

Quit trying to sneak this past us.

We need some warning.

Marketing departments could put their spin on it:

NEW – Convenient Carton!

NEW – Space Saving Size!

INTRODUCING – Economy Pack!

This sneaky downsizing is detrimental to our tried and true recipes from our Grandmothers, Mothers and Aunts.

For decades, family favorites have been made with ingredients measured in cans, packages, boxes and cartons. There is no mention of ounces in many of these recipes.

It makes me cringe to think of the potential for holiday dinner disasters.

The kitchen isn’t the only problem area.

There is shrinkage in the bedroom, too.

My mom’s bed-making instructions from decades ago still ring in my head. They included making sure the flat sheet was even on both sides, and hung to the bottom of the box springs. I realize modern mattresses are thicker, but some top sheets today barely cover the sides of the mattress.

Hello, Martha? Now what?

Shrinkage has hit the bathroom, too.

Recently, I put a new roll of toilet paper on the holder and noticed the positively roomy fit.

It just didn’t look right.

The roll slid back and forth.


I grabbed the cardboard core I had just removed from the holder, and compared it to the new roll.



What were they thinking in the boardroom the day THIS decision was made?

What sort of research did the design department do in order to determine just how low they could go?

Whether you are a scruncher or a folder, this is dangerous territory.

I like to  get-in-and-get-out-quickly, but I realize some folks swear they do their best thinking on the throne.

I’m pretty sure that in the history of throne thinkers, no one ever pondered….squeezed the Charmin, and thought…Gosh, if only the toilet paper squares just weren’t so darn big….

How ironic that our toilet paper is shrinking while the collective American bottom line is growing.

Shrinkage isn’t just happening around the house.

I picked up the August issue of O Magazine at the airport.

What happened to my beloved Oprah?



Some serious digital waist-whittling had occurred.

OK – in all honestly, if I had my own magazine, and my best gal pal was my Editor At Large, I might expect her to make me look fabulous on the cover, too. I’m pretty sure this is covered in the official Girlfriend Code.

But here’s the thing:  Oprah preaches authenticity, and self-love, .

We’ve faithfully followed skinny Oprah, full-size Oprah, and bonus-size Oprah.

Any size Oprah is equally loved, admired and respected by her followers.

At 60 years of age, and after countless A-HA moments, why would she agree to the false, digitally down-sized cover girl Oprah?

C’mon, Oprah, I thought, as I boarded the plane with her.

Then, I was hit with yet another example of downsizing.

Airline seats are shrinking to a mere 17″ wide.

The new “Slimline” seats which allow airlines to squeeze another row of seats into the Coach section are so shallow they feel more like jump seats.

The seat back pocket is now too small to hold a water bottle, iPad or even my O Magazine.

Of course, with 4 inches less leg room, that pocket is not accessible anyway.

These new planes are equipped with Wifi, but there isn’t enough room to open your laptop…and actually see it.

Not that Oprah has to worry about flying commercial, or putting sheets on her own bed, but….

Maybe she can include the best toilet paper on the 2014 edition of The 0 List, or Oprah’s Favorite Things.

If there is a bigger, better, more luxurious option for the throne,  I’m confident the Queen’s team can find it.


Pssst…I’m on PST… So Shhhh…


On Sunday, at 7:50 p.m. PST, I checked Facebook and saw a status update from my friend, Nancy that read:

Screen Shot 2014-03-26 at 7.41.23 PM

She was referring to a central character in the CBS drama, The Good Wife. The writers’ decision to kill off Will Gardner was unexpected. It was a stunning plot twist.

It was especially shocking to me, because I live in the Pacific Standard Time zone. It would be another two hours before Will would meet his demise here on the West Coast.

What was Nancy thinking? How could she spoil this? She was pulling Oprah’s old trick: Revealing a crucial plot detail of every book or movie she featured on her show, thereby spoiling it for the rest of us.

Never mind Will Gardner, I wanted to kill Nancy – for just a second. First, I put my caps lock on and yelled at her.

Then I found it hysterically funny. The truth is, I had my DVR programmed and wouldn’t watch it until the following night, anyway.

I thought of all Nancy’s Facebook friends reading her simple, four-word post. I envisioned dozens of people groaning, yelling and swearing because, either they were in a different time zone, or they thought Will was alive and well on their DVRs.

It became tragically funny the next day, when I realized my DVR failed to record The Good Wife.

Of all weeks. I couldn’t believe it.

I sent a text to Nancy, telling her of my misfortune.

She replied with three words: Well, Will died. 

She’s funny, that one.

Sure, television viewing in the PST zone has its benefits. It is fantastic for coverage that airs live: major sporting events, (especially Superbowl Sunday); The Academy Awards; Election Night; and Presidential speeches.

While these events air live in prime time on the East Coast, we don’t even have dinner started here on the West Coast. We can actually stay awake to view these shows in their entirety, and we don’t feel exhausted at work the following morning.

However, it sort of stinks every other day of the year. We might not be the last to know; but we ARE the last to see the show.

AOL was the first problem. Even back when we were still dialing up, logging in meant diverting your eyes away from the headlines on the home screen; for fear of seeing a recap of of your favorite TV show.

I’m guessing with the proliferation of DVRs in combination with Twitter and Facebook, everyone has at some point been a victim of the stink from a spoiled storyline, or results of a reality competition.

Twitter and Facebook buzz about each episode of American Idol, The Voice, The Biggest Loser, The Amazing Race, Survivor, The Bachelor, and DWTS. 

Traditional media and social media have made spoilers a way of life.

We don’t even have to wait for Superbowl Sunday for the reveal of the clever commercials. They can be seen all over television and websites the week before the game.

News outlets even took all the surprise out of The Winter Olympics. Truly spoiled sports.

I can deal with this.

It is ABC’s Scandal that I worry about.

It is my guilty pleasure. Maybe an obsession.

Partly because of the fantastic writing, and partly because I just wish I could lounge like Olivia Pope: dressed head-to-toe in cream-colored cashmere, while drinking red wine in a balloon goblet, and never spill a drop.

While it is pure fiction, it probably more accurately portrays the happenings in our Nation’s Capitol, than any news coverage.

However, I can’t stay awake to watch it.

Which by the way, begs the question:  Forget Obama, Why can’t President Fitzgerald Grant air at 5:00 p.m. PST?

I DVR Scandal, and then save it for 2 or 3 days, trying to decide when I will sit down and savor the episode.

Each week brings a shocking plot twist, and I could use anti-anxiety meds to get through the episode.

It’s a good thing Nancy doesn’t watch Scandal, because if she “talked” and compromised the security of the contents of my DVR, I would have to call Pope & Associates.

It would be my duty as a good Patriot.

Spoiler alert:

She’d learn about Affordable Healthcare, in the form of free dental work.

From Huck.

Or B6-13.

Who is really working for whom in that show?

Shhhh….don’t tell me.


Red Carpet Ready


Oscar Red Carpet

Photo credit: Hollywood Reporter

As the saying goes, “It is an honor just to be nominated.”

While I’ve been crossing off the days in anticipation of the Academy Awards on 3.02.14, I have received some exciting news of my own.

I learned that I have been nominated for a Liebster Award. This nomination came courtesy of  Jenn Lost In Chaos.

My excitement quickly turned to anxiety, when I realized:  I’m not at my goal weight, and I have to be red-carpet-ready for my big moment!

Oh no, what will I wear? I guess I’m going to have to depend on shape wear to save my fanny…among other things.

Luckily, I recently heard about a new line of shape wear sold via one of those mesmerizing late night infomercials.  I had to see it for myself, so I got my Google on. I wasn’t sure what search terms to use, so I started with “Spanx for arms.”

I was surprised to find more than one manufacturer of shape wear for arms. Is this a great time to be 50 years old, or what?  No need to worry about bingo arms or bat wings in our future!

Then I looked more closely. The “Armery”  appears to create sausage arms, especially in the nude shade. That’s it. I vow to pick up my hand weights and do the necessary reps and sets to avoid walking the red carpet with giant bockwurst swinging from my shoulders.

During this last Holiday season, I was staying with the hilarious sister. One evening, while she was getting dressed for a party, she called me into her bedroom. There she stood, wearing only her black bra and panties and a cleverly designed “torsette.” By the way, believe me when I tell you…..she looked exactly like this:


She handed me the tag she had just cut off her new shaper, and said, “Read this!”

I sat down and read:

“Invisibly smoothes, shapes and slims. Wonderful Edge® no ride, no lines…Shape your waist and smooth your back….Wonderful Panel® no ride, no lines with a seamless appearance…..stretches for a better fit and more comfort”

The hilarious sister said, “Now watch this.”

She sat down, and amazingly her torsette was instantly in motion. Very s-l-o-w-l-y, the hem at her hips began to roll, and like a motorized window shade in a Las Vegas hotel room, it steadily rose until it reach her bustline. In a matter of seconds, like a high roller on the Vegas strip, I was enjoying my own priceless view.

Naturally, I made her stand up, sit down and repeat this. Several times. It was hysterically funny, and we were in tears.

As she struggled to peel off the torsette, she said, “You know, it’s a good thing people can’t see what’s going on underneath your clothes.”

Amen sister.

Needless to say, that shape wear fail and it’s tag full of empty promises was returned for a full refund.

In addition to the torsette, options in shape wear now include: tummy trimmers, thigh slimmers, butt lifters, cellulite smoothers, back fat banishers. I’m all for proper undergarments, skirts and dresses that “hang” correctly,  and smooth lines…but this is getting ridiculous.

Now we find out that shape wear can cause health problems. Surely, this is a surprise only to men people who have never worn any. While there are gents who sport Spanx For Men, personally, I haven’t heard any fellas tellin’ tales. However, most women have had a painful shape wear experience at some point.

There is the shaping-camisole-caught-in-your-curlers-conundrum; the bruising sensation as a Spanx waistband traverses the knees to hips region; the fierce struggle to squeeze into an all-in-one shaper that results in dewy make-up and messed up hair. This brings suffering for beauty and fashion to another level.

I had to help a bride elope from her oppressive shapewear halfway through her wedding reception. She could barely breathe due to a bridal belly ache. The petite bride had tiny Spanx so I was able to discreetly hide her bridal shaper in my small evening bag. No one was the wiser. If I ever had the nerve to ditch my shape wear midway through an evening, I’m certain mine would require something more the size of a satchel.

My own painful shape wear incident happened during a long afternoon and evening of funeral home visitation for my Mom’s husband, Gene. I was sure I was going to need amputation…at the waist, due to strangulation by a shorts style shaper. The situation became excruciating after a carry-in dinner of Coney Dogs from our hometown favorite, in honor of Gene. Believe me, the absurdity of eating hot dogs with chili and onions at a funeral home while wearing a shaper, is not lost on me. Frankly, I’m surprised rocket combustion didn’t launch me into orbit.

Wait…..What’s that? The Leibster Awards doesn’t involve an actual ceremony, a red carpet or a statue? I can stay on the couch for this Award Ceremony, too? 

Darn! I had a spot cleared on the bookshelf for my statue.

Silver lining: I have the perfect thing to wear. Yoga pants. Sans shape wear.

I’m golden after all!

Many Thanks to Jenn. It is an honor just to be nominated.

Now go check her out and see what she is up to over at  Jenn Lost In Chaos.

No Waiting (or privacy) In Lane 3


I actually enjoy grocery shopping. Like many shoppers, I have my favorite cashiers at the stores I frequent.We talk about local news, the weather,silly tabloid headlines, or what they did on their day off. This is all welcomed and enjoyable chit-chat. Sometimes they comment on my purchases, ask what I’ll be cooking and we discuss recipes.

However, on occasion I am taken aback by judgmental commentary on my purchases – from cashiers I am not familiar with. It stuns me. I am  always able to come up with a witty retort …..minutes later during the drive home.

Like the time  I went grocery shopping at a major chain, in preparation for houseguests. My guests included a little one. I wanted the sweet little lass to feel at home, so I was stocking up on her favorite foods. As the cashier scanned all the yummie “kiddie” food, he said, “Wow.”

“Pardon me?” I said.

“Do you know what the ingredients are in all this food?” he asked.

I explained about my company arriving the next day. He proceeded to shame me for my purchases, and told me I shouldn’t be so accommodating. He then added that he would never buy groceries from this store. He told me he shopped exclusively in organic markets and health food stores. I can only imagine his moral conflict: collecting a paycheck from a supposed poison peddler.

I should have complimented the store manager on his crusading cashier. Instead, I scurried to the parking lot and stuffed my reusable shopping bags full of shame into the car.

I’ve also dealt with the cashier who was thoroughly annoyed when I purchased a selection of  lovely Winter root vegetables  to oven roast. The vegetables were all unrecognizable to him. He had to first identify them, and then look up the code for each one. This involved a great deal of exasperated eye rolling. “Dude! You  buy  weird stuff!” he finally  huffed.

I can’t win. I’ve been equally shamed for  buying processed junk food and healthy whole food. I can’t handle the judgement. I’m thinking about going  to the market incognito.

Shhhh...Just keep your trap shut and put it in the bag

Shhhh…Just keep your trap shut and put the goods  in the bag

For me, the most awkward commentary happens at the neighborhood drugstore.

I cringe when I discreetly pile my goods on the counter only to hear the cashier say “Uh-Oh!” or “You poor thing.” or “Somebody isn’t havin’ a good day.”

I  feel like this intentionally sympathetic commentary unintentionlly spotlights my shopping basket, or more specifically: the current conditions south of the border.

I mean, where else do your purchases indicate your current issues in such a revealing and public way?  There is privacy at the pharmacy counter, but we share freely with the group at the checkout counter, whether we want to or not.

Decades ago while traveling with my Mother and sister, one of us daughters was suffering an uncomfortable bout of the ‘ole vacation constipation. My mother, an old school R.N., suggested a Fleet’s Enema. My sister and I were horrified at the thought, but we promptly hoofed it to a very busy downtown drugstore  to purchase the prescribed relief for… one of us.

We waited uncomfortably (one of us more uncomfortable than the other) in a very long line. Finally,as  we awkwardly plopped that enema on the counter, I loudly asked my sister, “Are you SURE this is the kind Mom likes?”

Mother unknowingly took one for the team that day. Heaven forbid anyone in line know that one of us had an issue.

Really, shouldn’t there be a partition or privacy screen separating the customer who is being helped, from the rest of the gawkers in line?

A gentleman could discreetly pick up feminine products for his lady.

It would eliminate the awkwardness for all of us when purchasing unmentionables like: wart remover; hemorrhoid remedies; lice shampoo; anti-fungal anything; Kaopectate; laxatives; the triple-threat of tampons, Cheeto’s and M&M’s; or anything associated with the care or treatment of lady parts in general.

Drugstore pic

Sure, buying discreetly online is an option, except for the sense of urgency usually associated with the need for the embarrassing stuff.

Until there is a privacy screen, I guess it’s dark glasses and the drive thru lane for me the next time I need to buy a Fleet’s enema…..for Mother.

I Kan’t Take Any More!


I’ve had it with the big names in the news this week.

I’ve averted my eyes and still can’t avoid them. They seemed to be everywhere all week: on every show and website, and in every newspaper and magazine.

Not our Congressional Representatives.

I’m tired of Kanye, all the Kardashians, and I’m lumping Miley Cyrus in with them.

The folks at Today fawned over Miley for 2 days this week. How does this fit their demographic? They gushed about her “undeniable talent.”

Matt Lauer asked Miley about the sexually-charged imagery in her recent performances. Under-educated Miley equated this to actually having sex. Matt acted amused by the inane chit chat that ensued; I thought he appeared lecherous.

I wanted to scream a few days ago, when I received an iTunes email spotlighting the release of Miley’s Bangerz. Really, iTunes? The only bangers I’m interested in are the delicious ones from the Brits, piled atop a scoop of mash, thank you.

Sure, Lady GaGa, Gwen Stefani, Madonna and Pink may be provocative; but there is a definite artistic quality to their performance styles. I can appreciate them. Miley’s latest incarnation seems to take elements from all three of these artists, but the result is a poor and trashy knock-off that relies heavily on shock value.

In my opinion, her efforts to reinvent herself and move beyond child star status to full blown womanhood have back-fired. It shows just how immature she is. Shame on her entire team for resorting to sleaze and vulgarity. She could have rocked this transition a bit differently, and still had platinum seller.

What I find most offensive is her lack of willingness to  be a role model. With fame comes responsibility. Like showing tweens and teens how badass* a pair of shorts can be when it actually covers the entire fanny.

Instead she has been opting to let her cheeks hang out. Bad form, and even worse – bad fashion.

It is unfortunate that Miley didn’t look to Beyonce for inspiration. Whether Bey is covered from neck to toe in a catsuit, or at the very least has all her naughty bits covered;  she is sexy, beautiful, elegant, classy and an excellent role model. She made a flawless transition from girl group to “single lady.”

I refuse to include a photo of anyone else mentioned in the post, except for her....

I refuse to include a photo of anyone else mentioned in the post, except for her….

News of the Kardashian family seems to have been fairly minimal since the birth of Kim and Kanye’s baby. Hasn’t this been blissful?


Kanye started a twitter feud with Kimmel.

Khloe tweeted  poetic about Lamar.

Kris and Bruce split.

Then, this week Kanye defended and explained his self-described genius on Kimmel.

It seems in his world of excess, our genius Kanye has everything  except a sense of humor. He should smarten up and get one. Life is going to be a tough road for him, unless he learns to laugh, especially at himself.

Honestly, I wish the whole lot of them would move to their own planet and take Miley and her wrecking ball with them. I think Krypton is a fitting locale.

Bonus for them:  it works for a spinoff title. Bonus for us: it’s  a different solar system.

Bad behavior. Crass language. Lack of etiquette. Bad grammar.  Annoying voices. The vocal fry. Materialism. Narcissism. Self-indulgence.

Is anyone else tired of all this?

I’m a total news junkie and do keep current on world events, and I am fully aware that there are real problems in the world. Maybe that’s why I enjoy a little fluffy celeb and entertainment news on the side.

I’m just looking forward to the day when some decorum and class returns to entertainment and entertainment news.

We need Ron Burgundy.

and him

and him

I’m just worried his new tagline will be “Stay Klassy.”

*For the record, I despise the word “badass”as an adjective for everything…except Navy Seals.



fatfacebookFor me, 2013 started with a renewed commitment to health, which is a common reaction to celebrating a 50th birthday.

The overall goal being to get healthy, not necessarily skinny. Weight loss is an added benefit.  My real focus has been avoiding processed foods, and concentrating on eating whole foods. I enjoy the discovery of a great recipe that uses only whole foods, and love when someone shares a great find with me.

It seems many folks I know are dealing with the onset of the  ‘ole middle-aged spread.  It is a topic of conversation, and feelings about a burgeoning belly and broadening behind range anywhere between mild annoyance,  puzzlement, shock and absolute disgust.

It is especially evident at gatherings when pictures are being taken:

“Only take it from the boobs up.”

“Oh, God! I look awful.”

“I don’t want to be in the front row.”

“This better NOT show up on Facebook.”

Why not? What are we worried about? Why crop ourselves to the size of a bronze bust of Beethoven before uploading that photo. It might not matter pretty soon.

Facebook is apparently evolving into Fatfacebook.

My newsfeed is clogged with fat. Not on people, but in recipes supercharged with fat. Have you noticed this? Ok, occasionally, I see healthy recipes that even contain vegetables! Some do use only whole foods.

I’m referring to the recipes we’ve  all seen in our newsfeed- the ones that get shared repeatedly.

These recipes are a mash-up:  As if the Queen of processed food cuisine, Sandra Lee, tripped, fell, and spilled her recipe cards into the Irresponsibly Indulgent  section in Paula Deen’s pre-diabetes recipe card file.

They seem to be  various combinations of a handful of ingredients:  frozen hashed browns or tater tots, sausage, Italian or Ranch dressing packets, refrigerated crescent rolls or biscuits, sour cream, colby cheese, bacon, butter and of course, the all-important cream cheese. Cream cheese is the gateway drug. It is not too far a leap from there to Velveeta coursing through your veins.

The recipes represent what is wrong with the American diet. We’ve taken food that should be enjoyed sparingly, or  lightly sprinkled onto our plates, and made a main dish out of it.

Perhaps instead of the enthusiastic descriptions: “So Easy!”, “Super Yummy!” “Sooooooo Good!”;  they should include a responsible, yet cheery “Mmmm….Goes great with Lipitor!” recommendation.

And that is just the main dishes and side dishes.

Remember when Cool Whip was a TOPPING, and you used just a spoonful on your pumpkin pie? Well, not anymore. It is the main attraction in many of the dessert recipes appearing nightly in my newsfeed.

Hey, I grew up in a family passionate about their Oreos (cuz….frankly, Hydrox….sux). But don’t Oreos stand alone as cookies? Should they really be an ingredient in a dessert?

How did this start? Who are these “friends” who are sharing these recipes? Are these Becky-home-ecky gals, real women? Are they food bloggers who have been ripped off?

Or….Is it some diabolical strategy by Kraft, Nabisco and Pillsbury? Is this the culinary equivalent of the tobacco companies’ past marketing practice of passing out free cigarettes at sporting events and concerts? Are they trying to reel us in and make sure we are hooked on processed food?

Not only are these recipes full of fat, they are apparently so effortless to make, that no calories are burned in the preparation!

No wonder we are fighting the fat. 

Let’s get ahold of ourselves, people. Stop the madness. Stop being so generous and re-sharing these recipes. Keep them on your Pinterest board where they belong.

Seriously. I beg of you.

I have one foot firmly planted in the Produce Department, and a lovely quinoa salad in the fridge, but I’m starting to wonder how it would taste with some bacon, and I can see the Velveeta from here.

I’ll see you back over on Facebook, but only from the boobs up.