Once again, my Christmas Card complaint (formerly a request) I love gifts. A surprise in the mail makes my holiday. In lieu of that, a festive card is almost as good. I do love to know that I'm not alone in the world.
If I am on your Christmas Card list, I'm delighted. Whether you are a friend, an acquaintance, or merely someone who has repaired my furnace or cleaned my teeth, it doesn't matter. I love a card. I like those cards to be cute, glittery, gorgeous, filled with confetti, festooned with ribbon, city stylized, kissing kousin kountry, red and green, blue and white, black and yellow, and decorated with Jesus, snowmen, zebras, angels, trees, RVs, balls, bells, and whistles.
I also will read your newsletter. If you care to send me the long form, I will happily read it because, chances are, I care. And I really like it when you tuck in a photo of your kids, your dogs or your vacation home. Especially the kid. If I like you, then I probably like your kid. I even want to know if they've made the honor roll or graduated from braces and headgear.
Just please, please, please don't send that one-sided, unsigned, undecorated photo of your dog, kid, or vacation home that poses as a complete holiday card. And when you print out the envelope on your computer and your housekeeper then stuffs all of the envelopes, I'm going to want to tell you to stuff it. Put a bit of ink on the damn thing or don't send it. I'd rather you send me a picture on facebook of your middle finger. At least that's personal.
Happy Holidays Merry Christmas Happy Kwanzaa Happy Chanukah and so on
I finished watching the final episode of Desperate Housewives on Netflix last night.
First of all, I am slow. That's ok. I don't need to be on trend or ahead of the curve.
The housewives have kept me company for more than two years now. Once the hubby's travel picked up, his leaving town was not quite as bad when I had the housewives to keep me company after the young one went to bed at night. We all had wine together and I could yell at them when they were being ridiculous and happy when life worked out well for them. When things went south we could commiserate with another glass of wine and when there was joy and a celebration, we could celebrate with another glass of wine. And when Bree was on the wagon, I actually felt guilty for drinking in front of her.
It took me a bit of time to find the right photo for this post. Most of the photos were way sexy glamour shots. While this was not uncommon on the show, most of the character were far more down to earth than "normal' folks on other television shows. Often, they appeared on screen in sweat pants. Sometimes they rocked them, other times not.
Sure, each character was a bit bigger than life. Yet, I could relate to many of the situations on the show. Why? These characters were my age (or close). These women weren't just being shown as some awesome cool teenager's bitchy, clueless mom. Or some Wall Street executive's two-dimensional bitchy, clueless wife. Or a running menopause joke. Or a running PMS joke. From kids to kidneys, I could relate.
Each trip for my husband was a poker game and a hit-and-run accident for me and my women buddies. If I ever wanted to say or do something hurtful and completely regrettable, I knew they would do it for me. When I wanted to move and hopefully improve my life, they moved with me. And now they're gone. Moved from Wisteria lane. I went through the deaths of their family members and I could turn to this show when I was hurting from the deaths of my parents.
I didn't even know the end was coming. I never bothered to find out how many seasons there were. Those last 10 minutes of the final episode caught me by surprised. I found myself doing that backseat driver putting on the brakes movement. My right foot could find no traction, no brake. The screen went black and that was that. I couldn't stop it. Couldn't create a new season with my own desperation.
So, I've been through season one of Ugly Betty. Good show, but it can't replace the housewives. I am on the lookout for a new show. It can't be a great show, because then my husband will want to watch, also. So I have to find something good, not much man appeal, not full of phony Kardashians, and loads of episodes. Any ideas?
Used to be, men that wanted to show their private parts to
ladies donned a trench coat and roamed the evening streets looking for victims.A bit of pre-planning was done, no
doubt, to pinpoint the optimal location for privacy and largest pool of
victims. The only thing separating Anthony Weiner from the stereotypical trench
coat wearing perv is the inability to plan ahead.There’s no skulking in the shadows for him.Drop pants. Take photo.Press
Self-called “sexperts” are calling Weiner’s proclivity for
snap and send a sexting addiction.I’m assuming most people who think there is such a thing as a sexting
addiction feel this term is a handful of notches above the term “mental
illness.”Is flashing women an
addiction?I don’t think so.Hopefully some experts will weigh in on this labeling.Regardless of what you call it, this man needs help from a doctor.The compulsion to repeatedly expose one’s
gentials to others is a mental illness.Weiner says he has sought help for his condition.He claims he has received help from his
Enter stage right the schlumping Huma.Supporting.Smiling.Speaking
out on her husband’s behalf.She’s
sticking with it all so she can keep her family together.She’s certainly free to do such a
thing.Perhaps she’s sticking
until she feels better about a decision to no longer stick.She seems as if she’s a deep thinker rather
than a rash decision maker.However, how sad would it be to see down the road, Huma explaining to
her adult son how she felt it was best to be an enabler (she may use the term “supportive”)?How it was better to let her husband do
as he pleased and repeatedly humiliate her in public and private.She may say in 16 years, “And now,
Jordan, you have learned so much from your dad, go out in the world and show
everyone what you have learned.Don’t
forget to charge your cell phone.There are lots of young ladies waiting to hear from you.”
Recently, I’ve read several articles on Huma.What we seem to admire most about this
woman we have labeled “strength.”Had this situation be reversed, Huma sexting and Anthony supporting, we
would not be saying Weiner was strong.No sireeee.What seems to
pass for strength for political wives these days is to withstand shit storms
without an umbrella.Strength
seems to mean getting sucker punched in public and keeping your head up.
Had Weiner been able to keep it in his pants,
unphotographed, he would have gone far.For all I know, he still might.But first, dude, back it up a little.Drop out of the mayoral race.Don’t force people to vote for a liar.Get help.Real help from someone with a certificate on the wall with
seals, and signatures and all that stuff.Stop talking about you for one damn minute.Apologize to your wife.In public.Turn
in your cell phone and check yourself in somewhere.Give us a call (without photo) when you are well, in control
of yourself, and ready to act like a man, a husband and a father.
This is my daughter's whiteboard. Sometimes I wonder just who the hell she is.
If I were to write my schedule on a whiteboard, what would it say.
Do something else
Mess with stuff, things and crap (noun, not verb)
It's quite depressing to see my day all written out.
I see myself as an artist. Others see me as a housewife. Too often, I see the glass as half-full. With a crack in it. I am usually a quiet, shy person. This is the place where I can be my inner, not-so-quiet self.
This blog is for entertainment (mostly mine) purposes only. If you find a mistake, falsehood, or blatant lie, please feel free to inform me, ever so gently, of my error.