Hurricane Guardian Angel

Three years ago, just 7 months before hurricane Katrina, I had the best birthday of my life in New Orleans. I had always wanted to go there and now looking back I am so grateful that I got to see it before the destruction. With many people still not on their feet from the previous destroyer ,another one is quickly approaching. I have been reading the updates on the national weather service website and what is about to happen again looks to be truly horrifying. Today I want to send out prayers and wishes for the safety of everyone in the path of this terrible storm.

Hey Ladies, you Ladies!! A Bittersweet Warning from Charlene to Women Everywhere.....

Now that I understand how to post a video/link here, a monster has been created. I have obviously been doing some reminiscing lately about my youth and in the spirit of the 70's, I present to you the inimitable Charlene.

If you were around in the late 70's early 80's there is just no way you could not remember this one. Unfortunately, I know every last word to this song. I even have the bizarre speaking interlude down to a "T". This is one of those songs that I just know despite fighting it. My brain absorbed this schlock like a hungry sponge and all these years later I still know every last detail and inflection of it. The use of the word 'Lady" is strictly a late 70's/ 80's thing and it only adds to the quirky charm of this one. Remember the Commodores "Lady"? Kenny Rogers "Lady"?? See what I'm saying? Whenever I hear a man refer to his wife or girlfriend today as "my lady" I have to stifle to urge to burst out laughing and look for his Members Only jacket. It's just not something we really should be saying anymore. for me, it's right up there with groovy.


According to info taken from Wikipedia, this song was originally released in 1976 and it only reached #97 on the hot 100 singles of 1977. Can you imagine what was almost lost to us forever? This gem went undiscovered until 1982 when DJ Scott Shannon brought attention to it at the Florida radio station he resided at. The 1982 version of this song has that glorious spoken bridge added. What would it be without that? Charlene became so hot at the time that she even released a duet with Stevie Wonder . I think that alone confirms she was quite the "it" girl of 1982.



Over the years, this has become the song that just wouldn't die. It was the opening track to the 1994 movie "The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert". When that film became an musical play in Australia Charlene was all over Aussie TV singing it as well. With talk of this play coming to the UK and U.S soon Charlene has even recorded a newer version recently. A few years back she also released a dance mix version of it as well. I now present to you....Charlene's "Never Been to Me"





Frankly, I'd like to have a sit down with Charlene and tell her what I think of her and her cautionary tale. She obviously intended this as a warning to "discontented mothers, and regimented wives" everywhere but her bad ass bragging about her fabulous life makes me feel even more lacking and like I have been sitting on the sidelines here for way too long. Charlene, your whining about your empty yet fabulous life is just not having the impact on me that I think you intended it to.

How can I feel sorry for a woman who has been to Nice, the Isle of Greece and sipped champagne on a yacht?? Why she even moved like Harlow in Monte Carlo and showed em what she's got! Granted, she's been undressed by kings and seen some things that "a woman ain't 'supposed to see", but it still sounds miles better than the constant struggle to survive that I'm dealing with here on a daily basis. This is supposed to make me appreciate my crappy life how Charlene? OK, so you made love (ACK!!!!! there it is!!) with a preacher man in the sun and that is definitely NOT cool. Do I smell Joel Osteen here somewhere? And there's that part about how you've spent your "life exploring the subtle whoring" that costs too much to be free? POOR YOU. You're a self admitted whore/good time girl who has been enjoying the sweet life and now I'm supposed to believe that you'd rather be dealing with my predictably boring existence that makes me want to tear my hair out at least 3x a week? Sure, OK, that's believable. Oh and please refrain from using the phrase "making love" thank you very much.


I particularly like the spoken part in this..."Hey, you know what paradise is? It's a lie. A fantasy we create about people and places as we'd like them to be. But you know what truth is? It's that little baby you're holding, and it's that man you fought with this morning. The same one you're going to make love with tonight, That's truth, that's love!" And there you have it. Life advice from a self admitted whore. Thanks for caring Charlene. Chances are that if I've fought with my husband in the morning I am not going to be "making love" with him tonite. Maybe you've had your legs in the air a few years too many and have lost touch with the reality of what it's like to live with an asshole like I do.

So in summary here:

Things Charlene has done:

1) Been to Georgia +

2.)Been to California +

3.)Been to Nice +++

4.)Been to the Isle of Greece +++

5.)Moved Like Harlow through Monte Carlo +++

6.)Sipped Champagne on a Yacht +++

7.)Made love with a preacher man in the sun - - (eww)

8.)Been undressed by kings (plus or minus depends on who)

9.)Seen some things that a woman ain't supposed to see - - - (do tell what these things were Charlene, I want to know this)

10.)Lived the sweet life +++

11.)Been to paradise +++

12.)Explored subtle whoring +/-

13.) Been to cryin' for unborn children -

Things Charlene has not done

1.)Never been to herself (Charlene, I've been here and it's over rated)

2.)Never had a stable relationship with a man (REALLY over rated, yes, I'm bitter right now)

3.)Never had a baby (you're still young, adopt)

Hmmm, let me think, decisions, decisions........NOPE. I'll still take your life over being me. Nice try though.

I must add to this that there was also a male version of this song too. I remember hearing it on the old AM radio very late one night as I was driving my mothers car through a blizzard in upstate NY. I laughed so hard I nearly drove the car off into a ditch. The lyrics were from a male viewpoint and there was even a part about the guy breaking out of jail or something. I did find the lyrics via a web search but I am not sure who sang it. For some reason I always though it was Larry Graham but I could be totally wrong on this. If you know who it is, please inform me. Here are the male lyrics and a link to click on to hear it being sung: (This is a Demo Version "sung" by the man that wrote it,Ron Miller, not the person that recorded it for radio listeners.) It is quite possibly the most depressing song I have ever heard. I honestly just wanted to take a lot of pills and lay down with the shades drawn waiting to die after hearing this. You absolutely MUST listen to this, it takes a minute to load, thanks to Shawn Collins for this link)

CLICK LINK HERE ON SONG TITLE BELOW:

Ive Never Been To Me - male version - Ron Miller

Hey mister, hey mister, I just want a dime‘Cause I need a cup of coffee and a moment of your time..I can tell your raising hell the way I used to do, But I wish someone woulda’ talked to me Like I wanna talk to you

I’ve been to Georgia and California ,anywhere I could run, I stole a woman in Tennessee and we made love in the sun. But I ran out of places and friendly faces because I had to be free, I’ve been to paradise but I’ve never been to me

Thanks mister, thanks mister, But please don’t walk away ‘cause I have this need to tell you, why I’m all alone today. I can see so much of me still living in your eyes ,won’t you share a part of an old mans heart on the day before he dies?

I’ve been to China & Asia Minor on any ship that would sail, I made some noise with some good old boys we wrecked a southern jail

I’ve seen the best men crawl and some teardrops fall there ain’t nothing I ain’t seen, I’ve been to paradise but I’ve never been to me

I’ve even been to marriage where children cry for someone they couldn't find ,never knowing that I was searching for things I left behind

I thought my heart could wait but I learned too late..Only love can make people free I’ve been to paradise but I’ve never been to me"

And there you have it. They just don't make 'em like this anymore do they?

That's all for now :)

Friday Night Delight

As a child of the 70's/80's, I can now look back on some things what were shockingly embarrassing. This video/song is one of them. And it's not even the original one that I remember. This band was a one hit wonder which is why having their own TV show was quite surprising at the time. I was very young when this song was a HUGE hit and you heard it everywhere. I was shocked to read in the comments that this band beat out Elvis Costello and Van Halen for a Grammy for best new artist in 1976! I think I may have been 9 or 10 at the time. This explains why I did not pick up on the meaning of "afternoon delight". I just though it was having fun in the afternoon.

The original video showed people running around in a field surrounded by flowers and nature. In the tradition of videos shot at that time, it was incredibly low budget and now is just cringe-worthy to watch. I particularly love the women on the bridge watching in awe "OMG Marge!!! It's that Afternoon Delight band!!!" The construction workers are a nice touch too, they all look totally bemused. I do also enjoy the blond woman next to the guitar player doing her occasional rhythmic leg kicks in her sailor suit. Guess they didn't have a choreographer that day.

The funniest part of this is that a few months ago, my man and I were talking about this song because it was featured in a recent Wil Ferrel movie (Anchorman) and can you believe that to THIS DAY he thought it was a song about taking a nap or having a snack? I had to explain to him that it was about having sex in the afternoon. Quite possibly the unsexiest song ever written. If this doesn't make you sad you missed the 70's, nothing will. ....for your listening pleasure I present......


Afternoon Delight by The Starland Vocal Band:

About Making Love And Fanny Packs.........

Last night I was on the phone with a friend, and during our conversation we somehow got to talking about words that we have an aversion to. I would imagine that most people have experienced this phenomenon at least once in their lives. Hearing a word or phrase that is like the scratching of fingernails on a blackboard and makes you shiver in disgust. It got me thinking about the words and phrases that are just never going to come out of my mouth.

My most hated word/phrase in the English language is .......MAKING LOVE. I could barely type it. Ever since I was very young and heard it, it bothered me. It has a creepy 1970's feel to it. It makes me think of a couple that has had too much marriage counseling and are trying really hard to recapture the magic that died long ago between them. I would also imagine a person who seriously uses this phrase to frequent dusty old "health food" stores that have a huge selection of homeopathic remedies and most of the stock is really old and smells and tastes like sawdust. I would like to track down the person who coined this awful phrase and shoot them dead center. My Bf of 8 years used this phrase ONCE in the very beginning of our courtship and my reaction to it was so violent that for the next 8 years he never uttered it again. He just knew not to. Anyone who uses this phrase is an idiot, plain and simple. If you're wondering what word I would prefer there really is none. I don't like the vulgar term for it and I can't imagine what I would feel good about calling it. Frankly, I've never really talked about it to people other than the person I'm doing it with so there is no need to call it anything. If you have to use that phrase, you're telling me things I just don't need or want to know about you to begin with. Oh and an honorable mention goes to "lover". This conjures up an image of a brainless person who has no purpose on earth other than to have sex with the person who refers to them as their "lover".

Coming in right behind Making Love is...... "Fanny pack". First of all, the very word "fanny" makes my skin crawl. It makes me think of swingers at a 1970's party or something. (I know, what is it with me and bad 1970's memories?). There is no way a fanny would not have an off smell to it. It is just the most awful word in existence. To add "pack" to the offending "fanny" is just the final nail in the coffin for me. Just look at the picture of the fanny pack lady. No one and I mean no one should ever wear anything even slightly resembling this tragic fashion mis-statement. While looking for a picture of someone wearing one of these God-awful contraptions I actually came across a hilarious website called "fannypackantics.com". (sorry for the inconvenience here but I still cannot figure out how to make a clickable link in this blog). It features nothing but photos and critiques of people wearing fanny packs. I honestly wish I had thought of this idea first, I am that entertained and tickled by it. I fully credit this blog for the above photo and I feel truly validated by it's very existence. Obviously I am not alone in my loathing for the fanny pack.

Runners up on my most loathed words list are: stink, panties, moist, pussy, vacay, portly, corpulent and "bff". I really do not like the overuse of the words awesome and amazing as of late too. I see this a lot on reality TV shows (which I very rarely watch). Everyone seems to refer to everyone else as "awesome", or "amazing" when it's simply not true. I also cannot stand fleshy, boob/boobie (unless it refers to a stupid person, I hate it when it refers to a female breast), butt, bottom, buttocks, rump, heinie and ass (there is no good word for that anatomical part), tummy, navel, bellybutton lunchmeat, yummy, goosebumps, titties or tits and finally the word "cum" in describing an orgasm. A little more obscure but still of note are galpal and diggs but those were predominantly used in people magazine articles in the 70's/80's and I think we are now safe from them rearing their ugly heads. Oh, and not a word but a phrase used by egotistical, self absorbed actors would be "honing my craft". Whenever I've heard an actor say this phrase in reference to becoming a better actor it just sounds ridiculous. Real people just don't use words like honing and craft on a daily basis. I am nearly positive that the people that use this phrase would probably not be able to explain what it actually means if asked.

Another phenomenon that I could not leave out of this is the tabloid media's habit of coming up with nicknames for celeb couples that combine both names. "Brangelina" in reference to Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie and "Bennifer" in reference to Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez come to mind. Oh, and lets not forget the celeb nicknames like K-fed for Britneys' Spears ex husband, J Lo for Jennifer Lopez, LiLo for Lindsay Lohan...and the list goes on. Yes I DO get my dose of the Enquirer in and I am not denying it. . It is my guilty pleasure.

I will end on a slightly positive note here so you don't get the idea that I am a total CURMUDGEON (nice $10 word there eh?). There are actually many words that I like. Just a few are sultry, luminous, lustrous, fluffy, pillow, silky, effervescent, radiant......I can't think of more at the moment because they don't annoy me. The annoying things are the things that always stand out most in my mind and that was the point of of this entry to begin with, right? I now must leave you to make love with my lover while wearing my fanny pack fastened securely around my portly buttocks. It never fails to give me goosebumps all over my fleshy titties that resemble some sort of yummy stinky ass lunchmeat. (See what I mean?)

That's all for now:)

Shoeless in the City

Addendum to the post below. Brought to you by quite possibly the same person who abandoned the toilet seat. Just what is going on here?

That's all for now :)

Porta-Potty

Well what have we here? Why it's a toilet seat in the middle of an inner city basketball court. No one walking by this site seemed phased by it except me. Is it just me or does this make a person wonder at all? Even a tiny little bit? I was discussing it with a friend and she commented casually, "maybe someone needed to throw it out". OK, I can buy that but HOW DID IT MAKE IT'S WAY FROM THE TRASH TO THE SIDEWALK?"

Being a weirdo with nothing important to think about, I really pondered about this one for quite a while. Well, for as long as my commute. I imagined all sorts of scenarios. Like a really angry, bitter roommate who decided to move out without telling his/her roommate and tried to think of the most annoying thing on earth they could possibly do to the person they were moving out on. Hmmmm, should I take his favorite plate?? Drink all the milk and put back an empty carton? No, I've got it, I'm going to rip the entire toilet seat off and make sure they will never ever find it again. Yeah, that's it, sweet revenge.

Or maybe someone was taking it to someone who needed a toilet seat and they got beaten up by a group of thugs on the way and just dropped it while making a run for their life?

Or could it be some sort of inner city art or veiled political statement? If so, what does it mean? I can hear the Metropolitan Museum of Modern Art guide explaining it now.......Here we have a visually as well as emotionally jarring piece by (fill in blank with unpronounceable name). This piece is a culmination of 30 years of his groundbreaking and socially relevant work. In this piece,he is clearly stating that the our continuing war against terrorism is futile and that we are hopelessly raging against the machine of privileged white men. (note the word "clearly used in the interpretation, that is so you feel like an idiot when you fail at interpreting something really obscure ).

I just don't know but for some reason I really need to know what led to this. I realize that any normal person who is reading this will think me to be an airhead who fixates on really benign things but so be it. That's the risk I'm taking I guess.

That's all for now :)

Featured Cosmetic Review: Benefit Powderflage

Being a member of a beauty website called makeupalley.com, I have written over 400 reviews for various beauty products from cosmetics to fragrance to skincare. I will occasionally be writing reviews for whatever product I am trying out here. Today, I am going to write a review of a new product from the company Benefit called powderflage.

The name powderflage is a take on the word camouflage. This product is billed as a light diffusing powder concealer for under eyes and face. It comes in a small cardboard canister that is emblazoned with a green camouflage motif. Inside is the correcting powder in a small globe shaped vessel that resembles a grenade. Cute idea. It also comes with a teeny tiny fan brush that is meant to be used to apply the powder where you desire. This is called the "flager".

I ordered this product because I am a total sucker for this companies products. I am also always looking for something to make me look better than I do and lately I have a slight problem with dark circles under my eyes from lack of sleep and general stress. With names like Bad Gal mascara, Dear John face cream, Touch Me Then Try to Leave body cream, lemon-ade and boi-ing concealer, how could I not fall for some of this stuff? I love the packaging ,I love the names and I actually use a few things from this line on a daily basis.

This product is eerily similar to Laura Merciers' secret brightening powder. Laura Mercier gives you 4 grams of powder for $22 and Benefit gives you 3.2 for $28 so if you are really into this type of product you are getting a better deal with the Laura Mercier product. In my observation, the only difference seems to be that the Laura Mercier product is white and benefit powder is a very pale pink. I know full well that I cannot put powder under my eyes but something made me order this anyway, just in case it was different and I would have missed out on something great.

I tried it under my eyes and it was disastrous. It migrated into every little fine line that I never even knew was there. The exact same thing happened with the Laura Mercier product. You would think I would have learned the first time. *slaps self*. The only powder concealer I have ever remotely liked was a mineral makeup one and even that was not something that flattered me as well as cream or liquid. This might be great if you are young and have NO lines under your eyes and your issue is just darkness. I am in my early 40's and this aged me and made my skin look crepey and dry. I really do not understand how this is supposed to disguise fine lines when it seeps into them and actually accentuates them. To be honest, I am not sure what I'm going to do with this. I'm going to give it a shot for a week and if I can't manage to make it work back it goes.

This is really my fault, not that of the product. I knew it probably wouldn't be for me but I took a chance. If you like the Laura Mercier product you would probably really like this as well. It would definitely work well for layering over a liquid or cream concealer if you are VERY sheer with it or if you have minimal lines. The very first ingredient is talc so if you are sensitive to that stay away from this. Also high on the ingredient list are mica, silica, dimethicone and titanium dioxide.

I also want to mention that the little "flager" mini fan brush was absolutely useless for me as well. I needed to use a regular concealer brush. I also tried it with a fluffy eye brush and that was nice too and gave sheerer coverage. The regular concealer brush made more of a difference in lightening my under eye area. The flager did not pick up enough product to make a difference and it deposited it unevenly as well. It was sort of the equivalent of those cheap blush brushes that come with a blush that you end up throwing out because you have better ones of your own.

My closing thoughts on this are that if you are young-ish and do not have fine lines this would probably do a very nice job of brightening your under eye area. I also must add though that Laura Merciers product is exactly the same and a better buy. If you are a die hard benefit lover, you will probably like this. For me it was overpriced instant ager in a box.

Space Invaders

If you are a woman and you have ever had to take public transportation I think you are going to relate to today's thoughts. The photos above and to the right pretty much illustrate my subway peeve. The very top photo is pretty mild too, I have seen MUCH worse.

It is called many things by many people and here are just a few terms for the offender: rod, wang, schlong, soldier,johnson, junk, weiner, willy, member, package, manhood, ding dong, dong, joystick, pecker, prick and last but not least, the correct clinical term for it would be penis.

Being a woman, I am not able to determine how much of this is a true anatomical issue and how much is just plain rudeness. Is it really impossible for a man to adjust himself so his legs aren't 4 feet apart while I hover over him with 3 shopping bags , my purse and my laptop? Does he truly need a seat and a half? I want to hear from a man who can explain this to me. Please help me understand you. If it really is a problem, I will shut up about this and accept it but part of me really wonders if this is something men could help if they wanted to.

My suspicion that this is overplayed here in my city is supported by the bottom lower photo . It is from a Japanese subway. Apparently, this is such an issue that the Japanese have tackled it as only they could, in the form of a warning sign on an actual train. If a warning exists, this would back up my belief that the men here in my city are doing this out of some selfish need to let it all hang out. This warning would also lend truth to the notion that men CAN adjust and be more gentlemanly about this whole thing.

I don't like to think the worst of people, really I don't. I do realize that men are dealing with a plethora of paraphernalia between their legs and I know it is impossible for them to sit exactly as females do. Maybe the men here are all extremely well endowed but I've dated around enough to be able to say that this is pretty unlikely. I don't have any answers here but I am putting these men on warning.........I am not going to take this anymore. The jig is up fellas. Maybe not today or tommorow but I am officially making this a personal crusade as of now. Ladies? Join me?

That's all for now :)

The Purse That Ate New York

Up for your consideration today: the lovely little lady to the right of this paragraph. Get out your scan trons and your number two pencils because we are about to have a surprise quiz and here it is.

The woman on the right is....

A.) On her way to the airport for a spontaneous last minute overnight trip to Las Vegas

B.) Leaving her home to cat sit for two nights for her Aunt who is on a short vacation

C.) En Route to the Cheesecake factory for a quick bite with some friends.

If you chose C as the answer, you were correct and here is my issue with this......why are women carrying around these mammoth purses that warrant their own zip codes?? Am I the only one left who does not do this? My purse is about the size of a loaf of bread. I'll even clarify to avoid any confusion here that it is a wonder bread or pepperidge farm loaf of bread, not a 2 foot long french baguette that you could use to build a big sandwhich to serve at a Superbowl party for 25 people.

What are women carrying in these purses?? Will someone please tell me? I honestly need to know this. I am beginning to feel like there is some part of being a woman that I am not understanding or missing out on here. In my purse are the following things: a small wallet, keys, a cell phone, a pressed powder compact for freshening up, a lipstick or chapstick and maybe whatever medication I am taking if I am taking anything at the time. Oh, if I remember there is also a small tube of hand cream and a pony tail holder to use if I should want to pull my hair back for whatever reason. Once in a while there is a bottle of Advil just in case and that's really it.

I've seen celebrities with these shopping bag-like purses and I've seen the average woman with them as well. What is in there? Can you imagine looking for a quarter for the parking meter in that thing?? Or what about finding your ringing phone within that mighty fortress? I am imagining many pairs of shoes in there, maybe a folding chair and a small child or pet.

Because I am an oddball I have occasionally wondered whatever happened to Pluto since it's demotion from planet-hood a few years back. I am now suspecting that Jessica Simpson's stylist has lassoed it and sewn straps into it where it rests on the fashionable, trend setting shoulders of our Miss Jessica.

In closing, I would like to offer some strictly off the record advice to Jessica's family and friends. Should Jessica ever go missing,I would strongly suggest checking her sinkhole of a purse before you involve the proper law enforcement authorities. I believe it is entirely possible that she may have tripped on one of her trademark platform shoes, helplessly tumbled into her purse and be struggling to free herself from it's cavernous clutches as we speak.

That's all for now :)

Monday Mourning

Why is it that every Monday is so painful for me? Is it because I have just had a weekend of not being held to a schedule and Monday heralds the return of the alarm clock and one hour to compose myself and run out into the world looking fully refreshed and ready to go? When I am asked to do something for my job on a Monday, I always have to say yes. It's not like Thursday where I can mumble, gee, it's already Thursday, tomorrow is Friday...why don't we leave this till next week? The Thursday excuse always works. Monday means I should be in a wonder-woman like state, ready to tackle anything with no complaints.

The issue here is that I am an extremely nocturnal creature. It takes only one day off for me to be up till 3 or 4 am and sleeping till noon. Sunday night is usually fraught with anxiety at not being able to go to sleep at a decent hour and knowing that I am going to be in a semi coma-like state on Monday when everyone else is at their maximum perkiness. There are very few people in my life who truly understand this dilemma. It became apparent when I was a small child. My mother would always find me awake in my room quietly playing long after my bedtime. I just could not go to sleep at the same time as everyone else. As an adult I met a man who explained to me the whole concept of my internal body clock and that it was probably set like this at birth. I could change it temporarily but I would always revert back to my norm. Sundays are the beginning of it all. I feel a sense of dread on Sundays. I can't even live in the moment and enjoy not working because I know it will shortly be over and I will be back into that grind that I hate so much. I enjoy my job but I do not enjoy being on that schedule. I hate everything about mornings here. Coffee, perkiness, morning newspapers, exposure to lots of people and noise,morning TV (all those mind numbingly stupid Good Day shows).

Oh those shows. I don't care that there is a place that will help me lose weight via acupuncture as well as get rid of my mustache at the same time. SHUT UP. I WANT TO SLEEP. I also do not want to see the chef from one of the "hottest" restaurants in town preparing his signature grilled chicken just in time for all those family BBQ's I will never be attending anyway. And most of all, I do not want to watch 400 screaming tweens going into mass hysteria at Miley Cyrus's lip synced version of her latest hit in the middle of the street. I am old enough to remember her father and his mullet and his achy breaky heart routine and I do not care to endure any musical performance from anyone with the last name of Cyrus ever again.

I guess my point is, I am feeling like we have come far enough as a society to allow people to NOT all be obligated to be up at that ungodly hour of 7 am. The song "Imagine" by John Lennon enters my mind. "Imagine no alarm clocks, it's easy if you can. No coffee, no Regis and Kelly, no express bus to midtown. Imagine all the people, sleeping life awaaaaaaay woo-hooo hoo hoo hoo:.....I think you get the picture. I realize that I am out of the norm on this one but it is my hope that someday, somewhere the people who are up and out at 7 am will be the freaks and I will be the norm. Kind of like that Twilight Zone Episode where the beautiful woman has plastic surgery to conform to the ideal of beauty in the society she is living in. She wakes up from surgery and they take her bandages off and and she is a stunningly beautiful woman. She looks in the mirror and screams bloody murder, the staff has to sedate her and restrain her from hurting herself at the disappointment. The camera then pans over to the Dr and the nurses in the room who are all considered the normal standard....and they all have horrible PIG FACES!!!!!! Yep, that's what I am feeling like here......I'm tired of being societies pig face, I want to be the norm, or not even the norm but not something frowned upon.

So here here!!! Throw out your alarm clocks and boycott Regis and Kelly and well as Good Morning America and enjoy a few more hours sleep. You know you need it anyway. And I will just bet that if you get that extra sleep you will be a hell of a lot nicer to deal with in the end as well!!

That's all for now. :)

Me and Jacques

Ladies and Gentlemen I present to you, M. Jacques Pepin. My secret crush. The smooooothest man on earth. He is the Jackie Chan of the kitchen. Nothing flusters him, there is nothing he can't do. You could put him on a remote island with no utensils and no kitchen and give him a wild beast to roast and dress and he would probably carve a chefs knife from a bamboo branch. He would build a fire in a pit that maintained the perfect constant temperature and turned out something fit for heads of state. Watching him cut up a chicken or butcher a side of beef into perfectly trimmed steaks is like watching a skilled surgeon put someone back together again (or deconstruct as it were). It doesn't hurt that he has a very soothing voice with a heavy french accent and that he has absolutely never, in probably 20 years of my show watching, had anything go wrong in the kitchen.

I am something of a big fan of cooking shows and have been for years. I actually ended up going to culinary school a few years back and became a trained pastry chef. I also was taught many classic techniques for general cooking too and it was at this time that ...I was honored to be able to meet Mr Pepin. I also met Pierre Franey who was a sweetheart and happened to have the gout at the time but that is another story. Back to Jacques.

He was doing a "demo" as we call it in the series of visiting famous chefs. I was one of his assistants. My job was to measure and weigh all the ingredients carefully and leave them out for him so his demonstration went off without a hitch. I did this with pleasure. I stood by in anticipation that he might need something extra during the demo and watched his every move. I was mesmerized.

After his "performance" I was able to meet him. He shook my hand and thanked me, and told me I was too pretty to be in the kitchen. Terribly sexist, terribly politically incorrect and I knew this, but I was swooning at the time because well, he's Jacques Pepin! He was a bit smarmy toward women and I can't justify that but he was just magnetic. I got the feeling that he was an incorrigible hound. Usually, men like this disgust me but not Jacques. I can't explain why, but I'm guessing his enormous talent in the kitchen over rode his sexism for me.

For years I have watched his shows, the ones alone and the ones with his daughter Claudine. The thing I admire about him is that he always makes every meal an occasion but it's never something that an average person couldn't do. Well, unless it's a theme show like "Christmas in Provence" and he is doing intricate specialties. Even then, anyone could do it following his instructions but it wouldn't be a quick easy preparation that most people would look to unless you are a serious cook.

I've tried to make a lot of his dishes and he is completely on the mark with his techniques and instructions. He is a true master. The thing is, most of what I make never makes it out of the pot and onto the table he sets with the glasses of wine, the flowers, each side dish in a charmingly rustic serving dish or bowl. When the man and I were together, I would always make special Sunday dinners and those were something to behold. Weeknights though, well, it just wasn't something I could manage. I will always aspire to be the Jacques of the kitchen. My dream is to have people sitting at my table as I present platters of Jacques-esque dishes that I just "whipped up" in a few minutes.

If Jacques didn't exist, Lidia Bastianich would be my number one. She is up there for me right now, I love her food and I love her show. She is almost an Italian version of Jacques as far as skill and ease of preparation and people pleasing dishes. Lidia however, is a little too heavy on the cheese, butter and olive oil for me. This makes her food not something I would prepare everyday but for special meals, she is on top for me and I love her. I also really like the mild conflict she occasionally has with her son Joe when he appears on her show. Once, she pointed something out to him that he disputed with her as being incorrect. In the end she was right and she made a jab at him that went something like "Oh, so your mother was right huh?? How about that?" It was pretty true to form of a real mother child relationship and cracked me up. She even lives not too far from me and she frequents a restaurant in my neighborhood a lot. It would be a dream of mine to actually run into her one day and tell her how much I respect her abilities and use her recipes and techniques.

There are other shows I enjoy as well but for me, Jacques was my first and there will always be a soft spot in my heart for him. So to you Jacques, I raise my glass in thanks and admiration.A votre sante!

That's all for now :)

The Exciting Adventures of Laundry Night.

I'm the girl who grew up in a HOUSE. A very large old Victorian house. It was not at all luxurious but it was a home and we had everything we needed within the house to perform our normal chores. Having a washing machine in the house was something I always took for granted. Doing laundry was something that didn't require being dressed and wearing shoes. Now, I live in an APARTMENT. Due to circumstances beyond my control, I have not been blessed with the finances to be a buyer. This continues to be a huge "bee in my bonnet" as it were. For some warped reason I measure my success in life against not having a washing machine on premises. At my age, renting is symbolic to me of failure, of not being able to achieve more for myself but that is for another discussion. Yes, it's pretty harsh to think this way and yes I am beating myself up for something I really shouldn't be but, well, I AM a fussbudget so what else do you expect here?

I have lived in the same apartment for many years and I must say that, thankfully, the ratio of laundromats to everything else is seriously high. I can only surmise that this must be a good business to get into. As a matter of fact, talking about this here this is making me seriously consider looking into buying a laundromat instead of a home.

Anyhoo, I do my laundry almost every weekend. For this reason I have a fairly containable small load. Over the years I have noticed that the laundromat is a place that is ripe with possibilities. There, you can play lots of games in your head to pass the time and this is what I do to make this chore a little more interesting.

The people in the Laundromat are where the fun comes in. Of course, the following scenarios are completely fabricated and only within my head. For example: Here is a young mother with four kids attached to her hip. She has 6 washers going and an assembly line on the table of folding. I imagine her "husband"Luis, (I never let myself imagine there might not be one) to be working a late shift somewhere at a restaurant trying to support his huge family. Sometimes he stays out late drinking with his friends from work after a tough night and this angers his wife. This young mother ,"Julia", spends all her time doing household chores and chasing her children, Roberto 3, Miguel 5, Gina 7 and little Gladys 2 . She occasionally mentions to Luis that she could use his help but he shoots back with the fact that he is out 7 days a week breaking his back to support her and the kids. The argument ends there. Usually after this discord Luis may bring home some perfume he bought for her from a guy outside the train station on the way home to show her he does care. Seeing her makes me feel partly sad that I am alone without children. The sense of family is something I don't have. Then, after much screaming and misbehaving the predominant part of me feels relieved that I am not in her shoes. I am also slightly annoyed that she always takes up and entire row of washers and all I want is one measly machine.

Then there is the "single guy". If his socks are gray, I know he is totally single. If they are white, there was probably a woman involved somewhere or he may be gay. Sometimes he scopes me out if I am alone. This man is lonely or horny and has clearly read someplace that Barnes and Noble, the grocery store, Church activities and the laundromat are excellent places to meet single women. This makes me feel creepy. Especially when I am sorting through my "dainties" and he is taking it in.

Then there is the elderly couple. This is a major endeavor for them. At this point in life, they are down to washing things out in the sink but there are just some things that really never get clean that way and that is where the laundromat comes in. There is an elderly couple I see on occasion and I actually know for a fact (through a VRS, very reliable source) that he was a cab driver and she was a waitress. They are like something out of a Billy Joel song about old NYC. He wears his pants up to his neck with an old overcoat no matter what the season and she has flaming red (Miss Clairol at this point) hair and heavily drawn in eyebrows that say....I'm still trying to maintain. They are both extremely cranky and have a short fuse. Their facial expressions and body language say "get us the hell out of this godforsaken place". I am well trained not to go near their washer or dryer because they immediately jump up as if they are being threatened in some way.

We also have the young couple. I always imagine them to be newly in love or having gone to some sort of counseling session that suggested making chores a time for togetherness to avoid resentments.

Lastly we have the single woman. It's not apparent that she is single till you take note that there are no boxers or sports jerseys in her pile of clothes. She would be me. I am going to leave out the speculating here because I can only imagine the stories of women like this and fyi NO..... I do not have 7 cats that I dress up,and I am not there to meet my prince charming.

The thing that really skeeves me about the laundromat is washing my clothing in the washers that hundreds before me have. Is it possible that the remnants of someones misfortune or horrible deed are on my skivvies? Did that single guy murder his roommate in a drunken brawl last night and roll him up in that comforter just before he dumped the body somewhere undetectable? I cannot let myself go there even though I have on occasion when I am completely zoned out and my imagination is working overtime.

So the next time you are at the laundromat if you are so inclined to be there, look around you. There are a million stories waiting to be told.

That's all for now :)

On Being "Sexy"

Yesterday was a rough one. I am used to spending the weekends with my man. I think I need to start calling him Ex-BF. I am just not ready to do that yet so please have some patience with me in my state of denial. OK, so back to yesterday. I knew I needed to get out of my apartment so I took a walk to the main shopping street here in my neighborhood. As I strolled around I thought, "today, I am going to buy some nice sleepwear". The word "sexy" never entered my mind. I was envisioning something very soft, not at all slippery (not satin, who the hell actually sleeps in those satiny frocks?) and comfy but nice looking as well. I looked in a few shops and I ended up at the venerable Victoria's Secret.

Now I am not a VS fan at all. I think their clothing is of very poor quality generally and everything there fits me very strangely but I went in anyway just for a look. Everything in that store has the word sexy in the name. Very Sexy perfume, sexy little things, sexy this, sexy that sexysexysexysexy. How can EVERYTHING be sexy? It's impossible. There has to be something unsexy there somewhere, no? I was approached by an individual who introduced herself as Monique. Monique was obviously transgendered and was just beginning the process of becoming fully female. Her voice, hair and manner was all girl but the rest of her was all man. Monique was sexy. I cannot really tell you why, you kind of had to be there, it was her attitude. She was confident, pleasant, warm and welcoming. She just had "it".

What is "it" you ask? People have been trying to answer that question for years and it turns out that "it" is highly personal. I came to find this out after years of self loathing as a chubby, dark haired teenager during the Christie Brinkley era. I also weathered the modeling careers of Cheryl Tiegs and Brook Shields. Thank God there was no plastic surgery for the masses back then. Who knows what I may have resorted to. I cannot imagine what girls are experiencing now with fake boobs, fake lips, hair extensions...you name it people do it now.

Anyway, I moved to a very large city when I was 20 years old. I was still chubby and considered myself to be highly unsexy. Honestly, I still wasn't sure what sexy was but at that time I was sure it involved mammoth breasts, a tiny barbie-esque waist, absolutely NO HIPS and lots of silky straight blonde hair. Oh, did I mention that my hair was a train wreck?? Well it was. Super thick, unruly, frizzy and dark. I felt like a hulking beast.

So back to my move. I was in college and I got a job as an "operator" for one of those one dollar a minute chatlines. The one I worked for was not porn oriented. It was just people chatting and my job was to be fascinating enough to get people to spend their money to keep talking to me. I had to pretend to be a caller, no one knew I worked for the company. It was at that time that I learned that my attitude completely changed everything about the way people saw me. When I did my deep throaty "Samantha" voice, men would stay on with me for hours. When I sounded perky and fun there were more women who hung out.

One early morning after work I was on my way home and I hailed a cab. I got in and my driver started chatting me up. He was an older man. 26 years older than me to be precise. He was magnetic. His voice was so
full of raw sexuality. I didn't really know it at the time but he was seducing me. I was a total virgin-esque dweeb, no man ever paid attention to me before this. It was scary but also exciting. Long story short, this man was my escort to sexytown. I remember thinking after one raunchy conversation...."you know Fussbudget, I think this person may find you sexy!" What to do??????

I had 8 years of on and off turbulence with this person. Good, bad, you name it but the main selling point of the whole thing was that I was no longer a disgusting blob, I was SEXY. I know it because he told me so often. He also liked my extremely pale legs that I was used to covering up and he even liked body hair. Quelle Horreur!! Today, everyone is waxed and plucked to within an inch of their lives! I did that back then but I never panicked if I forgot to shave or pluck around him. He loved it. He turned out to be a colossal asshole in many ways, but he really taught me that beauty and "sexy" comes in all shapes and sizes. I wish every young woman could experience someone like that man. I owe a lot to him for the perspective he gave me.

The very word sexy annoys me now. It is just so manufactured. Doing everything on earth to change who you really are (cosmetic procedures galore) is the farthest thing from sexy to me. I am not saying that I think people should just let themselves go, but I think things have really gotten out of hand and if people had a true love of themselves they would not be running to do even half the things they do to their faces and bodies.

Since the days of my 20 something youth I have learned a lot. I lost my chubby weight, got a grip on my hair and now, I think I'm quite the dish (most of the time). I went through a phase of dating people who were all wrong for me. There was Bobby the musician who had girlfriends on every continent due to his traveling to different performing gig's. There was Bill the sculptor who used to get up in the middle of the night and fired off random shots out the window at neighborhood thugs who tried to break into his car nightly. There was Will, a bisexual Quaker to was also president of the nude models for artists union. There was even a 19 year old I became entangled with when I was 32.Through it all, I was SEXY thanks to that first experience.

Today, I do not feel that sexy due to the breakup I am going through but even so, I have already been asked out. This is proof that sexy is a state of being. Once you get your sexy wings, they are always there. I don't need a stripper's pole in my bedroom, I don't need botox and I don't need $1000 couture shoes to attract someone. I'm sexy dammit, so take that.

That's all for now. :)

John Mayer: A Critical Analysis

Behold, I present to you Mr.John Mayer, annoying manchild who seems to be able to date, buy, have whatever he damned well pleases. Why just look at him here. He seems to be saying "hey, is this side OK guys? Should I be serious or should I smirk a little to make people wonder what my shit eating grin is all about? "The title of this post seems to hint at my heading up a symposium at Columbia on this very topic. What is it about this person that annoys me so? Lets discuss

Way back when, I used to admire John Mayer, yes, admire. I saw a piece on him on one of those news magazine shows....Dateline or 20/20....you know the deal. It was a profile on him when he was up and coming musician. The interviewer took him back to his small hometown and portrayed him as an exceedingly humble small town kid who made it big. A kid who seemed to have nothing going for him in school but had a talent that would be his ticket out of his small town. It was the stuff that 1930's musicals were made of. Cue the chorus line and the people with retro suitcases at the train station jumping on a running locomotive bound for Hollywood.

I even used to turn up the radio when his big hit at the time came on. I can't remember the name of it but it was the one about running through the halls of high school screaming at the top of his lungs. You know the tune. It was huge, on the radio every 10 minutes.

Somewhere along the line, I believe John Mayer began to believe his own press. I don't know this for a fact, I am only guessing here but he seems to have gone from humble small town kid who makes it big to egotistical douchebag who kisses and tells and makes it a point to be photographed in hot tubs and on beaches with famous women. He even got a huge manly tattoo and bulked up. He also is on TMZ every other day rambling on about his fabulous life. Now I have it from a VRS (very reliable source) who goes to his gym, that Mr John spends a lot of time in front of the mirrors looking around to see who is looking at him in an obnoxious "don't you know who I am" type of way.

After seeing him blathering on about how HE broke up with Jennifer Anniston......well, that sealed the deal for me. Even if he did indeed break up with her, saying it speaks volumes about his status as a gentleman. John Mayer, I no longer like you. You are a tacky cad. I hope you are enjoying your moment of fame because your attitude and behavior are going to land you in the same pile of shit as whatever other has beens are appearing on celebrity fit club. I do think you have talent but you are talking way too much for someone who should just be singing and playing his guitar. We don't care about your conquests. You seem like an insecure, egotistical jerk and women (a huge part if not ALL of your fan base) do not like disrespectful, fat headed cheating fools.
YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

That's all for now :)

Messy Girl

I'm a slob. There, I've said it. Aren't you shocked that someone who calls herself a fussbudget could be such a horrible thing? Well clutch your pearls with your white gloved hands because it's true. For years it has really been my dirty secret. (Pun intended). I'm not really a "dirty" slob, I'm more of a "never put anything in it's proper place and never even really have a proper place for most things" kinda slob. This is partly who I am and partly situational. I live in a lilliputian apartment by many peoples standards, and I'm a collector of certain types of things. Put these two things together and what do you get?? A mess.

Have I tried to set things right over the years? Oh sure. There have even been times when I felt that I was making progress in being like everyone else, or what I imagine everyone else to be like. I start out with Rubbermaid bins and cleaning supplies and a vow that 'THIS TIME, IT WILL BE DIFFERENT". And it even is, for a while. Recently I did a massive cleaning out binge and ridded myself of about 25 bags full of useless stuff. It felt fabulous. There was a scary moment when I found a television (yes, a television), a card table ,two pairs of crutches and pillows from another era in the closet.

Even after a cleaning, eventually things migrate all over the place again. I'm tired from work, life etc. I'm not a good organizer. Before I know it, my earrings are on top of the TV, my bra is over a kitchen chair and my lip gloss is on the windowsill in the bathroom. If I was a celebrity, I would hire someone who would follow me around and prompt me to keep everything in it's proper place, and no one would know my dirty secret. My dream is to live in a home where there is no evidence that I actually live there. A place, that is so perfect that it looks like a showroom display or something out of a Martha Stewart magazine. Maybe an occasional precious cup of tea (which I do not drink) which is perched on a darlingly rustic end table next to my Adirondack style bed which is casually covered in vintage hand sewn quilted comforters...there may even be two perfectly baked and decorated cookies on the edge of the teacups' saucer.Of course, there will only be TWO cookies, not an entire fistful or sleeve as a normal person would actually have. The person who lives in this environment would never eat more than two cookies at a time unlike me. Slob that I am I would probably pound down 4-5 at the least. Lets not get into PMS, then we are talking an entire sleeve from the box. I am nearly certain though that this person never gets PMS and even manages to wear white pants during this time of the month while I am hunkered down in my giant elastic waist get up till the bloat subsides.

But that is neither here nor there (I've always wanted to say that). The real issue here is that I have decided that I am a slob and that yes, I can do better but I am going to stop beating myself up for my slobbery. I was very worried when my love broke up with me that I would never find another man who I could trust enough to come into my environment and to not judge me. My man never did, he loved me and my apartment was not something he criticized or thought less of me for. He actually found it charming because I am so together in other ways this is kind of surprising but it wasn't a deal breaker for him. My other qualities are just going to have to compensate for this fault.

So to all those messy girls out there, keep living your thrilling lives and forget about having a perfect kitchen/bathroom, living room. I'm not saying to be totally apathetic and give up, all I'm saying is to be kinder to yourselves and put this stuff in perspective.

That's all for now :)

Dr. Oz

In my last post, I mentioned my annoyance with Dr Oz. For anyone who doesn't know who this man is, he is "America's Dr" and has been named as such by the almighty Oprah.Dr Oz makes regular appearances on Oprahs' show to tell us what size, color and shape our poop should be. Yes dear reader, he actually says the word"poop"ad nauseum. Now I'm not a squeamish gal, but I really never considered Oprah as my go to person for extensive discussions on poop and it's properties. Where was she that horrifying morning after when I experienced the work of BLACK squid ink pasta on my digestive system in the 80's? I really could have used her poop expertise then to calm my fears and to assure me that what I saw in the bowl that day was perfectly normal and that no, I was not hours away from organ failure and certain death. Don't get me wrong, I am grateful to her for the input now, but it's just unexpected when I'm looking for something to pass the time for an hour. I rarely watch her because I am a working person, but every once in a while I am home early or off from work and find myself face to face with the 4 pm TV slot that she inhabits.

The funny part about Dr Oz is, I have actually had contact with some of his patients. My line of work and his line of work occasionally connect in a very 13th cousin removed kind of way. I knew about Dr Oz long before his Oprah appearances. Let me say that I think Oprah is doing a good thing having him on because America can use all the help it can get with health related information but for some reason Dr Oz just plain bugs me. He always seems like he can hardly believe he landed this gig on Oprah. I have a sneaking suspicion that Dr Oz is madly in love with Oprah and she is his forbidden fantasy. When Oprah hugs Dr Oz the look on his face and his body language seem to say "ahhhhh, I have finally arrived".

The thing that bugs me the most about him is that despite the fact that he is on television and obviously did not just arrive on the Oprah set straight from surgery.......HE ALWAYS WEARS SURGICAL SCRUBS. Dr Oz, if by some bizarre circumstance you are reading this I want to tell you it's OK, I believe you are a real Dr. As a matter of fact, I know it via my "contact" with you. Why must you wear your scrubs on Oprah? You are the Oprah equivalent of the lady at the Clinique cosmetics counter who wears a lab coat to help me pick out my lipstick. Can't we be real here? You are no doubt loaded, I want to see you in a dashing Armani suit. I will still believe you when you tell me that my urine should be clear enough to read a newspaper through even if you are looking well groomed and out of your scrubs. Really. I swear.

That's all for now :)

Where to begin?

Well, I must say.....I am the woman who has professed her hatred for blogs for years. This is indeed a dark day for me. I guess it's not really the blogs I dislike, it's the notion that everyone has something interesting to say and that they must be heard. After reading quite a few blogs, I have come to the conclusion that a blog can be totally self indulgent babble, an outlet not even intended for many others to read. That is what I hope this will be for me, an outlet and nothing more. If you are reading this it is may be a freak occurrence because I have not advertised that I was doing this to everyone I know. A few people yes, but a only handful. You have been warned, I have nothing life-changing or really interesting to say. This blog is not going to pretend to be anything important or meaningful. Read at your own risk if you've found me.

Why did I choose this name? Well I've been called a fussbudget on occasion. For anyone who doesn't know what this word means it is a person who fusses about unimportant things. I do have a tendency to pick up on things that most people just walk right by and never really think about or ruminate on. I still remember the name of the actress who played Hazel on the 1960's sitcom.(FYI, it was Shirley Booth). What will knowing this get me? It would never even be a question on Who Wants to be a Millionaire. It is totally useless knowledge. I have no idea why I can do this, I've just always been this way, even as a small child. I wish my brain would focus on truly important things that would help me navigate my way through life easier but I am cursed with a penchant for totally useless tidbits of info. So be it.

I am going to use this blog as a freeform vehical for my random thoughts. I am also going through a terrible break-up of a long term relationship and to be honest with you, this is my distraction to get me through the tough times I am dealing with. So there you have the boring details.

Today, I want to talk about being newly single and just give you a hint of what my current topic of fuss is. This post will probably be a bit boring and angsty because I'm just giving you a little background on what my current situation/state of mind/reason for doing this is. I was in a very intense (we're talking Liz Taylor/Richard Burton crazy-like) 8 year relationship till a month ago when it suddenly imploded. If you knew the circumstances you would be shocked at this turn of events.

Anyway, I really don't have the energy to go into the whole sordid mess right now, I'm sure I will bore you with the complete unabridged version later but I must say, this being single thing is quite an adjustment. I have never been a man centered woman. I was alone for many years before I met my love. I never went to bars, never really dated, never even actively looked. It wasn't that I didn't want someone to share things with, I just didn't feel desperate about it. I figured that nature would take it's course and my partner would find me or vice versa. Even being with him for all these years was something so easy and natural for me. I still kept my friends, my own interests, my own apartment and life. We were best friends but I was not intertwined with him in an annoying weareoneinthesameperson kind of way. This is why it has been so surprising to me that being suddenly single is such a difficult thing for me now.

I seem to notice every damned couple cooing at each other in public everywhere I go. I never noticed this before. And it makes me feel.......sooooooooo alone and like a complete reject. Not only do I notice all the couple antics around me, my hurting heart/brain immediately thinks..."suuuure, it's good now but wait till he decides he's bored" or......"it's only a matter of time till that glow wears off".....It's just awful!! This experience has turned me into a really jaded crab. Well, to be honest, I've always been a little of each of those but now it is just full fledged. If the Pope asked me out I would be looking for a wife and kids under his robes. That is how damaged I am from this. I've had other break- ups, I am no spring chicken, but this one just hit me like a ton of bricks. I never saw it coming. This was to be my partner for life.

Anyway, there are situations now when I feel this really powerful "YOU ARE ALONE" feeling and it is not a good feeling. It happens when friends are kind to me and make an effort to get me out of the house and focusing on something else. It happens when I am around a couple I know well and love dearly who are always pawing at each other. It happens when I am walking around and see couples being affectionate and I think to myself, hmmm, that used to be me. But now it's not. Now I am a single dork who is getting older and is never going to find anyone and is going to be alone forever. What the hell is it with the "I AM GOING TO DIE ALONE" thing that keeps echoing through my head? I used to think that if we stayed together one of us would go first anyway so I would end up alone in the end but now it just seems.......pathetic. And I keep thinking of the old maid card in the deck. The withered old woman with the gray bun, glasses and a sour look on her face. Ack.

So yeah, I am kinda negative right now. I know it will change eventually but for now, it is just really draining and dramarama. I'm pretty much past the crying till I throw up stage (I do still manage to do that but it is not daily anymore). As a regular national enquirer reader, I'm going to take a leap and have faith that I will recover from this. I say this because I just finished reading about the lovely Jennifer Annistons' breakup from that complete douchebag John Mayer. Ms. Anniston already seems to be flirting up a storm with her next conquest within record speed. Now if I had her bucks and ability to go on ridiculously extravagant vacations and shopping sprees I'm sure I would be "getting over" this a bit easier. I am sitting here in my tiny apartment, planning my frozen lean cuisine entree for later and enjoying my $3 sale body lotion from sephora. Jennifer and I are clearly in different realms but I do admire her ability to go out in public still looking fabulous with her cute figure and her game face. And what exactly was she thinking with John Mayer?? He is one of the most annoying people on the planet, besides Dr Oz but that's for another day.

That's all for now :)