A Grocery Store The Day Before Thanksgiving – Don’t Get Me Started!

I have a spouse who makes dinner every night. I wash the dishes and clean the pots and pans but as the years have progressed I’ve learned less and less about the kitchen. Oh sure, I know where the refrigerator is (as my bulging waistline can attest) but as far as working most of the appliances or knowing how to make anything, I’m clueless. The odd thing is that I still watch every cooking competition show there is. From Top Chef to the cake building challenges, I’m in. My poor spouse always says to me, “You’re watching all these shows, doesn’t it inspire you to try to make something, anything?” My response is always the same, “No.” So when I have to go to the grocery store it’s always a nightmare. A grocery store the day before Thanksgiving – Don’t Get Me Started!

While my guy knows every aisle and what’s in it at a grocery store I know nothing. Honestly, the whole place could be filled with feminine hygiene products and I’d know about the same as I do about grocery stores. My spouse is always disgusted when I get home from a grocery store because I didn’t use the coupons or I bought yet another jar of something we don’t need (I don’t know why I always pick up a jar of mayonnaise when I’m at the grocery store when we hardly use it but the three current jars in the pantry that seem happy to have found a home in my opinion.) Try as I might, this is his domain and I never get it right so why he would send me the day before Thanksgiving is beyond me but into the breach I ventured.

It was 9am so I figured I would be screwed but oddly enough, once I got in there were not the mobs I thought there’d be. I was pleased. Everything I do in life is at a maddening pace. I don’t know how to live any other way. I am determined to get exactly what I need in a store (whether it’s a grocery store or tire store) and not meander through picking up a can of chunk pineapple to read the nutritional facts. If we need it, I’ve got it in 2.5 seconds, it’s in the cart and I’m onto getting the next item. Yet here were all these people seemingly moving in slow motion as they stared at the groceries on the shelves with seemingly no regard to me who was trying to bob and weave to get my items and to the checkout first as if I was on a timed game show. Who were these people who had all this time to be looking at cucumbers like they were a painting in the Louvre when I had to get romaine lettuce and get out? I had the three items on my list that my guy had told me to get. I double checked to make sure they were exactly what he had told me as he had dictated the list to me like a remedial student who would never learn. And just as I made my way to the checkout I saw it, mayonnaise on sale. In defiance I picked up a jar and put it in my cart. As I got to the self checkout there was no line, it was like a holiday gift to me. Little did I know that I had picked up the one carton of eggs that had no barcode on it. Argh, as I looked around helplessly there was a gay guy manning the self checkout that saw I was as out of place as if I was on a football field. He went and got another carton with the barcode on it and looked at me as if to say, “Oh, the poor guy that is with this guy.”

The good news is that I got everything I was supposed to get and the crowds other than annoying weren’t as bad as I thought but still don’t send an amateur to do a professional’s job. Not only did the three jars of mayonnaise start their own union in my pantry with the new fourth jar I bought, I found we had a dozen eggs at home all ready so they are now sitting stocked in our refrigerator like some display at the supermarket. We’re all good at some things this is not one of them for me. A grocery store the day before Thanksgiving – Don’t Get Me Started!

Like A Bad Lover, Christmas Is Coming Too Early – Don’t Get Me Started!

‘Twas the week before Thanksgiving when I awoke with a start, the radio alarm clock did more than just hark. From the bed I arose with my head full of clatter ‘twas the sounds of the Christmas that was really the matter. Could someone please explain to me why like a bad lover, Christmas is coming too early? – Don’t Get Me Started!

Believe me when I say that I get it. More people are out of work than ever and retail sales are so anemic that most retailers look like Holocaust victims. I get that they think if they start people thinking about the holiday sooner that perhaps people will spend early and spend more but let’s face it, as the old song goes, “Nothing from nothing leaves nothing, you gotta have something…” And while I suspect that there will still be people lining up on the Friday after Thanksgiving to get the two big screen televisions that are going to go for $20 at stores that like to create that Black Friday fervor (even though they haven’t paid their cable bill or the electric bill so it’s really going to be as useful as a very expensive mirror once they get it home), I’ve still not gotten the image of last year’s Black Friday when people were trampled and/or killed over the supposed big bargains on this day.  I even like that the retailers think they’re being crafty this year. They’ve started to “leak” their after Thanksgiving sales circulars like something from a political scandal in the 70’s or a sex tape from an ex-beauty pageant contestant. Do they do this to stop the craziness on the Friday after Thanksgiving or to fuel it? You decide.

And although I find it annoying that the retail world has such desperation that I feel like a horse that can smell the fear of its untrained rider about to mount it, I don’t understand why we have to have the music this soon. Look, I made my living for years singing the Christmas music in many a show and I sang it in October when the show began but singing it for pay and having it wake you are two different things. I wish I could say that they’re playing this music earlier to get us all in that “good will toward men” spirit but let’s face it, the reason they’re playing it is because they’re trying like the retailers to try and make us forget what we can’t so we’ll spend money we don’t have. They hope it makes us forget that this year we all know someone out of work now, more food banks will be without food this year because there’s such an increased demand, many people will be hoping that they don’t get foreclosed on before they can get the tree up and celebrate with their family for the last time in a house the bank would rather let sit and go to ruin instead of working with the owners to stay in the home they’ve had for the last twenty years or months. No doubt about it, people and situations are tense but trying to force Christmas early just isn’t the answer people, it’s a diversion (that by the way, isn’t working) that feels like an inexperienced lover trying to screw you with a musical lubricant instead of the real thing. You basically have someone who has no idea what they’re doing humping you while you roll your eyes wishing you were with someone who knew what the hell they were doing. It’s not enjoyable it’s uncomfortable physically and mentally. Like a bad lover, Christmas is coming too early? – Don’t Get Me Started!

White Trash Is The New Cancer – Don’t Get Me Started!

There was a time when it was said that everyone either had someone in their family who has, has had cancer or knows someone who has had cancer. After a recent phone call with my mother hearing all about the antics of “that side” of the family it suddenly dawned on me, White Trash is the new Cancer – Don’t Get Me Started!

I don’t think it takes much to look at your family and see that at least one side has someone somewhere who could easily fall into the category of white trash. Now I’m not talking just finding someone who likes Nascar in your family tree, no, I’m talking about a full-fledged, Jerry Springer guest here. I’ll go first. I have a cousin who was the first woman to shoot a wild turkey one hunting season; it’s stuffed and sits proudly on display on the top of her television. Now I know you’re thinking what I was thinking, which is Jews can be white trash but apparently they can my friends.  And it doesn’t stop there with “that side,” they’ve have had court dates, children being raised by their “baby’s daddy” and more, much more.

There was a time that when someone had cancer the word had to be whispered when discussed. I’m not sure if this was to ward off the evil cancer spirits from the person mentioning it or if it was just something people did to be polite. (You know, like talking behind someone’s back about how much weight they’ve gained instead of telling them to their face that they have blown up like a tick attached to Clifford the Big Red Dog!) Cancer was scary. No one really survived it so it almost seemed appropriate to only whisper the phantom disease’s name that should not be named but with the advances in medicine and people realizing that whispering about cancer doesn’t make it any less scary it seems that people whisper the word a lot less.

Meanwhile who wants to shout from the tree tops that they’ve got white trash in their family? No one, that’s who. So it just got me thinking that perhaps the white trash disease is almost as insidious as cancer these days and much more embarrassing. It’s the new thing you whisper so as to not blow your cover of being a classy family. The only way to feel better about it is to know that every family has at least one too. Take three seconds and think about it. See, you didn’t have to think that long or look all that hard to find the white trash in your family, did you? And it’s not just for us common folk it’s celebrities too, look at John Gosselin, Levi Johnston and Sarah Palin (to name a few). Perhaps that’s why Jerry Springer isn’t as popular as he once was, it’s no longer a spectator’s sport it’s just family! White Trash is the new Cancer – Don’t Get Me Started!

But Sometimes I Realize That I Just Need To Let Go – Don’t Get Me Started!

I don’t know when it started, there was nothing traumatic in my childhood that can be blamed for it, I guess it’s just who I was and became. I’m one of those people who think that if they do everything it says in a book and yell at it enough I can make the grass grow. I’m constantly thinking that my way is the right way and if someone thinks differently then they’re just in my way. Sometimes this personality pays off but often times it just makes for a stressed out person that’s not that much fun to be around but sometimes I realize that I just need to let go – Don’t Get Me Started!

I’m not talking about being apathetic or sitting on the side of the road waiting for life to either pass me by or pick me up in its speeding current, that’s too passive for me. I will always be an active participant in life, taking responsibility for both the good and bad that I cause but sometimes it just gets to be too much and I feel this self preserving calm come over me. Who does it hurt when I worry about someone and the person I’m worry about isn’t worried for themselves at all? Did I somehow magically make the bad thing that could have that didn’t happen not happen to them by my worrying? I don’t think so but to those of us who are control addicts we’d like to think so. And the answer to the question is that I’ve only hurt myself by thinking up all the grim possibilities and how I can fix it for someone when really there will be absolutely nothing for me to fix. Some would say (like me) I’m preparing for the worst but can you really prepare for the worst? When the “worst” happens isn’t it always still a bit of a shock that causes you to have to step back and get your bearings before you can make decisions about what to do next? I’m sorry but at any time in my life when I have prepared for the worst 9 out of 10 times the worst never happened and in the cases when it did I didn’t do anything I had planned in my late night sessions with  my sleep deprived self anyway.

So what have I learned? I’ve learned that I’m really not one to change but that like some sort of automated self preservation emotional shut off valve even I get to a point sometimes where I have to say enough is enough. At some point I find myself just saying, “It is what it is” and moving about my day. Does it make me happier? Not on every occasion but it makes me less likely to be the crazy old man bent over yelling at the grass to grow and that’s a good thing…for everyone. But sometimes I realize that I just need to let go – Don’t Get Me Started!

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Looking On The Bright Side Of Michael Jackson’s Death – Don’t Get Me Started!

I know I’m supposed to not see a bright side to anyone’s passing but I must tell you that the more distance we get from the passing of Michael Jackson the more good I think it’s left behind. Looking on the bright side of Michael Jackson’s death – Don’t Get Me Started!

As I sat with my partner in the empty except for us movie theatre watching, “This Is It” I couldn’t help but think about the endless of hours of rehearsal I’d put in over the years on the shows I had done. First performing in them and then directing and choreographing them. I tend to agree with LaToya on this one, I wouldn’t want anyone to have watched my rehearsals because that’s when the show is really still being shaped and perfected so it’s not a performance. I know for some it gave them a thrill to see the backstage pieces of how the show was rehearsed but to me it just made me sad that he nor any of the hundreds of people working on the show were going to actually get to perform it. There would be no cheering or yelling fans, the electricity of live performance, only this sort of historical scroll of a performance which showed the choreography and Michael Jackson singing at half voice. Although I still say they should put all the Jacksons in it or give the show to Janet to tour, she could use a little boost lately too.

But back to the bright side of his passing, in my opinion the two biggest are the fact that I can turn on a radio and hear Michael Jackson again and the other is the epaulette. I know you think it’s trivial but for those of us who never stopped listening to Michael Jackson, the fact that he was more or less black balled from radio after the accusations about his misconduct with kids forced us to just listen on our Ipods and try not to mouth “Shamon” to distinctly so people would know what we were listening to. The day I heard he died, I said, “This will wash him clean.” And in a sense it has, people are talking less and less about his alleged child molesting and more about what an incredibly talented person he was and how important he was to his industry.

And as far as the epaulette goes, I know that a lot of you are going to say that the fashion houses brought it back but I tend to disagree. We didn’t really start seeing the epaulette again until Michael Jackson’s death and I’m thinking it may only be a matter of time before we start seeing jackets with zippers, lots of them. And to someone who lived through the 80’s (imitating several of Mr. Jackson’s military inspired looks) and had many a shirt with an epaulette on it, I’m delighted they’ve come back. Looking on the bright side of Michael Jackson’s death – Don’t Get Me Started!

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Can You Say It In 500 Words Or Less? – Don’t Get Me Started!

When I was writing the official blog for season three of Project Runway for Bravotv.com my editor’s one stipulation was that whatever I wrote it needed to be 500 words or less. This was a challenge to me each week but one that gave me a good frame for my work. I would read and re-read the blog entry and decide what needed to stay and what could go. Did I really need that group of words to describe the fight that ensued between two designers or could I be more succinct? There were weeks when I found myself at 499 words or 500 on the dot and on those weeks I was impressed with myself big time. What I also discovered over time was that there was less and less to edit. Like waking yourself up before the alarm goes off, I somewhere in my subconscious was editing myself as I was writing and more often than not came in at the right amount or words or very close. Such is not the case with my blog, I allow myself to allow the random thoughts to creep in whenever and whenever I want but after posting a couple of unusually long blog posts recently I began to wonder if like my editor from Bravo told me, can you say it in 500 words or less? – Don’t Get Me Started!

Not counting the title I’m at 231words and I’m suddenly reminded of The Book Report number from the musical “You’re A Good Man, Charlie Brown” where they’re all writing a book report about Peter Rabbit and Lucy is counting every word to make sure hers is long enough. The more I think about it, the more I realize that I would rarely read more than 500 words on a topic so why would anyone else? After all, we all pretty much live in a short attention span kind of world, don’t we so why would the Internet which can’t seem to go fast enough for us be a place where we basically read stuff that’s as long as a novel, huh? The answer is we wouldn’t. Like the comedian, Kathy Ladman says in her act, her father would stand in front of the microwave shouting, “Come on, what do you think I’ve got, all minute?” We’re all trying to shove as much into our heads as quickly as possible so the more I think about it the more I’m convinced that although I’m my own editor perhaps I need to do a better job and keep it at 500 words or less moving forward.

I like hearing my own voice, what’s more I enjoy my own writing and while that may seem like artistic masturbation (since I’m the only one getting anything out of it) I don’t want to become one of those old people who drone on. Those people bore the living crap out of everyone. Can you say it in 500 words or less? – Don’t Get Me Started! (Word Count: 500 words)

2012 A Movie Review Of Sorts – Don’t Get Me Started!

I have to admit that I wasn’t expecting all that much from this movie and although it’s not my favorite genre you discover after being with the same man for twenty-one years (or woman or cat or whatever) that sometimes your opinion doesn’t matter or that you need to allow the little choices to slip through your control freak hands every once in awhile. Such it was that we went on the opening weekend to see 2012 and here it is, 2012 a movie review, of sorts – Don’t Get Me Started!

The reason I say, “of sorts” is that really although this is going to be about the movie 2012, it’s going to also be about the whole movie industry and my feelings on these big budget extravagreen screens. Fear not, there will be no “spoilers” but then again if you’ve been to any movie recently and sat through the almost 20 minutes of previews you’ll discover that every movie is ruined by the studio itself as they show all the best bits of a movie in the trailer for it anymore. You’re only hope is that it’s been so long from when you’ve seen the trailer that by the time the movie comes out you don’t remember that you’ve seen they’ve cut off the alien’s head or something in the trailer six months prior to buying your ticket.

2012 is a basic idea…the world is ending in 2012. There I’ve said it. Though I’m not sure if it’s got an actual date on governmental or any other calendars (remember how embarrassed the “end of the world” religious set were when it didn’t happen in 2000? Loved every minute of that one.)  I don’t know that I disagree that another Ice Age or something is headed for our planet at some point. There’s a large part of me that sort of thinks it would be nice for the world to be able to start all over again (even if it means me being killed by the falling Sphinx from the Luxor hotel, since I live in Las Vegas – they always show Las Vegas in these movies and someone is always being killed by a landmark so I’m sure the end of the world will want to imitate art). And while the movie 2012 does give some scientific goodies about the plates that make the surface of the earth and its core (I was never one for science class so it all went straight over my head, they could have been using terminology about how to rebuild a carburetor and I would have had no idea the difference) let’s face it, this movie is about the special effects. But herein lays the problem, the more advance the whole green screen and computer generated film techniques get the more I find myself bored. It’s sort of like watching someone else play a video game instead of playing yourself. If you aren’t playing it yourself do you really care that your pal killed the one eyed Zorch on level four and would you watch them do it for two hours? Well I wouldn’t.

You see, without the presence of actors  - sure there are actors in this movie but they seem as though they really get in the way of New York tipping on its side going into the river or the White House getting annihilated. There’s a saying credited to W.C. Fields, that’s said, “Never work with children or animals” but if he were alive today I think he would add, “Green Screens” to that mix. You see, although I’m sure that the actors are paid well and some try their best to actually act, they are so inconsequential that I found myself rolling my eyes when they would try to give us a reason to care about the people who were being swallowed up whole by the world.  The dialogue could be from any disaster movie, whether  there are aliens attacking or the world ending I’m convinced they just take an old script, cut it up and play pick-up sticks with the dialogue until they have their script to fit in between blowing shit up. And as I sat there watching them figure out who should live or die in the new world that was being created, I decided that I wouldn’t want to live in the world with any of these people (once again, refer to my stunning death by Sphinx from the Luxor).

I miss movies where there’s some acting going on. And yes, I would rather watch Bette Davis or Joan Crawford chew up the scenery with their melodramatic acting as opposed to see another shot of the Washington monument crumbling. (And let’s remember that they had an actual set to chew up, not just a green screen to “ooh” and “ahh” in front of for two plus hours.) I do give the 2012 filmmaker credit because for once we didn’t see the Statue of Liberty sinking into the ocean or turn up on a beach from the crown up like in the old Planet of the Apes. But come on, someone explain to me why these movies cost so much to make or watch when it’s really just an army of nerds sitting somewhere with cheetahs stained fingers seeing if they can make the tidal wave really look like a tidal wave.

And before you jump on me about what artistry it takes to make the special effects, I’m sure that it does but I’m also sure someone thought screen savers with different colors of pipes filling your computer screen were art too at one point. I get that our appetite has changed as well. Before Crouching Tiger, Hidden Cables Holding Up Actors, we’d never seen people suspended in the air for twenty seconds while they repeatedly kicked the shit out of everyone from every angle but try putting that in a movie today and everyone starts to yawn. Funny isn’t it that true artistry like the Mona Lisa doesn’t make us yawn even after all these years as much as technology driven art.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, when you consider that in the 1920’s there were only silent movies and by 1939 you had Gone With The Wind and The Wizard of Oz in fabulous Technicolor, the movie industry has always been one of the fastest paced moving industries when it comes to technology, I’d just like to also see some acting among the computer generated blockbusters please. Meanwhile I’m not one to lose my guy after all these years or heed my own advice so yes, I’ll be seeing Avatar too trying desperately to keep my eyes from rolling and on the screen.  2012 a movie review, of sorts – Don’t Get Me Started!

Signs You’re Having An Adult Birthday! – Don’t Get Me Started!

When we were growing up our birthdays were like national holidays. My mother made them that way. Although I can’t really remember the ones from my really early days there are plenty of pictures to show that the “monster” (or whatever theme that year) was carried out from the invitations to the paper table cloths to the matching paper hats (and everything in between). So as I grew older I was bound to become more and more disillusioned with birthdays because if there wasn’t going to be someone making balloon animals, birthdays seemed to just pale in comparison to what I had been taught about birthday celebrations growing up. And as if I needed anymore confirmation of that, last week my mother said, “I know you’re birthday isn’t for a week but when you come on this Sunday for dinner we’ll celebrate it then so that it’s easier for everyone, okay?” So this year when I arose for my birthday though I didn’t have the same excitement of wondering whether or not I would be getting that bike with the banana seat that was all green and called “The Dill Pickle” (printed on the side of the bike), it was an email that began my day showing me the signs you’re having an adult birthday! – Don’t Get Me Started!

The first email I saw when I turned on my phone was a computer generated one from my insurance agent. I don’t know if you need to have any other sign than this that you’re not having a cake and some pin the tail on the donkey activity for your “special” day. The only thing better would have been one from my proctologist. From there it was a series of birthday wishes emails all electronically generated from websites I’d ordered from (that required you to put in your birthday) or from what I call the “anti-social social networking sites.” Everyone whom I ever “friended” it seemed had clicked the button to post a birthday greeting on my “wall.” Some were clever but most were simplistic in their greeting, “Happy Birthday.”

I got wished an “early” happy birthday this week when I had to go in and give blood for my yearly physical. The older Asian man who was taking my blood wished me a happy birthday as he smacked my arm repeatedly trying to find a vein like some torture from a 1950’s mob movie or an amateur junkie shooting up heroin for the first time as my arm went numb and I thought I was having a heart attack. He was giggling the whole time as apparently the woman at the front desk had made me two years younger on the form and while I was just worried that it would somehow impact my results (I could hear my doctor saying, “I don’t understand, the form says you’re 43 but you have the urine of a 45 year old.”) I just rolled my eyes and watched him like a hawk, making sure that he was wearing a new set of rubber gloves and that the needles and tubes had all come from some hermetically sealed packaging so as to not be infected with whatever everyone else had in the lobby of the place (all of whom appeared to me full of infectious stuff that I wouldn’t be able to pronounce but as a hypochondriac I would have had in a minute complete with every symptom I could find that might fit for whatever it was I had made up in my mind I had contracted from the split vinyl chair I was sitting on in the waiting room next to these diseased people).

There was no tray of cupcakes to take into my class this morning. True, I haven’t been in class in over twenty years but this is definitely a sign you’re having an adult birthday. I don’t even know if they let parents bring in cupcakes anymore. Which leads me to another thing that let me know I was having an adult birthday, I found myself thinking of the birthdays from my childhood school days when kids would bring in what seemed like a baking sheet twice their size filled with cupcakes for their classmates. I started feeling sorry for the kids of today who live in a world where this seems as though this couldn’t be possible. Why? Because I’m sure that Ashley has an allergy to frosting so you can’t bring them in or D’Onfre is on a macrobiotic diet and since we don’t want him to feel bad about himself we couldn’t possibly let the other kids enjoy something like a cupcake while he didn’t and his self-esteem suffered. Is it just my age saying this or is it true that the kids seemed to have less medication and allergy problems back in our day? Thinking these thoughts definitely lets you know you’re having an adult birthday.

I’ve said it previously and I’ll say it again, while gifts are nice at this age, honestly, what do I really need to survive that I haven’t all ready over extended myself to buy for myself at this point? No, the only real gift I want is the gift of metabolism. If someone could find a way to get me that I’d be back in the birthday party business in a second. With each box I would open I would “ooh” and “ahhh” over how much metabolism was in the brightly paper covered box with the ribbons. “Oh my God, the metabolism of a 16 year old, that must have cost a fortune. You shouldn’t have but I’m glad you did!” I would say with a smile and an appreciative wink to the gift giver.  

Look, I am now officially 45 and while I think it’s a load of crap when people say, “You’re only as old as your feel” or “Forty-five is the new twenty-five” the point of the matter is that I’ve been blessed with a face that has always looked younger than my age so until my face really falls and I need a crane, surgery and an Ace bandage to look human and go out of the house, I’m not all that worried about growing older. As I embrace my forty-fifth year of life on the planet I’m sort of glad that I won’t have to act as though I absolutely love that sock monkey someone gave me (for some reason I’ve always despised those things) while immediately doing inventory in my head of my re-gift pile and who is getting this stupid gift. I’m glad that I won’t have the pressure of getting all the candles on the cake blown out in one breath without spitting all over the cake. I’m fine with my age, how I look and how I feel so good for me for being comfortable with my balding and bulging gut! I’m fine with all of it but just do me a favor people, the only thing I really want for my birthday is to not get any of those asinine cards (e-cards included) with sayings like, “Over the hill” or “Funny, you don’t look old enough to have grown up with dinosaurs as your neighbors.” And perhaps that’s the biggest sign of all that I’m having an adult birthday, I no longer feel the need to act as if I’m delighted by people who give me stupid shit! Signs you’re having an adult birthday! – Don’t Get Me Started!

My Top Five Blogs That Have Riled People Up – Don’t Get Me Started!

When I began the blog in 2006 I wanted to of course entertain people (and get discovered and become rich and famous). I also wanted to sort of shock while I was amusing so there have been numerous times when I’ve written a blog entry from a sort of “Devil’s Advocate” type position just to rile people up. Well last night two new comments were added to some of my older entries and it got me starting to think about my top 5 blogs that have riled people up – Don’t Get Me Started!

I went through all of the 1600 comments that have been left on my blogs (okay, so maybe I just scanned them) and while some may disagree, here are the ones that have made me giggle. You can click on the blog links below and then scroll down to the bottom to read the comments. Hi-Larious!

1.       Do Not Go Sleeveless After Forty Just Trust Me On This One

http://hubpages.com/hub/Do_Not_Go_Sleeveless_After_Forty_Just_Trust_Me_On_This_One

When I originally wrote this one it was because a dear friend of mine had told me a story of her going out on the town in a sleeveless dress only to discover later that with the weight she had put on and her arms looking huge, that she realized she shouldn’t have worn sleeveless anything. In discussing that I was also talking about gays who are in their fifties but are still trying to look like models from Ambercrombie and Fitch when they just look sad. I got one guy so riled up on this one, defending his mother’s right to wear sleeveless stuff after forty that I had to write him a blog all his own. Here’s an excerpt from his comments, “ ew. To forbid anyone on anything other than a shop for teens is..ew. women’s bodies are different & all people have their little problem areas that they’re self-consious of. For you set an age limit on sleeveless shirts is ridiculous. Go on case by case basis. I would hate to be your friend. No one should trust you.” Click below to read Joe Must Be A Good Gay Son…

http://hubpages.com/hub/Joe_Must_Be_A_Good_Gay_Son_-_Hub_Comment_Rebuttal

2.       Gay Baby Names

http://hubpages.com/hub/Gay_Baby_Names

This blog was inspired by some pals having a son as well as a fascination I have with gay men who seem to find every way possible to “gay up” their name even more than it is. This remains the number one read blog of mine (I think usually straight parents find it in a search on the Internet as they’re looking for non-gay names to name their kids) but the responses have been really fun to read. My favorite comment was one that really seemed to have nothing to do with the blog itself but how it made me howl, “My name is steve and I am a homosexual”

3.       It Is Good To Be The King Gayle King Oprah Pal

http://hubpages.com/hub/It_Is_Good_To_Be_The_King_Gayle_King_Oprah_Pal

The millions and billions of loyal Oprah and Gayle fans certainly let me have it. The amazing thing is that some people agreed with my point of view on this one…big time! Here’s my fave, and may I say that there apparently needs to be spell check for a lot of people…and therapy! “Oprah is the lucky one to have a friend that stick to her all those years and they remind friends for a long time. Do you think its easy to have a friend like Oprah? Properly not, because people like you are always judging if.”

And now for the two blogs that received the comments last night that made this blog possible.

4.       What If I Don’t Want To Have A Blessed Day

http://hubpages.com/hub/What-If-I-Dont-WANT-To-Have-A-Blessed-Day

Oh boy did this one get me in some trouble but I loved every minute of it. People were as voracious in me having a “Blessed Day” as a junkyard dog with a piece of meat. I love when the self-proclaimed religious or spiritual people get so full up of the Jesus that they almost attack you with their “love” and persistence all the while telling you that they know how much Jesus is dying to be my friend. My favorite part of one was, “I do it because of the huge and continuing blessings I have been given by the Lord Jesus Christ. I do it because I can. You can reject it or get angry, that is not my problem. So Be Blessed!” How kind of him to bless me in spite of myself! Whatever.

5.       Men, Let’s Leave The Ascot To Mr. Howell From Gilligan’s Island, Shall We?

http://hubpages.com/hub/Men--Lets-Leave-The-Ascot-To-Mr-Howell-From-Gilligans-Island--Shall-We

Sometimes the latest fashion craze makes me want to puke. I’ve often written that I think there are some gay men’s designers who are just trying to get back at the straight boys who beat them up in school so they create these looks that are so gay, market them correctly and the next thing you know you can’t walk down a street without seeing a straight guy who paid way too much for a t-shirt with rhinestones on it that would normally sell on the Bob Mackie QVC hour. Having said that this was the comment that cracked me up, “You are one disgusting human being. I think I’ll go and throw up now. Echhhhhhhhhhh.”

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More Thoughts On Celebrities: Do We Build Them Up Just To Knock Them Down? – Don’t Get Me Started!

I wrote a blog several months ago asking the question, “Celebrities: Do We Build Them Up Just To Knock Them Down?” (Read it here http://hubpages.com/hub/Celebrities_Do_We_Build_Them_Up_Just_To_Knock_Them_Down) And while I love to read the comments that people post to my blog postings, I was really intrigued to get an email asking about this particular post. So here are some more thoughts on Celebrities: do we build them up just to knock them down? – Don’t Get Me Started!

The email read as follows:

And while I never heard back from my university student, at least it made for another blog entry, right? Let me know your thoughts on Celebrities: do we build them up just to knock them down? – Don’t Get Me Started!

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The Bad, The Bitchy And The Ugly – Don’t Get Me Started!

Do you have someone in your life that seemingly is intent on starting everything with a negative? Now I’m no sunshiny Pollyanna but I do my best to try and see the sunny side of life whenever possible but for some it seems as though the only way that some people can be happy is to be unhappy (or make someone else unhappy). The bad, the bitchy and the ugly – Don’t Get Me Started!

I once had a friend (an Italian girl from Philly who thought she was a cartoon of a black woman) she used to say, “Child, you know I’m a bitch and I like it!” In reality she didn’t like being a bitch at all it was just her way of keeping everyone at arm’s length so that she wouldn’t be hurt by them. The good thing about her was that she was in fact a bitch on several occasions but at least she had a sense of humor and style about her psychosis. But some of the people I know just make Eeyore look like Deepak Freakin’ Chopra!

An example would be the people who always start with something negative to say. You know how they are they have to get their little digs into you in order to communicate at all it seems. A typical example would be when someone says to you something like, “Not that you would know about being on time but maybe I got here early (eye roll). The good thing was that I got to see Bette Midler stepping out of her limo.” Instead of just starting with the news, they have to admonish you first or try to bring you down. It’s like saying, “I’ve always said the only taste you have is in your mouth but I really do like that sweater.” These would be people that I term as the bad, the bitchy and the ugly. They’re all those things rolled up into one human plus some more.

So I began to wonder what they got out of this behavior and at the same time I started thinking about how to rid my life of these people. Because let’s face it, can people as I’ve described above really be your friend? I know they think they’re your friend but in some weird way they’re only your friend because they feel superior to you or something. At least that’s the way it looks on the outside. But history and therapy have shown that the people who always start with a negative or “cut you down to size” when there was no need for you to be cut at all are really just so unhappy and dislike themselves so much that they have to try and bring the other person down to a level that is below them and seemingly less threatening. That’s a lot of baggage to be carrying around. And I know because I could be a Pullman porter for all the emotional baggage I carry around.

I realize now that I do the same thing in certain situations. If a friend invites me to a dinner party where they’re the only person I know. The person I know becomes my target for bitchy banter. Why? Because they’re the common element at the table that we all know and because yes, I must admit, my own insecurity causes me to try and get a laugh out of the people I don’t know at a friend’s expense so that the people I don’t know at all will think I’m funny and like me. How sick is that? To care more about what the people you don’t know think as opposed to the person you care about? But I guess it’s all part of that whole cycle of insecurity that is about as exciting as riding a stationary bike. You’re working so hard pedaling and yet the scenery stays exactly the same!

So while I began writing about someone else in my life what I discovered (as oft times is the case) that I was writing about myself. Blogger heal thyself! I guess that’s one of the main reasons I write blogs. Sure I want to entertain but I find that as I write I tend to learn more about myself and where I could use some much needed improvement. So today’s lesson is let’s try and be a little nicer to one another, shall we? So that we’re not seen as the bad, the bitchy and the ugly – Don’t Get Me Started!

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This Just In For The Holidays – Don’t Get Me Started!

Look, I was in retail sales for a good portion of life and I also worked in Marketing so I get that in order to get people to buy stuff sometimes you have to make them think that they can’t live without it and that there’s urgency to buy it right now. You know, it’s all that, “and we’ll double the offer if you call in the next ten minutes” with the clock ticking down in the lower right hand corner of the television screen or “only available for the first hundred callers.”So I get it but when I recently saw an ad for a tub that has a tall side wall with a swing out door for handicapped people and heard the following, I just shook my head, “This just in for the holidays” – Don’t Get Me Started!

I guess if you have an elderly person who has everything and you don’t know what to get them, perhaps a tub that you sit in like a Mini Cooper is a great holiday gift but on the whole I’m thinking if I was that elderly person I wouldn’t be jumping up and down (maybe because I’d break a hip) if that’s what you got me for the holidays. There’s no putting a big red bow around a “handicapable” tub (unless of course you’re one of the Extreme Home Makeover team) to the best of my knowledge and while I appreciate that the people selling it are in business to make money, come on is it really a great holiday gift? I think it’s a great holiday gift along the same lines as tampons or peanut brittle.

I understand that the economy is in trouble and that no matter how much people say that it’s improving, the fact of the matter is that for most it isn’t. Perhaps it’s because I live in the foreclosure capitol of the world, Las Vegas that I seem to feel as though things are not getting as better as quickly as some would try to make us believe. But that aside, I’m sure that while she may not be selling as much as she once did, I’m sure that Joan Rivers is still selling many a bee brooch on QVC. Perhaps the idea is to not change your marketing strategy as much as it is where you sell it? With people becoming more and more reliant on supposed, “Social Networking” sites for a social life and are more inclined to pick up their phone to text you as opposed to call you. Perhaps if we really want to get the economy back on its feet will start selling everything to people sitting (or lying) on their couch. If they can try to sell us Viagra and other drugs on television are we really that far away from people trying to sell us everything from clothes to vegetables?

I remember last year I was going to buy everyone on my list a “Snuggie” (not the pull your underwear up until your nuts are in your mouth variety of snuggie that I used to get in school but those farchacta hospital gowns made out of fleece that they are now selling in camouflage and for your pets). I was going to do this because honestly, the people I know all have everything they need so it was going to be like a joke type gift and let’s face it they were two for $19.99 so it seemed perfect. Who knew they were going to become the new Chia Pet? (Although to be honest they’re better than the Chia Pet because these things are now sold all year round but who knows maybe the Chia Pet is too.) So I get it when they say that this is the “perfect holiday gift” but a tub?

Someone once wrote into me on my website that I shouldn’t be so critical of people selling things (I think this was when I wrote a blog about being offended that my dentist was trying to sell me a $400 toothbrush while keeping me captive in a chair completely reclined and with a paper bib around my neck) the person who wrote in said that I shouldn’t be critical of people selling stuff because I was after all selling myself too. I guess the difference for me is that I make very little to no money off of this site which is really stupid when you think about it. Maybe it’s time for me to rethink and reinvent myself. Maybe I need to figure out a way to charge people to read and watch my rants. And maybe I need to do it soon so that it will be “this just in for the holidays” – Don’t Get Me Started!

Last Minute Parents – Don’t Get Me Started!

I know some of you may have found this post thinking it was going to be about women who didn’t know that they were pregnant or something like that. I can assure you that it will not be about that but if you care or dare, read on. No, this is going to be about those parents who seem to leave everything having to do with and for their children to the last minute. I don’t understand these people; don’t they know that Halloween is always October 31^st? Don’t they know when Christmas, Hanukkah (well in our own defense, with the Jewish holidays never falling on the same exact calendar day every year we Jews do kind of have an out there) but still with all the holidays it seems that some parents no matter how many times they’ve celebrated it or whatever will always be last minute parents – Don’t Get Me Started!

It was the early morning of October 31^st and I found myself in the unhappy situation of having to go to Wal-Mart to ensure we had candy for the kiddies. I guess at this point it’s important to tell you that although the candy had all ready been purchased before this date it had also unfortunately been consumed (not by goblins or ghouls but by my spouse and me) and although for the past eleven years of living in the same place and being able to count the number of tricker treaters we’ve had over the past eleven years on one hand, I still wanted to have candy (good candy) just in case this was the year we were bombarded. So there I was off to Wal-Mart to get the additional candy that was not really needed to get through the holiday.  

The parking lot was jammed and I knew in a instant that I was in trouble. As I raced in the doors I didn’t stop for a cart or basket, no I was going to get just enough that I could carry and do my best to race back to the checkout stand as if I was on that old game show, Super Market Sweep. I went to where the “holiday aisle” was only to find one side completely empty and the other side filled with Christmas crap. WHAT?!? Are you kidding me? The day of and there’s no candy left? I just couldn’t (or wouldn’t) believe it. I walked through the aisles that I knew normally housed these things three times and yet it was true, the Halloween specialty candy had either all been bought or put away until next year. The closest I could find was one aisle that was filled on one side of cheap costumes falling off their hangers and the other side filled with décor such as the classic rubber bat. As I walked down this aisle looking for the candy that was not there I saw them, the last minute parents and as seemed fitting the parents were so glazed over in facial expression that they seemed like zombie parents. Quite befitting for this particular holiday.

I saw one woman who was touching almost every costume but I could see by the expression on her face that neither the feel nor the price of the costumes she was touching was really getting into her consciousness. I could almost hear the inner conversation she was having with herself, “I shouldn’t have waited until the last minute. Little Andre is going to kill me. What was it I said he could be? Did I say Spiderman? I don’t see any Spiderman costumes maybe he can be Tickle Me Elmo. I know it was fifteen years ago when this was popular (and from the looks of it that’s how long the costume has been put out and stored each year by this Wal-Mart) but maybe it’s old enough to be retro cool? How am I going to explain “retro cool” to an eleven year old? Why didn’t I do this sooner? Maybe he can be a hanger. Oh, no that’s just an empty hanger it’s not really a costume. Maybe they have silly string and I can just distract him with that and tell him it’s for those super heroes who help Spiderman spin his web. Oh look, a Powerpuff costume from a million years ago…were any of them red and blue? I don’t know about red and blue but I’m suddenly aware of where the doctor gave me my flu shot on my arm. Is it black and blue? Focus, must focus on the task at hand. Oh my God, there it is, one last Spiderman costume. The Gods are really smiling on me today. Yea, I’m going to be the best parent in the world when I get home with that. Oh shit, I think he wanted to be Batman, not Spiderman. Crap. I’ll start earlier next year and listen to him.”

She won’t listen more to her child, she’ll procrastinate and find herself in the same place because she is one of millions who allow life and work to get in the way of really getting the stuff they promised to their kids in time for their kids to have it for their holiday or special event. These are the parents who will always be in a drugstore on Christmas Eve looking for the hottest toy (and knowing they have no chance of getting the “hottest toy of the season” in a drugstore). They’ll be the ones who are looking for a holiday ham in a 7/11 on Easter morning. I’m not criticizing them but I’m wondering why they don’t make life easier on themselves and when the kid says they need a green garbage bag to be a grape in the school play that they don’t put a reminder on their Outlook calendar to get it the next day? Just being a little more proactive will help your kids believe in you a little more and let yourself believe in you a little more. So do whatever you can to not be that woman I saw on Halloween in that aisle not even knowing what she was looking for in the first place. Try and do what you can to not be one of those last minute parents – Don’t Get Me Started!

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Daylight Savings – Jump Back Jack – Don’t Get Me Started!

I grew up in Arizona where we never changed our clocks and although I’ve lived out of the state of Arizona for more years than I lived there, it was during my formative years that I was there so a lot of that has just stuck with me. One of the things that has stuck with me is the fact that I have never understood (nor will I ever understand) the whole Daylight Savings thing. Sure, I’ve heard that it was done back in the day to assist farmers to get another hour of sunlight but other than that I don’t really understand it or see a need for it in this day and age (you’ll forgive me farmers). However this past weekend as I had an additional hour to sleep and then to get things done I have to admit that I started accepting and liking the whole idea of Daylight Savings just a little more. Daylight Savings – Jump Back Jack – Don’t Get Me Started!

As I found myself better rested and more ready to tackle my Sunday than most Sundays I started to think about how great it would be if you got an extra hour every weekend. Think about it for a minute. For those of us who tend to procrastinate and find ourselves truly frustrated at the end of each weekend that we didn’t accomplish all that we had intended to accomplish, this would just take the edge off a little. You know, like taking a low dosage of Xanax.

After awhile of fantasizing about the possibility of an extra hour every weekend (and being able to get my car washed, buy some fresh flowers for the house, going to the grocery store and more in that additional hour) I started taking the whole “extra hour” to its most ridiculous conclusion. You see I started thinking that if we indeed turned our clocks back every weekend then eventually I would be twenty years younger and have a twenty inch waist again. I know you’re thinking I’ve completely lost it right now but sometimes we have to indulge our fantasies to live in our realities. I started thinking about how much more hair I’d have on the back of my head and how much flatter my stomach would be. I started to get mighty excited.

I didn’t really want to go back and relive situations because I’ve always been someone who has tried his damnedest to not live in the land of regrets but instead I was letting myself be completely selfish in my thoughts. Much like the clock turning back once a year leaving us in our current reality, it wouldn’t be the world around me going back each weekend, just me and more to the point, my physical state. As each weekend gave me another hour, another wrinkle would fall off my face from around my eyes and my butt would begin to get much perkier again. I would become increasingly proud of my old buttocks on my current body and I would begin to dress to show off my best asset (as it were). There suddenly was no stopping me or the fantasy until I realized that that’s exactly what it was, a fantasy. I don’t care what anyone says, sure a hangover doesn’t feel great but there’s nothing worse than having your dreams or fantasies destroyed by real life. Argh! Curse you reality! (I found myself shaking my fist above my head at the universe not unlike Snoopy on the top of his doghouse cursing the Red Baron)

So while I still think the whole turning clocks backward and forward is stupid and confusing, I find that to no surprise, I’m much more inclined to understand (or should I say tolerate) it when it’s giving me an extra hour as opposed to taking one away. And though I realize there’s no real way to turn back time or aging, it’s fun to think about every once in awhile. Daylight Savings – Jump Back Jack – Don’t Get Me Started!