Month: November 2018

Say it isn’t so.  After a rather lengthy run of blogishness where I may or may not have talked about other people, I’m thinking it might be time to talk about myself.  Maybe. Possibly.  I do have a not so secret secret that needs sharing, although until I actually saw a news segment about it, I really didn’t understand how twisted it is.  I have a waterbed. The 70’s kind of waterbed that sloshes around, occasionally leaks, and takes a bit of athleticism to get in and out of.  I’ve had it for forty years, which now does sound terribly creepy,  even to me.  The dirty, dark secret, however, is that I still love it.  It cradles me, rocks me, warms me, conforms to my perfect body, and never needs a sleep number.  There are lots-oh-fancy mattresses out there now that promise a good nights sleep and no achy bits.  Which for the price should throw in a hot rock massage and a stud to deliver it.  Nightly.  Hmmmm. Ok.  Back on track. Since I know you all had one at some point, or frolicked on a ‘friends’ (air quotes and an ahem) why did you give up the good life?  I can’t be the only one that still indulges.  And no back pain.  So on this news segment they were actually interviewing a Boomlennial woman and her dearests and wee dearests like it was some weird, novelty item.  I would have felt ok about the feature if the owner had more teeth and didn’t also have my exact frame and dresser.  In my defense, I did change the hardware on the dresser a few years ago,  and got the black burn marks fixed.  When they said ‘fire sale’ it was no joke. There you have it.  I’m sure it will make a comeback, especially once my millions of followers see that not only is it ok,  it’s amazing!  Just needs a lava lamp, some black light posters, and that stud with the hot rocks….

So the Cleveland Browns have an awesome new quarterback (no names please #heartbakermayfield) who had an amazing, almost perfect game this week.  As much as I’m really trying not to get hooked, he’s taking me to task.  He woke up on Sunday ‘feeling dangerous’ sigh melt.  What’s not to love #heartbakermayfield?  When I first heard it, I grimaced a bit because it was so weird, but that was misguided thinking.  Now I want it to make the Urban Dictionary, and be in our marriage vows.  And of course it got me thinking of me, my favorite thing to do, and did I ever have that emotion?  Many of my Boomlennial brethren are entering an odd phase of their lives that I don’t understand.  They are doing this crazy thing they call ‘retirement’ which is just a creepy word anyway.  Lacks joy and doesn’t sound like you’re going to wake up feeling dangerous.  More like you want to go back to bed.  I’ve blogued about this before (check the archives if you want to refresh yourself #brilliantboomlennial), so won’t go there. Much. Maybe because I just got off the old people cruise and their endless, boring stories are still exhausting me, I want to repent. And promise not to become those people.  The new retirees (sounds like a disease) all want to travel.  On a ‘fixed’ income of course which just sounds dumb.  For many reasons, mainly because most people live on a ‘fixed income’ anyway #paycheck.  Now, however, you have more time and less $$$ to do things.  Well thought out plan I’d say.  Back to me/you.  When did I/you wake up feeling dangerous?  Nothing’s coming to mind but I’m not giving up!  Sure not sure if it’s a good thing or a bad thing but now it is A thing and I won’t let it rest.  If my man #heartbakermayfield is feeling it, I’m a team player.  My dog is looking worried, sure this won’t end well, and he will be the beneficiary of my craziness. Coyote coat??

Somehow in my world I’ve become the Matriarch of Everyone, relatables and nonrelatables alike. It is a job I’m not very fond of, and not very good at, but the competition isn’t all that stiff.  Some of it I understand.  If you are the ticket owner, inviting guests to join you makes sense even to me.  But….that should be the end of my goodwill.  And patience.  On your own buddy.  Nope.  Now I have to start herding cats.  Which is why I’m a dog person.  I suppose I’ve brought it on myself, but Matriarchology (yep it’s a word if I say it’s a word) needs some tweaking.  Recently I went on a riverboat cruise which was very lovely and very scripted.  Lots of specific mealtimes, off boat excursions, and bingo.  Fortunately I was too afraid to play games with the old people so dropped that from my daily to do list.  My traveling companion (no names please) was up for anything and everything, except looking at the itinerary.  He would ask (yes calling you out sorry) manymanymany times whowhatwhenandwhere, but then not quite listen to the answer.  Or look at the paper we were given everyday with the complete schedule.  Herding cats.  I am a back row person.  Haven’t wanted to be the line leader since second grade.  (Ok sixth).  It’s very frustrating to try to keep the cats orderly when they seem to be wandering aimlessly.  I guess in the big scope of Boomlennial life this isn’t a huge problem, but then again those creatures are sneaky, and just when you are feeling oppressively in charge they might just scratch you in the back.  Especially when you’re writing smack about them.  #youareallgettinganelectricshockcollar #femaledog

She SHOUTED.  After spending a week on a boat with the Silent Generation (they aren’t), I was ready for some mental regrouping.  Normally a five hour wait in an airport would have me rubbing my a$$ before I even sat down, but I was ok with it.  I had a good book, one last People magazine where I could read about strangers I never even heard of, and QUIET TIME. But…..why is everyone SHOUTING ON THEIR PHONES?!$&?!!!???   Just because you have cute little earbuds doesn’t mean I give a sh*t about your conversation.  I can’t even think grrrr.  Fortunately, this blogue doesn’t require that so it’s all I’ve got about now.  The only perk left in traveling are these nice little ‘clubs’ where they have a mimosa or two(ish) and let you relax away from the chaos of the masses.  But EVERYONE IS SHOUTING ON THEIR PHONES and I can’t even read let alone catch up in my head. When did it become socially acceptable to annoy me??  My traveling companion and I did start talking REALLY LOUD to each other and got one man to move.  Sorry to disturb you. Right.  Just not cool.  And yes they are all men.  Just sayin.  At least the turnover in an airport is pretty quick so hopefully a new, more polite group will move in.  And I can read the Wall Street Journal (hahahahahaha).  And wish that I had spent more time in the weed stores and less time with a boat load of old people who bored me senseless.  Maybe I saw myself hitting that road sooner then I want.  Although I can’t imagine this #brilliantboomlennial ever being that dull and living so far in the past that you’re believing history as your reality.  You did not travel with Lewis and Clark.  I guess I need to study up on that People magazine and learn who all these women are with really swollen lips, and why they are important.  (They aren’t).  I mean they are!  So important!!  Stay relevant!  SHOUT on your phone!  Don’t get cranky.  #majorfail