Month: June 2019

I was reading People magazine, which is my go to for entertainment and all things irrelevant. Heck, I don’t even know who I’m reading about half the time, but they must be important and fascinating. So important. So fascinating. Even the cover story often times goes right over my head as to who they are and why I should care? They have me by the short hairs, though, because I keep buying and I keep reading. I did find one intersting ad, however. How to have long, lithe legs in five easy steps. Now, if step number one isn’t 1. Have long legs, then I really do need better reading material. I fancy myself a pretty savvy marketer, but then again, I fancy myself a lot of things that are quite questionable. But is it really easy to produce long legs out of stubs? I think not. We’ve all fallen for those ads in the back of magazines I’m sure. What female among us hasn’t rubbed those creams on her breasts to make them grow? Don’t know if it works but the experimentation was so worth it. The food and diet industry has totally hypnotized us and we play along from trend to scam and back again. Who even knows what gluten is but they had gluten-free wafers at communion and I could just tell by the smug look on their face who was going to ask for them. And they were too f*t to have Celiac disease. (I find the word f*t mean.) Everyone is Ketoing now, and it’s working for some, but now they are making Keto cookies and baked goods etc. so it will soon fall apart. While everyone was fatfreeing (yes these are verbs), it was a great plan. Because who really wants to eat that sh*t so you lost weight. Once they started making good tasting FF products and loading them with sugar, time’s up. I, of course, am waiting for the next trend. And there will be one. I hope. Keto made my face break out. I could just see that bacon grease looking for a new home. eeewwww. And now just because it’s a beautiful summer day and I’m sitting outside and about to be prone, I will share a quote with you. Kind of how I roll. It’s from Minie Baldwin, who I never heard of and doesn’t even exist on Google, so I’d like to take it as my own. Couldn’t have said it better myself, and I always think I could have. “The moment when you first wake up in the morning is the most wonderful of the twenty-four hours. No matter how weary or dreary you may feel, you possess the certainty that, during the day that lies before you, absolutely anything may happen. And the fact that it practically always doesn’t, matters not a jot. The possibility is always there.” #shemusthavebeenonthewaltons

The more I read about health and wellness, it’s all about getting your head right. That’s where all the good and bad hormones start that wreck or delight your body. And as you get more Boomlennial, the work doesn’t get any easier. When you’re less mature, those feel good juices ooze out for many inane reasons. But at some point they become a slow, dripping faucet. But, I have the fix! Duck tape! Kidding. Kind of. I downloaded an App called 3GoodThings. The premise is everyday you list three things you are grateful for. Easy enough, right? And while you are doing the exercise, the feel good dopamines start flowing and the cortisols that could break you dissipate. There is some science behind it that I could share, but that would put me back in chemistry class and I’d be scraping the bottom of the barrel of hormones and ain’t nobody got time for that. I even fainted once in a lab to get out of class. Not really, but maybe really. The body works in mysterious ways and the concussion was absolutely worth it. So back to the App. It’s stressing me out!!! First few days it was too easy peasy. I have a lot to be grateful for and I know it. And never forget. Front and center. But then…..I ran out of material. Even a brilliant Boomlennial such as myself was having a hard time producing juice so to speak. Have to relax. Calm. Start out slow. What do I love? Words!!! They excite and delight me. Delight! Feeling better already. Peace ahhhhh. Wine, duh. Duh. Speaks volumes. Snow day! Even today I watch the crawl of cancelled schools and get giddy when the local school shows up. (Better not tell all my secrets….) F*ck! Sorry but it’s a great word and a girls gotta do what a girls gotta do. In the name of science mind you. Savory! Yes yes! July 4th! Spigot is turned on now. Irresistible! Think stuffed animals or ‘plushes’ as my wee dearests say. See how this is supposed to work? But now I’m over thinking it and want to conduct my own research. If I put together my yucky words will it drag me to the bottom? Ooze. Moist. Pimple. Widow. Pus. F*ck (swings both ways which makes it a really terrific word). Almost boosted my mood. Back to research. Repo man. Brain damage. The Bachlorette. Liver. Visceral fat. Yep, I’m depressed. And quite the researcher! Makes me a believer in the concept. And wine, duh. What do they call a man with a rubber toe? Roberto, silly. Feel better?

So quit the loud fricken cackling like he is!?€%#%!!! Whew. Got that out of my system. For now. Last week me and my Manfriend, no names please, went to a very nice restaurant,which we are want to do, a lot, but not with a $200 gift card which we found in the glove compartment. Who knew? So as we are sitting up at the bar high rolling expensive wines and martinis, I start checking out the lay of the land. Very attractive woman, nice looking man, etc. etc. and then I smell a hookup. Intro, friendly banter, couple drinks later LOUD CACkLING. Chick, he is not that funny!?$&!! Everything he said got funnier and funnier, and attractive woman got uglier and uglier. Did he really think he was that amusing? She was trying to ruin our dinner with her awful, incessant laugh, but we persevered through our steaks and lobster. She was still at it while we were paying the tab with that big ole gift card that only had a whopping $12.00 left on it. Who knew? Jokes on us cackle cackle. On to more pleasant things. Like going up for a long, sun filled weekend at a Lake Erie island. Stop one after a bumpity boat ride that got my gut regretting all that $$$wine the night before, the pool deck for lunch and a nice, warm nap. Very breezy and a bit chilly, but ok, island adventures await. And then it happened again. Chris Rock showed up! And the loud, guffawing began again!?$&!! Beahch! He’s not that funny and you are not that drunk. Another attractive woman, another hohum man. You don’t need to work that hard. And ruin my peace and serenity. And sun. Little did I know that was the last time I’d see sun for the weekend. But that’s a blogue for another time. And boy I got nothin but time this rain soaked weekend. Maybe I need to find the funny man and get a few thousand laughs. I heard the guffawing again at dinner last evening and now That was funny, creepy woman. My Manfriend is deep into reading Howard Sterns new book so I might just be cackling my way through dinner. I hope. Come on Manfriend….

Please. And I’m not talking about the ethereal one, where your eyes aren’t really that blue, and your jokes aren’t really that funny. (But your writing is kind of out of this world. Ish.) I’m talking about being cast in some beautiful stone that’s going to last forever with a chiseled nameplate and bird droppings. And no the odds are not on my side. I was watching one of my favorite Sunday morning news shows where they cover very unusual topics, people, and huh I never knew that’s. The commercials also give a vast overview of every disease I’m going to get, and the drug to save me. Who knew? Kind of puts the Boomlennial in a bad, sickly light. Fortunately, the oh-so-interesting news segments are worth the angst, and I have DVR and use it prudently. Ok. Back to my Pedestal. I learned that in Central Park there are 29 statues. BUT…..only 2 are female. One is Mother Goose, and the other is Alice in Wonderland. Well that ain’t right. Right? I would also guess that the millions of people who have visited the park never made that connection. I know I didn’t, but then I was there at a time when you did not stroll about too long if you wanted to leave whole. Dramatic, but true(ish). I also rode the subway after dark and lived to tell about it. Oh to be young and not needing those commercials drugs, Anyway, that Pedestal. Or lack there of. There are many great women in history but somehow they got the shaft. Mother Goose, really?? I do think women have come a long way, baby, so don’t get too caught up in ‘women’s issues’. Anymore, ‘people’s issues’ usually cover things. The struggle is real for most everyone. No one can have it all, or at least not manage it all very well. Just one little real person statue doesn’t seem too much to ask for, however. Hopefully, one of my millions of followers will pick up the gauntlet, or hammer, or whatever weird tools you need and make things right. For myself, I’ll just settle for the virtual pedestal and hope my beauty or rust doesn’t knock me off. Consider this a Public Cervix Announcement.