Month: November 2019

Now that I’ve made it through the first requirement of the holiday season, I’m pondering how to celebrate Black Friday. I shopped, of course. And now have some very nice new duds at a very good price. I love this time of year! Yesterday, as I watched too much tv, all I kept hearing was the phrase ‘giving back’. There would be a camera crew at a shelter getting the right shot of volunteers slopping cream corn on a poor person’s plate, with a whole givingbackgivingback feel good story. It was just pissing me off. Really?? Is that all it takes? Weak effort. And it made me cranky. Which is why I shopped for no one but me. Giving back. I started thinking about the origins of Black Friday and had my suspicions. Everyone thinks it’s about businesses making so much money that they operate in the black, not red. But Google set me straight. Do tell!! In 1869 two investors drove up the price of gold which made the stock market crash. I knew it! Such a brilliant Boomlennial I am! But then some shopkeepers in Philly didn’t like that story and started calling it Big Friday. That never caught on but the more positive legend did. You’re welcome. My Manfriend has gone over the river and through the woods. I am left rehashing old trials and tribulations. Not good. The devil has been after me but I am fighting him off with cute dresses and sweaters. And burnt sourdough toast. My own version of Black Friday. #thedevilmademedoit

As one grows to understand life less and less, one learns to live it more and more. And my lucky numbers are 12, 34, and 21. Gotta love a good fortune cookie. Very profound, and I do think many Boomlennials live their life that way. (Especially the gamblers, wink). Once you realize that life is kind of a sh*t show, there’s not much you can do but punt. The month of November gets me pondering thanksgivings, and I have lots. Right now I’m just happy to be inside on a cold, snowy day without anything urgent that I have to glam up for, so I just cover up all my mirrors with newspaper. Quite scary. I’m very grateful that all my phone calls are texts. I like the monologue much better than the dialogue. My dearests are, of course, hallelujah, and know how to jello through unthinkable situations. Get it? Wobbly, yet firm. My wee dearests have one job in life, and that is to be wee dearests. And they do it amazingly well! I’m thankful that my Manfriend is ok with being called my manfriend. And ok with all (most) of the weirdness I bring into his life. My creature, hmmm. You don’t realize how many things are edible until you leave a lab alone in the house all day. I wish he would learn to eat the whole pair of shoes. One stragler never does me much good. Grandma Camp has now become legend. Somehow a name for a couple days of babysitting is a Big Thing. Will have to step up my game next time, though, because I won’t be able to just do the same arts and craps again. My football team won a game, my health and wellness has become a way, not a place, and even though I’m fat I identify as skinny. I’m trans-slender. And since my Boomlennial website is throwing me around I better end before I lose the wonderful persona I have created. I have a good heart, but this mouth….

Here comes Amazon, Here comes Amazon, Right down my drive-waaay. Pretty catchy, huh? I was tempted to start bloguing about the Dreaded Holidays, but that subject has been dissected enough over the last couple years, alas. And as much as I might wench, I join in the fun (?) and games (?) and play along. Then Poof. All gone. Unfortunately (or fortunately) I never got the shopping gene. Nor the cooking, cleaning, and loving shoes one. However, I think woman who love shoes have small feet. They are much cuter and more fun to try on I suppose. How would I know?? Fortunately (or unfortunately?) I made up for my misgivings by loving jewelry, clothes, makeup, and never having a root showing. And having a cleaning lady. Probably saved my marriage and my sanity. A dirty house is vulgar. Cleaning it yourself is more vulgarer. A very fine word despite what auto-correct thinks beahch. So back to the shopping weirdness of the Dreaded Holidays. Amazon has made me savvy. And in control. It’s smarter than I am. It directs me where to go before I even know I want to go there. Brilliant! Alexa is probably listening to me so I wander around the kitchen ‘thinking out loud’ knowing she’ll help me out. Just what would a hunky six foot man want to smell like to please his lady friend I ponder loudly? Zip zip there are some suggestions online. Artificial Intelligence is so much better than real intelligence. Fake it till you make it and all that. Which of course gives me time to bake cookies, decorate elaborately, and glam up for a night on the town. Nope, nope, and I hope!! Not going to stress about silly stuff. There’s always Big Things Looming that will need attention. Like roots. Poof! #shallowisasshallowdoes