A no-brainer

Thursday, December 31, 2009

My daily conversations are peppered with lots of common phrases that have been passed down through the English language for years.

"I'll be waiting for her to finish that report until the cows come home."

"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes?"

"Oh geez, look what the cat dragged in."

"He's not the sharpest tool in the shed."

"Let's just play it by ear."

"I have sex every once in a blue moon."

I heard on the news that tomorrow, New Year's celebrants will be able to look up from their champagne glasses to see a rare Blue Moon.

It simply means that each year has twelve full moons that occur on a monthly basis. Each solar calendar year has an excess of approximately eleven days compared to the lunar calendar so that every two or three years, there's an extra full moon. Hence, the Blue Moon.

So, in a nutshell, the phrase, once in a blue moon, means every once in while.

I can't believe I never put two and two together about that.

What can I say? Sometimes I'm dumb as a box of rocks.

Stripper Chick Wisdom

Wednesday, December 30, 2009

Chrissy's real truth about life that no one will tell you.

"It's too late to have a happy childhood."

Stripper Chick Wisdom

Monday, December 28, 2009

Chrissy's real truth about life that no one will tell you.

"Your doctor makes jokes about your genitals after you leave."

Now I lay me down to sleep

Sunday, December 27, 2009

One of my Christmas presents to myself this year was to "hook up" with an old flame. I hadn't seen him in about 5 years and since Sparky's been MIA, I was a little nervous that I had become a little rusty. Or should I say, a little cob-webby. Hey, I said it had been a while.

As it turned out, I had nothing to be nervous about. The chemistry was still there and it was like riding a bike. A bike without a seat, of course. My latent testosterone tendencies kicked in, and I fell asleep immediately after doing the deed and then woke up an hour later, refreshed and ready to do it again.

Unfortunately, old flame had been up since 4AM flying across the country so he was out cold. What I hadn't anticipated was how difficult it would be to actually sleep with someone.

Yes...sleep, slumber, snooze.

I'm used to sprawling my body out across my Queen sized bed and burying my head in a mountain of four pillows. I had to now resign myself to two pillows and a 30 inch wide sleeping space.

"Okay," I thought to myself, "this is nice. Here we are rekindling an old romance. Just go with it."

So I snuggled against his shoulder and closed my eyes. I felt my body relaxing but for some reason, I was unable to let go and fall asleep. Only when I felt my drool spilling down his shoulder did I decide to try another position.

I rolled over onto my side and heard Bernie snoring from my left and old flame snoring from my right. I shifted, rolled and turned, ending up facing old flame again and seeing that I had pulled every sheet, comforter and throw off of him and that he was now lying there naked, exposed to my drafty bedroom. Well, he said he was always warm.

I threw a sheet over him, turned back over and looked at the clock.

Every hour on the hour.

I think I fell asleep right before the alarm went off in the morning.

Old flame was supposed to be back tonight but called a little while ago to say that he wouldn't be making it.

Am I a little disappointed? Sure.

Will I sleep good tonight? Oh yeah....

Sweet dreams....

Secondhand Sunday

I'm basically too lazy to think of anything new to say so I'm re-posting a "vintage" entry.

If you aren't in the mood for repeats, please feel free to change the channel.


Original Post Date, January 21, 2009

It's interesting, because I have friends who've been married a few times and have dated about as many men in their lifetimes as I did the year I was 25. I guess I was sowing my oats, although I don't think they call it that when girls do it.

What would be more appropriate?

Whoring around, maybe?

I think the whole notion alludes to the fact that all this pent up sexual energy must be exhausted so that one can get it "out of their systems" and settle down. I don't know about you, but if I'm doing something pleasurable, I don't get to the point where I'm DONE. I just want more.

Don't get me wrong. I didn't spend the 80's in an eternal state of promiscuity. I did date a lot but I was looking for someone to love me when I was unable to love myself. Cliche, maybe, but true. I was so pissed off at the world and I thought that being pretty was enough to offer someone. I had no idea who I was and I was terrified of finding out.

I dated some really great guys but the timing was wrong. I've heard through the grapevine about some and where they're at today:


Married with kids...



Yes, gay. Which explains the size 12 skirt I found in his closet. I thought he was cheating on me with a fat chick until one day, for some reason, I laid the skirt on top of his jeans and it all made sense. But those are stories for another day.

It's amazing how being my age and never married is more of a social stigma than being divorced. People assume that there must be something wrong me.

Who am I kidding? They're right.

But still... They shouldn't assume.

I was on the phone with a woman who works at one of our satellite offices and she said, "You know, I just realized I don't know anything about you."

And I said, "Well, what do you want to know?

"Have you ever been married?"


"Do you have any kids?"


"Well, are you dating anyone now? You wear a ring. Are you engaged?"

"Nope. Not engaged."

Do you know what she said to me?

"Oh my gosh. How sad. I'm so sorry for you."

What the hell?? Oh my gosh. How sad. I'm so sorry for you. I didn't even know how to respond. I said, "Don't be sad for me. I've got a great life."

"Okay. Sure. I'm so sorry..."

And that's what bugs the crap out of me. Sure, sometimes I sit back and say, "Oh my. I'm 42 and I've never been married." But does it really matter? It's hard to not let society make you feel like you should be something you're not.

I must admit, though, I do worry about becoming one of those crazy cat ladies. You know the type: never married, no children, wears sensible shoes.

Oh, God, I wear sensible shoes.

Instead of children, they have a minimum of four cats and they all have names that start with Mister. "Here comes Mr. Bojangles. Get off the couch, Mr. Pufferbelly, you're messing Mommy's afghan."

I don't know. Now I'm just rambling. I'm telling you..I shoulda been a stripper....

Not again...

Saturday, December 26, 2009

Good Lord! I hope this is no indication of what 2010 has in store for me.

C Cleveland

Every day on my way to work, I pass by Lake View Cemetery.

One summer day, I happened to glance over and saw a small sign beneath the Lake View sign.

"Cemetery tours every weekend"

I've lived in Cleveland all my life and I knew that there was a lot of history at the old cemetery but I realized that it didn't know a whole lot more than the fact that it was at the top of the hill leading into the neighborhood known as Little Italy.

I convinced my sister and a friend to join me for one of the upcoming tours and we learned some fascinating facts.

Lake View Cemetery was founded in 1869 and sits on 285 acres. It has 70 acres for future development and won't reach full capacity for another 100 years. The cemetery, designed by Adolph Strauch, was created to resemble Victorian English and French gardens. Long, winding roads and pathways lead around carefully arranged gravesites that blend harmoniously with their surroundings.

Famous Clevelanders buried there include:

James A. Garfield, (1831-1881) the 20th President of the United States

John D. Rockefeller, (1839-1937) organized the Standard Oil Company and became the richest man in the world during his lifetime

Eliot Ness, (1903-1957) law enforcement agent who helped bring down infamous gangster, Al Capone

Raymond Johnson Chapman, (1891-1920) Cleveland Indians player who was hit in the head by a pitch and died 12 hours later.


Archangel Gabriel stands ominously over the grave of John Hay (1839-1905), former secretary to President Abraham Lincoln and U.S. Secretary of State under President McKinley.

This massive bronze angel sits at the grave of Francis Haserot. The object in the angel's hands is an overturned torch, not a sword.

Memorial for George Hely

Crypts and mausoleums

This art deco-style mausoleum is the final resting place of Liberty Elmer Holden (1833-1913), original owner of the Cleveland Plain Dealer. Holden is also credited with the construction of the Cleveland Museum of Art.

Burke mausoleum

Schofield mausoleum. Schofield was a prominent architect who designed the Mansfield Reformatory. Yes, the famous haunted one.

Mausoleum row

Wade Chapel was built in 1901 to honor Jeptha Wade. The Chapel's interior, including the doors, floor tiles, benches, wall mosaics, chandeliers, lamps and ceiling, was designed entirely by Louis Tiffany. Of course, it also contains a Tiffany stained-glass window.

Both interior walls contain murals comprised of stained glass tiles.

The marble bench is inlaid with gold stained-glass tiles. The chandelier and candle-like lamps were also designed by Tiffany.

I think the most interesting fact I learned that day was that there was a dam inside the cemetery. Built in 1978 by the Northeast Ohio Regional Sewer District at a cost of $7 million, the dam is 500 feet across, 60 feet above grade and 30 feet below grade. At the time of dedication, it was the largest concrete filled dam east of the Rocky Mountains capable of holding back 80 million gallons of water.

Merry Christmas, Friends!

Friday, December 25, 2009

Chrissy & Bernie

Stripper Chick Wisdom

Monday, December 21, 2009

Chrissy's real truth about life that no one will tell you.
"You dog only loves you because you feed him.

If you were both lost in the woods, he would kill and eat you in a heartbeat."

Secondhand Sunday

Sunday, December 20, 2009

I've decided to make Sundays my Secondhand day. I'm basically too lazy to think of anything new to say so I thought I would re-post a "vintage" entry.

If you aren't in the mood for repeats, please feel free to change the channel.


Original Post Date, August 1, 2009

As I've mentioned before, Cleveland has a pretty colorful mob history and it reaches to the suburbs as well.

This is Vinny.

Everyone in my parents neighborhood knows he runs the streets. Nothing gets past Vinny and everyone knows his name. He doesn’t slink through the bushes like other cats. He struts himself down the middle of the sidewalk, head turning from side to side, looking for the next cugine that he can take under his wing.

Vinny is considered a Young Turk and doesn’t get along well with the Moustache Petes from the next block. I mean, they’ll come together as a Family if there’s a rat that needs to be popped, but the Moustache Petes get incensed when Vinny acts a little too oobatz.

The Carson family down the street went to the shelter and got a new cat last week. According to the owner, Vinny came over to "introduce" himself but he must have thought that the handsome new cat would threaten Vinny’s relationship with his comare, Gina, because he smacked him around a little with his paws to let him know who’s boss. We're pretty sure Vinny put the maloik (il malocchio) on him because Mrs. Carson found this in their cat's water bowl on the patio.

Bernie knows better than to make waves with Vinny. On this day, we pulled up and saw Vinny sunning himself. He woke up when he heard our car and strolled over, beckoning Bernie to come and join him in the sun.

Bernie wouldn't get out of the car until Vinny was safely out of sight and she turned to me as if to say, What does he think I am? A babbo?

C Cleveland

Saturday, December 19, 2009

I promised a follow up to the Griswold's Halloween decor. I have to admit, they toned it down from last year but I think that's because their neighbors filed a noise complaint from the caroler display that played over and over all night long. Notice, it's conspicuously missing this year.

And yes, we finally got some snow!

It's 11:59

I just sent an email to a friend at 11:59, which made me think of my favorite Blondie song, so I had to look it up. I have no clue what the hell this song is talking about but I think it's hands down the best Blondie song ever.

Then I decided to find a photo of Debbie Harry to post and I found this.

And then this...her signature "hands in hair" pose. You know, I still dream of being a platinum blonde because of her.

Well, then I found this. WHO is this woman's plastic surgeon and what is their number?? I'll save you the time in looking this up. She's 63!

Sorry, such a lame video but I posted the nonsensical words so you can sing along.

Leaning in your corner like a candidate for wax
Sidewalk social scientist don't get no satisfaction from your cigarette
It's ten to ten and time is running out
Lock up all your memories, get outa here, you know that we can run
Today can last another million years
Today could be the end of me
It's 11:59, and I want to stay alive

Pumping like a fugitive in cover from the night
Take it down the freeway like a bullet to the ocean
Wait until the morning, take tomorrow by the hand
Take it down the highway like a rocket to the ocean, we can run

Today can last another million years
Today could be the end of me
It's 11:59, and I want to stay alive

Hanging on a frequency and burning like a fire
Boy you've got the motion down, it's getting late, I'm tired and I've lost control
Don't leave me here, time is running out
Take me down the highway like a rocket to the ocean, we can run

Today can last another million years
Today could be the end of me
It's 11:59, and I want to stay alive

Stripper Chick Wisdom

Friday, December 18, 2009

Chrissy's real truth about life that no one will tell you.

"You will never win the lottery. Ever. So why don't you do something useful with that money like line the bottom of a bird cage?"

Check your mail box

Thursday, December 17, 2009

I like to send Christmas cards that are reflective of my personality. It took me a while to find this one but I think it's just perfect!

Stripper Chick Wisdom

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

Chrissy's real truth about life that no one will tell you.

"Your so called friends hang around with you to make themselves look smarter and more attractive."

Nope, not me

Tuesday, December 15, 2009

So you know how I've been lamenting over my weight for the last year? Well, actually the last 31 years, but you haven't know me that long. In the past 10 months, I've probably gained another 10 pounds on top of the 15 that have already crept on over the last few years.

My sister insists that my weight gain can be attributed to being perimenopausal. That means PRE-menopause. I refuse to accept that and since I don't accept blame for my behavior, I'm certain that I must have some type of medical condition that is making me gain all this weight.

No, I don't believe that the fact that I eat cookies and candy every day and exercise once a month has anything to do with it. It must be powers beyond my control. So I called my doctor last week.

"Dr. Banes' office, how may I help you?'

"I have to see the doctor so she can figure out why I'm gaining so much weight. It must be the medication she put me on at the beginning of the year."

"When would you like to come in?"

"Can I come today? How about today? I'm not getting any thinner."

So I went in last Wednesday and she really was surprised by my weight.

"You're usually thin and fit. I've never seen you weigh this much."

"Um, yeah, that's why I'm here."

We discussed my eating habits, the medication I'm taking and my current level of physical activity. She decided to do some tests to rule out any pituitary or thyroid issues.

I called today to get my results.

I'm not really sure what the medical term is for my condition but I'll spell it out in layman's terms for you.

I'm F-A-T.

Told ya it wasn't my fault!

Hey, Madonna!

Let me give you some advice, my friend. You are a 51 year old woman. Keep your legs together, for God's sake!

This is what you look like.

Lessons in cougar love

Monday, December 14, 2009

Every time I see Demi Moore with Ashton Kutcher, I shudder a little at what she must have to do to keep herself looking young and fresh. Well, well preserved, at least.

Now he might be really in love with her for who she is and it won't matter when things start heading south but if that's so, I'm guessing that he's the exception to the rule.

For those young hotties who are thinking of tasting the sweet nectar of an older woman, let me spell it out for you so there are no surprises.

~ We prefer the missionary position because it makes our faces look younger when everything falls backward. Being on top is not an option unless the power is out and/or you are legally blind.

~ When we're cuddling afterward and you feel a sudden rush of heat coming from us, no, we're not ready to do it again. We're just having a hot flash.

~ We really don't think it's "so hot" to be completely hair free down there. We just don't want you to see our gray pubes.

Arise, go forth and conquer!

Stripper Chick Wisdom

Chrissy's real truth about life that no one will tell you.
"No one will ever love you as much as your mother did.

And look how much she fucked you up.

You're pretty much screwed."

Secondhand Sunday

Sunday, December 13, 2009

I've decided to make Sundays my Secondhand day. I'm basically too lazy to think of anything new to say so I thought I would re-post a "vintage" entry.

If you aren't in the mood for repeats, please feel free to change the channel.


Original Post Date, May 26, 2009

I have about 300+ cable channels but really only watch about 10 of them. Every once in a while, I start flipping through channels to see what else is out there.

I've decided that my new favorite channel is BBC America. If it's weird or somehow taboo, they do a documentary on it. The best has been a show called My Fake Baby. It follows the lives of women who "adopt" these lifelike dolls or reborns, as they're called and treat them like they're real babies. They brush their hair, change their diapers and stroll them around town. One even bought a $300 outfit to bring the baby home in.

They also feature a woman who creates the dolls. It's disturbing how real these dolls look but the most disturbing thing is how the people who own them treat them like they're alive. Talk about issues..

Since I don't have any children of my own and I have lots of issues, I thought maybe I should look into adopting my own reborn. I think this one looks the most like me.

Stripper Chick Wisdom

Chrissy's real truth about life that no one will tell you.

"Don't worry that you don't have any friends.

God loves you.

Maybe you should call him on Friday night and see if he wants to hang out."

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