Yeah, so what's your point?

"You have an unrealistic obsession with your dog. And you let her do whatever she wants to do."

This judgment was delivered to me by a man who made me sit on a futon on the floor of his living room so his arthritic dog could be comfortable on the couch.

But, I'm obsessed.
He was the first guy I had dated that had a dog so I pictured us taking the dogs to the dog park, having a Christmas card made of the kids at Petsmart...


And then he made that comment. I was annoyed but then I thought, maybe I am obsessed. Do I go beyond the normal need to get home after work to let her out and come home early because she's lonely all alone at home? I think dog people are a different breed anyway but don't people with pets like to pamper them? I mean, that's why you have a pet.


Unless you have fish. I don't know what's up with those people. I don't want anything as a pet that I could possibly eat. My mother was traumatized as a child when my grandfather would kill the chickens in their yard to eat. She got to experience first hand, the phrase, "running around like a chicken with their head cut off".

It's not like I'm one of those crazy dog people.

You know, the ones who dress their dogs up? Oh wait, I dress my dog up.

Or take them everywhere they go. I guess I do take her most places with me.


Or send greeting cards from the dog. Check.

Or have more pictures of their dog than their family and friends. Check, check.

Okay, so maybe I'm a little obsessed. But c'mon, I'm 42 years old and I don't have children.

And I might have Anorgasmia.

So cut me some slack.

And please, don't be jealous of our love.

Tomato, Tomahto - Pawpaw, Grampaw?

I just read an article last week that in the Fall, a bill was passed designating the tomato as Ohio's official fruit. Ohio Governor Strickland held a ceremonial signing at Miami Trace Elementary in Washington Court House. (yes, that's an actual name of a city) The little bastards, I mean, the children in Christina Schingledecker's class were the ones that started the letter writing campaign.

A tomato. Now maybe I'm the only one. But I thought a tomato was a vegetable.

The news that the tomato was up for consideration was very upsetting to the Pawpaw Grower's Association. They traveled to Columbus to lobby for their banana-like fruit to be the top dog but sadly settled for runner up status and the title of Ohio's official native fruit.

I went into three grocery stores this week and asked the produce managers if they had any Pawpaw fruit. They looked at me and then looked around like they were looking for the Candid Camera crew. Just for fun, I asked them if a tomato was a fruit or vegetable. They all said vegetable.

I rest my case.

Happy Anniversary

Happy 6 Week Texting Anniversary, Manly Man!

See how much fun we could be having in person?

Anorgasmia

Anorgasmia: "The inability to reach orgasm during sexual stimulation."

This is one of the potential side effects from a new medication my doctor put me on for my condition.

I told Manly Man that this would be the perfect time for him to make his move since I'll just assume it's me.

My blood pressure is still pretty high and I was experiencing shortness of breath that was affecting my asthma so my doctor decided to add some pills and take some away.

Here's a list of some of the other potential side effects:

*severe stomach pain

*difficulty breathing

*swelling of your face, lips, tongue, or throat

*feeling light-headed

*fainting

*urinating more or less than usual, or not at all

*fever, chills, body aches, flu symptoms

*tired feeling

*muscle weakness

*pounding or uneven heartbeats

*chest pain

*swelling, rapid weight gain

*decrease in libido

Less serious side effects may be more likely to occur, such as:

*cough

*dizziness

*drowsiness

*headache

*nausea

*vomiting

*diarrhea

*upset stomach

*mild skin itching or rash

Side effects other than those listed here may also occur. Talk to your doctor about any side effect that seems unusual or that is especially bothersome.

Doesn't it sound like I should just take my chances and keep the high blood pressure?I've had quite a few of these symptoms already. I'm finding the nausea particularly useful since every time I eat, I feel sick to my stomach. I've already lost 5 pounds.

I am absolutely exhausted, though, and a lot of people are asking me if I'm okay. I just feel kind of blah. It takes me a while to register what someone says and I lose my train of thought easily. One of the warnings said, "Do not operate heavy machinery or do anything that requires you to be alert."

I went to lunch with my sister on Tuesday, five days after I had started this new round of medication and she told me that I looked like a Stepford Wife with my expressionless face and blank stare.





I'm trying to work through the side effects and see how I feel after a few weeks. I would prefer to be off meds completely and I'm a big proponent of natural remedies but I think I should get it controlled before I...

What was I saying?

I'm heading to Club 1245 ~ You in?

She's 52 and her co-worker is 35-40. She's either super hot or the patrons all have macular degeneration.


Woman, 52, Attacked With Stripper Boot


AKRON, Ohio -- A 52-year-old woman told police she was attacked by a co-worker Friday night while working at Club 1245.

The woman said that she needed some extra money so her friend got her a job as a dancer.

On her first night at the club, she was attacked with a stiletto shoe by a co-worker.

The woman suffered multiple lacerations to her head.

One of her friends took her to a local hospital, where she received multiple staples.

The woman was described as a black female between 35 to 40 years old.

No arrests have been made.

What's in a name?

My given name is Christine Jean. You can't help but say it with a little twaaang. You have to remember it was 1966 and right around the Petticoat Junction era so lots of us have middle names like Jean and Jo.

Anyone with a name that can be shortened into a nickname knows that there are usually lots of variations given to you by friends and family.

I grew up being called Chrissy by my friends.

My sister called me Kickie because I had a propensity to kick people as a child. Really hard.

My grandfather called me Christy, in his broken English accent.

My father called me Kissy and my mother affectionately called me, you Little Bitch.

When I got my first job at 15, I decided it was time to use my grown up name of Christine, since Chrissy sounded too babyish to be entering the workforce. I worked at Woolworth's and I proudly bore my 'Christine' name tag on my mint green smock. I'm certain that my decision to forego my childhood nickname was the reason why Old Lady Evelyn, the crotchety keeper of the toy, pets and notions departments, chose me to tend to her fiefdom when she was away.

Most of my friends who have met me past the age of 25, call me Christine. Anyone who has known me since school or before or has met me through that group of friends calls me Chrissy.

I remember when I was 19, I worked with a girl whose mother's name was Susie and I thought to myself, What grown woman calls themselves by such a silly name? Well, I guess I do now.

I've had to endure the Chrissy Snow references from Three's Company. Is your real name Christmas? Nope.

Then, in 1983, the movie Christine came out about a possessed car named Christine. Christine? You mean like the car? Good one. Haven't heard that before.

I'm always surprised and annoyed when I meet people as Christine and they assume a nickname for me. Nice meeting you, Chris. You'll notice no one calls me Chris and there's a reason for that.

I had a 6th grade teacher named Mr. Kidd who was 6'4, skinny as a rail and ignorant as could be. Our classroom was at the rear of a hallway of about 8 rooms and the school office was at the opposite end. Back then, there weren't strategically placed copiers outside of classrooms for convenient mid-day copying. There was one mimeograph machine that the school secretary used to crank out duplicates in blue ink.

One spring morning, Mr. Dick, oops, I mean Mr. Kidd, needed someone to go to the office and have some copies made. I was 5'9 and chubby and tried to remain inconspicuous as my tiny people pleasing classmates raised their hands to volunteer. I was sure he was going to pick pretty petite Jennifer when I heard him say, Thank you for volunteering, Jennifer, but why don't we let Chris go? She needs the exercise.

To this day, I hear those words in my head every time someone makes the mistake of calling me Chris.

My professional name was going to be Blair Brennan when I became a supermodel but that didn't really pan out. My friend Debbie and I used to make up names and professions when we were in our early 20's and out at a bar. They were usually classy sounding like Bambi or Amber but then we never remembered them when someone would call out our names later in the night.

"Is he talking to you?"

"No, aren't you Bambi?"

"No, I'm Mitzy."

"Mitzy? Weren't you Mitzy last week?"

For now, I guess I'm just wannabe stripper chick, Chrissy Starr.

I know I am, but what are you?

You’re weird.

I hear this sentence at least once a week. It’s usually because of some comment I’ve made that the person who said this to me is too afraid to utter out loud themselves. Or it’s because of something I’ve done that’s a little off center and people don’t know how to react.

You’re weird.

Let me give you an example. My earliest memory of someone saying this to me was when I was 18. I was working for Casual Corner, a now defunct women’s clothing store, and the manager, Lilly, used to tell me this all the time. One Halloween, the girls in the store were going to have a costume party and everyone was discussing what they were going to be.

“I’m going to be a pussycat and wear a black leotard with a tail attached,” said cute blonde Debby.

“I’m going to buy a sexy French maid outfit,” chimed in Lilly.

“I’m going to be a Playboy bunny and have bunny ears and a fluffy ball of a tail,” said buxom Carla.

“I’m going to be a monster. I’ll wear a man’s suit and a monster mask and no one will know it’s me!” I excitedly reported.

You’re weird.

I realize that I look at the world a little differently than most but I think it’s far more interesting this way. It is for me, at least. And I know it throws people off because I look so...well...normal.

Well, if being weird is wrong, I don’t wanna be right!

I jokingly said to a friend that I should post a personal ad with a link to my blog and if someone still wants to meet me after they read it, we might actually have a chance together. Because what you see here is what you get.

I met this manly man firefighter back in the Fall and we went out a few times. Well, here’s the background.

Manly man and I have been in a texting relationship for a little while now so I decided to put my theory to the test.

Hey, I typed, check out my blog and I gave him the address.

Then I waited.

Will he think it’s funny?

Will he be offended?

Will he respond back at all?

About 5 minutes later, I got my response:

You’re weird. And hysterical. I love it! (paraphrased-I actually think he said I was messed up)

Now that he’s been following my blog for four weeks, I think he’s gotten to know me pretty well and that was evidenced by his comment to me yesterday.

God, you’re a mess.

Yes! He gets me. He really gets me. sniff sniff

I just hope I don't develop carpal tunnel before I see him again..

10 More things you never wanted to know about me

1. Most of my fingers hyper-extend. I thought this was normal for years.
2. I have an innie
3. I've been in TV commercials
4. I'm 5'9
5. I love musicals
6. I haven't worn a bathing suit in public in 4 years
7. I smoked catnip once in junior high
8. I'm lost without a watch
9. I like to eat grapefruit juice with Chips Ahoy cookies
10. I love scary movies

Happy Birthday!

Today is my sister's 45th birthday. She's always been the calm in the storm that is my life.

Since she hates having her picture taken, we'll have to settle for these oldies but goodies. She especially likes the first one since that was the last time in our lives that she was actually taller than me.

Happy Birthday, Lisa!

Happy Easter, Friends!

Love,
Chrissy & Bernie

Peep Show

This seemed oddly appropriate to post here.

My Magic Mirror

I broke my mirror today. What does this remind you of??

I see Cindy and Susie and Charlie and Tommy.....

Can I borrow that rainbow flag for a few days?

I got an email from my friend, Kara, yesterday. She sent me two pictures of a handsome guy with the note, This is someone I used to know that I've been in touch with again. Not sure where it's going...

No big deal, you say, these things happen all the time.

Yes....Only Kara has been seeing someone for over a year and they just moved in together, blending their children into one big happy family.

And Kara is gay.

Or is she? She's been in relationships with men before, but since I met her two years ago, she's only dated women.

Maybe I should think about switching teams, too, if it's that easy.

I mean, we've all experimented. Right, girls?

Who hasn't kissed a girl when you're shitfaced and drunk on the dance floor and all the guys are staring at you?

And who hasn't strapped one on and rode their college roommate until she screamed for you to stop? No? Really??

My friends probably wouldn't be too surprised if I introduced them to my new girlfriend, especially since they've had to deal with my "girl crushes" over the years.

My first love was Kim Basinger in 9 1/2 Weeks. It was 1986 and she played an art gallery assistant who has a chance meeting with a wealthy man that leads her into this wildly erotic and controlling relationship.

They were both so gorgeous, I didn't know which one of them to look at on the screen. I was in awe of how beautiful she was and I couldn't figure out if I wanted to be with her or if I just wanted to be her.

Then came Baywatch and my girl Pam Anderson. Kim who? The bigger the hair and the trashier she looked, the better. My birthday gifts were easy in those years because they usually involved a video of Pam and later, Tommy, in some state of undress.

As you can see, I have a penchant for blondes but I really just thought it was a passing phase when seeing Kim or Pam no longer stirred those emotions in me.

And then I saw Tomb Raider with Angelina Jolie. I realized that it wasn't that I no longer had latent homosexual tendencies. It was that I wasn't attracted to aging starlets. I likes 'em young.

Of course, Angie having all those babies and adopting her own UN Council is a turn off so she's dead to me.

And, of course, these little fantasies are fun but I'm all talk and I would never go through with it. Just in case..Can I borrow that flag, please?

Why, yes, I am losing weight

I was at Walgreen's today and I accidentally bumped into this little boy so I said, "Oh my, excuse me!" and smiled at him.

His response was, "Fatty," as he brushed past me.

Now, your first reaction might be. Oh goodness! Out of the mouths of babes...Ha ha.

Mine was, "Shut up. You're a fatty! Takes one to know one."

Of course, I didn't say that. I just glared at him and then I realized, he was right.

I think I figured out why I’m not losing weight. You know, besides the overeating, not exercising thing.

It’s my "fat pants" fault. I bought three or four pairs of pants to wear to work a little over a year ago and I bought them a size larger than I usually wear because my normal size was a little snug. When they start to get a little loose, people comment on how much weight I've lost and then I falsely believe that I’m “thin”. This causes me to eat my way back into them again, thereby perpetuating the cycle.

It’s kind of like when you spend the summer in shorts, eating ice cream and then you can’t figure out why your jeans don’t fit in the Fall. Well, you've been wearing shorts all summer so your chubby legs don't realize just how chubby they've become.

I keep telling myself that I'm going to have these pants taken in but I don't want to spend the money to do that until I've gotten to the weight I want to be. Do you see what's happening here?

That's right. I'm insane.

But I am going to lose this weight. Even though I never finish anything.

I've taken swimming lessons, knitting lessons and piano lessons. I can't swim, knit or play the piano.

And I have no less than 10 "Before" pictures of my oh-so-Caucasian body in an oh-so-teeny bikini that gets smaller every time.

But I'm confident that this is a new day.

Just keep that damn kid away from me.

The Grass IS Always Greener

Here's the guy across the street from me cutting his lawn yesterday. He does two things when he's not at work.

1. He works in his yard

2. He rides his bike


This is Bernie, excited to be outside on the dirt, 'er...lawn. I hope she didn't roll over on that rock at the top of the picture.




I think I can speak for my neighbors when I say, we hate him. He makes us all look bad. If it weren't for his plush, green lawn that he already has to cut the first week of April... the day before it's supposed to snow again...our yards would all look the same and no one would be the wiser.

Oh, they all have patchy brown lawns. It must be the soil composition in the area.

He's making us look bad. And he must be stopped.

I'm officially middle aged

I went to the doctor this week for my annual exam. I've felt fine and the only medication I'm on is a seasonal allergy pill so I expected my doctor to refill that and send me on my way.

No such luck.

My blood pressure was much higher than normal(148/98) which confused both the doctor and I since I don't drink, smoke, eat salty foods or tip the scale in the obesity range. She decided to put me on a diuretic and told me to check it again in a few days.

Since I work in a hospital, a friend of my sister's volunteered to re-check it for me. Much to my surprise, it had gone up even higher and was now 188/100.

Now, I admit, I am one of those people who get "white coat anxiety" when I'm in a doctor's office but that didn't come into play in this instance. There were no doctors present, just a friendly nurse in Betty Boop scrubs.

"That is a fairly high reading, so for liability purposes I need to tell you that if you get a severe headache, chest pains or shortness of breath, you must go to the emergency room immediately."

So, of course, on the way back to my office, I was sure that I was experiencing one, if not all, of these symptoms and this song was going through my head:


How did I go from being perfectly healthy two days ago to having a "condition" today?

When I got to my office, I started to make a mental list of all the friends I wanted to call to say goodbye to but first, I called my doctor who decided to start me on another pill as a treatment.

Oh geez. Now I need treatment for my "condition".

I suppose it could be stress since I do have a history of anxiety. When I was a child, I never knew if a toy left on the floor or a wrong answer to a question would unleash a torrent of venom or reward me with a new bruise. To calm my hysterics before my father came home, I would take shelter in my mother's little helper. Now before you judge, my mother always broke the pill in half and usually only gave it to me on days that ended in 'y'.

And, yes, in the last 10 years, I've thought I was having a heart attack a few times that just turned out to be anxiety. But that was the old Chrissy. The one who dated abusive men, thrived on drama and game playing and drank too much to dull the pain.

I'm an older, wiser Chrissy now. I have no patience for any of it. I love my calm, simple life so this whole blood pressure thing is a conundrum.

Oh geez, now this is going through my head:

I'm comin' Elizabeth!

Just indulge me, okay?

I know I posted this video in a sidebar a month ago, but guess what? You got it again. I just can't get enough and I have to share.

I first heard this song a while back and it took me a few days to find out that the name of the band was Shinedown. I love Brent Smith's voice! He doesn't quite have the effect on me that Chad Kroeger of Nickelback has, but he's good.

I hear Chad sing the first few lines of Savin' Me and I have an uncontrollable urge to drop my panties. I was fully clothed at the end of Second Chance.

I never buy CD's anymore but I broke down and bought Shinedown's, Sound of Madness last week. I've listened to Second Chance so loud and so many times that my neighbors think I've adopted a 15 year old boy.

I think that one line, "Sometimes goodbye is a second chance" speaks volumes and is brilliant in its simplicity. I'm sure we all have moments in our lives that we can look back on and realize that "goodbye" was our second chance.

Party on, Wayne~

Oh, I'm goin' to Hell for this

I can't tell you how many times I've muttered this statement. After I've said something that's politically incorrect, cut off school buses in traffic, taken the Lord's name in vain and kept the extra change the cashier accidentally gave me. I've lost of track of how many things I've done that would guarantee me a VIP pass to Satan's lair.

Every year, I act the good Christian and impose a personal penance on myself by giving up something I love for Lent. And every year, I give up sweets. Since I grew up as a member of the Eastern Orthodox Church, our Lenten season begins the 7th Monday before Easter since we don't count Sundays when calculating the season of Great Lent.

I don't remember why. I would like to say that I missed that Sunday school class but I had perfect attendance as my personalized Bible will attest, so I'll just chalk it up to old age.

In fact, I never remember that our Lenten season starts sooner so I usually just follow what my Catholic friends do. When I start seeing purple, green and gold Mardi Gras beads in the stores, I know it's time to start gourging myself in anticipation of my weeks of sacrifice.

The first week, usually on the Monday or Tuesday before Ash Wednesday, I go to the grocery store and stock up on fruits, nuts and other healthy snacks. Then I boast to everyone within earshot that I have "given up sweets for Lent" and I bask in the glow of their admiration.

The accolades continue through the second week when, at a staff meeting, I'm presented with the dilemma of whether or not to eat a chocolate chip muffin. It's early and I haven't had breakfast yet so I glance around the room to determine if any of the attendees know about my Lenten endeavor.

The coast is clear so I lovingly place the muffin on a plate, grab a bottle of water and take a seat. A glance at the clock reveals that there are ten minutes before the meeting starts, which is plenty of time to indulge myself in my favorite morning treat. I gaze down at it, plump with chocolate chips peeking out at me and I refrain myself from teasing it with a lick, though the desire is strong.

"Why, Good Morning! I thought you gave up sweets for Lent?" I stop chewing and look up to see the woman that I had made a Lenten pact with just two weeks ago.

"I'm giving up sweets for Lent." I had told her.

"Oh my gosh, me too. How perfect! We can be each other's support."

"Deal!"

I think back to that fateful encounter as I pretend that I'm still chewing, my mind racing for an explanation.

"I'm sorry. What did you say?" Because don't you always say this to buy yourself some extra time?

"I said, Didn't you give up sweets for Lent?" her arms are now folded across her chest and she's leaning on one hip.

"Me? Oh....oh...I know...you must have misunderstood. What I said was that I was giving up candy, not all sweets."

"Oh, okay." she replied as she took a banana and sat down across from me.

By week three, the plethora of drugstore Easter candy starts showing up in bunny dishes atop file cabinets and desks around the department. I spoon a handful of black jelly beans (my favorite) into my hand as I'm walking out of the clinic.

"I thought you said you were giving up candy for Lent?" a voice calls to me and I fear turning around, knowing it's my support buddy.

"Hey, hi! What? Candy? No, no...what I said was that I was giving up chocolate. Not all candy because, you know, chocolate is my favorite and it is the biggest sacrifice. These jelly beans? I could take 'em or leave 'em. Hey, how are you doing?"

"Good! No sweets at all. We're doing really good!" she beams.

"We sure are. Yay, us!" I turn to walk out and grab a tissue to wipe the jelly bean blackness off my sweaty palms.

Week four arrives and I have Sunday dinner with my parents. After we eat, my mother goes into the other room and comes back with her hand behind her back.

"Guess what I have? You're fav-or-ite..." She brings her arm around front and opens her cupped hand to reveal Cadbury eggs; the most amazing once a year confection ever invented.

I grab them from her and eagerly start to unwrap one.

"Hey!" my sister scowls at me, "I thought you gave up sweets?"

"What? No....no...I decided against it this year."

Oh, I'm definitely goin' to Hell for this. Anyone care to join me?