Lunches with Lisa

Wednesday, March 31, 2010

My sister has worked in the hospital system for a number of years and knows people in just about every department. I met her for lunch today and there was a man that I didn't recognize standing at the table talking to her.

She introduced me as I sat down and I heard him saying how happy he is in his new department.

"Nobody gives me a hard time or complains. It's nice and quiet.."

He kept going on about how great things are.

As many of you know who work with the general public, it's not always a walk in the park. In fact, at times, it can be downright challenging. A gathering of ten different people from ten different departments can usually find a common thread and openly vent about something.

I thought to myself, If he's so happy, maybe I should apply to his department. No one giving me a hard time or complaining? Quiet? Sounds fantastic!

When he walked away, I said to Lisa, "He works here at the hospital? I don't understand how he's that thrilled with his job. He didn't make a negative comment about anything. Where does he work?"

A grin spread over Lisa's face, "The morgue."

Didn't you see the sign?

Tuesday, March 30, 2010

Have you ever noticed that there's a proliferation of warning signs and labels everywhere you turn?

Some use symbols:

Uh oh, radioactivity!

Caution, flammable!

Look out, poison!

Be careful, railroad crossing!

Others are more literal:

Don't burn yourself!

Don't fall, it's wet!

Be prepared, just in case!

Most of us have seen these signs and are familiar enough with them to know what the consequences of our actions may be if we ignore them.

This weekend, my friends and I participated in a charity bowling event at a local bowling alley. Now, I'm not a big bowler so I don't know all the intricacies of the bowling experience but you know how curious I am about how things work.

Luckily, I saw this warning sign right before I stuck my hand in the ball retrieval machine to see how that ball came back so quickly.

Phew, that was a close one!

I can do that, too.

Monday, March 29, 2010

I’m a brand loyalist.

I only buy Diet Coke, won’t eat a salad without Wishbone Balsamic and Basil Vinaigrette dressing and I replace my white leather Keds with white leather Keds. I thank L’Oreal for my long lashes, Bare Minerals for my “flawless” complexion and Pantene for my shiny locks.

When I worked out religiously in the past, I always bought Nike apparel and shoes. They’re one of the few vendors that make a pant long enough for my 34" inseam and the athletic shoes fit me like a glove.

WHY I decided to go out and buy a pair of Avia shoes is beyond me. I suppose it was the pretty sale sign that clouded my judgement. Well, I wore them around the house and hated them. Back they went and I brought home a nice new pair of Nike running shoes.

I know what you’re thinking. Running shoes, Chrissy? Isn’t that a little ambitious?

Well, yes it is, my friends, but this is my fantasy, so shut it.

I headed to the gym last night, sporting an extra spring in my step, courtesy of Nike. I went much later than usual so it was easy to snag a treadmill since there weren’t many people there. As I stretched, I sized up my gym mates.

Two treadmills to the right was a large man wearing one of those silver sauna sweat suits. I’ve seen them in magazines but I’ve never actually seen anyone wear one in person. I would imagine that the fabric is nylon, as they tout the benefits of “sweating your way to a slimmer you”.

Sure, if you don’t pass out and die first. So far, Mr. Silverman looked like he was going to make it as he walked at a regular pace.

To my left, facing the opposite wall was a very large woman wearing white. White calf length pants, white shoes and a white top over her white sports bra. And she was jogging. I thought to myself, If she can do it, so can I!

Scattered around the room were some senior citizens up past their bedtime and some younger guys who were probably the ones who drove Grandma and Grandpa to the Y.

They limit you to 30 minutes on each piece of equipment so I started walking at a faster pace than normal to warm up because I wanted to start alternately jogging and walking tonight.

Since it was dark out, when I looked ahead, all I could see was the reflective image of myself in the mosaic of condensation and cracked glass that the fitness room’s windows provided. It was likely my shadowy silhouette that lulled me into thinking I actually looked pretty good when I started to jog. My new sports bra was keeping the girls in place and my yoga pants gave my legs a really lean look.

I glanced to my right, Keep going, Mr. Silverman, and all this could be yours someday.

I was feeling pretty impressed with myself when a tiny slip of a thing sauntered up to the treadmill between me and Mr. Silverman. She was probably about 25 years old, 5'3, cute as a button and skinny, even though she was wearing two layers of clothing. She started out walking so I, of course, had to continue jogging to show her up.

Game on, honey!

I realized I had pushed my limits when I felt the first bit of vomit coming up my throat so I opted to slow down to a brisk walk. As I gasped to catch my breath, Miss Tiny started to jog. I glanced over and disgustedly noticed that her ass was keeping pace with the rest of her body unlike mine that bounced uncontrollably wondering what the hell was happening.

Once again, I got the bright idea to start jogging. I increased the speed and hoped there was no one on the machines behind me to witness this.

Let's do this, chicky!

I looked at Miss Tiny's reflection in the window because it seemed rude to stare right at her. I saw her reflection unzip her hoodie and remove it to reveal a long sleeved tee. I had to look. It was like staring at the sun. I knew I should look away, but I couldn't. She had barely a glisten on her face while I worried that I might have splashed some sweat her way when I turned my head.

How do you not sweat?? It doesn't matter. I'll just keep going.

Five pathetic minutes later, I slowed to a walk again and Miss Tiny removed her long sleeved tee to reveal her perfectly petite body running like a gazelle in a racerback bra top. You heard that right.

It's a bra.

It's a top.


Game over.

Secondhand Sunday

Sunday, March 28, 2010

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, November 29, 2009

I'm not a Sarah Palin fan. I think she's marginally intelligent at best and would be better off as a PTA chairman. Her reign would encourage participation by local fathers, casually placing meeting agendas on their laps to cover up their boners.

I suppose a book was inevitable in Sarah's future from the minute John McCain chose this rifle wielding honey as his running mate. I've seen her on a few talk shows as she does the circuit to promote her newly penned memoir. I must admit, I am curious about what's fact and what's fiction though not in regards to the McCain camp. I'm more interested in the disparity in stories between Sarah Palin and Levi Johnston.

In case you've been living under a rock, Levi is the hunky young man who impregnated Sarah's teenage daughter, Bristol. He was reported to be living in the Palin home until the baby was born but was swiftly removed when the engagement was called off.

So what's a baby Daddy to do but start going on talk shows and telling the real story about life in the Palin household? And what makes him even more believable? Posing naked for Playgirl.

The minute I heard that that Levi was going to expose a little redneck raciness, I took his every word as gospel. However, when I realized that he had wimped out and decided that full frontal nudity was out, I started questioning him again.

C'mon, Levi, there's nothing more honest than a man's junk. How could you tell us that you were going to show us the family jewels and then change your mind? How do you expect us to believe anything that you say? I'm very disappointed and I know that Playgirl's 60% male subscriber base is disappointed, too.

Well, maybe Playgirl will give you another chance to redeem yourself. If you can't do it for me, do it for your mother who's just been sent to jail for three years for drug possession.

Do it for Wasilla.

Damn it, boy, do it for your country.


Saturday, March 27, 2010

This is the first time I've been able to get into my blog since Thursday.

Thanks a lot, AT&T!

Lunches with Lisa

Friday, March 26, 2010

When I first went to see Bernie at the animal shelter in 2007, she had a nameplate on her cage that read, Bernadette with "Bernie" in parentheses. I assumed she was probably named by one of the shelter volunteers but I thought it was a cute name and she seemed to respond to it, so we kept it.

For the first few months, when I would take her to my sister Lisa's house, I would sing The Four Tops song, Bernadette. Well, I guess I wasn't really singing it because I have no clue what the words are, so it went something like this:

Bernadette! Do do do do do do do do do do do Bernadette! Do do do do do do do do do do do Bernadette! Do do do do do do do do do do do

You get the idea.

"You're so weird", she would say as she looked at Bernie and shook her head.

It annoyed Lisa to no end, so being the dutiful sister, I just did it more.

The weather was warm over the weekend, so Bernie and I ventured to the park down the street. It's a little early in the season so there weren't many people there but I was anxious to tell Lisa at lunch on Monday about the couple we met.

Bernie and I were on the path behind the picnic pavilion that runs along the side of the creek when we spotted a couple walking toward us, laughing and talking in a very animated manner. As they got closer, we stopped to say hello and the woman asked me what my dog's name was.

"Bernadette", I responded. I always say Bernadette so people know she's a girl since the pink collar and rhinestone bone charm might not give it away.

A big smile came over her face as she said, "Bernadette? Really? Bernadette the Beagle?"

"Yes", I smiled and nodded.

Just then, she broke out in song and started dancing around.

"Bernadette! Keep on loving me....keep on needing me....Bernadette!"

I couldn't wait to tell Lisa that I wasn't the only one who thought of that song and felt the need to sing it around Bernie.

"Okay, fine," she said, "So you're not the only one who thinks of that song."

I smiled smugly as I leaned back in my chair.

Of course, I didn't tell her the woman was drunk.

We'll just keep that between us.

Oh, come ON!

Thursday, March 25, 2010

"A new study says that middle-aged women need to work out an hour a day just to maintain their current weight. Researchers say women who want to lose weight need to work out for even longer periods.

Researchers at Harvard's Brigham and Women Hospital monitored 34,079 women for about 13 years. Those who consistently did 60 minutes of moderate activity a day, only 13-percent of the study group, did not gain weight. Less active women gained an average of almost six pounds in that same period.

Nutrition and fitness expert Dr. Pamela Peeke says as women age their metabolism slows down 3 to 5 percent per decade, making it harder to keep the weight off. The study's results bolster a 2002 Institute of Medicine report that emphasized the importance of balancing diet and exercise and recommended at least 60 minutes daily of moderate activity for adults and children.

But the study also indicates that the 2008 U.S. guidelines urging about a half-hour of exercise five days a week won't stop weight gain while getting older without cutting calories, said Dr. I-Min Lee, the study's lead author."

Goodbye, Cadbury eggs. Just know that I will always love you...

Stripper Chick Wisdom

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

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

"No one gives a rat's ass how your day is going.

They're just being polite."

Dancing with the Girls

Monday, March 22, 2010

I’m not a Dancing with the Stars fan. I really don’t care whether “stars” can learn to dance or not.

I would be far more inclined to watch Dancing with the Monkeys.

And then, only if the monkeys wore fancy costumes.

No costumes? I’m out.

However, when the new lineup was announced for this season’s show, I immediately set my DVR to record the whole series. Most of you know that I’m predisposed to “girl crushes”.

What you may not know is that Pam Anderson was my second girl crush ever so she holds a special place in my heart.

Who was the first, you ask?

Why, Kim Basinger, of course.

I usually have a penchant for blondes but I love contestant, Nicole Scherzinger’s exotic look. If I were a brunette, this would be how I would want to look.

Oh wait, I am a brunette. What I mean is, in my next lifetime as a brunette, this is how I want to look.

And the new co-host, Brooke Burke? Well, she’s just gorgeous.

She’s the only reason I bought the whole catalog of Core Secrets workout videos in 2007. I was out of work and dating Sparky, who encouraged my workouts by telling me that my body looked like Brooke’s. God, men will say anything to get laid.

Hey, he said my body looked like Brooke Burke. You would have slept with him, too.

I don’t actually have high hopes for my girl, Pam. I think her center of gravity might be compromised too much but I think Nicole will do a respectable job of kicking Kate Gosselin’s ass.

I better go now. I think I have just enough time for a Core Secrets workout before the show starts.

A mother's wisdom

I'm three weeks into the Stripalicious Challenge and at this rate, I would be embarassed to dance for a blind man. I knew it would be more difficult to lose weight at this age but I suppose I haven't really been giving it 100%, either. Damn you, Cadbury eggs and your luscious creamy center!

I've been exercising a lot and mainly focusing on my lower body because I hate the way my ass looks most of all. This week, I'm going to start incorporating more upper body workouts as well.

I hate the whole concept of weighing myself once a week but it's a rule of the YMCA's "free" program so I do it. Last week, I lost 2.1 pounds and I was sure that this week I was even thinner because my clothes were starting to feel looser.

I went to visit my mother in the hospital on Thursday but she set me straight when I walked into her room.

"Hi, Mom. How are you feeling today"?

Mom strained to lift her head up as she adjusted the oxygen that was in her nostrils. "You look fat. That skirt is way too tight."

"Oh, okay. Thanks."

"I'm serious. How could you go out of the house like that? It's pulling. George look at her, it's pulling."

My father rolled his eyes and I tugged at my skirt to smooth out the creases.

Mom came home on Saturday and I went to my parents house for lunch. I was sitting sideways on a dining room chair when she wheeled herself over to me and started poking at my thigh.

"Your thighs are really big. See, right here?" She stuck a finger into the side of my leg. "That's what I'm talking about."

"Okay, thank you."

"Hey, I'm just trying to help you. I know how particular you are about the way you look. Now, what's going on with your hair?"

You would think that after all these years of "constructive" criticism, that I would be immune to it but it still stings every time.

It turns out, I didn't do so great this week. Just 1.1 pounds.

I called Celebrity Fit Club to see if I could join and reap some of the benefits of a trainer, nutritionist and psychologist but they seemed to think that Tenisha Thomas was a bigger celebrity than me. I know, I never heard of her, either.

I think I'll contact Kirstie Alley to see if she wants me to join her new reality show where she'll try to finally shed the pounds.

We could call it Kirstie and Chrissy's Big Life. Or Chrissy and Kirstie's Big Life. I'm flexible.

Stripalicious Update

Sunday, March 21, 2010

Secondhand Sunday

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, October 29, 2009

I'm a huge music fan and I like a lot different genres. There's nothing like turning the radio on and hearing a song that takes you back to a person, place or time that is indelibly etched in your mind. I tend to listen to one style of music for a while and then move onto another. I don't like to mix my music or my men.

Right now, I'm into country music.

I was never really a country music fan until I worked in a sales office where the sales manager piped it in over the loudspeaker. I wasn't sure if he was trying to motivate us or torture us but the more I listened to it, the more I grew to like it. Besides, who doesn't love, "All My Ex's Live in Texas"?

I love the way music illustrates emotions and circumstances and how it reflects the common attitude of a generation. Let's look at the evolution of women and relationships in country music.

My first memory of a country classic that depicted a woman's "role" was the 1968 song, "Stand by Your Man" by Tammy Wynette.

Yes, if you wanted to keep a man, this was what you had to do:

You'll have bad times
And he'll have good times
Doing things that you don't understand
But if you love him you'll forgive him
Even though he's hard to understand
And if you love him
Oh be proud of him
Cause after all he's just a man

Did you get the message, ladies? He's gonna be a dick, but cut him some slack cuz he's just a man and men are dicks. Get over it.

Fast forward to 1986 and the lovely ditty, "Whoever's in New England" by Reba McEntire. This was Reba before she had a hit show and a clothing line.

When whoever's in New England is through with you
And Boston finds better things to do
You know its not too late 'cause you'll always have a place to come back to
When whoever's in New Englands through with you

You can tell these are the daughters of the women who listened to "Stand by Your Man". The message here is that the man is the provider and if he wants to boink women while he's away on business trips, that's okay, as long as he comes back home to you.

Women today are the daughters and granddaughters of the ones who believed all that rubbish. They don't sit back and stand by their men when they're behaving badly. And they know how to take matters into their own hands.

Oh, yes, we've come a long way, baby. Let this be a lesson, boys.

C Cleveland

Saturday, March 20, 2010

Sitting on the shores of Lake Erie, at The North Coast Harbor, is The Great Lakes Science Center. This museum and educational goldmine opened in 1996 with 165,000 square feet of exhibit space. These exhibits show visitors how science and technology commingle with the environment and they do it in a simplistic and fun way.

Bridge of Fire - a static generator that generates 200,000 volts of electrical current.

Plasma ball

A number of the permanent exhibits focus on the natural environment of the Great Lakes region of the United States while the traveling exhibits bring more unique and one of a kind marvels.

Spare Parts for People exhibit

A 150-foot wind turbine was installed a few years back and educates the public on the merits of wind power. The museum estimates that it generates around 7 percent of the Center's electricity needs along with looking really cool.

Turbine with domed theater in the background

I'm most fascinated by the 79-foot diameter, 6-story tall, Omnimax Theater. Not to be confused with an Imax screen, which lies flat, the Omnimax features a domed screen which makes you feel like you're enveloped in the action on the screen. In fact, when you sit down in one of the upholstered, reclining seats, an overhead message announces that some people may be overwhelmed by the magnitude of the images on the screen and if so, should just look away for a moment.


A special 70mm film is used as opposed to the 35mm film that is standard in most theaters. This results in the most amazingly clear and vibrant image you have ever seen. The 4200 pound projector raises to an elevation of 18-feet from the floor and is a showpiece itself, allowing theater goers to watch the 4-foot take-up reels as they hold 20,200 feet of film, weighing 200 pounds.

Now what's a good picture without good sound? Well, for you audiophiles, here's what you'll get:

11,600 watts of audio power is delivered through 44 speakers in seven clusters. Six clusters of speakers each contain four 12-inch woofers, one mid-frequency horn and one high-frequency horn. The seventh cluster contains eight 18-inch sub woofers.

Each cluster is a "three-way speaker system" meaning sound is sent to three different types of speakers, depending on the frequency of sound. Sub-bass is a "fourth way." Sub-bass frequencies are pulled from all six audio channels and sent to the sub-bass speakers.


Oh, did I mention that I am one of those people who gets completely overwhelmed by the domed screen? I usually only see half a movie while the other half is spent staring at the guy's head in front of me.

Hey! It's a REALLY big screen, okay?

The Great Lakes Science Center has 400 hands-on exhibits, a restaurant, snack bar, meeting rooms and the Omnimax Theater so there's something for every age. It's a definite must for your next trip to Cleveland.

Just prepare to be overwhelmed.

Friday, March 19, 2010

I just can't stop laughing at this.

Now what?

Thursday, March 18, 2010

I'm having a very challenging time as of late. You know how if your career isn't going well but your personal life is good, they kind of balance and you can handle things better? Or vice versa?

Well, my career is not going well. Long, political story but I really need a new opportunity and that's hard to find in this economic climate.

Now, both of my parents aren't well so that's emotionally exhausting.

And dating is the furthest thing from my mind since I'm having trouble focusing on all the other "stuff".

I've never been an especially religious person but I've turned toward my faith for strength and I pray each day for "something" to improve. This is my prayer:

"Dear God,

Oh God, please please PLEASE! I can't take this anymore. I'm going to lose my mind.


Throw me a bone. ANYthing. Please! Tell you what, if you do this, I promise to not take your name in vain and I won't flip off cars in front of me who don't start driving immediately when the light turns green.


I don't ask for much. Hurry! Please.

And let there be world peace.


Stripper Chick Wisdom

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

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

"All who wander are not lost.

Sometimes they just can't remember where they parked their car."


Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Oh no! Victoria found out about me and called a press conference.

Ouyay evernay eardhay ofway emay. Anksthay, Uddybay!

Notification of absence

Sorry, friends, I'll be on hiatus for the next 6 months to nurse my sweetie back to health.

No, baby, don't get out of bed. I'll be right there...

That's just perfect

I just read about Megan Fox's clubbed thumb. Awesome.

And I already knew about Tina's Fey's scar. Fabulous.

These women make no excuses or attempts to hide their flaws. In fact, they barely acknowledge them.

I'm scarred, too.

No, not mentally. Although, God knows that's the truth. I’m referring to my physical scar. Can you see it?

That’s right. It’s just above my lip on my left hand side. I was two years old when my older sister, Lisa, pretended to be a horse and beckoned me to climb onto her back. As any self-respecting, Bonanza watching four-year old would do, she bucked this rider and I went flying into the corner of a table.

The result was a trip to the emergency room; stitches for me and an ass beating for her. Since the year was 1968, I was likely stitched back together with a rusty sewing needle and the resulting scar is my penance for acting like a two-year old.

For all the different levels of angst and insecurity I've felt over the years, I’m surprisingly unaffected by a scar right on my face. I’ve only had person ever ask me about it on a date and he blurted it out in a fit of nervous chatter somewhere between the salad and the main course during our first meal together.

I actually think it makes my face a little more interesting.

But then, I'm the one attracted to the guy with the crooked smile or the funky cowlick in his hair. And I think the woman with the space between her teeth or the oddly placed mole is beautiful in such a unique way.

Let's face it. Perfection is overrated.

And more than a little boring. So I'll keep my scar.

And my chubby dog:

And my hyperextended fingers:

And we'll be just fine.

I meant to do that

Monday, March 15, 2010

It's been years since I've worked out in a gym. I realized that what I've been wearing at home is hardly public attire, so I went out and bought myself a few pairs of yoga pants, shorts and T shirts.

I happened to pass by a sporting goods store this week and I decided to stop in to see what they were offering. Most of the shirts I buy are 100% cotton but I saw a rack with polyester shirts labeled Dri-FIT. They promised to "wick sweat away and keep you dry and comfortable". Polyester is going to keep me dry? They were a really thin fabric, too, so I was a little hesitant but you know how un-dry I get when I work out so I slipped into the fitting room to try one on.

Helloooo nipples.

I hate "nippage" but I figured no one would notice them under my sports bra. Women can relate to how incredibly tight a sports bra is. Once you manage to get it over your head, you have to artfully draw it down over your boobs until you're smashed like Barbra Streisand in Yentl.

Yesterday, I slept in later than I had wanted to, so I hurriedly dressed in my new top and shorts and headed to the gym. I was lucky enough to snag a treadmill before the 11:00 rush.

Thirty minutes later, I was doing a final heart rate check as I stepped off the treadmill and noticed there was a cute guy waiting at the end of the belt, asking if I was finished.

"I sure am. Let me just wipe it off for you."

"I'm sure it's not too bad. How's your heart rate?", he asked, as he looked down at my chest and smiled.

I felt my already red cheeks flush a little darker as I replied, "Not bad. Better than it was a few weeks ago."

"Well, you look great." Again, he glanced down at the girls.

Oh God. The girls must be standing at attention.

I smiled and headed out the door to the restroom so I could see for myself. The first thing I noticed was that I could hardly even tell that I had sweat that much. Usually, there's a huge stain around the neck but the fabric really DID wick it away to keep me cooler. Kudos.

However, as my eyes traveled downward, I noticed that the girls were indeed saluting. That wasn't the worst of it, though. Let me explain. When you put on a sports bra, you need

In my haste to get out the door, I hadn't done that, so one nipple was at least 2 inches higher than the other. I'm going to wear this next week so he thinks I meant to do that.

And we'll laugh and laugh.....

Stripalicious Update

Sunday, March 14, 2010

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, October 16, 2009

I've never been a morning person.


In fact, when I was in kindergarten, our class was divided into the morning group and the afternoon group. By some miracle of fate, I was in the afternoon group and was given the false hope that I could sleep until 10:00 all throughout my academic career. What a rude awakening when I entered the first grade.

And it's been a series of disappointments ever since. Expectations of being on time for class, work, church, jury duty, court, sentencing, community service...where does it stop?

I worked in retail management for about 10 years and it was perfect for my "night owl syndrome". When no one else wanted to work nights, I happily volunteered.

Lots of people experience mid-life career changes so I've been exploring a variety of different options that will afford me the flexibility I'm looking for to indulge my sleep patterns and I think I've found it.

I'm going to be a vampire.

Actually, I might already be one.

I was flipping through my 5000 cable channels last week and I came across a woman who was discussing Vampirism and the study of Vampirology.

She explained that unlike the vampires of folkore and dark movie theaters, that real vampires (yes, she said real) don't necessarily drink blood but instead have an extraordinary ability to manipulate life force energy. Vampires are not likely to be intentionally malevolent, however, their inability to recognize this can cause harm to themselves or others. She also claimed that most of us know at least one vampire.

Think about that for a minute.

Here are some of the characteristics of vampires that I think I might possess.

1) They have inverted circadian rhythms; the internal clock that regulates biological processes in a 24 hour period. They're usually known as "night owls".


2) They are unpredictable, moody, temperamental and overwhelming.

And Check.

3) Some real vampires are attracted to blood and find different means for attaining it. Well, I don't like blood, per se, but I'm always up for a Bloody Mary.


4) They're photosensitive and sunburn easily. Next to Nicole Kidman, I am THE most Caucasian person you will ever meet.


5) Their relationships tend to be disasters because of their self-centered natures. See blog.


6) They may go through jobs and lovers like Kleenex.


7) They have a talent for attracting attention. Case in point, Jim. And the guy who restocks the pop bottles at work.


So it's settled then. I'll give my notice on Monday.

I wonder if they have dental?

C Cleveland

Saturday, March 13, 2010

I've already shared with you some of the arts, culture and craziness that Cleveland has to offer. Today, I would like to give you a peek at a unique local artist that I discovered last week.

His name is Tucker and he's approximately 11 years old.

Tucker wandered as a stray, dragging a large bolt and chain for weeks before an animal control office was able to catch him and take him to safety. This beautiful shepherd weighed just 49 pounds and was diagnosed with degenerative myelopathy, the canine equivalent of multiple sclerosis.

Since Tucker cannot “lift his leg” in the usual manner in order to pee, he walks and waggles his way down the sidewalk leaving elaborate streams in his wake. His foster mom saw beauty in these elaborate patterns and began photographing the unique and unusual configurations. Her lens captured the compositions as they spontaneously occurred in the natural course of their daily strolls through the neighborhood.

Tucker had his first one dog show exhibiting these PEE-ces of Art last weekend at a local gallery. A percentage of the proceeds from the sale of his PEE-ces of art goes to two local rescue groups, The Cleveland Animal Protective League and The Sanctuary for Senior Dogs.

Here's an excerpt of his interview with local reporter, John Campanelli:

How did you discover that relieving yourself physically could also mean relieving yourself artistically?

It was clearly a spontaneous discovery. I guess you could say it arose out of a "stream of consciousness."

"Tinkle trails" seems a bit unsophisticated; what's the proper name that describes your artwork?

"PEE-ces of Art, by Tucker," although I do like "tinkle trails." Can I use that?

How do you want people to view your artwork?

Completely subjectively and not too seriously. I hope it inspires people to see art in the everyday occurrences of their own lives. Beauty can be found in everything, in everyone, and everywhere. You just have to "paws" long enough to see it.

Who or what is your muse?

You know, there is this cute little poodle down the street . . . Other times, it's just too much water.

Click here to buy one of the PEE-ces below.




My Beating Heart

Pee Horse

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