Chrissy's real truth about life that no one will tell you.
"When someone tells you to "smile", it's perfectly acceptable to punch them in the nose."
Stripper Chick Wisdom
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Chrissy's real truth about life that no one will tell you.
"When someone tells you to "smile", it's perfectly acceptable to punch them in the nose."
Secondhand Sunday
Sunday, July 25, 2010
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.
"Do I amuse you?"
Original Post Date, August 1, 2009
***I know I've used this post before but today, it has a new meaning. I've mentioned that I'm not really a cat person but since I've spent so much time at my parents in the last year, I've gotten to know Vinny.
Can I just tell you how much I love this cat? He is the sweetest thing. I always joke with the owners that one day I'm going to take him home. Well, the other day, he responded, Please do. They're a young couple with two kids and one on the way and I guess they just don't feel like they have time to take care of him.
Does anyone know if an outdoor cat can be made an indoor cat? I'm just hoping Bernie will suck it up and accept Vinny.
Keep reading to find out part of Vinny's charm.
_____________________________________________________
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?
If you aren't in the mood for repeats, please feel free to change the channel.
"Do I amuse you?"
Original Post Date, August 1, 2009
***I know I've used this post before but today, it has a new meaning. I've mentioned that I'm not really a cat person but since I've spent so much time at my parents in the last year, I've gotten to know Vinny.
Can I just tell you how much I love this cat? He is the sweetest thing. I always joke with the owners that one day I'm going to take him home. Well, the other day, he responded, Please do. They're a young couple with two kids and one on the way and I guess they just don't feel like they have time to take care of him.
Does anyone know if an outdoor cat can be made an indoor cat? I'm just hoping Bernie will suck it up and accept Vinny.
Keep reading to find out part of Vinny's charm.
_____________________________________________________
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, July 24, 2010
There's always so much going in Cleveland during the summer. One of my favorite traditions is the Tall Ships Festival. The third weekend in July, Clevelanders eagerly look toward the waterfront to see a fleet of historically replicated old ships sailing into the harbor.
Playfair, Brig
Roald Amundsen, Brig
Niagara, Brig
Bounty, Full Rigged Ship
The Appledore IV, Topsail Schooner
The Festival begins with a parade as the ships are escorted to the dock. The four day event includes a maritime market, live entertainment, food vendors and a children's play area. And, of course, tours of these glorious ships.
I think my favorite would have to be Unicorn, because of my "I am woman, hear me roar" mentality.
Unicorn,Topsail Schooner
The owners of Unicorn partner with a non-profit organization called Sisters Under Sail, whose mission is to help teenage girls and women build confidence and self-esteem, develop social consciousness and learn the value of teamwork.
Oh. And did I mention it has an all female crew?
Mark your calendars for next year. No pirates, please.
Playfair, Brig
Roald Amundsen, Brig
Niagara, Brig
Bounty, Full Rigged Ship
The Appledore IV, Topsail Schooner
The Festival begins with a parade as the ships are escorted to the dock. The four day event includes a maritime market, live entertainment, food vendors and a children's play area. And, of course, tours of these glorious ships.
I think my favorite would have to be Unicorn, because of my "I am woman, hear me roar" mentality.
Unicorn,Topsail Schooner
The owners of Unicorn partner with a non-profit organization called Sisters Under Sail, whose mission is to help teenage girls and women build confidence and self-esteem, develop social consciousness and learn the value of teamwork.
Oh. And did I mention it has an all female crew?
Mark your calendars for next year. No pirates, please.
I SAID, I'm NOT angry!
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
As you know, I work for a large healthcare institution here in Cleveland and I manage a staff of 24. Two-thirds of them work in direct patient care and the rest are administrative support staff. The group is comprised of a variety of races, ethnicities and ages. Initially, what attracted me to the department was the longevity of most of the employees;a rarity in this day and age.
Like a family, the more time you spend together, the more you develop your own dynamic. I would like to say that we run like a well-oiled machine and most of the time, we do a pretty good job. However, like any family, ours can be a little, well, dysfunctional at times.
There are days when I feel like I spend more of my time telling people to play nice in the sandbox than manage them.
So when I saw a listing for an Anger Management workshop, I called the counselor who was presenting it and asked him if it was directed toward people with anger management problems or if I would benefit from having to deal with people who have anger management issues.
"Well, no one's ever really asked me that before but I supppose you would glean some helpful information about interacting with people who have anger issues."
"Great, sign me up!"
Since the class was on the other side of the campus, I made sure to allow myself time to get lost as I often do. You would think that after 3 years, I would have a pretty good idea of the lay of the land.
Not so.
Whenever I see people holding a piece of paper and staring up at the directional signs around the institution, it takes everything in me to not turn around and head in the other direction.
Inevitably, they'll ask me where a department is that I've never even heard of and I look like an idiot.
"Um, I think there's a visitor's desk at the end of this hallway. They can help you out."
As I'm walking away, I'm thinking to myself, "Or was it that hallway?"
This time I got to the class right on time and was ushered into a small conference room with a table that seated six people. I introduced myself to the facilitator, took a seat and started to review the materials in front of me. The class was to start at 10:00 and it was now 10:05.
"Okay, some people may be running a little late so let's go ahead and get started. I want to be sure to get you out on time."
I had to look down so he wouldn't see the "what the fu@#?" look on my face. Do you know how many people were in this class?
Well, let's see...counting me...that would be......ONE!
I expected him to say that since I didn't really need to be there that he would call me the next time a class was scheduled. So much for sitting back and not participating.
It actually turned out okay. For the FOUR WEEKS that it lasted.
I did pull some helpful information out and I was able to digress a little and talk about a few of the items on my list of "issues". He was actually quite impressed that I had come so far and turned out so "normal" given my upbringing and subsequent abusive relationship. I guess he also doesn't realize what a great actress I became!
I didn't have the heart to tell him about the strap-ons or switching teams or vampirism or swinger parties or cross-dressing boyfriends or eager beaver vibrators or smoking catnip.
He was proud of me. And it felt good!
Look....you work through your past, your way and I'll work through my past, my way.
And now I know that if I'm ever feeling the urge to lose my cool, I should:
**Stop and pet a dog (as opposed to kicking one)
**Blow bubbles (as opposed to blowing some S.O.B)
**Say hello to a stranger (as opposed to "Fu@# off" if they look at me wrong)
**Kiss my spouse (since I don't have one, for the record, kissing other people's spouses works too)
Anger management is fun!
What do you do to not lose your cool?
Like a family, the more time you spend together, the more you develop your own dynamic. I would like to say that we run like a well-oiled machine and most of the time, we do a pretty good job. However, like any family, ours can be a little, well, dysfunctional at times.
There are days when I feel like I spend more of my time telling people to play nice in the sandbox than manage them.
So when I saw a listing for an Anger Management workshop, I called the counselor who was presenting it and asked him if it was directed toward people with anger management problems or if I would benefit from having to deal with people who have anger management issues.
"Well, no one's ever really asked me that before but I supppose you would glean some helpful information about interacting with people who have anger issues."
"Great, sign me up!"
Since the class was on the other side of the campus, I made sure to allow myself time to get lost as I often do. You would think that after 3 years, I would have a pretty good idea of the lay of the land.
Not so.
Whenever I see people holding a piece of paper and staring up at the directional signs around the institution, it takes everything in me to not turn around and head in the other direction.
Inevitably, they'll ask me where a department is that I've never even heard of and I look like an idiot.
"Um, I think there's a visitor's desk at the end of this hallway. They can help you out."
As I'm walking away, I'm thinking to myself, "Or was it that hallway?"
This time I got to the class right on time and was ushered into a small conference room with a table that seated six people. I introduced myself to the facilitator, took a seat and started to review the materials in front of me. The class was to start at 10:00 and it was now 10:05.
"Okay, some people may be running a little late so let's go ahead and get started. I want to be sure to get you out on time."
I had to look down so he wouldn't see the "what the fu@#?" look on my face. Do you know how many people were in this class?
Well, let's see...counting me...that would be......ONE!
I expected him to say that since I didn't really need to be there that he would call me the next time a class was scheduled. So much for sitting back and not participating.
It actually turned out okay. For the FOUR WEEKS that it lasted.
I did pull some helpful information out and I was able to digress a little and talk about a few of the items on my list of "issues". He was actually quite impressed that I had come so far and turned out so "normal" given my upbringing and subsequent abusive relationship. I guess he also doesn't realize what a great actress I became!
I didn't have the heart to tell him about the strap-ons or switching teams or vampirism or swinger parties or cross-dressing boyfriends or eager beaver vibrators or smoking catnip.
He was proud of me. And it felt good!
Look....you work through your past, your way and I'll work through my past, my way.
And now I know that if I'm ever feeling the urge to lose my cool, I should:
**Stop and pet a dog (as opposed to kicking one)
**Blow bubbles (as opposed to blowing some S.O.B)
**Say hello to a stranger (as opposed to "Fu@# off" if they look at me wrong)
**Kiss my spouse (since I don't have one, for the record, kissing other people's spouses works too)
Anger management is fun!
What do you do to not lose your cool?
Watch out!
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Good Lord! Now I broke my toe.
My sister thinks I should walk around like this.
All I need are steel-toed shoes to complete the ensemble.
My sister thinks I should walk around like this.
All I need are steel-toed shoes to complete the ensemble.
Secondhand Sunday
Sunday, July 11, 2010
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.
"1159 Days to the End"
Original Post Date, October 19, 2009
You know I love ghost stories, slasher films and otherwise ghouly, goblinish fare. So, of course, I had to be the first in line to see Paranormal Activity this past weekend. It's one of those "based on a true story" flicks about a young couple who start to experience unexplainable phenomenon in their new home. The hype around this movie was incredible. You may have even received a message in your email inbox explaining the premise of the movie and imploring you to demand that it be shown in your city.
My bar is set pretty high for movies like this since I've experienced far more paranormal activity in real life than is usually depicted on screen. For a low budget, indie, Blair Witch type movie, it was okay. I won't be a spoiler and tell you what happens but you may want to wait for it on DVD.
However, the scariest things about Saturday night were the previews before the film started. There are two, yes two, movies coming out about the upcoming year, 2012. Now if you've just crawled out from under a rock, let me enlighten you about what is supposed to transpire in 2012. I'll give you the nutshell version.
The ancient Mayans, based on star charting that began around 680 B.C., prophesied that December, 2012 would mark the end of the world through some event of catastrophic proportions. The Mayan long calendar speaks of the end of one cycle of time moving into the next.
Now Mayan civilization, known for advanced writing, mathematics and astronomy, flourished for centuries in Mesoamerica, especially between A.D. 300 and 900. Its Long Count calendar, which was discontinued under Spanish colonization, tracks more than 5,000 years and ends in December, 2012.
Part of the 2012 mystique stems from the stars. On the winter solstice in 2012, the sun will be aligned with the center of the Milky Way for the first time in about 26,000 years.
This means that "whatever energy typically streams to Earth from the center of the Milky Way will indeed be disrupted on 12/21/12 at 11:11 p.m. Universal Time."
Will civilization as we know it cease to exist and only the fittest will survive the rebirth? Or will we all evaporate into the universe?
I think we should prepare, people.
Kiss your children!
Eat that second piece of pie!
Charge your credit cards to their limits!
The end is near! The end is NEAR!
Or....
Maybe the Mayans just got tired and ran out of stone to write on. Did anyone ever think of that??
If you aren't in the mood for repeats, please feel free to change the channel.
"1159 Days to the End"
Original Post Date, October 19, 2009
You know I love ghost stories, slasher films and otherwise ghouly, goblinish fare. So, of course, I had to be the first in line to see Paranormal Activity this past weekend. It's one of those "based on a true story" flicks about a young couple who start to experience unexplainable phenomenon in their new home. The hype around this movie was incredible. You may have even received a message in your email inbox explaining the premise of the movie and imploring you to demand that it be shown in your city.
My bar is set pretty high for movies like this since I've experienced far more paranormal activity in real life than is usually depicted on screen. For a low budget, indie, Blair Witch type movie, it was okay. I won't be a spoiler and tell you what happens but you may want to wait for it on DVD.
However, the scariest things about Saturday night were the previews before the film started. There are two, yes two, movies coming out about the upcoming year, 2012. Now if you've just crawled out from under a rock, let me enlighten you about what is supposed to transpire in 2012. I'll give you the nutshell version.
The ancient Mayans, based on star charting that began around 680 B.C., prophesied that December, 2012 would mark the end of the world through some event of catastrophic proportions. The Mayan long calendar speaks of the end of one cycle of time moving into the next.
Now Mayan civilization, known for advanced writing, mathematics and astronomy, flourished for centuries in Mesoamerica, especially between A.D. 300 and 900. Its Long Count calendar, which was discontinued under Spanish colonization, tracks more than 5,000 years and ends in December, 2012.
Part of the 2012 mystique stems from the stars. On the winter solstice in 2012, the sun will be aligned with the center of the Milky Way for the first time in about 26,000 years.
This means that "whatever energy typically streams to Earth from the center of the Milky Way will indeed be disrupted on 12/21/12 at 11:11 p.m. Universal Time."
Will civilization as we know it cease to exist and only the fittest will survive the rebirth? Or will we all evaporate into the universe?
I think we should prepare, people.
Kiss your children!
Eat that second piece of pie!
Charge your credit cards to their limits!
The end is near! The end is NEAR!
Or....
Maybe the Mayans just got tired and ran out of stone to write on. Did anyone ever think of that??
Boobs and gross stuff
Friday, July 9, 2010
Since I know guys like boobs and gross stuff, this one's for you.
I think my knee is healing quite nicely, don't you?
I think my knee is healing quite nicely, don't you?
Don't get me started
Thursday, July 8, 2010
So you know me...the perpetual yo-yo dieter, always looking for the next diet that will be "The One". I guess I've given up looking for "That" One and turned to the perfect diet, instead.
I remember being a 26 year old young 'un, working for Jenny Craig and doling out diet advice to middle aged women while my co-worker and I split a cake in the spare counseling office. In all fairness, it was only a half 10" cake so don't be a hater.
I guess that's coming back to bite me in the ass, though, because I used to shake my head and wonder what those 40-something's were whining about. They claimed they couldn't lose weight but I was sure they were probably closet eating while lamenting about their hubby's hot, young assistant.
Hello! 26 year old, Chrissy?
You're an asshole.
You'll see, my friend. Just wait until you turn 40.
Hot guys won't be posing with you on the beach anymore but the Save the Whales organization may solicit you for a case study.
You won't be eating any half cakes while feigning sympathy for women counting the days until their periods stop.
No siree....no Pepperoni Lovers Pan Pizzas for you...no Supersizing.
And do you know why?
Because you will BE supersized!
And do you know why?
Neither do I but I sure as shit wish someone would tell me!
Sonofabitch! I don't even remember where this was going...
See, young Chrissy? Your memory goes, too. Read it and weep, my friend.
I remember being a 26 year old young 'un, working for Jenny Craig and doling out diet advice to middle aged women while my co-worker and I split a cake in the spare counseling office. In all fairness, it was only a half 10" cake so don't be a hater.
I guess that's coming back to bite me in the ass, though, because I used to shake my head and wonder what those 40-something's were whining about. They claimed they couldn't lose weight but I was sure they were probably closet eating while lamenting about their hubby's hot, young assistant.
Hello! 26 year old, Chrissy?
You're an asshole.
You'll see, my friend. Just wait until you turn 40.
Hot guys won't be posing with you on the beach anymore but the Save the Whales organization may solicit you for a case study.
You won't be eating any half cakes while feigning sympathy for women counting the days until their periods stop.
No siree....no Pepperoni Lovers Pan Pizzas for you...no Supersizing.
And do you know why?
Because you will BE supersized!
And do you know why?
Neither do I but I sure as shit wish someone would tell me!
Sonofabitch! I don't even remember where this was going...
See, young Chrissy? Your memory goes, too. Read it and weep, my friend.
Stripper Chick Wisdom
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Chrissy's real truth about life that no one will tell you.
"The best way to alleviate boredom is to walk through the mall and pretend that everyone you see is a star-struck, adoring fan."
If the shoe fits
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
I'm not a big "sexy shoes" fan anymore. I've become way too practical in my old age and think they're only appropriate for certain occasions.
Like meeting your man at the door.
Naked.
Wearing a trench coat and f-ck me shoes.
Then if you're lucky, the shoes barely touch the floor at all.
You see what happened on Friday when I wore my new, fun "big girl" pumps.
Yes. Higher than usual but oddly comfortable. You know. Until I fell.
In my defense, I probably would have tripped in any shoe I was wearing. This way, I just had a longer distance to fall.
Since I wasn't doing much walking around this weekend, I went online to try to find some sensible pumps to wear to work. Can I just tell you, they're virtually non-existent? I don't want nun shoes, for God's sake! I mean, for goodness sake. And I don't want stripper shoes, either.
I want a happy medium between "I've taken vows of chastity, obedience and poverty" and "which way to the stage".
You can usually find a nice work shoe when you do a search under "pumps". These are the pumps I found:
Look at the heel on these!
How is this a pump?
Can you see me walking into a staff meeting wearing these? Maybe a staff meeting with my ho's.
Why are they all peekaboo pumps? Maybe my toes don't want to play peekaboo.
Good Lord. A slingback is not a pump. It's a slingback!
I wonder if these shoe companies take requests?
Excuse me, Miss? Can you make a shorter heel, please?
What??
You didn't think they only made clothes, did you?
Like meeting your man at the door.
Naked.
Wearing a trench coat and f-ck me shoes.
Then if you're lucky, the shoes barely touch the floor at all.
You see what happened on Friday when I wore my new, fun "big girl" pumps.
Yes. Higher than usual but oddly comfortable. You know. Until I fell.
In my defense, I probably would have tripped in any shoe I was wearing. This way, I just had a longer distance to fall.
Since I wasn't doing much walking around this weekend, I went online to try to find some sensible pumps to wear to work. Can I just tell you, they're virtually non-existent? I don't want nun shoes, for God's sake! I mean, for goodness sake. And I don't want stripper shoes, either.
I want a happy medium between "I've taken vows of chastity, obedience and poverty" and "which way to the stage".
You can usually find a nice work shoe when you do a search under "pumps". These are the pumps I found:
Look at the heel on these!
How is this a pump?
Can you see me walking into a staff meeting wearing these? Maybe a staff meeting with my ho's.
Why are they all peekaboo pumps? Maybe my toes don't want to play peekaboo.
Good Lord. A slingback is not a pump. It's a slingback!
I wonder if these shoe companies take requests?
Excuse me, Miss? Can you make a shorter heel, please?
What??
You didn't think they only made clothes, did you?
My long weekend of F-U-N
Monday, July 5, 2010
Happy day after the Fourth of July!
I'm sure a bunch of you are off today since the holiday fell on a Sunday this year. Except you retail folks. You have my sympathies.
I'm writing this on Sunday night with Bernie lying by my feet, frantically panting at the popping sound of illegal fireworks going off a few doors down. Today was a horribly hot and muggy day which turned into a horribly hot and muggy night.
Bernie spent the whole day lying next to the register, with the air conditioning blowing on her.
I love fireworks but I refuse to head to a park and cram myself next to a bunch of hot, sweaty people for a few minutes of ooo's and ahhh's. Not that I would want to do any amount of walking right now anyway.
Friday night, I took my mother grocery shopping right after work and before I went home, I decided to water the flowers I had planted in her yard last week. I had Bernie with me and apparently, in her former life, she must have had a bad watering hose experience, because she's scared to death of it.
I guess I wasn't thinking about that as I dragged the hose out of the garage and started to water the flowers. Bernie made a beeline for the street so I dropped the hose and started running out in the street to get her.
Mind you, this was the first day in MONTHS that I was wearing high heels.
I carried Bernie back across the neighbor's tree lawn, which I came to find, had a HUGE hole in it. Of course, I stepped in it and twisted my ankle.
I thought I had steadied myself, but Bernie is 43 pounds and she threw my equilibrium off. The high heels didn't help. She went flying head first and I smashed down on both knees. My dress was up around my hips and I looked around to see if any neighbors were out. There were some people outside a few doors down and I can't imagine that they didn't see me fall but they made no attempt to ask me why I was lying on the grass with my dress up around my hips. Bastards.
Bernie was fine, thank goodness! Just a scrape on her chin where she slid across the grass. I wasn't so lucky. I sprained my left ankle, twisted something in my back and killed my knee.
The first thing I thought was, How am I going to do my Jillian workout??
I could hear my parents arguing in the house, oblivious to my misfortune. I hobbled to my car and spent the rest of the night icing my ankle, my right knee and then my left knee. They say you're supposed to keep a sprain elevated.
Is this high enough?
As if my feet aren't ugly enough, now I need to deal with this. And the purpley, blackey, bluey bump on my knee looks great against the pale backdrop of my skin. Needless to say, I couldn't do my workout. I couldn't go jogging. I couldn't do much but an upper body workout.
Oh. And a nice long nap.
Hope your weekend wasn't quite as traumatic as mine.
I'm sure a bunch of you are off today since the holiday fell on a Sunday this year. Except you retail folks. You have my sympathies.
I'm writing this on Sunday night with Bernie lying by my feet, frantically panting at the popping sound of illegal fireworks going off a few doors down. Today was a horribly hot and muggy day which turned into a horribly hot and muggy night.
Bernie spent the whole day lying next to the register, with the air conditioning blowing on her.
I love fireworks but I refuse to head to a park and cram myself next to a bunch of hot, sweaty people for a few minutes of ooo's and ahhh's. Not that I would want to do any amount of walking right now anyway.
Friday night, I took my mother grocery shopping right after work and before I went home, I decided to water the flowers I had planted in her yard last week. I had Bernie with me and apparently, in her former life, she must have had a bad watering hose experience, because she's scared to death of it.
I guess I wasn't thinking about that as I dragged the hose out of the garage and started to water the flowers. Bernie made a beeline for the street so I dropped the hose and started running out in the street to get her.
Mind you, this was the first day in MONTHS that I was wearing high heels.
I carried Bernie back across the neighbor's tree lawn, which I came to find, had a HUGE hole in it. Of course, I stepped in it and twisted my ankle.
I thought I had steadied myself, but Bernie is 43 pounds and she threw my equilibrium off. The high heels didn't help. She went flying head first and I smashed down on both knees. My dress was up around my hips and I looked around to see if any neighbors were out. There were some people outside a few doors down and I can't imagine that they didn't see me fall but they made no attempt to ask me why I was lying on the grass with my dress up around my hips. Bastards.
Bernie was fine, thank goodness! Just a scrape on her chin where she slid across the grass. I wasn't so lucky. I sprained my left ankle, twisted something in my back and killed my knee.
The first thing I thought was, How am I going to do my Jillian workout??
I could hear my parents arguing in the house, oblivious to my misfortune. I hobbled to my car and spent the rest of the night icing my ankle, my right knee and then my left knee. They say you're supposed to keep a sprain elevated.
Is this high enough?
As if my feet aren't ugly enough, now I need to deal with this. And the purpley, blackey, bluey bump on my knee looks great against the pale backdrop of my skin. Needless to say, I couldn't do my workout. I couldn't go jogging. I couldn't do much but an upper body workout.
Oh. And a nice long nap.
Hope your weekend wasn't quite as traumatic as mine.
Secondhand Sunday
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Sundays are my Secondhand day. I'm basically too lazy to think of anything new to say so I re-post a "vintage" entry.
If you aren't in the mood for repeats, please feel free to change the channel.
"The art of the compliment"
Original Post Date, February 7, 2010
"You look so beautiful tonight."
"That dress brings out your eyes."
"I love your new haircut."
It never ceases to amaze me how little men realize the impact of a compliment. And, guys, we know when it's sincere so don't try to fake it for brownie points. Leave the faking to us.
There's nothing more frustrating than hearing, "Of course I think you're pretty. I mean, I am with you, right?"
It's moments like that when we scratch our heads and think, Okay, why is it that I'm with you, again?
A compliment makes us feel desirable and sexy and validates your attraction to us. It's such a small gesture but it really does mean a lot so throw us a bone once in a while. I said bone, not boner. And remember, make it genuine and from the heart.
My favorite memory of a heartfelt but slightly off the mark compliment was from a guy I was dating when I was 21. We were meeting up at a friend's boat that was docked at a restaurant downtown. The place was crazy busy but I saw him scanning the crowd and he had such an excited look when he saw me.
When I finally made my way over to him, he grabbed my hands, kissed them and said, "I saw you walking toward me with that long beautiful hair and those big blue eyes like....like...Marty Feldman."
Hey, I knew what he meant. It made me laugh and blush at the same time. Besides, Marty Feldman's eyes were really blue.
If you aren't in the mood for repeats, please feel free to change the channel.
"The art of the compliment"
Original Post Date, February 7, 2010
"You look so beautiful tonight."
"That dress brings out your eyes."
"I love your new haircut."
It never ceases to amaze me how little men realize the impact of a compliment. And, guys, we know when it's sincere so don't try to fake it for brownie points. Leave the faking to us.
There's nothing more frustrating than hearing, "Of course I think you're pretty. I mean, I am with you, right?"
It's moments like that when we scratch our heads and think, Okay, why is it that I'm with you, again?
A compliment makes us feel desirable and sexy and validates your attraction to us. It's such a small gesture but it really does mean a lot so throw us a bone once in a while. I said bone, not boner. And remember, make it genuine and from the heart.
My favorite memory of a heartfelt but slightly off the mark compliment was from a guy I was dating when I was 21. We were meeting up at a friend's boat that was docked at a restaurant downtown. The place was crazy busy but I saw him scanning the crowd and he had such an excited look when he saw me.
When I finally made my way over to him, he grabbed my hands, kissed them and said, "I saw you walking toward me with that long beautiful hair and those big blue eyes like....like...Marty Feldman."
Hey, I knew what he meant. It made me laugh and blush at the same time. Besides, Marty Feldman's eyes were really blue.
C Cleveland
Saturday, July 3, 2010
My friend Michelle and I LOVE going to flea markets. There's nothing like the rush of finding that one item that you didn't know you couldn't live without and then talking the seller down from the $3 price tag. It's better than sex.
Hey, I haven't had sex in 6 months, gimme a break.
One of our favorite summer haunts is Jamie's Flea Market, just outside Cuyahoga County in the city of Amherst. It's about an hour drive from where we live but we like to venture over at least a few times each summer. Her brother, Matt, usually comes with us and we make him drive his truck in case we find any BIG stuff.
Jamie's is open year round but only on Wednesdays and Saturdays. We prefer to go in the summer when all the "garage sale type" outdoor vendors come out of the woodwork.
Last Saturday, the weather forecast was questionable, but we decided to head out anyway.
As we got there, the skies started to darken even more but we figured we had plenty of time to wander around before it started raining.
Most of the vendors didn't feel the same way we did and they decided to pack up their 1970's board games, vintage tools and matchbox cars before they got soaked.
We started trolling for treasures anyway.
I wanted to ask him if he knew that he was in OHIO, not Florida.
Half the fun is people watching.
The camouflage is so effective, I barely noticed her.
My friend Michelle is like Mother Theresa. She takes in every stray person and animal and has enough love left over for whoever might come along next and need her. There are always toothless hillbillies wearing wife beaters selling puppies that are overcrowded in tiny cages.
I always tell Michelle, "Please stay away from the puppies. They're probably not healthy or clean."
And inevitably, Michelle will wander off and I'll find her nuzzling a little brown dog with matted fur. "Isn't he cute? He really needs a home."
Then I need to make her put the puppy down so I can drag her away. By now, Michelle is hungry but oh....sorry....you can't eat any of this yummy food with dirty puppy cootie hands, Michelle.
Here are some of my favorite finds:
Shabby chic end table, $15.00 and decorative box, $1.00
The footstool I've been meaning to match to my slipcover for a year and a half, $2.00.
Metal stand,$.50.
Love love LOVE baskets. How cute is this one? I splurged and spent $2.00.
So next time you're in town, bring lots of dollar bills (no, not for THAT, silly!) and we'll head out to Jamie's. Be sure to pack some Purell if you think you'll be tempted by the puppies.
Hey, I haven't had sex in 6 months, gimme a break.
One of our favorite summer haunts is Jamie's Flea Market, just outside Cuyahoga County in the city of Amherst. It's about an hour drive from where we live but we like to venture over at least a few times each summer. Her brother, Matt, usually comes with us and we make him drive his truck in case we find any BIG stuff.
Jamie's is open year round but only on Wednesdays and Saturdays. We prefer to go in the summer when all the "garage sale type" outdoor vendors come out of the woodwork.
Last Saturday, the weather forecast was questionable, but we decided to head out anyway.
As we got there, the skies started to darken even more but we figured we had plenty of time to wander around before it started raining.
Most of the vendors didn't feel the same way we did and they decided to pack up their 1970's board games, vintage tools and matchbox cars before they got soaked.
We started trolling for treasures anyway.
I wanted to ask him if he knew that he was in OHIO, not Florida.
Half the fun is people watching.
The camouflage is so effective, I barely noticed her.
My friend Michelle is like Mother Theresa. She takes in every stray person and animal and has enough love left over for whoever might come along next and need her. There are always toothless hillbillies wearing wife beaters selling puppies that are overcrowded in tiny cages.
I always tell Michelle, "Please stay away from the puppies. They're probably not healthy or clean."
And inevitably, Michelle will wander off and I'll find her nuzzling a little brown dog with matted fur. "Isn't he cute? He really needs a home."
Then I need to make her put the puppy down so I can drag her away. By now, Michelle is hungry but oh....sorry....you can't eat any of this yummy food with dirty puppy cootie hands, Michelle.
Here are some of my favorite finds:
Shabby chic end table, $15.00 and decorative box, $1.00
The footstool I've been meaning to match to my slipcover for a year and a half, $2.00.
Metal stand,$.50.
Love love LOVE baskets. How cute is this one? I splurged and spent $2.00.
So next time you're in town, bring lots of dollar bills (no, not for THAT, silly!) and we'll head out to Jamie's. Be sure to pack some Purell if you think you'll be tempted by the puppies.
Spanx me
Friday, July 2, 2010
“Maybe you should think about wearing a girdle.”
Ahhhh…Saturdays with Mom.
This is what my mother thinks I look like.
I believe my mother has a condition called reverse other people’s bodies dysmorphia. She sees me as way fatter than I am. Yes...yes! I've gained a lot of weight but I'm 5'9 so 40 pounds on me isn't the same as 40 pounds on someone who's 5'2. And besides, 25 of those pounds are in my boobs.
What is the big freakin' deal??
Then I came home and tried on one of my skirts from last summer. It didn't zip all the way up and I heard my mother's voice, "Maybe you should think about wearing a girdle." I don't even like wearing control top pantyhose but we're in a different time than when our mother's wore girdles. Today, girdles have fancy names like Spanx and they're trendy to wear. Heck, even Queen Oprah sings their praises.
So I went to spanx.com to see what the hype was all about. Oh, look! They have a new line of slimming swimwear. Okay, Spanx marketers. If you want to convince me that this bathing suit is going to make me look slimmer, don't show me a skinny bitch without an ounce of body fat wearing one.
"Look at me! I haven't eaten since May."
Show me THIS woman wearing the body slimming bathing suit if you want me to shell out $107.
I looked through all the nonsensically named bodysuits, shapers, panties and slips and finally decided on the "Higher Power" body shaper.
It has a high waist to eliminate the "muffin top" and longer legs to slim those cottage cheesey thighs. Wait a minute...$36?!?!?!
Well, I found one for a fraction of the cost on eBay and bought it. Yes, it's probably stolen since there was no packaging but I don't care. Didn't you hear the part about it being a fraction of the cost?
Let me tell you, ladies, (and curious gents) I HATE this stupid thing. First of all, it took me 5 minutes to get it on over my butt. My face was bright red by the time I did and I had to sit down and rest. The high waist doesn't stay high unless you're as thin as skinny bitch. The top rolled down by the time I got to work and created a larger bulge than ever existed before.
There's a handy dandy hole in the crotch for, I'm guessing here, relieving yourself. But it would be impossible to do without dribbling all over it. And besides, it just feels freaky walking around work in what are essentially crotchless panties.
Are they handy for a quickie? Oh, sure. But for as good as they might look under your clothing, they're less than flattering by themselves so it's not likely I would even get any takers.
Sorry, Oprah, I usually like every book, wine, car, hair product and musical artist that you suggest but I have to give you a big thumbs down on this one.
Ahhhh…Saturdays with Mom.
This is what my mother thinks I look like.
I believe my mother has a condition called reverse other people’s bodies dysmorphia. She sees me as way fatter than I am. Yes...yes! I've gained a lot of weight but I'm 5'9 so 40 pounds on me isn't the same as 40 pounds on someone who's 5'2. And besides, 25 of those pounds are in my boobs.
What is the big freakin' deal??
Then I came home and tried on one of my skirts from last summer. It didn't zip all the way up and I heard my mother's voice, "Maybe you should think about wearing a girdle." I don't even like wearing control top pantyhose but we're in a different time than when our mother's wore girdles. Today, girdles have fancy names like Spanx and they're trendy to wear. Heck, even Queen Oprah sings their praises.
So I went to spanx.com to see what the hype was all about. Oh, look! They have a new line of slimming swimwear. Okay, Spanx marketers. If you want to convince me that this bathing suit is going to make me look slimmer, don't show me a skinny bitch without an ounce of body fat wearing one.
"Look at me! I haven't eaten since May."
Show me THIS woman wearing the body slimming bathing suit if you want me to shell out $107.
I looked through all the nonsensically named bodysuits, shapers, panties and slips and finally decided on the "Higher Power" body shaper.
It has a high waist to eliminate the "muffin top" and longer legs to slim those cottage cheesey thighs. Wait a minute...$36?!?!?!
Well, I found one for a fraction of the cost on eBay and bought it. Yes, it's probably stolen since there was no packaging but I don't care. Didn't you hear the part about it being a fraction of the cost?
Let me tell you, ladies, (and curious gents) I HATE this stupid thing. First of all, it took me 5 minutes to get it on over my butt. My face was bright red by the time I did and I had to sit down and rest. The high waist doesn't stay high unless you're as thin as skinny bitch. The top rolled down by the time I got to work and created a larger bulge than ever existed before.
There's a handy dandy hole in the crotch for, I'm guessing here, relieving yourself. But it would be impossible to do without dribbling all over it. And besides, it just feels freaky walking around work in what are essentially crotchless panties.
Are they handy for a quickie? Oh, sure. But for as good as they might look under your clothing, they're less than flattering by themselves so it's not likely I would even get any takers.
Sorry, Oprah, I usually like every book, wine, car, hair product and musical artist that you suggest but I have to give you a big thumbs down on this one.
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