Son of a......

Well, it looks like I was fuc#ed by a Trojan and not in the good Brad Pitt way. I think my computer is toast so I need to figure out what I'm going to do. Don't people have anything better to do than create viruses to destroy people's computers??

Since I can't access my blog from work, it may be a while before you see me again. Maybe my lovely sister, Lisa, will let me borrow this laptop for a while??

Lisa, did I ever tell you how much younger you look than me??

And, by the way, have you lost weight?

Monday Morning Bernie

"I don't want any funny business. I'm watching you..."

Secondhand Sunday

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.


"LUNCHES WITH LISA"

Original Post Date, November 9, 2009



Since my 45 year old sister and I work for the same institution, we have lunch together every day. It's nice to have a friendly ear to vent about whatever's going on in your day.

Usually.

Here's a sample of some conversations with Lisa from last week.


Monday

Me: “I feel really tired today.”

Lisa: “Oh…you could be perimenopausal.”

"Right. I’m not perimenopausal. I’m just tired."


Tuesday

“I can’t believe how much weight I’ve gained in such a short period of time.”

“You know, that’s a symptom of being perimenopausal. You are in that age range.”

“I’m not perimenopausal. I’ve just been eating poorly.”

“Okay…”


Wednesday

“Does my hair look thinner to you? It feels thinner.”

“Could be. That’s a symptom of perimenopause. Have you noticed any hairs on your chin?

I whipped my hand to my chin, “No. I don’t have any hairs on my chin. I’m not perimenopausal."

“If you say so…"


Thursday

“I’m so out of it today. I just can’t seem to concentrate on anything.”

"Woops. That’s on the perimenopause symptom list, too."

"Whatever..


Friday

"I was so late this morning. I just couldn’t remember where I put my keys last night."

Shaking her head, "I hate to tell you this but that sounds like perimenopause. You know you’re in that age now."

"Listen to me, Lisa, and listen to me good. I am NOT perimenopausal! If I’m tired, it’s usually because I haven’t gotten any sleep. If my hair looks thinner, it’s probably because I styled it differently. If I’ve gained weight, it’s because I’ve been eating too much and not exercising. If I’m having trouble concentrating, it’s because I’m overworked.

If….IF I ever feel like I am "perimenopausal", I assure you, that you will be the first to know and I will even let you check off my symptoms one by one.

Until that day, if I’m making casual conversation and you feel the need to bring up your perimenopausal theory, I suggest that you think twice about it and then SHUT IT! Are we clear?!"


"Irritability and sudden bursts of anger. Classic perimenopause..."

Po-TA-to Po-TAH-to

I like the occasional baked potato but I usually don't buy bags of potatoes because they end up looking like a science experiment by the time I eat them. Hey, remember the onion?




This week, I decided to throw caution to the wind and buy a 10 pound bag of potatoes. As I reached in the bag to get one out for dinner tonight, my hand grabbed something ginormous.

I'm not sure whether to eat it



Date it




Or adopt it

No Match.com

Okay, so I haven't given you an update on my Match.com adventure because there's really not much to tell.

Online dating is still online dating. It's the bar scene of the new millenium.

As you know, my goal wasn't to find a relationship but to just get out there and casually date. Apparently, I was barking up the wrong man tree because it seemed like every guy I dated wanted way more than I did. I have to admit, it feels weird to be on the opposite end of this equation. I'm used to being the one who wants a relationship and being told that they don't.

Nice guys I met aside, let me give you a sample of what I had to choose from:


BACHELOR #1
52-year-old man
Beachwood, Ohio, United States
seeking women 18-35
within 50 miles of Beachwood, Ohio, United States
Relationships: Never Married
Have kids: Yes, and they live at home (1)
Want kids: Definitely
Ethnicity: White / Caucasian

I am a tall handsome sub looking for mommy to serve and take care of every day any way she needs. I am tied up now and want to be set free. please mommy come rescue me. I love displine and need a lot of correction from my new mommy.

Fine women that are married with kids or women that love cheating on men or only looking sex.

As you can see, he's so anxious, he didn't even have time to correct his grammar.


BACHELOR #2
40-year-old man
Cleveland, Ohio, United States
seeking women 18-50
within 50 miles of Cleveland, Ohio, United States
Relationships: Never Married
Have kids: No
Want kids: Someday
Ethnicity: White / Caucasian

healping police and ems any 911 call
love meet women on line going for walk with my dog talking on line to women

im a 40year old i live in cleveland ohio all my life
im a good man i love working for y self out my home i llove helping police ems fire that way i open a emergency service out my home i love to fine a woman that will speen her time get to no me beter and go from there togeter

I was really on the fence with this one because I do think it's important to speen time get to no someone.


BACHELOR #3
I got a wink from the Cleveland firefighter who was indicted for raping women he met on Match about 5 years ago. He was either cleared or he's finally out of prison. Luckily, when he emailed me 5 years ago, we went back and forth a few times online but I decided his ears were too big.

My shallowness probably saved me from a really bad situation.


I wasn't going to post pictures of men from Match but I'm just going to make some objective observations so you can understand my journey.


If you are 50, please post pictures of how you look TODAY, not when you were 25. I looked way better then, too, but c'mon, eventually people are gonna realize that's not how you look now. This guy says he's 48. Um, not in this picture. Don't his parents look thrilled?




Don't try to convince me that these are 6 months apart.






I feel bad for this man because it looks like all of his friends watched that video from The Ring and will be dead in 7 days.



What year is this? It looks like it was taken with a Kodak Instamatic.



This guy called me weird when I told him I thought he lived too far away.



I can't tell you how many of these there are. Don't you have a timer on your camera or a friend that could take a picture?



Hey, guy, you can crop people out, you know.



We get it. You have a stethoscope and a lab coat. Wait...don't tell me...are you a DOCTOR?



Sir, did you want to purchase a gym membership or not?



I think his name was Jason..


This last one is my favorite. I told my sister that some guy sent me a picture of his girly boobs and she scolded me, saying that he probably has a medical condition called Gynecomastia and that I shouldn't make fun of him.

I sent her this picture.





Lisa's response,"Whoa. Now those are some moobs!"

Monday Morning Bernie

"He's not gonna call, is he?"

Secondhand Sunday

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.


"I KNOW I AM, BUT WHAT ARE YOU?"

Original Post Date, April 15, 2009



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..

Stripper Chick Wisdom

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

"January is a good time to reflect on the previous year and remind yourself how perfect you are in comparison to everyone else"."

Monday Morning Vinny

"I'm not coming out until you promise to put the Christmas tree back up!"

Secondhand Sunday

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.


"I WANNA GET DIRTY"

Original Post Date, September 30, 2009


They say that the best way to meet people is through friends. Well, since I've exhausted all possibilities through that course, I'm reaching out to you, dear readers.

But instead of sending out a general call of "male with a pulse", I'm going to be a little more specific.

I need to know if any of you are friends with Mike Rowe from Dirty Jobs.



Now I've heard all the "Mike Rowe is gay" gossip but, you know what? This is my fantasy, so shut it.

From the first time I saw Mike artificially inseminate a cow, I knew I had to have him. The way he used that turkey baster made me all tingly tingly down there.

He's handsome and funny and strong and tall. And he's not afraid to get dirty. I like that in a man.

I just checked my calendar and it looks like the next 48 weekends are free so anytime you can set this up would be great.



Let him know I have a dirty job for him.

No overalls required.

Just don't do it!

You may have noticed that on January 1, I didn't post the requisite "My New Year's Resolutions" list. That's because this year, I have one goal.

I'm going to be 45 years old in July (the 9th, if you want to put it on your calendar) and this year, I've finally decided that this year, I'm going to be a quitter.

Let me explain.

My life didn't exactly turn out the way I thought it would when I was 20. I didn't marry the man I thought I would when I was 30. I don't have the children I thought would have had by the time I was 40.

But, wait! Don't think for a second that I'm sitting here lamenting over everything that I don't have and all the things that didn't happen. That's soooo Chrissy, 2010!

This year, I've decided to quit living in the past.

Quit crying over broken promises.

Quit analyzing things or people that I have no control over.

Quit existing and start living my life!

A year ago, my doctor started me on happy pills. Remember the side effects as I worked through 3 or 4 different kinds?

One made me catatonic like a Stepford Wife.



One made me cry at the drop of a hat.

And yet another made me feel like the world was spinning out of control and that I was teetering on a cliff.

The one I'm currently on makes me feel "even" all the time. I'm not happy or sad. I don't get overly excited or bummed out.

I'm just kind of "even".

Existing, if you will. And we all know that's not good enough anymore.

So I'm going to quit.

Does anyone want to not do any of these things with me this year?

Stripper Chick Wisdom

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


"Dreams are for people who can't accept reality."

Driving Miss Jeannie

When my father passed away in August, my mother offered me his car, a 2000 Toyota Corolla. He never drove long distances, as is reflected on the odometer that reads 60,000 miles. Weekly trips included the grocery store on Wednesday, the bank on Saturday and church on Sunday morning. He never drove it on the freeway and when I lived on the other side of town, a 40 minute trip via interstate took him 2 hours on the “backroads”. He was meticulous in the care of everything, and this car was no exception.

Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I accepted the car and turned in my leased 2007 Honda Accord. Needless to say, I’ve had no trouble finding things to do with the extra cash but I have to admit, it’s been tough to transition to such a bare bones little car. My mother likes it, though, because it’s much easier for her to get in and out of than my 2-door coupe.

Last Wednesday, I left work early to take her to a doctor’s appointment. As you know, my mother is not the sweet little old lady that she pretends to be in public. Sure, she’s mellowed over the years, but she can cut me with a stare and she knows all too well how to push all my buttons.

On the way there, she managed to insult both my hair and my driving. Every time we turned a corner she held onto the dash and splayed her fingers across the passenger side window in an apparent attempt to alert those on the outside to the danger she was in.

If I accelerated too quickly, say zero to 5MPH, she would hold her head with both hands and yell out, "Why? Why?"

The temperature in the car was a balmy 78 degrees, when she implored me to turn it up because she was cold. I wiped the sweat off my brow and clicked it up a notch.

I was waiting her to finish her appointment when the doctor’s nurse came out and asked me to come back to meet with him. My mother loves this doctor because he’s one of the last old school docs left. He examines you and then has you get dressed so that you can gather in his office for a consultation. The last time I remember this happening was when I was about 7 and our family doctor ushered us into his fancy office lined with mahogany bookshelves and medical degrees.

"Your mother is physically well but I'm concerned about her mental health." Dr. Kamin said.

I blankly stared at him.

"She's been through a very traumatic event and the solution is not to medicate. I think there are other options."

"Shock treatment?", I mumbled under my breath.

Essentially, he thinks she needs to have more interaction with people and get out more often.

Thanks, Einstein.

My sister and I have tried this a million times already. The city that she lives in has a senior organization that will transport her to appointments or even just to the mall.

She won't use them.

She thinks her daughters should do it.

Neighbors have offered to take her to the grocery store.

She won't go with them.

She thinks her daughters should do it.

She doesn't have many friends left because she's alienated most of them with her nastiness so they aren't an option either. The few friends that do call are doing so because of my father, not out of affection for my mother.

I was pondering the doctor's words as we started to head home in rush hour traffic. We were driving along in stop and go traffic when we were rear ended from behind. My mother started freaking out and screaming and I started screaming at her to calm down.

Long story, short, I had some pain in my neck so the paramedics checked me out. C'mon, you know how I love a man in uniform.


I know this isn't a picture of a paramedic, but it's good, right?

This annoyed my mother because "She had to get home." When the poor paramedics offered to check her out as well, I was grateful that she didn't have any pocket knives or mace on her because they surely would have been seeking medical attention themselves.

Can't wait for her next appointment in February!

Monday Morning Bernie

"Eh? What's that, Sonny? I don't hear too good anymore."

QV Me

A few months back, I needed some retail therapy to soothe a bad day. It was raining and since the clocks had just “fallen back”, I didn’t feel like going back out on a cold, dark night so I turned on my computer to browse my favorite eBay store. It’s a vendor in Iowa that buys out department store inventory at the end of the season and resells it. I would tell you their name but I can’t risk that any of you might wear the same size as me.

Since most of the clothing up for auction that week was either evening gowns or bathing suits, I decided to head over to QVC. Now, before you think that I’m one of those house fraus who spends all of her money on Quacker Factory sweatshirts and Marie Osmond limited edition dolls, let me set you straight.

Oh, sure, I aspire to be a house frau, earning my money the old fashioned way...legs spread, feet up in the air.

But I’m not a frau now.

So the most I can afford are the three easy payments for the camera I bought and a semi-monthly recurring charge for WEN hair products.



I’ve seen the WEN infomercial a thousand times and I’m always sucked in, nose pressed against the television screen, studying the "before" and "afters". We all have a favorite feature and admittedly, mine has always been my hair.

I hated my boobs when they were small and I hate them even more now that they’re big. I used to like my eyes until a guy I was dating told me that I had Marty Feldman eyes. I think he meant Bette Davis eyes but I was 21 and impressionable so the eyes came off my fave list. Even today, I’m careful not to stare at people too long without blinking in case they have the urge to swat me with a fly swatter. And I thought I had a perfectly acceptable nose until 7th grade choir, when Margie Sutter was sitting next to me and said, 'So you broke you nose, huh? What a bump you have!'

So you see, by process of elimination, my hair is my (no pun intended) crowning glory.

Lately, though, like most things on my body, it’s starting to show its age. I’ve never minded the little bit of gray I have since I started seeing it as a teenager. But the grays have started multiplying and for those who aren’t aware, the grayer is gets, the coarser it becomes. So instead of walking around with pube like hair on my head, I decided to give Chaz Dean and WEN a shot. Guthy-Renker has never let me down before.



Besides, how cool is the name Chaz?

It almost balances out the fact that their spokesperson is buck toothed Melissa Gilbert who played Laura Ingalls on Little House on the Prairie. Did I mention I couldn’t stand her when I was growing up and secretly hoped that Nellie would accidentally shoot her one day? I can almost hear Harriet now:

"Nels! Come quickly! Our sweet Nellie has shot that dreadful Ingalls girl. You know, the one with the buck teeth?"


Smile before you die, Laura

If you haven't managed to spend 30 minutes watching the WEN infomercial, let me explain to you the magic. It's not a shampoo, it's a cleansing conditioner. This means that you don't have to shampoo and condition because it's all done in one step. It's weird the first time you try it. Since is has no detergents and sulfates, it doesn't lather.

I admit, it's a little pricey, but I'm only buying one product and it lasts me 6 weeks. It averages out to $6.00/week which is less than a cup of coffee a day.

See how I'm justifying the cost?

The only thing I don't buy into, is The Saw Cut Shower Comb. They send you an instructional DVD that shows you how to wash your hair.


This is how we wash our hair, wash our hair, wash our hair...

Part of the process includes using this wide toothed comb to be sure that the product is distributed evenly throughout your hair.


Guess how much it is.

Guess.

C'mon, guess.

$5.00, you say?

Nope.

$7.00?

Nope.

FIFTEEN DOLLARS!

For a freakin' plastic comb.

Here's the one I use.


I bought it at the dollar store.

For a DOLLAR!

AND mine has multiple uses.







Have you ever seen SUCH volume?

Hey, you know what? Since you're such a good friend, I'll let you take this comb off my hands for just $9.95.


**ADDENDUM
Sorry, I didn't mean to leave you hanging. I love love love WEN! My hair is so soft but it still has body. Even my hairdresser noticed a change and I hadn't even told her about it.



Oh geez, now I sound like an infomercial!

Monday Morning Bernie

Baby got back