Now Accepting Donations for a Worthy Cause

MEET the FAMILY NECK: (click on each picture to get the full horror.)

Here's one.

And here's another.

And a couple of them, side by side.

And here is yet another.

And another.

I tell you there is no escaping biology. Heredity. DNA. I've sworn for years that if I ever developed the family neck I would fall off a cliff or wear turtle necks swathed in scarves while falling off a cliff.

But here it is at last. My dearth and my doom. Jeff said, "There are exercises you can do to fix that. Look Left, Look Right, Repeat until you find a Plastic Surgeon."

Ha, ha, Funny, Jeff!

And so here I am, accepting donations for a chin lift. Don't you think it's a worthy cause?

Curb Your Broad

I was eating lunch with a friend at the lovely little Land Park establishment called Central Valley Coffee, when a lady came in from the patio area and in a flurry asked, "Did anyone leave their dog outside? It is running around without a leash!"

Since my hearing is quite dotty and I wasn't facing her or actually paying attention, I heard something else entirely. "Did you say Broad??!!"

"Now why would I say Broad?" the woman asked in a huffy snit. She was sooo offended she actually sniffed and tossed her head.

But of course my friend and I burst out laughing at my silly translation of the word 'Dog' as did the ENTIRE COFFEE SHOP!!. It's a small place, and the woman had been quite the attention getter to begin with.

We laughed so hard about it, I was quite the hit of the party I assure you!

Of course my friend and I had to remark between ourselves what a surly, non-humorous woman that was!

But when she came back inside to take her seat, she gave me a big grin and a bit of a wave.

I decided that it must have taken her a second to get the joke, which was at least some comfort to me. When we left I was determined to take my leave of her in a funny fashion, and as her table was near the exit door, I said, "Don't forget to Walk your Broad!" as we passed.

I got a hateful scowl in return. Hot thunder bolts of menace shot from her eyes. My friend and I skedaddled from her presence as quickly as possible, laughing all the way to the car.

In a moment here came the sourpuss, and she had a BIG smile on her face and was nodding and laughing towards us.

I think she had some kind of condition. Delayed Reaction Syndrome is my guess. So then I couldn't resist one more volley:

"Always tie up your Broad before entering a coffee shop!"

ProActive's Plan for World Domination

Does anyone ever see those ProActive commercials and actually pay attention to them? I started noticing them when Jennifer Love Hewitt was the spokesperson and garbled her English. I felt she should have come across more polished and less like a dunce.

But I think they just want to target stupid teens who never learned any grammar and who don't know to lay off the pop and the candy to help clear up their faces.

The ones that get me are the ones that mix up their syntax something awful. Like the boy who says, "I went to bed at night after putting on ProActive and you wake up in the morning without acne!"

I just scoffed at such Bad English until I realized! OMIGOSH! I DID wake up without Acne!

Expires 10/2056

Almost everyone I know or hope to know or used to know or will never know here in California has a tattoo.

A friend of mine has the pink cancer ribbon tattooed on her chest where her breasts used to be.

Another pal has her new boyfriends name twining around her ankle, in a rolling viney sort of pattern so that if it doesn't work out between them she can just add more vines and obliterate him in the process.

It seems once you get a tattoo, the barriers are down and the next thing that happens is you can't wait for the next one. And the one after that...and so on, until you totally run out of body space and start shopping around for some to rent.

I see it in our future: People with Other People attached to them by rope or chain or staples whose sole purpose in life is to display Permanent Body Art.

Soon, Ralph Lauren and The Gap and Nike and all the Other Hot Brands will be forgoing labeling their clothing and will go straight to body tattooing as a means of dispensing their advertising across the globe.

Remember when Volkswagen did that? You could get a 7-UP commercial painted on your car, drive it around for a year and then they'd pay to have it repainted the color of your choice.

If you got THE GAP tattooed across your chest it would certainly get a lot of people looking at your cleavage.

I suppose the Grand Canyon would be vying for space on the asses of the obese.

And in later years, there will no doubt be a real fad for digging up dead bodies and making collectibles out of the skin art...there may even be a market for being a tattoo donor by then.

But I am adamant that I will not be getting any tattoos. I know they are hugely ingrained in our culture now and for most of the population are considered totally the Norm. But I can't help but hearken back to my childhood when the only people with tattoos were old sailors who smoked Camels and had black, bleary, bleeded-out tattoos on their hairy and wrinkled arms and torsos.

Tattoos were for Truckers and I never can escape that imagery. The tattoo is forever, but the skin it's imprinted on? Gets Old. Gets Wrinkled. Gets Saggy. Gets Liver Spots.

But then, because I never can stand to be left out of a trend, and because I figure when I'm 72 it's really not going to matter if I get a tattoo because there will be no one of my acquaintance left alive to harass me about it, and because I dearly love a good joke, I have decided to get a Tattoo on my Posterior when I'm Old that says...:

BEST IF USED BY:

Got Redemption?

Well, we had another windstorm--just a small one this time-- and once again I got Redeemed!

Who knew I could get redemption every time the wind blows?

A Three Hour Tour

Well, I know you gentle and faithful readers have been wondering why I haven't posted in days and days, and its because I have not been at home where the quill and writing desk reside. Indeed, I have been sitting at the County Clinic waiting for my number to be called.

Yes, for 4 or 5 or 6 days, I believe.

The facts of the matter are these: I got an actual BILL from the county in the mail, which sight sent me into hysterical fits of mirth and laughter. But once the sober truth hit me that they actually want me to PAY for my medical appointment and hundreds of dollars worth of Crazy Psyche Meds each month, I realized I had better get on down there and see about it.

It was only the work of a moment to grasp that my year-long medical plan had expired unbeknownst to me, as there is no expiration date written anywhere on any of the documents.
Therefore, to my reasoning mind, it should only be the work of a moment to pop in there, pick up an application to reapply and be on my merry way.

Au Contraire! Je suis Desolate! Upon entering the building I could clearly see the lines of halt and lame trailing down the hallway, looks of pure resigned boredom on their faces. I secretly smirked because I was not going to the clinic! Oh no! My destination was upstairs to the billing office where I planned upon sweeping in and grabbing my application with aplomb and then ditching the joint.

Upstairs, alas, I also saw trails of people lined up down the hallway, leaning on the wall or even downright snoozing in place upon the floor.

But never one to feel that she is unentitled to receiving an immediate answer to a 'quick question' I mildly barged to the front of the line and got the attention of the weary, brain-fogged reception clerk.

She told me that in fact, I could not be processed until I had a referral form from Lobby A downstairs. Where the Halt and Lame were lazing about in droves. That place of Woe I had just sped past with a smirk in my eye.

And, she suggested, I take a number before I went down there, and as I did so I saw that I had drawn the lucky number of 93 when the little red number on the wall read "Now Serving #25"

Down the stairs I went, implementing my plan to barge to the front of the line again and ask about getting a quick referral form so I could be on my way, but wisely picking a number as I went by. I drew #172. The board with the red indicator number said.....15. And thus you now know why I was at the county clinic for 4 or 5 or 6 days. Just waiting for a referral slip.

Stay Tuned for Part Two where I reveal the scintillating details of waiting in line at the billing office to be told that my appointment for Renewal of Benefits will be held on April 23, 2009 as that is the first available opening.

A Mild Breeze

Some of you probably saw on the news that California had a major winter storm on Friday. The electricity flickered so much that I had to go ahead and turn off the computer and unplug it. I was really afraid of frying my motherboard and I never do trust those surge protectors.

Of course later I discovered that in fact, I had unplugged the paper shredder. And, indeed, the paper shredder was not fried during the wind storm.

This was the view out my window after the storm had blown over. I was very worried about the big banners mounted on aluminum poles outside my window. I was just certain that the whole thing was going to become a projectile and crash through my living room window and impale me or one of my teapots.

Later I found the banner that spells REDEMPTION in my front yard. I have big plans for taking it over to the church and asking them if they have been Seeking Redemption. And then I can tell them that I have their Redemption Right Here, buddy!

Won't that be a hoot?

I was fascinated by my favorite palm tree, as I watched it bend over almost perpendicular to the ground during the wind gusts of up to 65mph.

You can see it in the distance looking a bit like a shredded bachelor's button. Normally it looks like the puffier ones in the foreground.

Later, I was fascinated to see that the Channel 3 satellite truck had pulled into the church parking lot. I figured there must be some limbs down in the street nearby but I couldn't see them from my window.

I turned to Channel 3 in time to see the reporter standing in front of this:

Just on the other side of the church from where I live!

Apparently, every time they run a water line, or a cable line, or a sewer line, or dig down to put in a sidewalk, they hack away at the root structure of the tree. This tree literally just tipped over because it had nothing to anchor it down.

There was no actual damage to the structure of the church however. They will have to do some roof repair but only minor! I think it will be awhile before they even notice that the Redemption Banner is missing.

So THAT'S Where They Went!

Don't even try to make me explain this!

And Now for a Really BIG Shew

Does anyone ever remember the Ed Sullivan Show? He always did his intro by saying "And now it's time for a really Big Show" Only he pronounced it "shew".

I guess it's time for a really Big Year. Back to work after too many days off without pay, I took Miss Kitty to the Walmart for 100 dollars worth of crap and senseless purchases. We then had to decide where to eat for lunch.

I wanted to go to Chili's for their nachos. They have the old fashioned kind that are individually made rather than the lazy, newfangled kind where they throw a handful of chips on a platter and then slop all the stuff on top of them and you have to dig your way through them in the most disgusting, untidy and inefficient manner. All the chips on the bottom get soggy before you reach them and some of the chips don't get any cheese on them at all. I hate that!

Miss Kitty was leaning towards Applebys or some Chinese place. But I've not been her caregiver and chauffeur for 2 years now not to have learned a thing or two.

"Well, you know, Miss Kitty, at Chili's they have these really BIG nachos."

"Ahhh!" she gasped in pure, wide-eyed wonder, "That's Right! Really, Really BIG nachos! I mean, those Nachos are REALLY BIG! Have you ever seen such a Big plate of Nachos? I mean, Really, really BIG!"

And thus I was able to manipulate my way to the lunch venue of my choice, and start the New Working Year off with a really BIG, I mean BIG, BIG Bang.

So Far? No Different from Happy Old Year

It's a New Year and I suppose I'm required to make some kind of statement of purpose.

Like, I intend to loose the same 18 pounds I've lost every other year of my life.

Or that I intend to exercise every day until the Second week of January by which time I'll have forgotten all about it.

Or that I have every desire to quit cursing, dammit.

Or that I wish to really apply myself to taking better care of my heart, soul, mind and body except for the part where I fall in love with vastly inappropriate males, completely ignore going to church, read crap novels, do NOT study improving literature or the Newspaper and binge eat every chance I get.

In the meantime, while I'm still hashing out potential self-promises of disaster, here is what I did yesterday.

I took this old decrepit tray

And gave it a Shiny New Coat of Paint.

And that's the kind of 'Newness' I can enjoy!