An Empty Cage Never Gets Dirty

“I’m worried” I whispered to my husband in the kitchen while our visiting friends were sitting out of earshot in our living room.

“What now?” He half-cared asked

“What if she takes it the wrong way?”

“Who takes what the wrong way?”

“You know what I just said”

“What did you say?”

Blowing the hair out of my face in aggravation because he, once again, can’t read my mind, I whisper-shriek “I said that I was worried about her”

“So? What’s so wrong about that?”

“I said that I was worried about how she worried so much!”

“Should I call 911?”

“Shut up! I’m serious, you know how she worries”

“So why the hell did you bring it up then?”

“Ughhh!! Because I’m worried!!!”

“So let me get this straight, if at all humanly possible, you are worried because she is worried that you are worried because she’s worried?”

“EXACTLY!” Sheesh..Finally! “So what should I do?”

After several rib jabs to indicate that I indeed was waiting for some kind of response he says-

“I vote for drinking. Sobriety’s not for everyone you know” He handed me a beer “Please, think of the children”

Booze, Boobs and Baseball. A guy’s life is so mentally uncluttered isn’t it?

(-:

Dr. Douche

My son’s pediatrician is a jackass.

If I brought him in screaming of multiple penis disorder, this doctor would treat it the same as a runny vagina.

He’d stare into his computer magic eight ball and predict and prescribe the same damn thing.

EVERY damn time.

It’s like listening to a bad medicinal chorus.

What does it take to become a pediatrician anyway because I think my nasal and gassy, one-eyed cat would be a highly qualified candidate.

Maybe I should go into practice.

I'm nasal.

I can look into a computer and tell worried-to-death-parents to make sure their hacking child drinks liquids and rests regardless of their agitated state too you know.

I could be famous!

....Hey, what kinda money do you think I can make as a Jackass?

Ah, who the hell cares…. the money I save on leaky vagina medication alone will be well worth it.

Nothing like great benefits right?

(-:

The Satisfied Blogger

In the past, I've labeled myself as many things.

First I was (and will always be) The Convenient Jew.

Then.....(and wouldn't my mother be proud) The 9 to 5 Lesbian.

And now.....I am happy to report.... The Satisfied Blogger.

I really don't know what the hell I did before.

I mean Before-the-blog.

Who the hell listened to all of my crap?

.....Oy, my poor husband.

It may be wrong, but the truth is that this blog and my bloggy friends are always in my head throughout the day.

And I think about it way more than I should.

Or think I should.

I'm still a little fuzzy on the whole screw-that-I'm-having-a-good-time thing.

But I wonder, is it really fair to look everyone in the face knowing that, at some point, I will be mentally checking out while preparing a blog post...

Funny yes.

But fair....?

PFFFT!!! Man Screw that!

It's funny.

See what I mean?

Is it wrong to scream out Blog! Instead of his name?

......Is it wrong that he probably didn't even notice?

Blogasm... Orgasm ....what's the difference

Everybody gets off happy right?

And...shhhhh... don't tell anyone but I'm having way more B's than O's these days!

Oh!!!!!!! Oh!!!!!! Did I really just write that?

Man that felt good (-:

I am sure to be many more things before this is all over but so far none quite as satisfying as this!

Come on...B's or O's ....which is better? I won't tell! (-:

It's My Time

There are several times of the month for me.

No, not just one, thanks for asking.

There are:

'I'm getting my period'

'I have my period'

and the ever popular ....

'I just got over my period'

There was a brief reprieve during pregnancy when all three of the above were replaced with two little words:

'I'm pregnant'

Some things are bigger than all of us.

So according to my calculations, there are about three days out of the month that I am not discussing, avoiding sex or blaming things on my period.

Yes, I make for an excellent dinner companion.

It's the natural order of things, as well as a mental and physical bloodbath for all involved.

That's just a bonus.

I'd take out a billboard of apology but being that I only have a few years of bloodbath left in me, what's the point?

Knowing that my time is numbered, I often wonder how I will fill the other twenty-seven days of talk time. What will I talk about?

Who will I blame???

Oh that's right!

Menopause!!

How fun!!

I just love having a plan!

How about you? (-:

Vodka, Cranberry and Lime ...Oh MY!!

It's vacation time!!

And I'm going Commando...you know, no internet, no blogging, completely unplugged...

Oh... that's not what that means?

I was wondering why my husband was so excited!

I'll miss you guys!!!!

OK, I can do this....

Shutting down...

Can't breathe a little....

Waiter! Hurry with that drink!!!

See you all when I get back!!

xoxo (-:

Cafe Bite-Me

“You have a what?” my girlfriend stops mid-chew to ask.

“A blog”

“A blog?” She inquires once again as if I’d just taken out my Spok ears and Light Saber.

“Yes. A blog”

Note to self: Water spillage is great for awkward silences.

“What exactly do you do with a blog?”

“Write stuff”

“What kind of stuff?”

“You know…just stuff”

“And people read it?”

“Well yeah, that’s kinda the point”

“Do you get paid for it?”

“Uh, no”

“And do you like…do it all the time?”

“Uh, yeah”

Clank. Scrape. Clank. Chew.

More water. What a Klutz.

“I don’t get it” she announced “You do it all the time and you don’t get paid for it? What’s the point?”

“I don’t get paid for sex either but I still do it”

Point digested.

“So…..have you ever…er….you know… written about me?”

Clank.Clank. Chew. Chew.

No water.

“Not yet”

(-:

The Future Is Now

Okay you guys. I’m really upset.

I have to get this off my chest but I don’t quite know how.

It has been weighing on my mind for days and I can’t take it anymore.

UGGGGGHHH…

I guess the only way to say it is straight out.

Just spill it out.

Get it over with.

Okay, here comes the band aid……

HEATHER LOCKLEAR IS OLD.

I know.

I’m devastated.

Maybe because this is the first time I’m seeing someone from my generation and a 90’s sexy siren to boot turn of age.

Took me by surprise.

After all, Jaclyn Smith is not old. Not even a little bit. In fact she is even more drop dead gorgeous than she was in the eighties.

Is selling clothes in K-Mart the secret of youth?

Liz Taylor, Sophia Lauren, Maude….well, those people were always old.

But Heather…

Completely caught me off guard.

Although still more beautiful than most women in their twenties, Lifetime visibly worked overtime to accommodate her new age status with a multitude of forgiving soft lighting and creative angles. And it appears that she did some weird cosmetic injection which, although inflated her skin successfully, robbed her of her own distinctive appearance that was so uniquely her.

The crux of my extreme upset?

Isn’t it obvious?

There will be no sympathetic camera men following me around in real life!

No airbrushing technicians working day and night to fight off the ooglalee-boogalee- age monster. And no quickie injection miracle for anyone!

My future mirrors are forever going to be my enemy with no recourse for revenge.

If it happened to Heather, it can happen to anyone!

Don’t you see????

There is simply no stopping it!!!

It’s Mutiny I say!!!!