Hot Tubing With The Locals.

Hot Tubing with the Locals                                           12/22/11

My gyms hot tub sits right in front of the swimming pool and in the winter my routine is to sit in the hot tub for 15 minutes, then go swimming in the swimming pool for twenty minutes, then get back into the hot tub for another ten minutes. I do this around three times a week. Today as I am working off my holiday calories sitting in the hot tub, several people get in and we all start talking. One of them was a trainer at the gym who is very buff and tattooed. I nicked named him “Bull Dog” for he has a shaved head, rippling muscles with piercings and tattoos’. He is a very nice guy and is well liked, but if you did not know him, well put it this way, if you ran into him in a dark alley, you would run screaming in the other direction.

Anyway, as I am sitting there talking to the others, he turned around and I noticed he had this huge gothic cross like tattoo on his back that went from his neck to his butt and across is massive shoulders. At each point of it, was inscribed an initial. So I worked up the nerve to ask him what the symbols on the tattoo meant. He said that each initial was someone he loved, his little girl, some relatives and his former fiancé, whom he said he just broke up with. He then mentioned that because of the break up he would have to get the tattoo changed. I then queerly said, “Or you could only date women that have her first initial so that way you won’t have to change your tattoo”. Thank God he laughed, or else I would look a pug dog right now.

Since I swim so much, I have given some of the regular swimmers little nick names. For instance there is this middle aged woman whom I call, “Showboat” I call her this because she likes to swim on her back, kick her feet up in the air, causing her to glide through the water, making her look like a steam boat with a paddle wheel behind her. Then there is the man who thinks he is Mark Spitz and Greg Louganis all wrapped up in one body, I call him, “Lou-spitz”. He likes to dive into the pool, (did I say its only 5 feet deep?), wearing his Thong Speedos’. It’s not that he has a bad body, it just that he is in his fifties and way passed the point of looking good in anything that shows his under regions. (Think two peanuts and a Vienna sausage wrapped in a thong).

Then there is the lady I call, “Ester Williams”. I swear she never wears the same bathing suit and bathing cap twice. She always comes running in and flies into the water doing flips and somersaults, like she is in some 40’s movie musical. (Did I mention the pool is only 5 feet deep?)  Today she hit her head on the side of the pool and I could not help laughing. It was so Carol Burnett.

Then there is me. I am allergic to chlorine so I can never get my head underwater. Think severe nasal swelling with a case of hearing loss, and itching burning eyes if I get chlorine in any facial orifice. I have tried nose plugs, ear plugs and all kinds of goggle plugs but they are so uncomfortable, plus they always fall off. So I just gave up and swim above the water. Think dog paddle, and cross it with a frog swimming on top of the water and that’s me. Because of my allergy, I hate getting my head wet so I tend to avoid the more splashy swimmers. There is one lady that I refuse to share a lane with her for she swims like she is drowning. She flip flops around like a dead fish, her legs and arms hit the water so hard that she causes a tsunami. I call her “Splashy”. I have actually seen people begin to dive in to save her for they think she is drowning.

Then there is the 3 o’clock Nazi swim coach. She is great at what she does and the kids love her. But when its swim time you can hear her from across the parking lot, shouting swim orders to the kids. I guess it is the only way she can be heard under the water but I try to get out of there before she arrives. I started calling her the “Swim Nazi” after she made all her students stand on their hands with their legs sticking out of the water for as long as they could hold their breaths. It was quite fascinating to watch these kids perform this aquatic maneuver.  I never could do it. “Nine Nine, you will stand on your hands and hold your breath until you pass out!” Egads!  

Later on that same afternoon, I went to go shower in the communal men showers when this man came around the corner and started showering next to me. I did not think anything of it at first until I notice he was staring at me and my manhood. You know one of THOSE stares. I went “oh oh” in my head and quickly washed off the soap. As I was leaving, I caught him grabbing his nether regions as he point blank said to me. And I quote, “Are you Mexican?” Mexican?! Hu? I said no! The water was cold! I ran out of there, rejecting his advances and never looked back, wondering why he could not have asked me if I was African American. Oh well, just another day at the Gym that is not number two. 

The Great Pacific Mall Race

                                                                              8/24/11

I only go down to the  Pacific Garden Mall in Santa Cruz for three reasons; to buy books at Logos, or Santa Cruz Book Store, cruse the Chef Works for new cooking tools, and go to the movies.  This day I needed to buy a couple new Scifi books and since I am down there anyway, I thought I would hang out at the Chef Works, pretending like I am some kind of Food Network guru perusing the latest kitchen gadgets.

 So I found a parking spot near Logos, which meant I needed to sprint down the mall to Book Shop Santa Cruz, cross the street to Chef Works and then sprint back to my parking spot. Is it just me or is this like running a triathlon? Leaving Logos with my first package, I felt like a running back as I leapt over panhandlers, dodged hoards of young people, and tucked and rolled by solicitors begging for money for their certain cause.  I finally get to the Santa Cruz book store panting and out of breath when I hear music, like angels playing harps. At first, I thought it was my time to go to the great beyond, when I notice a young girl sitting on the ground playing a miniature harp. That inner voice in me said,” Hey slow down and listen to the music.” Well, it was lovely. I do have to say that some of those street musicians are amazing.  Five minutes later I threw a dollar bill into her basket and ran into the book store.

Finding my book, I sprinted over to Chef Works were I was almost talked into buying a $250.00 crock pot made by a French person whose name I cannot pronounce, Emilie something.  Instead, to the chagrin of my sales rep, I walked out of there with a ten dollar spatula.  Now I have three packages and telling myself, as I am hurling down the center isle of the sidewalk; “Just don’t look them in the eyes”, Egads, too late,  here comes a sweet girl asking me if I want to help the poverty stricken children of the world. I said, “No not now”, and then she said a couple words I cannot use in this paper. Which so shocked me that I returned a, “yea have them get their own jobs, I just paid ten dollars for a firkin spatula!”  As I trotted down to my car, feeling a little like scrooge, I crossed the finish line intact, mind body and soul. Maybe I should go back and help the poor children, but not with potty mouths like that!  There are those that never start the race, there are those who never finish the race and there are those who finish last but finish the race. I think this also goes for those who shop at Pacific Garden Mall. 

Back On The Tread Mill Again

9/8/10   Back on the Treadmill Again

Hey ya’ll! I’m Paula Dean and on today’s show we will be having Fried Pork Chops along with my Mamas famous Apple Dumpling Pie and fried grits….Yes, I am back on the tread mill watching the food network again here at Club that is not number two. I have been at this now for two months and instead of loosing the intended 10 pounds I have gained five. Something is terribly wrong with my work out plan but I just can not figure it out. I am at the pool daily lounging around the hot tub working on my tan. But the pounds are just not coming off. Hm. I guess I need take the gym up on those two free work out sessions with a trainer, but they are all so intimidating. I mean they all are in perfect shape and I secretly think they all came out of the womb genetically perfect and if they did not workout they would still never need to. You all know the type. But the rest of us have to pass up the chocolate chip cookies and the ice cream. Even on those so called cheat days. HA! That’s a joke, cheat days. Cheats days were invented to give the dieter a ray of light at the end of the veracious dark tunnel of dieting. Eat sensible through out the week and you can look forward to eating anything you want on you own personal cheat day. Well, mine is a Boss Burger at Fosters Freeze with fried mushrooms on the side. Maybe I have two many cheat days? Anyway, I am on the treadmill and I glance over and I see this man next to me and I notice he has, well shall I say it, Man Boobs. Then in horror I realize it’s my reflection in the window. I can not believe it! I am at the age where I am battling man boobs? It must have been that tofu diet I went on last year. Of course right after that they come out with another study that men should not eat too much tofu because it causes estrogen to go bonkers in a man’s body. Great, now what do I do. I was thinking of lipo suction but what if they suck out something I may need later? Like my man hood?! I can just see my self waking up on the operating table and hearing the doc say, uh, I think there’s something stuck in the suction tube. So there goes that idea.  I guess I will just have to accept that I am at the age I am at and live with it. The way things are aging I am sure Depends are just around the corner. After writing this I set an appointment with Marcus my new trainer. We shall see, we shall see. (I wrote this over a year ago, and I did lose the intended 10 pounds, and still losing). I did this by going off of some meds that promoted weight gain, and cutting all my calories in half). 12-10-11

Stuffed Relatives for the Holidays

Stuffed Relatives for the Holidays.                             11/20/11

One warm afternoon a couple of weeks ago, I was sitting outside of my favorite coffee house talking with a friend of mine, when a woman drove up, parked and went into the coffee shop. In the front passenger seat, seat belted in, she had what appeared to be a large brown short haired shepherd type dog wearing a red holiday scarf. As I am sitting there talking with my friend, I looked past him at the car and I noticed that the dog never moved. I didn’t give it much thought at first but then I suspected something maybe very wrong, like maybe the lady had seat belted him into the seat too tight and in that case I might want to intervene on the dog’s behalf. I kept talking to my friend a while longer when I noticed that the dog seemed to be really frozen in place. Then the thought occurred to me that maybe it was not a real dog but just an oversized stuffed child’s toy. As I kept looking at it I found there was something too realistic about the dog which prompted me to go over and investigate. So I walked over to the passenger side window to really get a good look at the creature. And to my surprise it truly was a real dog, or at least it had been one at one time. Yes folks, it had paid a visit to the taxidermist and now it was out joy riding with its owner. I was appalled and amused all at the same time. I went back to my friend, who checked it out for himself, and he agreed, “Yes it looks real, it’s the glass eyes that give me the creeps”. (At this point I want to add we never did determine if it was real or not.)

 I said, can you imagine if we did this with people? And he said, “Well the holidays would be quieter”. We started laughing, imagining what if we had taxidermyed our dead relatives. I said, we could keep them in the attic during the year and only bring them out at Thanksgiving and Christmas. We could set Grandma and Grandpa around the table along with other relatives. It would be like the good old days. Everyone around the table eating and laughing enjoying each other’s company. “Could you pass the mashed potatoes Grandma? Oh your arms not working? Here, let me do it for you”. “Grandpa, would you like more pumpkin pie? Oh, you’re stuffed? No problem, I’ll have your piece”. After we got done laughing at our own humor, the lady came out, got in her car, said a few words to her pet, and drove away. Later that day, I went home, embraced my dog, and said, don’t worry buddy I’ll never stuff you. He just looked at me with his head cocked to the right, wagging his tail, waiting for his cookie. Happy Holidays everyone, pass the stuffing?

Presents for Turkeys

Presents for Turkeys

It’s was Black Friday followed by Cyber Deals Monday last week. Actually they need to call it Black Thursday Night because the stores this year were open on Thanksgiving evening! Yes! I now can eat my turkey and have my color plasma TV half off! Happy Thanksgiving, now get out of my way I have shopping to do!

I have been standing in line now for over two hours for this dang store to open and I have to go to the bathroom. I wonder if someone could save my spot, I’ll ask this lady next to me. Miss, could you save my spot for me while I go to the bathroom? “I will not she said, what do you think this is Occupy Target?”

The doors are opening! The doors are opening! Ouch! “Hey, get your knee out of my back, get off me!” “I think the shopping cart wheels are stuck on this thing, get out of my way!” “Oops there goes the security guard down for the count.” “Yes it will fit into the cart! Hey, I saw that new Blue Ray DVD Player first, give it back!” No she didn’t!” “Get off my foot you hoodlum!” “Hey, that Wetsy Betsy was for my son!” “Hu?” “That store clerk just over charged me! I want my discount! Yes, I did bring my store card, plus the coupon, Idiot.”  “Oh no! They are sold out! No way! I wonder if I could haggle someone for theirs. You tell me you’re going to sell it on EBay for double the price? What is this country coming to?  You Greedy Wall Streeter!”  “Merry Christmas, now pass the entitlement.”

 Well folks, somehow people found the money to shop this year in spite of the economic crises. They may be losing their jobs and homes but god forbid if they will give up their new color plasma TV’s or Blue ray DVD players. Ok, ok, I need to be honest here. I really did not stand in line for two hours.  I watched it all on the six o’clock news the next day and read the body language of the customers blowing through the stores. There is no way in Heck I would go out on a cold November night full of Turkey and stand in line with a bunch of people just to buy something. I can do it the easy way, online! What! They are sold out!  What?! No free shipping! Greedy online stores! 

Aging in Line At Costco

Aging In Line at Costco   (Part II)                           11/12/11

I became a member of Costco in the late 80’s and sent my parents a complementary secondary card. I knew they would use it more often than me hence my first article part one. About four years ago my dad called me and asked if he could become the primary card holder so he could become an Executive Member. I said, no problem and then I asked him why the Executive Membership? And he said, “So that he could get in before ten am and shop.” But he did not give me a clear reason why he needed to get in so early in the morning.  Then the revelation hit me. It’s a senior’s hang out! It’s their watering hole! Whichever Costco you go to, there are seniors sitting near the food court, conversing, having their hotdogs, donuts and coffee, but of all places why Costco?

So one day last week I am standing about 3^rd in line at the Costco Pharmacy. And I begin thinking. (Yes, very dangerous of me), I am wondering what the average age is of the person who goes to the Costco Pharmacy? As I am drifting in and out of thought provoking territory I realize that on my left side of the isle there are beauty skin products to prevent aging. On the other side of the isle there are displayed diabetic and heart supplies and in front of me, in huge boxes it reads, “Depends for Men, Large size”. Talk about discretion! How do you hide a thing like that at the check stand? So using my deductive reasoning skills, I surmise that the average age must be around fifty years old.  I came to that conclusion because that’s the age that I have begun using some of those products, of course not the depends! The self realization comes to me that I am at the age where this place will soon become my watering hole. Feeling very depressed and sorry for myself, I hear my name being called so I somberly walk up to the clerk and pick up my meds.

As I am passing the Glucosamine Juice testing stand, (Has anyone ever got a buzz from that stuff but me?) I decide I am hungry so I go over to buy lunch at the food court. Hey, you can’t beat $1.50 for a Hot Dog and soft drink. Then it hits me. It so cheap to eat here! That’s why it’s a senior’s hang out! So I sit down next to some grey bears, I mean highly mature folk, and I munch down on my Polish Dog and Root Beer. Some friends of mine, whom are standing in line, see me and come on over with their food stuff and sit down beside me. We catch up on our lives and I begin to suspect that the Costco watering hole isn’t so bad after all. I wonder if I am eligible for my AARP card soon.

Costco Heaven

Costco Heaven (Part One)                                      11/11/11

Growing up with World War II era parents in the late 1970’s, our Kitchen closets always looked like an underground bunker, waiting for a nuclear winter. Every closet and extra space was full to the top with house hold goods. Per my parents, “You just never know son, when the Russians are going to invade!” Looking back, we always had those extra rolls of toilet paper, rows of canned peas, green beans, and Coke a Cola. Yes, we had to have the Cola. No invasion would be good without Cola! And don’t forget the spam! Come to think about it, I have would rather surrendered to the enemy than face the menu of Cola, canned green beans and Spam the rest of my life. Sometimes when one would open a closet door, one would be wise to be wearing a hard hat. No kidding!  I remember the day when my mom asked me to get something out of the top closet pantry. The next thing I remember, after waking up on the ground, is seeing cans of food stuff flying down at my head.

When Costco opened up it in the 80’s it was like my parents experienced heaven on earth! One day I asked my mom if I needed a special membership card to visit the overstocked pantry. She just looked at me and said, “Please leave a gratuity on the table”. At this point I want to stress they were not hoarders. Not one piece of furniture was ever out of place and there were no National Geographic magazines stacked a mile high in the middle of the living room. (They were in the closet).

 Well today I find the apple does not fall far from the proverbial Costco tree, for I find myself at Costco stacking my cart full of inert meat stuff and, Oh look! They have food samples!  Yum! Organic Apple Turkey Sausage and Ravioli stuffed with cheese! Tacos, tofu and toffee oh my!  Nibbling my way through the store I wonder if they would notice if I made another round. Would they recognize me if put my sun glasses on this time? I wonder if they ever booted anyone out of the store for just sampling. Free lunch anyone? I can just see myself on the six o’clock news being escorted out of the store, kicking and screaming, “I’m an Executive Member!”  

 “This is Dan Green at KSBW News, there was a swat team assembled outside of Costco today on the Westside of Santa Cruz. It appears from our sources that a man was caught sampling too much of the free Turkey Sausage and Pizza Nips. He was spotted cruising in and out of the refrigerator isle eating his way over to the baked goods area and harassing the demo staff!” “The demo staff report that, “He seemed like he was a nice man, but you just never know about those nice quite types.” Well, you just never know when the Russians are going to invade either!

Unemployment Blues

The Unemployment Blues….                                                                      10/4/11

I just got laid off from a job that I really liked. I was an HR Assistant for a local Berry company. As I sit here at Peet’s Coffee, I am attempting to think of humorous things that accompany unemployment. Well, I need to think harder for nothing is coming to me. Unemployment benefits are not paying out until at least three weeks into unemployment so I have to save every little dime I have until I get my first check.

 I guess one out of four do win at the new Monopoly game at McDonalds, for I just won a free breakfast sandwich this morning, so at least I will not starve. After eating my Mc whatever it was, I decided to write down my thoughts as they happen while sitting here at the coffee shop. As I am waiting here for inspiration, a man comes in, not unusual, but as he is waiting in line he begins talking to himself. Yes, he is in his own little world, actually making merry in his head out loud for he is singing a happy tune! Before getting his coffee? Maybe he won a Mc Sandwich too!  Now he is really singing, he just got his coffee, now he is stirring in his cream and there goes the sugar, now the cream again, and now the second verse same as first. I think it’s a gospel song, no a love song. Oh, it’s something about Lonesome Dove. Oops there he goes out the door. Shoot I was hoping for an encore. 

Now two ladies in their mid forties just drove up, one in a BMW and one in a Mercedes, both wearing tennis outfits. Oh, don’ they look cute in their little tennis hats. They get their coffee and here they come to sit by me. They seem unhappy, maybe they are unemployed too.  Well, as I am sitting here trying not to over hear their conversation they kind of get a little loud, so I can’t help it. They are complaining about their lives. I wonder what they have to complain about?  Oh, husbands, OH, OH kids. Oh NO! They cannot get their maids to clean their houses’ properly, their maids?  Apparently, Hazel has a problem vacuuming the rugs and Hilda has an issue with the kid’s beds. Oh, now back to their husbands who work too long of hours and are never home to be with them, and now the kids again, seems they do not appreciate their allowances nor that their beds are made up by maids. Now the one lady is angry over her life in general and then the other lady is getting upset about her life. As I am about ready to get up and smack them both upside the head, the one lady looked at her watch and says, “We have to go now our nail appointments are in ten minuets!”  They get up and hurry over to their new cars and drive off. I think I have just decided to be happy in my state of unemployment. Um, I wonder if I should fire my maid.  Happy Thanksgiving!

The Lawn Fairies

The Lawn Fairies                                                          01/21/09 AML

I grew up in a Neighborhood where every home had a huge grassy front yard. There was an un spoken underlying contest amongst the men on the block, who could keep the best well maintained lawn through out every spring and summer year. Of course my dad won all the time. We were located on a corner lot and had an extra spread of lawn on the side street. He would mow it with a hand mower; remember this was in the 60’s, there were no gas powered lawn mowers, except maybe for the very rich. He was madly meticulous about that lawn, as you could always find him out there constantly watering and fertilize it. The lawn was always the most luscious green, smooth grass anyone ever saw. Dandelions never had a chance, in fact every time he would see a yellow dandelion pop its head up he would run out and pull it out of the ground….and god forbid if a dog would come by to leave a little memento….

One late night when I was about six or seven I could not sleep so I went out to the living room to sit on the front couch to look out the big picture window that faced the lawn and street. I remember it being a misty dewy spring evening around eleven pm. As I was looking down upon the lawn I began to see big circles drawn in the grass. I would say kind of like crop circles in big fields today but smaller. It was like someone took a big ball point pen and drew them into the ground. Yet, when I went out in the morning to find them they were gone. At night when every one was a sleep I would creep out and look at these finely crafted circles in the grass. I kept thinking maybe it was something my dad was doing but when I watched him manicure his lawn every week he would only mow in vertical and horizontal lines, not in circles.

 So finally I asked my mom one night about them and showed her what I was talking about. Her explanation was quite wild but I believed every word of it. She explained to me with her amazing dimpled smile and Irish green twinkling eyes, that every night the Lawn Fairies would come out across the land and draw circles in every ones lawns. She told me it was what they did for fun. Occasionally, we would sit up together waiting for the fairies to do their magic but they never did materialize. Yet all of a sudden as we looked the circles would pop out of the lawn! She went on to tell me that they were very mischievous creatures and would never show themselves if they knew they were being watched. Well I guess they always knew that we were watching out for them for they never did show up. My mom was Irish and I guess it was a story that was passed down through the generations. I am 47 years old and my mom has sense left this earth. But I have a suspicion she is playing with the fairies up in heaven and making her own lawn circles. Every time I look out upon the lawn and see the circles I think of my mom and I still believe her….

The Punch Bowl.

8/27/08                                                                          28 AMD

The Punch Bowl

My parents were married in 1951. About 25 years later my Mom was giving a combination Valentines/Birthday Party for my sister who was born in February.  We were expecting the entire family over. Everything was decorated in Red and White. My mom was busy in the kitchen preparing all the goodies and my sister and the Silver Poodle were helping her… actually the poodle was just giving attitude and being a poodle.  I was in no mood to help out so I was watching TV in the living room which had a clear view into the kitchen. This was my puberty lazy period; It was the mid 1970’s and I must have been in my early teens. So I watched with one eye on the TV, Brady Bunch, and the other on my mom as she pulled out of the cupboard her crystal Antique punch bowl that was given to her and my dad on their wedding day. It was one of those special heirlooms that she treasured and was especially careful with when using. The bowl was one of those family treasures you hope you are not around when it meets its final demise because if you broke it, it would be your final demise. Anyway, she put it on top of the stove to fill it with punch for she did not want to splash any red punch on the white table cloth she had laid down on the dinner table. I then watched her gently carry this HUGE bowl of red punch, did I say RED PUNCH, over to the table which was only about 5 feet away. As she was in mid stride we all heard a loud cracking sound and in complete heart stopping horror watched as the bowl split up and around and down the middle then come crashing through my moms arms, down on to the floor missing her toes by inches.  As I ran into help, I watched as if in slow motion, the gallons of red punch go every where! My moms dress which was white with blue poked dots was now blood red with purple poked dots, the floor, ceiling,  my sister and the dog were covered in red punch. Did I mention our poodle was silver? Well not any more. Have you ever seen a red wet pissed off poodle? Trust me not a sight you want to see again. The splash literally covered the entire kitchen!  Did I mention it was a white kitchen?  My poor mom was dripping with red punch from every orifice of her being when just then my Grandparents arrived at the door! Looking back we were just thankful my mom still had her toes and never again did I see her bare foot in the kitchen.

The Persimmon Tree Posted 7/29/11

The Persimmon Tree                                                  9/10/08

The nastiest fruit on the planet and my mom loved to make cookies out of them. It all started one year in the 1970’s. My Mom got this recipe from my grandmother Larson, my dads’ mother. My grandmother would make wonderful deserts and loved to bake. She was one of these old fashioned grandmothers you’d find in a 1950’s TV show, she seemed to always be wearing a cooking apron with flour on it.    She cooked for the church bake offs and won medals in the county fair. To this day I swear she made the best peanut butter cookies I have ever eaten.  Every time we went over to her house she was baking. I guess my mom felt like she had to keep up with her mother in law when it came to cooking so she always tried grandma’s new recipes out on us.  One day my grandmother came over and gave her this Persimmon cookie recipe.  My mom honestly did not know what a Persimmon was and I remember her asking around to find out what they were.  We found that they were a winter tree which produced a peach sized orange fruit, they shed all their leaves in the fall and have long spindly limbs that looked like the trees you would find in horror movies, the kind that would reach out and grab you when you’re not looking. At that time the markets did not sell them and in fact they were a highly unpopular fruit but as of yet we did not know why. So in the Fall, after school my Mom would drive around looking for these trees and when we found them she would make me and my sister walk up to the doors of these strangers and ask if we could pick their fruit. And do you know we never got a response of no, in fact it was always, “Take as much as you want, we hate that tree!” So we would gather a huge basket of these hard orange pool ball like things and head home. I remember I was the first to bite into one and I almost gagged, no in fact I did gag. It was just plan awful! My tongue swelled and my mouth puckered up.  But mom insisted we skin them and chop them up for her cookies. Well, needless to say it did not mater how much sugar one added they were still awful tasting. Finally my grandmother told her, after biting into one, that they needed to ripen until they were smooshy and rotten looking and that is when they become sweet.  Oh!  Was all our reactions. I secretly think my grandmother kept key information from my mom so she would stay as reining queen of the kitchen and of my dad’s culinary heart. Now and then I see a Persimmon Tree out in the middle of some field or on the side of the road and I think about my mom. She went to heaven a few years ago and I wish I could just have one more bite of her Persimmon cookies, with extra sugar of course.   

The Hills Have Eyes.

The Hills have EYES.

I hate reality TV. In the early 90’s I got hooked on a TV show called, “The Real Life” Set in San Francisco. It was about a group of 20 year olds from different kinds of back grounds living together in one big house. My mom had called me up one day and said, “Hey watch this show it’s happening in your city.” So I got caught up in it. UGH! I felt like a voyeur. I became so co-dependent toward these complete strangers that I started living my life around the time they came on TV. So after that, I decided to never engage in Reality TV again. Especially after one of the characters died on the show and I found myself crying my eyes out for someone whom I never met or who never met me! Like what’s that all about?  Now fast forward 20 years. I have basic cable which means I have to turn to the TV Guide Channel to view what is going to be played that hour. It’s the channel that has the slow revolving screen that seems to take hours to scroll up. Well, a few months ago they started playing this reality TV show called, “The Hills.” It’s about a bunch of rich self absorbed white, like white on rice white kids, not one minority on the show. The girls all look like Barbie dolls and the guys look like Ken. They all live in Hollywood and for the life of me I can not figure out what they all do for a living. I think they live off of daddy’s money. Put it this way, if they were all in a horror movie together, they would be the first ones who you would want to be killed off because they are so annoying! I really do not like this show but some how have become addicted to it. It happened very slowly over time. The show comes on while I am eating dinner and that’s also when I try to figure out what to watch on TV that night. Last night I found I actually watched two episodes in a row and missed the program I really wanted to see.  I have some how got hooked to the point where I now know their actual names, and I hate them. It’s like watching a train wreck you look away but then you look back again. I just can’t look away!   Heidi, Spencer, Lauren, Adriana, Brody and the rest. It took me awhile but I now think I know what the premise of the show is.  What I understand so far is that they all moved from New York City to Hollywood. I believe the show used to be called, “The City.” Lauren and Heidi used to be best friends but Spencer came along and Lauren just hated him, ( And so does everyone else) but Heidi can not see what a huge A Whole he is. And trust me he IS! So now no one likes Heidi either, and also she seems to have gone through some kind of transformation.  Like she used to be the girl next door and now she is a play boy bunny only with out the ears. So on the last two shows that I have seen, Heidi and Spencer got into a fight and he went off to the bar with some buddies and he started hitting on “Tracie the Bar Tender.” Heidi got wind of it and they started going through counseling. Then I missed a few episodes, thank god. The next time I looked they were all in this huge church and they were getting married. Now this is where I lost it. As each of the wedding attendees came in, the monocle on the screen gave their names and who they were friends with. All of a sudden this girl comes in alone and at the top of the screen it says, “Tracie the Bar Tender”. What the Hell? I was laughing so hard I chocked on my own salvia. This show has got to be scripted in someway. It’s too outrageous and obscene to be real. I mean I think this is why terrorists hate us. The worst thing about all this is my own behavior.  I  actually found myself Googling them to find out what kind of past they had or where they are now. I am so ashamed. Me a 50 year old man addicted to these people and their lives. Is there a support group for this? A 12 step program for people who are addicted to reality TV? Lord, give me the courage to change the channel, to know when I can not change the channel,  and the wisdom to know when to turn off the dam TV!
7/13/11

PS. I was watching an OLD episode last night and found out they do have jobs and miss goody two shoes Lauren is not the humble beauty and good friend to Heidi that I thought she was. It turns out that Heidi confided to Lauren that she was applying to become an assistant at the biggest PR Event firm in Hollywood, and if she got it she would quit school. Well, she got it and Lauren was a complete BITCH to her, even veining happiness for her on the phone, but then hanging up her cell phone in the middle of her conversation. Poor Heidi was like hello hello? What I gather is they this was all PRE-Spencer. Now I understand Heidi and feel very sorry for her.     I now think Lauren was never a real friend and even was extremely jealous of her. I hate this show.

Easily Amused

Well, today I created my first Blog. Not very interesting but as time goes by I am sure to post all my columns on here.

Here is one that is new.

Easily Amused.                                                  6/17/11

So I am at the gym that is not number….well you know it by now. I knew this would happen sooner then later and it happened sooner. I am in the dressing room just pulling down my shorts to put on my swim trunks, when in walks the new members club guide who takes potential new members on tour through the club. And low and behold just as I am bending over and my big white butt was in the air I hear, “ and here is our locker room, as you can see not all members take advantage of the stair climber.” Ok that last part was in my head. But to have strange people just wondering through while your in the throws of changing is just mind numbing. “Oh Hi Reverend, no that big bright glow is not the 2^nd coming, just my glaring white butt in the air! So later on I am out at the pool and I hear heavy breathing, with a sucking sound, kind of sounds like Darth Vader. I look over to my left and there is an older guy in the lane next to me who is snorkeling. I thought how strange is that because usually people do this in the ocean. So he swims over to the edge of the pool next to me and I say to him, “So did you see any marine life down there?”  As I am smirking to myself,  he says, oh no, I have to swim this way because I have had three vertebrae fused together and it is the only way I can swim. Now feeling horrified and wondering why didn’t I just keep my big mouth shut, I look over to the other guy in the next lane over who has swum up to the edge. He heard what the snorkeling guy said. He then proceeded to say, well you know what Betty Davis said about getting older. And I say no, what? “It’s not for sissy’s.” I said no its not! It SUCKS! In the mean time I swear I hear the Snorkeling guy say, Luke, I am your father! Join me! As he snorkels away. As you can see I have a very vivid and wild imagination that keeps me very amused all day long.  So has anybody been keeping track of how many times the “Passing Sign” on Mt.Hermon road has been knocked down? It’s the one going west when leaving Scotts Valley toward the old quarry. I counted 4 times now before they put in the stone bumps. It was very amusing to see it down on the ground every other weekend. It has to be from all those tipsy people coming home at two o’clock in the morning from some bar. It does just kind of stands there on its own, in the dark all alone just whistling to itself. It sits right in the middle of the highway where the two lanes divide and I think people just do not see it when they are coming around that curve. And of course it has no common sense to get out of the way.  Whoopsi, another dent in the fender as the sign goes hurtling up in the air! Now that they have put in those stone bumps to protect it I wonder how much tire and alignment damage will be done? 

The Laundry Mat

The Laundry Mat                                    5/4/11

What does that mean? I understand Laundry don’t get me wrong, but Mat, where does Mat come from? So I Google’d it. “Laundromat” was coined in the 1950s by analogy with “automat”—an automated self-service restaurant— to label an automated self-service laundry. People unaware of this history often mistakenly deconstruct the word into “laundro mat” or “laundry mat.” This comes from the book, “Common Errors in the English Language”. I think we need to change this to, “Pay to break your own back, mat”. Or “Man! That was my favorite sweater now in shreds, Mat.” Or “Hey those are my clothes and they are not dry yet so put them back, Mat”. Not to get this confused with my good friend Matt. Has anyone ever washed your whites and they came out a nasty looking yellow? I wash everything in hot, hot water to kill any living organism I may pick up there. I also dump in a lot of fabric softener to kill any new smells that may cling to my newly washed threads. Yep! Been there, done that, at the Mat. I have been privileged through out my life to have access to my own washer and dryer. But there have been times that I have not, and I have had to go to my beloved corner Laundromat. A place where, “You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. We must be cautious”. Sorry for the Obi Wan Kenobi Quote. But I really have seen Light Sabers raised over who’s first at the dryers. It’s true, especially at night. “I thought I smelled your foul stench”….So I am sitting there one Saturday afternoon, because really I have nothing better to do than to read a book and watch my underwear spin in circles, when I take notice of a lady with five kids coming in with bags and bags of wet laundry and begin to take over every last dryer. (At least 10 of them.) The looks she got were priceless.  It caused a back up with everyone else in the place, so the ones who were finishing their wash cycles had to wait until hers were done, hours later.

So the other day I was using the Automat, said in an English Accent, to wash my bed comforter because it’s so big and because I need a lot of comfort, and it will not fit into my washer and dryer.  As I was sitting there reading my book and watching it spin I realized I was the only one in there. Like it was the Apocalypse or something. It spooked me. When I got all done and was leaving, I notice a sign on the front door stating. “No hot water today, boiler broke”. OMG! I washed everything in COLD water!