Women today have a hard life. Most are wandering around depressed, sad, anxious, and emotionally pained - overwhelmed emotionally with life. Well why is this happening -- for same reason Joan Rivers gets face lifts -- things change and fall apart. You know what I am talking about. Its a whole new ball game out there once the shame left. Marriages are crumbling - kids are divorcing their parents and others are heading for parts unknown and consider a once a week text message a relationship. Funny how the kids go snaky when their significant other just sends a text message to them.
Anyhow retirement is bullshit along with most of the things that people invented to make life better. Did you know that an air bag opens at 200 miles per hour -- now that will rearrange your nose and a crooked nose will give you some long term emotional pain.
School let us down. Women need a course in -- WORKING WITH OUR EMOTIONS. We need sure fire techniques to shift our emotional state to feeling better. Running to the doctor for the drugs, over indulging on carbs, wine or pot is going to bite you in the ass. Oh yes -- hello rehab here we come and most of us can't afford the high class Betty Ford. We will be sitting in the emergency ward of the local hospital, on fiber glass chairs with the charm of a funeral home that will further drive you to the local Tim Hortons for another round of Tim Bit emotional comfort.
Well here are some techniques to help the divorcees, unemployed, retired, empty nesters, etc. to feel somewhat better emotionally. As I said, this course should have replaced gym for women. What the hell normal woman, who wears makeup, would ever want to sweat like a sausage running around with a basketball or volleyball tucked under her arm once she left high school. Only lesbians got any mileage out of gym.
So here goes some tips to hopefully help you to change your emotional state.
1. Do something physical that requires concentration. I think they mean Yoga -- well good luck getting a size 20 frame on one leg, arms in lotus position and not shatter the other knee cap!!
2. Change environment. Inside -- go outside. Outside - go inside. Go to place rarely visited and notice details. I think they mean Home Sense or a Bar.
Especially helpful if where you are living is fueling your feel badly emotions. Solution -- this requires fleeing the house regularly and keeping the motor home warmed up in the lane way.
3. Close eyes, think of people who love you. Try to believe the kids who don't answer their mother's call thanks to caller ID really do love you. Oh yes you get the call when they are lagging or bragging. Otherwise, its get a life Mom I'm really busy. You would think they are all employed movie stars. Try to picture the dog's loving face.
4. Please your sense of smell. Quickest and Easiest Route into emotional change is to evoke memory. Put a drop of Xmas turkey smell behind your ears. Find the happy, joyful smell and coast. I'm going to get a bottle of Old Spice --the first romance smell. Supposedly citrus, vanilla are uplifting smells that will help you turn the car off. And just a little note -- some chick was trying to get a little emotional lift listening to sirius in her garage since it was only installed in the car and found the cops in her face wanting to take her to the local looney bin. A neighbour had reported her as suicidal.
5. Find a way to laugh. Books, movies, jokes but nothing is better than a silly friend. Now try and find one of those at age 50. Life sucked the silly right out of them. Its like the Banger Sisters. Somehow when they turned all Martha Stewart, probably from watching her, they turned all uptight. Where is Goldie Hawn when you need her? Probably getting a tattoo.
6. Reframe thoughts. Thoughts proceed emotions. How much is negative thinking. I can't, I won't, I will never meet another guy, its over, etc. Some use an elastic on the wrist to snap away the negatives thoughts and others just bang their head into a wall and right away you bypass the emotional down from " I won't ever loose this weight." Yep you will go right to the hospital for an MRI -- at least that will be exciting.
7. Change your emotions -- reshape your body posture. Slumping over adds to the depression, tired, feeling etc. Or when you are angry you clench your fists, grind your teeth, tighten your jaw, etc. Keep in mind what a happy and confident person looks like and mimic that dog and pony show. That's why the parents used to give you a slap on the back of the head or yell at you to "straighten up."
8. Music can reshape your mood big time. Listen to songs that empower you and words that speak to your heart.
9. Reach out and talk to a friend. Don't have to talk about the hell of life, just talking to another can reshape your emotional temperature.
10. My personal favorites to reshape your mood. Digs, Dress and Drive. Redecorate and declutter the house (with a professional please -- would you cut your own hair and then ask the hairdresser how it looks?) Just an inside tip -- the interior designer's first commandment is -- Thou shalt Lie to stay safe. Again, buy some new accessories -- aren't you tired of the Royal Doltons yet??
Go get a new outfit -- who cares if you are overweight. There's a great lime green jacket in a size 2 and 22. At least at 22 you won't look like a string bean -- you'll be a snow pea. Its all about colour.
And finally clean the hell out of your car. Get it waxed and detailed professionally and get that good smell back in. If you have had it with your clunker -- get a new one that every time you climb in it turns you on baby.
And don't expect miracles. If you can move despair to sadness, every little move matters.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Friday, November 20, 2009
What is important!!
Its not who you are.
Its not what you have.
Its not what you do.
Its only about who you love and who loves you.
Its not what you have.
Its not what you do.
Its only about who you love and who loves you.
Today I listened to Suzanne Somers recount her diagnosis with terminal cancer. Apparently her body was riddled with tumors. The above divine message she heard in the wee hours of the night after she reconciled herself to her end. Not all fancy but a simple message of what is and hopefully one that will resonate with all who read this blog.
Yesterday I read an article of a young woman, a mother of 18, who was killed in an accident. Apparently this young mother was an exceptional candle in the darkness -- the only light this empty room ever had. She was such a character, silly, and full of life. At her after funeral celebration, at each table there was a pen and a paper. Each person was asked to write down a remembrance of this young woman to be put in a book so that her new born son would get to know who his mother was. People scrambled for the tools to write down great memories of this woman.
What would be written about you?????
As for relationships --
the worst feeling in the world isn't being lonely,
its being forgotten by someone you could never forget.
the worst feeling in the world isn't being lonely,
its being forgotten by someone you could never forget.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Dog vs Man
Dogs have been granted a quality known as "Gratitude."
This quality a dog never forgets.
Man has been granted a quality of "Gratitude."
This quality a man is apt to forget.
If one were to rub the head of a dog, such a dog will never forget the one that rubbed its head, and always shows Gratitude to the one that rubbed its head.
Without the quality known as Gratitude, a human being will become arrogant and egotistical.
This a dog will never do.
A Human being must always remember to be grateful. A human being must strive to always remember who it was that rubbed their head before entering the womb, give a heart felt thanks and show Gratitude.
If the qualities known as Gratitude and Thankfulness are maintained within a human being, the qualities of egotism, arrogance, envy, pride and greed will depart from them and look for a new home in which to dwell.
Thought this was worth thinking about!
This quality a dog never forgets.
Man has been granted a quality of "Gratitude."
This quality a man is apt to forget.
If one were to rub the head of a dog, such a dog will never forget the one that rubbed its head, and always shows Gratitude to the one that rubbed its head.
Without the quality known as Gratitude, a human being will become arrogant and egotistical.
This a dog will never do.
A Human being must always remember to be grateful. A human being must strive to always remember who it was that rubbed their head before entering the womb, give a heart felt thanks and show Gratitude.
If the qualities known as Gratitude and Thankfulness are maintained within a human being, the qualities of egotism, arrogance, envy, pride and greed will depart from them and look for a new home in which to dwell.
Thought this was worth thinking about!
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Cease and Desist!!
I have been in the dating world for many years and if I could give a good piece of advice to the self important and thus you not paying spousal support, it would be show genuine interest and affection to your spouse. In turn you just might get it back. I call it the Art of Divorce Busting.
If only I could have a dollar back for every time some Chick or Slick cried to me that they wanted to go and get a Cease and Desist order to get their mate back STAT, I could get my dream motor home. You know the story -- they stole my wife -- they stole my husband -- home wreckers. Get the Cease and desist order right now and release them back to me. I can't live without them. Then the classic -- I Looooooove Them.
Often times it's two married people heading down the road with two mates chasing the car like dogs chasing tail lights yelling Cease and Desist. Basically, let go of my what's mine. Well contrary to belief we don't own anyone, not even the kids. You snooze -- You loose! I mean that sincerely.
As Mr/Mrs. Left Behind is now slouching on my couch going through three boxes of Kleenex of my best Puffs while trying to convince me, their mate or the janitor if they happen to be walking by that they are and have been nothing but the loving, devoted spouse. Well plead as you may, but you are absent with interest in me too.
They claim they gave the spouse everything they ever wanted, were loyal, and they have no clue why they ran off. And what makes it worse they ran off with an overweight, undereducated, unattractive human being, so below their apparent standards who they just met -- Oy Vey?
The I'm Out of Here Spouse normally cites "rejection" with eyes like Goldie Hawn on Laugh In as the reason they affaired out when he cries "tell me why?" What I know is that I don't seem to be able to convey to the self appointed victim that interest and affection is everything in life just like Its All About Accessories. Despite what affairing has gone on, their spouse would have traded their right arm if the interest and affection had come from the one they tied the knot with 20 years ago and not from some stranger. THAT IS THE ABSOLUTE TRUTH. How to convey it to people is an ABSOLUTE PROBLEM. Why, familiarity breeds contempt, nah, just familiarity breeds lack of interest and affection. Seen that show?
As anticipated, there is the usual rebuttal "what the hell -- what rejection!!!! I came home each night, dog tired, cut the grass, went to work, go to the family functions, blah, blah, blah." Right? Like you didn't hear the many -- "please don't fall asleep, or give me a hug" or "could you put down the chip bag, or shut the t.v. off -- I want to share my day with you." Recall those cries for interest Mr. or Mrs. Archie Bunker? Those silent dinners with your face in plate (and why because you were not interested in their world) and pleading the tired thing. Well too late, too little.
Well for all of you who didn't take Affair 101 at college it goes like this. Each one of us is born -- yep, you, me, my mother, the mailman -- with a sign, invisible though -- which reads SHOW GENUINE INTEREST AND AFFECTION IN ME -- I'LL FOLLOW YOU ANYWHERE? Surprised? Yep -- all born interest and affection deficient and need to be topped up by another. Unfortunately that's what pedophiles know only too well and disgustingly cash in on.
Well what does that really mean in layman's terms is this -- the husband daily has life changes. Today he just saw the car of his dreams -- a candy apple red convertible -- and he wants someone interested to share it with. He also has an infected toe nail, a fear of going bald, an invitation to a school reunion, a bad meeting with his Simon Cowell boss and a call from his brother that he needs money again to get out of jail. My daily dose of interest and a big hug p l l e e a a s s e e -- not the resentful interest that says "alright -- I've got two minutes, speak!" Do you remember your resentful, begrudging interest stance or that blow you a kiss thing?? Well, that went against you too because now he is getting plenty of badly needed minutes and plenty of kisses from someone else and without attitude.
In her corner, her life changed considerably too today. She heard of a vacation spot in Florida that sounded great and dreams of going there. She also worries that her extra weight might make her unattractive. She might get transferred because the bitch at work wants her out. She is thinking about dropping Scrap booking and taking up pole dancing. Her best friend also found out she has Cancer and it is too close to home. Another daily dose of genuine interest and affection needed please for this gal.
But since no one really knows about the I'M INTEREST-AFFECTION DEFICIENT SYNDROME - or ever talks about this invisible neck sign - people do the same thing over and over. Sometimes they talk to the same sex but there is nothing like genuine interest and affection from someone you find attractive -- opposite sex interest. Like it feels so much better to have a guy tell you, you look great in the caboose department and gives you a playful little pat to prove it ended with a fun hug.
Anyway all kidding aside --daily interest and affection deficient people need it like our daily needed oxygen. Sometimes it pops up unexpectedly from the gal at work looking like Rosanne Barr nodding and hugging like Rachael Rae who is on the edge of her seat about the car, boss story -- what's next -- well he will eventually follow her anywhere because it feels good to be watered with love. This doesn't change as you age either. Bet you're shocked at his pick right???? Really thought he would replace you with Pamela Anderson huh?
And as for the she. Well the over the fence Kramer (can you believe it) has a vacation home in Florida and shares her interest to go there too because his wife isn't interested. He is so interested to hear all about the pole dancing and will gladly give her a ride down to Weight Watchers on Tuesday night because he has bowling that night. And what does the husband say , "yeah man, take her so she'll stop bugging me." She will follow her new Kramer anywhere because he fills the interest and affection deficit.
And of course you will blow a gasket when you see who is taking your spot -- Kramer the next door neighbour??? Thought it would be George Clooney?? Well it was inevitable. Just like you can't expect a plant to water itself nor can you expect a human to interestize and affectionize themselves.
Yep that's THE SECRET of HUMAN BEINGS. The secret of human beings at any age. Don't believe me. Make eye contact with a street person, smile at them, throw a compliment and although they looked like they were floating in a stupor, they will watch you go. If you do that every day and give them a pat on the shoulder, you might just find them on your doorstep. Pat a pet -- they will follow you for even a smidgen.
So I hope that life will treat you kindly and I won't find you crying on my doorstep -- I've warned you. Or that you live like it is your last day by filling up your spouse's interest and affection deficient cup each and every day. I hope they in turn daily will be topping yours. All it takes is the question "what's new with you" and an enthusiastic response, an "oh dear" when they tell you they've gained 10. A "fantastic" when they tell you they found a bright yellow blouse to go with their skirt at a ridiculously low price. A "don't worry -- you won't get cancer" followed by a big hug and kiss. You can show the interest and affection or some other Mr. or Mrs. will have to do it for you, but it has to be done, and I pray it is you. You're never too old for an affair or to be affaired on.
There is some other lonely person, emotionally deficient human being who is interested in your spouse's day. And if done often, they, yes even your spouse, will follow them anywhere, its the law of Attraction -- REPEATED GENUINE INTEREST AND AFFECTION Its only a hi, a smile and a cup of coffee away.
If only I could have a dollar back for every time some Chick or Slick cried to me that they wanted to go and get a Cease and Desist order to get their mate back STAT, I could get my dream motor home. You know the story -- they stole my wife -- they stole my husband -- home wreckers. Get the Cease and desist order right now and release them back to me. I can't live without them. Then the classic -- I Looooooove Them.
Often times it's two married people heading down the road with two mates chasing the car like dogs chasing tail lights yelling Cease and Desist. Basically, let go of my what's mine. Well contrary to belief we don't own anyone, not even the kids. You snooze -- You loose! I mean that sincerely.
As Mr/Mrs. Left Behind is now slouching on my couch going through three boxes of Kleenex of my best Puffs while trying to convince me, their mate or the janitor if they happen to be walking by that they are and have been nothing but the loving, devoted spouse. Well plead as you may, but you are absent with interest in me too.
They claim they gave the spouse everything they ever wanted, were loyal, and they have no clue why they ran off. And what makes it worse they ran off with an overweight, undereducated, unattractive human being, so below their apparent standards who they just met -- Oy Vey?
The I'm Out of Here Spouse normally cites "rejection" with eyes like Goldie Hawn on Laugh In as the reason they affaired out when he cries "tell me why?" What I know is that I don't seem to be able to convey to the self appointed victim that interest and affection is everything in life just like Its All About Accessories. Despite what affairing has gone on, their spouse would have traded their right arm if the interest and affection had come from the one they tied the knot with 20 years ago and not from some stranger. THAT IS THE ABSOLUTE TRUTH. How to convey it to people is an ABSOLUTE PROBLEM. Why, familiarity breeds contempt, nah, just familiarity breeds lack of interest and affection. Seen that show?
As anticipated, there is the usual rebuttal "what the hell -- what rejection!!!! I came home each night, dog tired, cut the grass, went to work, go to the family functions, blah, blah, blah." Right? Like you didn't hear the many -- "please don't fall asleep, or give me a hug" or "could you put down the chip bag, or shut the t.v. off -- I want to share my day with you." Recall those cries for interest Mr. or Mrs. Archie Bunker? Those silent dinners with your face in plate (and why because you were not interested in their world) and pleading the tired thing. Well too late, too little.
Well for all of you who didn't take Affair 101 at college it goes like this. Each one of us is born -- yep, you, me, my mother, the mailman -- with a sign, invisible though -- which reads SHOW GENUINE INTEREST AND AFFECTION IN ME -- I'LL FOLLOW YOU ANYWHERE? Surprised? Yep -- all born interest and affection deficient and need to be topped up by another. Unfortunately that's what pedophiles know only too well and disgustingly cash in on.
Well what does that really mean in layman's terms is this -- the husband daily has life changes. Today he just saw the car of his dreams -- a candy apple red convertible -- and he wants someone interested to share it with. He also has an infected toe nail, a fear of going bald, an invitation to a school reunion, a bad meeting with his Simon Cowell boss and a call from his brother that he needs money again to get out of jail. My daily dose of interest and a big hug p l l e e a a s s e e -- not the resentful interest that says "alright -- I've got two minutes, speak!" Do you remember your resentful, begrudging interest stance or that blow you a kiss thing?? Well, that went against you too because now he is getting plenty of badly needed minutes and plenty of kisses from someone else and without attitude.
In her corner, her life changed considerably too today. She heard of a vacation spot in Florida that sounded great and dreams of going there. She also worries that her extra weight might make her unattractive. She might get transferred because the bitch at work wants her out. She is thinking about dropping Scrap booking and taking up pole dancing. Her best friend also found out she has Cancer and it is too close to home. Another daily dose of genuine interest and affection needed please for this gal.
But since no one really knows about the I'M INTEREST-AFFECTION DEFICIENT SYNDROME - or ever talks about this invisible neck sign - people do the same thing over and over. Sometimes they talk to the same sex but there is nothing like genuine interest and affection from someone you find attractive -- opposite sex interest. Like it feels so much better to have a guy tell you, you look great in the caboose department and gives you a playful little pat to prove it ended with a fun hug.
Anyway all kidding aside --daily interest and affection deficient people need it like our daily needed oxygen. Sometimes it pops up unexpectedly from the gal at work looking like Rosanne Barr nodding and hugging like Rachael Rae who is on the edge of her seat about the car, boss story -- what's next -- well he will eventually follow her anywhere because it feels good to be watered with love. This doesn't change as you age either. Bet you're shocked at his pick right???? Really thought he would replace you with Pamela Anderson huh?
And as for the she. Well the over the fence Kramer (can you believe it) has a vacation home in Florida and shares her interest to go there too because his wife isn't interested. He is so interested to hear all about the pole dancing and will gladly give her a ride down to Weight Watchers on Tuesday night because he has bowling that night. And what does the husband say , "yeah man, take her so she'll stop bugging me." She will follow her new Kramer anywhere because he fills the interest and affection deficit.
And of course you will blow a gasket when you see who is taking your spot -- Kramer the next door neighbour??? Thought it would be George Clooney?? Well it was inevitable. Just like you can't expect a plant to water itself nor can you expect a human to interestize and affectionize themselves.
Yep that's THE SECRET of HUMAN BEINGS. The secret of human beings at any age. Don't believe me. Make eye contact with a street person, smile at them, throw a compliment and although they looked like they were floating in a stupor, they will watch you go. If you do that every day and give them a pat on the shoulder, you might just find them on your doorstep. Pat a pet -- they will follow you for even a smidgen.
So I hope that life will treat you kindly and I won't find you crying on my doorstep -- I've warned you. Or that you live like it is your last day by filling up your spouse's interest and affection deficient cup each and every day. I hope they in turn daily will be topping yours. All it takes is the question "what's new with you" and an enthusiastic response, an "oh dear" when they tell you they've gained 10. A "fantastic" when they tell you they found a bright yellow blouse to go with their skirt at a ridiculously low price. A "don't worry -- you won't get cancer" followed by a big hug and kiss. You can show the interest and affection or some other Mr. or Mrs. will have to do it for you, but it has to be done, and I pray it is you. You're never too old for an affair or to be affaired on.
There is some other lonely person, emotionally deficient human being who is interested in your spouse's day. And if done often, they, yes even your spouse, will follow them anywhere, its the law of Attraction -- REPEATED GENUINE INTEREST AND AFFECTION Its only a hi, a smile and a cup of coffee away.
Remember !
I well recall Remembrance Day in Ottawa. As a Brownie, can you remember what a brownie was and it wasn't something you jammed down with your Timmies. Hello -- brown uniform, scarf, badges, beret and we stood the route to honour World War Veterans. At the time I thought it was a good day off from school and a good round of people watching.
As I sit here today watching Remembrance Day celebrations in Ottawa on the boob tube, it has a whole new meaning. It isn't that we are knee deep in poppies, wreaths, veterans' blue jackets, gray pants and berets covering the hairless with Grand Canyon wrinkles -- that's fact. Its the sadness that comes from watching now old men arrive in wheel chairs, walkers, on canes, and some marching proudly just like the day they arrived at Boot Camp -- kids. Its my understanding of 20 year old kids who sacrificed their lives for my freedom so I can sit here, write this Blog and not have to have a swastika on all my jackets. Thank God.
Its the one day when all the Natives, English, French, Blacks, Scots, Irish or whomever will shut the hell up, lay their wreaths just because they all got on the bus with the same cause in mind -- let's get Peace. Maybe it takes a war for bozos to get along, who knows? But believe me, for today, they will be standing along side each other behaving themselves and not quibbling about singing God Save the Queen in French. The lips will be moving trying to pretend they know french. Afterwards they might play wheel chair chicken swinging their canes like two guys in Grumpy Old Men disputing that the Government screwed over the natives,or the Irish suck, but for now all is quiet and I have my moment of Lest We Forget what we got from these guys -- freedom!!!
If you look deep into the old Veterans' eyes you will see the once dim witted twinkle of adventure. However, the tears of believing a pile of crap remain -- it was far from an adventure. They still cry for their buddies 60 years now gone but to them -- yesterday. They are unable to escape this era of horror. Little did the young boy know what they were hut, hut, hutting towards.
I recall looking at a picture of my own father prewar and then after. He looked twenty years older after 4 years. Gone was the happy face and home came the grave face. I guess so after digging so many. In those days they didn't just load your loved ones onto a plane but left them in Flanders field in Belgium or wherever. Many families still have no closure today. They just got a telegram or two folks showing up at your door with the I Wish to Inform You talk that your 20 year old kid is dead.
The sad thing about war is that we take a kid, take the civilian out of them and turn them into a killer so they can protect us. And when they return, after doing a job well done, we can't put them back into the change chamber and take the killer back out and turn them into a civilian, a happy kid again.
Instead we get back very physically wounded people coupled with emotional scaring from killing other human beings. Who can really live with that guilt -- conscience won't allow it. And for those that did not return, maybe the lucky ones who are memory free, the family has just an empty place at the table and a picture of a smiley kid in a uniform on the t.v. set with some medals draped over the edge. And watch what you say --he is their hero. If you say "war is stupid" -- their could be a war with you dodging beer bottles.
And that is the reason why the old Veterans should sit down and we stand and salute them. The Government should be passing out LCBO cards today for them and their families. In fact in the Veterans Hospital they should be given all the free booze they want intravenous or whatever to lift their spirits. So let them pee their pants, run down the hall naked and use their canes as pool cues --so be it. That would be government money well spent for a change. I for one don't want to look like an Arnolddetta on steroids horking up my words.
Even as I watch Prince Charles I'm impressed. Also he has dragged the lovely Camilla to Ottawa, with a hat showing the remains of the pheasants sacrificed for royalty, but he gets a standing ovation for showing up to thank those who put their lives on hold, at risk, to be our world class heroes. When we look at the Veterans we look at the best of Canada today. Actually we should have this ceremony once a month to view the scarred until we get it.
And having recently being the recipient of the dreaded folks at the door with the I wish to Inform you speech that a kid of 21 is gone, families are forever altered. It does not matter if it is the war of idiots, the war of substance, the war of Columbine or Iraq -- all you know is that a 21 year old kid went off and you will never see them again -- family casualties remain. There will always be a senseless empty seat at the table.
And my sympathy for those who will be getting the I wish to inform you speech today. Realize that some 21 year old Canadian girl at this moment may becoming a widow courtesy of Iraq. Imagine that a window at 21? And for those who don't know what to say to the families of the deceased, the "you will get married again" solution -- choke yourself. The survivors of kids killed want you to ask them questions. They want you to show interest in knowing their kid. Hell, look how much angst you have when you misplace your wedding ring and may never see it again. Suggesting you buy another ring just doesn't cut it.
And so if you get a chance today to sit along side a Veteran, and you strike up a conversation and are lovely enough to ask "tell me" good for you. It may be hours to recant their good old war tales. If you get bored and leave after they start to tell you about their friend Joe who got killed in enemy fire 60 years -- shame on you. They have earned the right to talk and our freedom is our obligation to listen.
As I sit here today watching Remembrance Day celebrations in Ottawa on the boob tube, it has a whole new meaning. It isn't that we are knee deep in poppies, wreaths, veterans' blue jackets, gray pants and berets covering the hairless with Grand Canyon wrinkles -- that's fact. Its the sadness that comes from watching now old men arrive in wheel chairs, walkers, on canes, and some marching proudly just like the day they arrived at Boot Camp -- kids. Its my understanding of 20 year old kids who sacrificed their lives for my freedom so I can sit here, write this Blog and not have to have a swastika on all my jackets. Thank God.
Its the one day when all the Natives, English, French, Blacks, Scots, Irish or whomever will shut the hell up, lay their wreaths just because they all got on the bus with the same cause in mind -- let's get Peace. Maybe it takes a war for bozos to get along, who knows? But believe me, for today, they will be standing along side each other behaving themselves and not quibbling about singing God Save the Queen in French. The lips will be moving trying to pretend they know french. Afterwards they might play wheel chair chicken swinging their canes like two guys in Grumpy Old Men disputing that the Government screwed over the natives,or the Irish suck, but for now all is quiet and I have my moment of Lest We Forget what we got from these guys -- freedom!!!
If you look deep into the old Veterans' eyes you will see the once dim witted twinkle of adventure. However, the tears of believing a pile of crap remain -- it was far from an adventure. They still cry for their buddies 60 years now gone but to them -- yesterday. They are unable to escape this era of horror. Little did the young boy know what they were hut, hut, hutting towards.
I recall looking at a picture of my own father prewar and then after. He looked twenty years older after 4 years. Gone was the happy face and home came the grave face. I guess so after digging so many. In those days they didn't just load your loved ones onto a plane but left them in Flanders field in Belgium or wherever. Many families still have no closure today. They just got a telegram or two folks showing up at your door with the I Wish to Inform You talk that your 20 year old kid is dead.
The sad thing about war is that we take a kid, take the civilian out of them and turn them into a killer so they can protect us. And when they return, after doing a job well done, we can't put them back into the change chamber and take the killer back out and turn them into a civilian, a happy kid again.
Instead we get back very physically wounded people coupled with emotional scaring from killing other human beings. Who can really live with that guilt -- conscience won't allow it. And for those that did not return, maybe the lucky ones who are memory free, the family has just an empty place at the table and a picture of a smiley kid in a uniform on the t.v. set with some medals draped over the edge. And watch what you say --he is their hero. If you say "war is stupid" -- their could be a war with you dodging beer bottles.
And that is the reason why the old Veterans should sit down and we stand and salute them. The Government should be passing out LCBO cards today for them and their families. In fact in the Veterans Hospital they should be given all the free booze they want intravenous or whatever to lift their spirits. So let them pee their pants, run down the hall naked and use their canes as pool cues --so be it. That would be government money well spent for a change. I for one don't want to look like an Arnolddetta on steroids horking up my words.
Even as I watch Prince Charles I'm impressed. Also he has dragged the lovely Camilla to Ottawa, with a hat showing the remains of the pheasants sacrificed for royalty, but he gets a standing ovation for showing up to thank those who put their lives on hold, at risk, to be our world class heroes. When we look at the Veterans we look at the best of Canada today. Actually we should have this ceremony once a month to view the scarred until we get it.
And having recently being the recipient of the dreaded folks at the door with the I wish to Inform you speech that a kid of 21 is gone, families are forever altered. It does not matter if it is the war of idiots, the war of substance, the war of Columbine or Iraq -- all you know is that a 21 year old kid went off and you will never see them again -- family casualties remain. There will always be a senseless empty seat at the table.
And my sympathy for those who will be getting the I wish to inform you speech today. Realize that some 21 year old Canadian girl at this moment may becoming a widow courtesy of Iraq. Imagine that a window at 21? And for those who don't know what to say to the families of the deceased, the "you will get married again" solution -- choke yourself. The survivors of kids killed want you to ask them questions. They want you to show interest in knowing their kid. Hell, look how much angst you have when you misplace your wedding ring and may never see it again. Suggesting you buy another ring just doesn't cut it.
And so if you get a chance today to sit along side a Veteran, and you strike up a conversation and are lovely enough to ask "tell me" good for you. It may be hours to recant their good old war tales. If you get bored and leave after they start to tell you about their friend Joe who got killed in enemy fire 60 years -- shame on you. They have earned the right to talk and our freedom is our obligation to listen.
Friday, November 6, 2009
Are You a no fun of a Bitch???
Yes you read the title right -- did it make you laugh or gasp! Depending on what reaction you had -- you should know if you are on the fun or no fun side of the room!! If you are a grown up, serious, no fun of a bitch, you are making life stink for yourself and the ones around you who need play to be healthy. That's scientific research not my BS. We learn better with laughter and play helps the burnout. Are you burning others out with your no fun crap?? Hello -- play is a luxury that you can well afford.
I just returned form Mykonos -- a little Greek out of the way place . With all this yada yada about hard economic times how come people are forever eating out? Probably, they need places that are fun to help ease the pain. Whether its the seaside decoration, the cross eyed waitress who called me Young Lady, the plate smashing (just kidding), or the hostess, this little place seemed fun. If I had to take one thing out of the bunch to say what would entice me to come back again, it was the Hostess. Dolled in her finest, jewels on the fingers and bells on her toes, she went table to table calling anyone she knew Darlin, hugging and commenting on who was not using their walker and meeting us newbies in her fun way. This was not the Taj Maha hall -- our tables were twelve inches apart -- your rump was swiping someone's olives off their salad, not to mention the Feta, but it was a Cheers of a sort minus feisty Carla.
As I've said, its not where you go, its who you go with or who is there. Often we are told the opposite of play is work -- Wrong OH -- its DEPRESSION. Sadly, even the sports today are too structured to emulate spontaneous fun play. Don't you just love the coach or some other serious wanna be super star, calling you a lazy, no talent hack or doing that deep breathing thing when you mistakenly shoot the volleyball into the I beam on the ceiling and they have to get the Janitor to get it down. Love the rolling eyeballs. Well cancel the no fun sports for the kids.
Anything and anybody too serious -- sucks the fun. And as I said in previous blog, school is no fun because school is too exam oriented to promote spontaneous fun. All about structure and performance and worse, we send the poor little saps to Sucksville at 3 so they can get right down to Algebra by grade 2 and beat those Japanese kids.
To add to today's playless society, when you pass a school yard where are the kids jumping rope, playing hop scotch, marbles, or doing their little ritual insults -- you know, "David why did your mother knit you another angora kitten sweater and why did you wear it?" Gone is the gossip drama, joking, and story telling. You can see the kids on cell phones in the school yard, calling whomever -- drug dealers or some other kid in another school yard, or texting their friend on the bench beside them saying some useless thing ending with Ha Ha. If the teacher brings out the sports equipment -- all you hear is a massive groan and a collective really, you want us to play, we are doing something!!!
Too bad -- we need the playground as much as the classroom -- having fun builds bigger and better brains. Life without play is just a sense of dullness and pessimism.
I often think about going back into a work situation and I start to shake like an addict starting withdrawal. Why, because of the seriousness of the majority of people who often hold the commando positions. Its conjures up fear like working with Martha Stewart day after day. If I work for myself, I can control the fun meter and my motto is THOSE WHO LAUGH TOGETHER, WORK TOGETHER BETTER. Even if I had a funeral home, I would want the place to be fun i.e. We are the last people who will let you down. Or let us arrange your last mile in style. And for Halloween -- the coffins would have mannequins laid out to scare the crap out of the staff when they lifted the lid, along with flashing lights, music and cop messages like "drop that lid -- now!" At Xmas -- why not Santa Claus suits?? As for peeing in the ice cube trays -- no I don't mean moron fun.
So for many of you who may have been raised by Mr. and Mrs. No Fun Kettle, and want to leave the Biggest Loser Club, doing something enjoyable may seem like a hell of a risk. Actually if you would write down 100 things, shoot for 30, do one per day -- life will be more enjoyable for yourself, the cast and crew around you. If going to a movie is too much of a commitment and time consuming, try a daily joke email, eat chips with Hell of a Dip, or read the comics. For heaven's sake do something on your list, or move to the States, get a gun and use it.
So for those of you who are working for the man get your Nerf guns loaded. When you see old serious pants sitting there, or the fatigued because they just got ragged out by the uppers, let em have it full blast. That will bring them around and get rid of office fatigue. Laughter is low cost and builds office morale. Wouldn't you just love to see the boss with his tie wrapped around his head Rambo style, or on the desk doing the Can Can to New York New York. Trust me that would build the social bonds and help people through the office tough times.
So, that's my ten cents for today. Right now I'm going to get the dog and see if she wants to waltz with me!! Ciao!!
I just returned form Mykonos -- a little Greek out of the way place . With all this yada yada about hard economic times how come people are forever eating out? Probably, they need places that are fun to help ease the pain. Whether its the seaside decoration, the cross eyed waitress who called me Young Lady, the plate smashing (just kidding), or the hostess, this little place seemed fun. If I had to take one thing out of the bunch to say what would entice me to come back again, it was the Hostess. Dolled in her finest, jewels on the fingers and bells on her toes, she went table to table calling anyone she knew Darlin, hugging and commenting on who was not using their walker and meeting us newbies in her fun way. This was not the Taj Maha hall -- our tables were twelve inches apart -- your rump was swiping someone's olives off their salad, not to mention the Feta, but it was a Cheers of a sort minus feisty Carla.
As I've said, its not where you go, its who you go with or who is there. Often we are told the opposite of play is work -- Wrong OH -- its DEPRESSION. Sadly, even the sports today are too structured to emulate spontaneous fun play. Don't you just love the coach or some other serious wanna be super star, calling you a lazy, no talent hack or doing that deep breathing thing when you mistakenly shoot the volleyball into the I beam on the ceiling and they have to get the Janitor to get it down. Love the rolling eyeballs. Well cancel the no fun sports for the kids.
Anything and anybody too serious -- sucks the fun. And as I said in previous blog, school is no fun because school is too exam oriented to promote spontaneous fun. All about structure and performance and worse, we send the poor little saps to Sucksville at 3 so they can get right down to Algebra by grade 2 and beat those Japanese kids.
To add to today's playless society, when you pass a school yard where are the kids jumping rope, playing hop scotch, marbles, or doing their little ritual insults -- you know, "David why did your mother knit you another angora kitten sweater and why did you wear it?" Gone is the gossip drama, joking, and story telling. You can see the kids on cell phones in the school yard, calling whomever -- drug dealers or some other kid in another school yard, or texting their friend on the bench beside them saying some useless thing ending with Ha Ha. If the teacher brings out the sports equipment -- all you hear is a massive groan and a collective really, you want us to play, we are doing something!!!
Too bad -- we need the playground as much as the classroom -- having fun builds bigger and better brains. Life without play is just a sense of dullness and pessimism.
I often think about going back into a work situation and I start to shake like an addict starting withdrawal. Why, because of the seriousness of the majority of people who often hold the commando positions. Its conjures up fear like working with Martha Stewart day after day. If I work for myself, I can control the fun meter and my motto is THOSE WHO LAUGH TOGETHER, WORK TOGETHER BETTER. Even if I had a funeral home, I would want the place to be fun i.e. We are the last people who will let you down. Or let us arrange your last mile in style. And for Halloween -- the coffins would have mannequins laid out to scare the crap out of the staff when they lifted the lid, along with flashing lights, music and cop messages like "drop that lid -- now!" At Xmas -- why not Santa Claus suits?? As for peeing in the ice cube trays -- no I don't mean moron fun.
So for many of you who may have been raised by Mr. and Mrs. No Fun Kettle, and want to leave the Biggest Loser Club, doing something enjoyable may seem like a hell of a risk. Actually if you would write down 100 things, shoot for 30, do one per day -- life will be more enjoyable for yourself, the cast and crew around you. If going to a movie is too much of a commitment and time consuming, try a daily joke email, eat chips with Hell of a Dip, or read the comics. For heaven's sake do something on your list, or move to the States, get a gun and use it.
So for those of you who are working for the man get your Nerf guns loaded. When you see old serious pants sitting there, or the fatigued because they just got ragged out by the uppers, let em have it full blast. That will bring them around and get rid of office fatigue. Laughter is low cost and builds office morale. Wouldn't you just love to see the boss with his tie wrapped around his head Rambo style, or on the desk doing the Can Can to New York New York. Trust me that would build the social bonds and help people through the office tough times.
So, that's my ten cents for today. Right now I'm going to get the dog and see if she wants to waltz with me!! Ciao!!
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Report Card Time
You know its a frustrating world living amongst the sneeches. The world parades left and I right. For instance. Left -- women wearing hipster jeans --hello, if you aren't the size of a newly planted sapling you can't get them up over your knee caps. So pull over to the right -- get something with an elastic waist. Another left -- women should wear thongs, they're comfortable and flattering. Now right -- why would women wear thongs when most women need Spanx? That's about 2 more yards of material.
My big all time left peeve -- marks. Marks are the yardstick for success and happiness. Yep you bring home that pathetic piece of paper to your parents which pronounces you to the fam -- a big fat loser or ta da -- winner, based on As or Bs. And then the As will get you a Free Willy lifestyle.
In my right thinking world, marks are not a reflection of smarts or a winning future. Its a report on how much free after school time you have to reteach yourself enough useless information just in case you might be invited to the World Champion Trivial Pursuit Tryouts.
Unfortunately the lonely hearts club had more free time than I did, or more scary parents and consequently they just made boring folks more boring, employable and eventually tenured.
But the worst with the marks is the "you won't become much" head trip. Well maybe the kids in the Sunshine Class might be struggling to bring in 30 shopping carts at Loblaws in a snow storm although God do Bless Them, but not I. However, I do have the job to keep a tight eye on them like a one eyed cat in a fish market as I don't want the car scratched. But without the As and Bs, No Wheres Ville -- please.
I recall the first time I went to the high school reunion. First shock -- we were overcome with all the bald headed guys who had been hit by the ozone layer. Secondly it was a hay day on illness. Who would know how many people had family members with inoperable hemorrhoids. However of my major importance -- what wonderful life the chick who always got As snagged. Patiently waiting for the report of her successful life instead I heard, well she couldn't make it because she couldn't leave the restaurant. No she did not own the restaurant - she was the waitress/hostess. Well sounds right -- you can transfer those good memorization skills to the Specials of the Day. I think she was a tad embarrassed to show up.
So that is just to give you my take from the other side about school and the puppy mill memorization school theory. Really, how the hell do boring people expect me or anyone creative to survive? As soon as I plunked myself down and the boring begets the boring like that guy in Ferris Bueller, it feels like a dreaded 8 hour drive down the 401 without coffee, Sirius and DVDs. Of course we should all be asleep and ditch bound, but because you fall asleep, or tune out boring people with boring info -- doesn't spell failure.
So that was then, well what about the now?? Well believe it or not the report cards never stop coming. However, now we change the As and Bs to As and Rs -- Admiration and Respect. Here's my right angle thinking.
Moment by moment and you write the Respect and Admiration Report card on anyone you see and the world is writing an ever changing one on you. Yep, as soon as you ran out of the house wearing that God awful too tight pair of pants, with your favorite pair of thong underwear making your cheeks look like two Mt. Rushmores and left your model home like you were robbed and they took the good stuff, Hello F in Respect and F in Admiration department. What really galls me is that while you are zooming around in public looking like someone yelled fire and you had to get out quick, you are writing a report card on the cashier and wondering if all her chin hairs could be plucked and replanted on her hair line? Yep and that how the report card goes.
We are visual people and the report card is all about the look -- the digs, the ride, the rags, even the cell you work in . And don't lie to yourself that you don't think that way -- Jesus didn't have a sister. How many times have you met someone at work, they look respectable and then they give you a ride in the slob mobile. It has nothing to do with the car being vintage -- its when they ask you to bring a towel and you can't imagine why until you see your seat. Then they have the audacity to drop you off at your front door in something that looked like it went through a cow pasture and has enough crap in and outside to fill a dumpster. Could be a perfectly lovely person, but bye bye respect.
It does not matter where you go restaurant, hair dresser, accountant, friend's house, the respect and admiration report cards are being written -- it is impossible not to. If I just pick one out of the bunch how about the professional accountant's office I saw. I get the recommendation and over I go. Immediately I'm huffing and puffing as I climb the stairs to Mt. Everest because the cheap son of the bitch got cheap rent so we are minus an elevator. Then I trip over his curled up rubber back rug after fighting with it to get the dam door open. I then plunk myself down on his bargain chairs with the chrome sides and wood handles. I ask myself, "why am I paying $300 for this guy to do my taxes."
His respect report card says F in location, F in furnishings, F in comfort and a big fat F if Fanny Brightwhite (his wife who is posing as his Receptionist) brings me a lipstick rimmed cup) -- I will scream FAILED!!
And that is the truth about the never ending admiration and respect report card. What you see is what you say, etc. etc.
So as I think about life and the story lies we were told about the report card and the significance of As and Bs, I really wasn't told the importance of the As and Rs. Can't hide those folks and they hurt much worse. So get going girls -- pluck those chin hairs.
My big all time left peeve -- marks. Marks are the yardstick for success and happiness. Yep you bring home that pathetic piece of paper to your parents which pronounces you to the fam -- a big fat loser or ta da -- winner, based on As or Bs. And then the As will get you a Free Willy lifestyle.
In my right thinking world, marks are not a reflection of smarts or a winning future. Its a report on how much free after school time you have to reteach yourself enough useless information just in case you might be invited to the World Champion Trivial Pursuit Tryouts.
Unfortunately the lonely hearts club had more free time than I did, or more scary parents and consequently they just made boring folks more boring, employable and eventually tenured.
But the worst with the marks is the "you won't become much" head trip. Well maybe the kids in the Sunshine Class might be struggling to bring in 30 shopping carts at Loblaws in a snow storm although God do Bless Them, but not I. However, I do have the job to keep a tight eye on them like a one eyed cat in a fish market as I don't want the car scratched. But without the As and Bs, No Wheres Ville -- please.
I recall the first time I went to the high school reunion. First shock -- we were overcome with all the bald headed guys who had been hit by the ozone layer. Secondly it was a hay day on illness. Who would know how many people had family members with inoperable hemorrhoids. However of my major importance -- what wonderful life the chick who always got As snagged. Patiently waiting for the report of her successful life instead I heard, well she couldn't make it because she couldn't leave the restaurant. No she did not own the restaurant - she was the waitress/hostess. Well sounds right -- you can transfer those good memorization skills to the Specials of the Day. I think she was a tad embarrassed to show up.
So that is just to give you my take from the other side about school and the puppy mill memorization school theory. Really, how the hell do boring people expect me or anyone creative to survive? As soon as I plunked myself down and the boring begets the boring like that guy in Ferris Bueller, it feels like a dreaded 8 hour drive down the 401 without coffee, Sirius and DVDs. Of course we should all be asleep and ditch bound, but because you fall asleep, or tune out boring people with boring info -- doesn't spell failure.
So that was then, well what about the now?? Well believe it or not the report cards never stop coming. However, now we change the As and Bs to As and Rs -- Admiration and Respect. Here's my right angle thinking.
Moment by moment and you write the Respect and Admiration Report card on anyone you see and the world is writing an ever changing one on you. Yep, as soon as you ran out of the house wearing that God awful too tight pair of pants, with your favorite pair of thong underwear making your cheeks look like two Mt. Rushmores and left your model home like you were robbed and they took the good stuff, Hello F in Respect and F in Admiration department. What really galls me is that while you are zooming around in public looking like someone yelled fire and you had to get out quick, you are writing a report card on the cashier and wondering if all her chin hairs could be plucked and replanted on her hair line? Yep and that how the report card goes.
We are visual people and the report card is all about the look -- the digs, the ride, the rags, even the cell you work in . And don't lie to yourself that you don't think that way -- Jesus didn't have a sister. How many times have you met someone at work, they look respectable and then they give you a ride in the slob mobile. It has nothing to do with the car being vintage -- its when they ask you to bring a towel and you can't imagine why until you see your seat. Then they have the audacity to drop you off at your front door in something that looked like it went through a cow pasture and has enough crap in and outside to fill a dumpster. Could be a perfectly lovely person, but bye bye respect.
It does not matter where you go restaurant, hair dresser, accountant, friend's house, the respect and admiration report cards are being written -- it is impossible not to. If I just pick one out of the bunch how about the professional accountant's office I saw. I get the recommendation and over I go. Immediately I'm huffing and puffing as I climb the stairs to Mt. Everest because the cheap son of the bitch got cheap rent so we are minus an elevator. Then I trip over his curled up rubber back rug after fighting with it to get the dam door open. I then plunk myself down on his bargain chairs with the chrome sides and wood handles. I ask myself, "why am I paying $300 for this guy to do my taxes."
His respect report card says F in location, F in furnishings, F in comfort and a big fat F if Fanny Brightwhite (his wife who is posing as his Receptionist) brings me a lipstick rimmed cup) -- I will scream FAILED!!
And that is the truth about the never ending admiration and respect report card. What you see is what you say, etc. etc.
So as I think about life and the story lies we were told about the report card and the significance of As and Bs, I really wasn't told the importance of the As and Rs. Can't hide those folks and they hurt much worse. So get going girls -- pluck those chin hairs.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
U can pay for School but U can't buy Class
I can recall the moment when we heard President Kennedy was assassinated. I had one foot in the air mounting the steps of my school bus and the next moment I could hear the thud of my footstep hit the metal with the boom of surround sound. During the weeks following I watched unexplained events unfold almost as terrifying as 9/ll. My eyes were glued on the woman -- Jackie Kennedy.
If you know the story of this lady, she had the bickersons as parents, majorly cheating husband, still birth, miscarriage problems, and finally the lovely in car assassination. Here is what she told a friend. "I have come to the conclusion that one must not expect too much from life. We must give life at least as much as we receive from it. Every moment one lives is different from the next. The good, the bad, the hardship, the joy, the tragedy, love and happiness are all interwoven into one single indescribable whole that is called life. You cannot stop the good from the bad and perhaps there is no need to do so either."
There is no other name that comes to mind with this woman than Classy and it had nothing to do with her family, education, money, pedigree, marital status, but how she performed. She did not wallow in justified pity. In fact she appeared to live an unscarred life, although we all know better. She married a good looking loser, a cheater, a heart breaker, marriage wrecker President of the United States just like his old man. When she went out in public she convincingly had to pretend for the world that they were from Camelot -- so in love while the girlfriend of the hour is singing Happy Birthday Mr. President. Regardless we can call her stupid but I think we saw classy -- it gave me a real look at Wonder Woman without the silly outfit.
To this day I respect her for not operating in panic mode regardless of her life of tragedy -- she kept me calm. She walked with Kings and kept her poise. She walked comfortably amongst the common folk. She is on the list of people I would most like to assemble at a dinner party, along with Jesus, Mother Theresa, Oprah, etc. where I could sample the world's wisdom.
However girls, what do you think Jackie did in her private time? Did she slash the wedding pictures? Did she have a padded room where she threw herself into fits of sobbing despair? Did she write and write her pain away? Did she have a live in therapist? But what did she do with all the pain from a life of disappointment, terror and humiliation -- although I think money helps -- but who the hell wants to play football at the Kennedy compound when you really want to pick up a shot gun and do the assassination yourself?
Regardless my Wonder Woman Jackie was always in sacrifice mode, not telling her tales of terror, but being a great world hostess, greeter and allowing others to enjoy life. Maybe the cancer told the tale of this great lady's pain, but I for one am thankful that I got to see one of the classiest ladies of all time in my life time. I believe at times I have relied on her pain techniques --for one, the big sunglasses. Never let them see you sweat nor cry.
I have no clue if Jackie Kennedy finished grammar school but her behavior trumped schooling. She didn't run scared, she maintained confidence. She met life head on and handled whatever came along. She never made excuses and her good manners at most times where nothing more than small sacrifices except for during the assassination, she made Grand Canyon sacrifices to keep our world calm and comfortable. She was a lady who could make everyone comfortable because she was comfortable within herself. And that is what we are missing today in this over educated world -- class and the comfortable they bring.
I for one am fed up to the eyeballs with bragging parents,who are going broke as we speak with picking up the total tab of their over educated classless brats. Perhaps all the bragging about their latest test scores, or degree is not just first generation classless, or they really want me to know they are getting their money's worth, but its still a visit from hell.
And to make it worse Mrs. almost B.A. and Mr. almost PHD barely can speak a word of hello when you enter the room because you just aren't at their education level. You want to scream at the parents -- you can pay for their school, but you can't buy them class -- therefore would you send these two brats to their rooms and give me a rest on lack of class.
And so for all the parents who are going broke remortgaging the house, upping credit cards for cell phones, cars, student housing, wake up and smell the coffee. Spend the cash on a good course in class. Might not stick but money better spent. At least when you enter the room, they won't snub you too you peasant.
If you have class you don't need much of anything else. If you don't -- no matter what else you have, it doesn't make much difference. HELLO DONALD TRUMP!!!
If you know the story of this lady, she had the bickersons as parents, majorly cheating husband, still birth, miscarriage problems, and finally the lovely in car assassination. Here is what she told a friend. "I have come to the conclusion that one must not expect too much from life. We must give life at least as much as we receive from it. Every moment one lives is different from the next. The good, the bad, the hardship, the joy, the tragedy, love and happiness are all interwoven into one single indescribable whole that is called life. You cannot stop the good from the bad and perhaps there is no need to do so either."
There is no other name that comes to mind with this woman than Classy and it had nothing to do with her family, education, money, pedigree, marital status, but how she performed. She did not wallow in justified pity. In fact she appeared to live an unscarred life, although we all know better. She married a good looking loser, a cheater, a heart breaker, marriage wrecker President of the United States just like his old man. When she went out in public she convincingly had to pretend for the world that they were from Camelot -- so in love while the girlfriend of the hour is singing Happy Birthday Mr. President. Regardless we can call her stupid but I think we saw classy -- it gave me a real look at Wonder Woman without the silly outfit.
To this day I respect her for not operating in panic mode regardless of her life of tragedy -- she kept me calm. She walked with Kings and kept her poise. She walked comfortably amongst the common folk. She is on the list of people I would most like to assemble at a dinner party, along with Jesus, Mother Theresa, Oprah, etc. where I could sample the world's wisdom.
However girls, what do you think Jackie did in her private time? Did she slash the wedding pictures? Did she have a padded room where she threw herself into fits of sobbing despair? Did she write and write her pain away? Did she have a live in therapist? But what did she do with all the pain from a life of disappointment, terror and humiliation -- although I think money helps -- but who the hell wants to play football at the Kennedy compound when you really want to pick up a shot gun and do the assassination yourself?
Regardless my Wonder Woman Jackie was always in sacrifice mode, not telling her tales of terror, but being a great world hostess, greeter and allowing others to enjoy life. Maybe the cancer told the tale of this great lady's pain, but I for one am thankful that I got to see one of the classiest ladies of all time in my life time. I believe at times I have relied on her pain techniques --for one, the big sunglasses. Never let them see you sweat nor cry.
I have no clue if Jackie Kennedy finished grammar school but her behavior trumped schooling. She didn't run scared, she maintained confidence. She met life head on and handled whatever came along. She never made excuses and her good manners at most times where nothing more than small sacrifices except for during the assassination, she made Grand Canyon sacrifices to keep our world calm and comfortable. She was a lady who could make everyone comfortable because she was comfortable within herself. And that is what we are missing today in this over educated world -- class and the comfortable they bring.
I for one am fed up to the eyeballs with bragging parents,who are going broke as we speak with picking up the total tab of their over educated classless brats. Perhaps all the bragging about their latest test scores, or degree is not just first generation classless, or they really want me to know they are getting their money's worth, but its still a visit from hell.
And to make it worse Mrs. almost B.A. and Mr. almost PHD barely can speak a word of hello when you enter the room because you just aren't at their education level. You want to scream at the parents -- you can pay for their school, but you can't buy them class -- therefore would you send these two brats to their rooms and give me a rest on lack of class.
And so for all the parents who are going broke remortgaging the house, upping credit cards for cell phones, cars, student housing, wake up and smell the coffee. Spend the cash on a good course in class. Might not stick but money better spent. At least when you enter the room, they won't snub you too you peasant.
If you have class you don't need much of anything else. If you don't -- no matter what else you have, it doesn't make much difference. HELLO DONALD TRUMP!!!
What your Mama oughta told yah?
I was thinking about having a ring made that said NO REGRETS for all the unhappy folks and the releasing of the guilt (and in little print dpi - denied pertinent information.) I think it was Maya Angelo who said, "if I had known better, I would have done better." Well, so would you if you understood the major significance of the three fs -- family facts first -- and were not denied same. Many a folk claims the (unmedicated bipolar) twin sister is looking after a sick Aunt when its Meet the Faulker Time.
How many people do you hear on their way to the psychiatrist's office or the court house happily say: I'm so glad I married that guy. Love losing the house -- love his big mouth and so do his past employers. Love the crazy kids -- love their home grown pot business and so do the cops . Or love his family -- love the stolen car business and love my Prison Terms RUs. Facts overlooked -- sister said "he has a big mouth just like Dad in prison." Or his Aunt said "you look like a nice girl dear, does your family deal in stolen goods too??"
People are expected to make the first most important life happiness decision, second is house, without requesting the pertinent family baggage. It should be hammered into society like we do with SAY NO TO DRUGS. We should act just like Joe Friday in Dragnet "just the facts maam" and then hire someone to decipher those facts before the meeting of the genitals and the signing of the nuptials.
No instead we listen to the tunes. We sing along to songs like "If we want to be happy for the rest of our life, never make an ugly woman your wife." Yep we are told the happiness depends on the looks. It is impossible at 20, 30 or any age without dropping F BOMBS forever to just go with the looks and forgo the family mental illness and how deep it runs.
FBOMB -- handsome husband who keeps paying his Hells Angels brother's legal fees? FBOMB -- release of story of your silver fox father-in-law's kleptomaniac $3000 lingerie spree at La Senza. Recall -- those were the good looking relatives who were food for fodder when you were dating. You laughed so hard you choked on your fries at Chips Ahoy. Or, you wiped away his tears when his George Hamilton look a like Daddy's legal bill cancelled Xmas with his DUI. Well now they are your relatives too and worse, those genes run through the veins of your kids. FFFFFFFFFFF BOOOOOOOOOOOOMB.
Here's the starting of the insanity!!! In Grade One everyone starts asking little kids if they have picked out a cute little boyfriend/girlfriend ? And all the little girls want the same little handsome Osh Kosh Be Gosh guy. And who bought Osh Kosh Be Gosh his cute little overalls -- family facts first -- his chain smoking Sophia Loren mama who thinks smoking calms her pitbull rage. And she is really ticked today because the caterer left her cake out in the rain because she was only 2 hours late. Yep, that's the underbelly family facts first of little Osh Kosh By Gosh's mama. Stupid and Scary.
And since you have no control over another, you will be doing a dual steering life project, navigating and negotiating with the off spring of Stupid and Scary. And that was only half of Handsome. The George Hamilton Papa -- family facts first -- the OCD king has a hidden wine cellar more extensive than Donald Trump. He sneaks into it not to drink, as he should for the sake of all, but to count and dust each an every bottle. Why, because his personality disease makes him believe having more, makes him feel more. So when you go to a party, he won't be bringing the wine, he will be in your kitchen stuffing them down into his baggy jeans until he looks so endowed you would think his father was an elephant. Or if you tell him you have a wine cellar, Mr. I need more, will be your new best friend -- Mr. Stupid and Stealing. Yep, that's the family facts first of little handsome Osh Kosh By Gosh.
So in summary, here's a suggestion. As a real estate agent, I was expected to take a disclosure statement of the facts on the condition of every house I listed. Purchasing a house is your second big major happiness maker or killer and the government mandates that the buyer provide an accurate disclosure statement - flaws are noted. If you lie you are so sued. Regardless you know what's what with the house or you can send the Seller to the Big House. Let's put it this way, you get a shot at knowing if you are buying a pig in a poke, can pass and smile though your heart is aching. I know you loved the pool but you won't love the sinking basement.
I think the government should, after looking at soaring OHIP bills especially for anti depressants, rehabs, psychiatric hospitals, and police crime coverage, suggest personal disclosure statements. I think in turn our economy would thrive and be an quick incentive to get people to fix their problems. That stealing more to feel more problem would be over pretty dam quick or that fancy wine is now all mine. That addiction would be in remission full time because who wants to hire or date a sex addict, drug addict, or any other kind of addict. And if you lied -- gone all your assets.
I would start a Saneeees Franchise -- a rehab jammed to capacity on every corner with more purpose than a Timmies -- so the personal info statement looked fantastic. My plan to clean up the economy and have heaven on earth.
And for all of you who know me, I'm just an idea away from a billionaire. The fantastic joy of thinking outside the box. And for those of you who are F bombing your way through life, internally wrestling with the guilt of kid stupids, spouse stupids, job stupids,whatever stupids, just get up real close to that mirror each and every chance you get and look into those sad, sad eyes and say "I FORGIVE YOU - NOT GUILTY dpi." You might just see the twinkle back again.
How many people do you hear on their way to the psychiatrist's office or the court house happily say: I'm so glad I married that guy. Love losing the house -- love his big mouth and so do his past employers. Love the crazy kids -- love their home grown pot business and so do the cops . Or love his family -- love the stolen car business and love my Prison Terms RUs. Facts overlooked -- sister said "he has a big mouth just like Dad in prison." Or his Aunt said "you look like a nice girl dear, does your family deal in stolen goods too??"
People are expected to make the first most important life happiness decision, second is house, without requesting the pertinent family baggage. It should be hammered into society like we do with SAY NO TO DRUGS. We should act just like Joe Friday in Dragnet "just the facts maam" and then hire someone to decipher those facts before the meeting of the genitals and the signing of the nuptials.
No instead we listen to the tunes. We sing along to songs like "If we want to be happy for the rest of our life, never make an ugly woman your wife." Yep we are told the happiness depends on the looks. It is impossible at 20, 30 or any age without dropping F BOMBS forever to just go with the looks and forgo the family mental illness and how deep it runs.
FBOMB -- handsome husband who keeps paying his Hells Angels brother's legal fees? FBOMB -- release of story of your silver fox father-in-law's kleptomaniac $3000 lingerie spree at La Senza. Recall -- those were the good looking relatives who were food for fodder when you were dating. You laughed so hard you choked on your fries at Chips Ahoy. Or, you wiped away his tears when his George Hamilton look a like Daddy's legal bill cancelled Xmas with his DUI. Well now they are your relatives too and worse, those genes run through the veins of your kids. FFFFFFFFFFF BOOOOOOOOOOOOMB.
Here's the starting of the insanity!!! In Grade One everyone starts asking little kids if they have picked out a cute little boyfriend/girlfriend ? And all the little girls want the same little handsome Osh Kosh Be Gosh guy. And who bought Osh Kosh Be Gosh his cute little overalls -- family facts first -- his chain smoking Sophia Loren mama who thinks smoking calms her pitbull rage. And she is really ticked today because the caterer left her cake out in the rain because she was only 2 hours late. Yep, that's the underbelly family facts first of little Osh Kosh By Gosh's mama. Stupid and Scary.
And since you have no control over another, you will be doing a dual steering life project, navigating and negotiating with the off spring of Stupid and Scary. And that was only half of Handsome. The George Hamilton Papa -- family facts first -- the OCD king has a hidden wine cellar more extensive than Donald Trump. He sneaks into it not to drink, as he should for the sake of all, but to count and dust each an every bottle. Why, because his personality disease makes him believe having more, makes him feel more. So when you go to a party, he won't be bringing the wine, he will be in your kitchen stuffing them down into his baggy jeans until he looks so endowed you would think his father was an elephant. Or if you tell him you have a wine cellar, Mr. I need more, will be your new best friend -- Mr. Stupid and Stealing. Yep, that's the family facts first of little handsome Osh Kosh By Gosh.
So in summary, here's a suggestion. As a real estate agent, I was expected to take a disclosure statement of the facts on the condition of every house I listed. Purchasing a house is your second big major happiness maker or killer and the government mandates that the buyer provide an accurate disclosure statement - flaws are noted. If you lie you are so sued. Regardless you know what's what with the house or you can send the Seller to the Big House. Let's put it this way, you get a shot at knowing if you are buying a pig in a poke, can pass and smile though your heart is aching. I know you loved the pool but you won't love the sinking basement.
I think the government should, after looking at soaring OHIP bills especially for anti depressants, rehabs, psychiatric hospitals, and police crime coverage, suggest personal disclosure statements. I think in turn our economy would thrive and be an quick incentive to get people to fix their problems. That stealing more to feel more problem would be over pretty dam quick or that fancy wine is now all mine. That addiction would be in remission full time because who wants to hire or date a sex addict, drug addict, or any other kind of addict. And if you lied -- gone all your assets.
I would start a Saneeees Franchise -- a rehab jammed to capacity on every corner with more purpose than a Timmies -- so the personal info statement looked fantastic. My plan to clean up the economy and have heaven on earth.
And for all of you who know me, I'm just an idea away from a billionaire. The fantastic joy of thinking outside the box. And for those of you who are F bombing your way through life, internally wrestling with the guilt of kid stupids, spouse stupids, job stupids,whatever stupids, just get up real close to that mirror each and every chance you get and look into those sad, sad eyes and say "I FORGIVE YOU - NOT GUILTY dpi." You might just see the twinkle back again.
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