Ten, Night, Eight,..........HAPPY 2010 new Divorcees!!

Well the Ontario weather crap shoot starts tonight!!! Did you ever wonder, along with why you weren't born into the Manson family, why you were born in Ontario ? I for one have often wondered why I was not born in Florida, Vegas and New Awlins? Especially on the two most important days of the year -- Xmas and New Years -- hell hath no fury like a Canadian winter eh?

And so for many of the female New Years Eve goers -- donning a down filled coat, Sorrel gum boots, Columbia mitts and a balaclava over the new doo and your strapless black sateen party gown -- good luck Sister! With that amazing entrance - you won't die of frostbite but you may get a 911 call as a potential home invader. However, you will make the 12 Bars of Xmas and hearing Guy Lombardo's SHOULD ALL ACQUAINTANCES BE FORGOTTEN pounded out in a techno frenzy by Lady Ga Ga.

I recall one dry spell! A New Year's Eve a hundred years ago! A friend of mine asked me if I would go on a blind date with a US Marine named Gene. Why, because as is the case, he was the tag along friend, who probably had the gas that drove the other ass to Canada. And now that he had served his purpose, well what do we do with sailor Gene? Call Arlene! She can stop on a dime and give you nine cents change. And so off we went to a New Years Eve to the Boat House on Dows Lake in Ottawa. For any of you who don't know the spot -- floating night club with a gang plank walkway -- covered in snow and black ice.

I for one knew I could behave myself . I knew there would be a going and a coming home safely. But as I looked around -- on a blind date there is always plenty of looking around time -- I thought how much alcohol can some women consume on New Years Eve and expect to get home alive? Isn't it amazing how the more women drink they actually think they dance better, get more sexy, charming and beautiful. They arrive looking like a beaten down Rosanne Barrs and after a bucket of Screwdrivers, are flipping their hair, strutting around the place like Anna Nicole Smith and are soon to be doing Coyote Ugly braless on the hood of someone's car screaming "I want my Jerry beads!"

Well, as I was leaving this place, I happened to look up ahead and saw two drunkin bums carrying one bombed out chick . Yep, they skid across the gang plank and dropped her on her head. What are women thinking -- in Ontario winter -- drinking and walking on black ice on stillettos? Worse letting two drunks carry you? Anyhow, I'm sure this chick's morning headache was a concussion not a hang over. I hope the morning of 2010 will not produce an array of unknown bumps on your head but a good awakening thud to what is Divorcees.

So tonight -- are you doing the 2010 New Year blind date thing-- going out single -- staying home alone, dancing with the drapes, crying in your white wine, waiting for the ball to drop? Well you are in good company! According to stats, 50% of married females will become fashionably dysfunctional courtesy of divorce!

So if 2009 was your first year of DDay, no doubt you may still be in the self esteem building phase! Don't fear! The winter may be cold in Ontario, eh, but this could be your getting hot year! I know it was embarrassing to prance around in a white dress, hold hands, openly admit to love, honour and obey (and there's were the trouble started), stand beside in good and bad, and then he decided to reject you.

However, God Bless his little pointed head, he needs a divorce stat. In fact right now he is getting fitted for one of those little helmets as well. This is the 2000s women -- see divorce papers as liberation papers from stupidity and Mennonite ville.

So tonight, if you are purposefully staying home to burn hubby's face out of your wedding pictures and plug in Brad Pitts, halt!! Don't you think Jennifer Aniston sat where you sit sister a few New Years Eves ago? And since that time with the release of Bad Brad's required divorce -- which canceled catering to hubby -- not making pictures to be with him -- or taking lesser projects to protect his ego -- our Jennifer has done more movies and moved her star power up with all her free develop me Jennifer time. So was Brad's requested divorce a curse or a key to her? The required key -- the key he opened the golden bird cage door so Jennifer's ego could soar. So she could freely fly without guilt of hurting his ego?

This might be the night to make a New Year's resolution to watch First Wives Club a hundred million times!! You might get inspired to fit into that white leather suit like Goldie Hawn but more importantly, really get it. Women are smart!!!! Some men don't fit well with smart women! Women know that like female dogs instinctively know to squat but don't want to verbalize it, but they do it in other ways.

Women have been dumbing down since kindergarten. You know what I mean. When your little boyfriend Brian said "did you get what two and two is" you lied. You lied and said "no " to protect his ego. Well now when Brian doesn't get two and two, you call him a dumb ass, or exhale dumb ass, but either way, it comes out dumb ass. Anyhow, I cite Bill and Hillary Clinton as exhibit A. If his ego could take not being President he probably would have asked for a divorce to be with his ego building young and naive Monica because lawyer, senator, Hillary certainly knows what two and two is -- boy does she know what two and two is. Smart women do not to have oral sex in the Oval office! Cameras and staff kids!!

But to survive the "somethings wrong here" flying comfortably out of the marital cage, you will need sisters like Goldie, Diane and Bette because that is the sanity and ego building medicine you are missing right now. You do not need a man requiring you to dumb down one more time into a ball snapper Monica Lewinsky so he can lead the team. Hello you are in your 50s -- this isn't kindergarten! You know how to drive the car better than him, balance the bank book, etc. and what's with the blue socks with the brown suit? Women intimidate the hell out of men. How do you squash that? Some people say, women marry down and men will never leave you! Doubt that one when all he hears is women huffing and puffing about his dumb, dumber and dumbest.

Watch women walk down the street -- leaning on his arm like they became too weak to stand up -- low blood pressure maybe? Be a Scarlett OHara and not a Melanie Wilks --premeditated divorce feels like an arson attack on Tara. And as God Is your Witness, you will thank the arsonist when you see you are the undiscovered capable Mistress of the Plantantion, and Rhett, well -- he'll become an invited guest, but there won't be any hidden agenda who is the smartest.

So tonight think about it? What is divorce --just a piece of paper that said, you are too dam smart for me and I need out! I need someone lesser to keep my ego in check. And if you really watch First Wives Club you will see that out of three forced divorce smart women who came together not just to build a center for women, but one got cheer leaded to Broadway; another to putting the husband as an employee of their company and the other buying back the business. These smarties pooled their ideas, assets and energy and sang down the street "You don't own me -- I'm not just one of your many toys." Right on sister -- you are the CEO of the toy company courtesy of unwanted DIVORCE papers.

So find your smart women -- your cheerleaders, ball snappers, asset lenders, who can drag you back to doing something with your -- smartness. Knock off the advice -- show him go get another guy and raise him to greatness -- that will make him mad. What will make him mad will be to see all that hidden talent and smartness that you squashed away spent on you and move you into some kind of material greatness.

And sometimes, as great as your own biological sisters are, they can't be your cheerleaders because they don't get the pain of the divorce ego smashing. They only see you in relationship to how they know you. How could my little sister run a company -- she couldn't organize our closet or make the sign for our Freshie Stand? Well are we stuck at 4? Coras Franchise was a forced divorce great as well as Paula Deen's big business. Divorce brings out the greatness in smart women because without a DIVORCE, we wouldn't have push to fire off those great omelette's.

And your mother and sisters wouldn't send 50 pizzas to their husband's house to piss him off -- that's mean -- well another divorcee will get it and high five you when you do it for ego healing reasons and he gets the bill. So sometimes, sadly, a biological sister might be a stick in your spokes when it comes to your recovery and discovery.

So for a New Years Resolution, may we all have a year in which we rekindle, develop and honor smart women. Thank those smart women who hear us, hold us, heal us, and HIGH FIVE US our smart selves. And as you need smart woman cheerleader/ball snappers, commit to become one forever. Don't drop the smart sisters and dumb down when Rhett walks by again. As I said since Grade One we knew the truth -- dumbing down can last only so long in any relationship so you know the probable outcome unless he is very okay with having a very smart wife.

In summary, Smarten Up Sister. Don't let drunkin guys carry you out to your car tonight or that fall on the head may leave you asking "what's two and two" like some folks we know???

How to Have a Better 2010!!!

I can almost hear them hoisting the ball in New York Times Square for the New Years countdown, or the bottles clinking in brown bags coming from the liquor store as folks load up on toasting material. It is like we are all preparing for one gigantic Birthday Party going from 9 to 10. And our hope -- we get better as we age, 2010 will be a better year for us.

I personally like the number 10 because if you look at human development, you certainly had left kindergarten; knew the alphabet, currency, hygiene, how to cook Kraft Dinner and had enough common sense not to let your baby sister eat cigarette butts if your Mother left the room. What am I really saying -- well 10 is the common sense phase number and even in some countries African kids, whose parents have died from Aids are able to be family breadwinners. Seems like we know a few things to carry on.

As I think about 2009 -- well how are the people I know going to address being a year older -- Becoming Better in 2010. Well hold onto your hats Jenny Craig -- fat is where its at. Now that we have Marie Osmond and Valarie Bertinelli on board, Jenny will be a calling. Yesterday I saw a show where a woman had a band of mesh sewn on her tongue, so she cannot chew food and lives on a liquid diet. Dropped a pile. Yes for a lot of women, better in 2010 will be dropping the fat. Accomplish possible -- well did the flying bonzinee take out the Pope at Xmas Mass? Nope but good try lady!

For others high focus will be kicking the drugs, the butts, the booze, the clutter or kicking the husband or the mooching kids out of the house. Again attainable -- does Charlie Sheen know how not to be abusive to women? Nope! But believe me -- there is something about a New Year -- a birth for something better-- that drives people crazy for a while to try some new tricks to have a better life.

Now for me, I would like to recommend how to have a better life in 2010 -- something attainable -- Be a Better Person. Our behavior has great power on our lives. Behavior dictates our Destiny. Our Behavior produces great results -- on the negative or positive side. On the negative side, our negative behavior grows anger, resentment, tension, basically rejection from those around us.

Behavior is the only change we can make in order to make our lives better from the bedroom to the boardroom and there's a lot of social settings in between. I am not taking about becoming as Meek as a Monk but it seems to extreme, Bitchy as a Bitch is now the behavior flavor that is growing ever popular. And what great results does bitchy produce in your world?

And is it possible to pick your behavior. Evident in my day it was called put on your Sunday Best. At home your behavior was whatever you decided (we always abuse the ones we love) and when you left the house, well you changed the rude to polite and the neighbours liked you better than your parents. Ta Da. But behavior is always choice, a thing you control that produces a result.

What is sad is that people measure their behavior against other's bitchy negative behavior and say I'm or it's not so bad here. And if I was not enlightened I would have to agree. To compare your kid who just stole $10 and your Grandmother's ring out of your purse, and hocked it for pot and didn't take the credit cards and max them out like your sister's kid, I guess your kid is better. However, what great result did either kid's negative behavior create? Doubt either of you want to give them a big hug and kiss -- probably hiding out in the car with the CAS number clutched in your hand trying to figure out if you should call for them to take the kid or you for your protection??

So, in order to become better how ridiculous to Measure WHAT IS BETTER against other's behavior. In order for each of us to become a better person, we measure me against me, and pour over results of our actions. Because there will always be individuals ahead of you -- more civil, polite, skilled and moral and morons behind you. Either way, another's behavior doesn't help your cause.

So I hope for anyone who would read my Blog you might just adopt the idea that in order for me to have a better 2010, I need to behave better to all others -- that includes the folks who are family -- at all times. And if I do, my whole world should respond accordingly and what a beautiful world my world will be. Because truthfully, you can be as slim as a dime and behave like a dictator Diva and we won't be singing your praises when they lower the box. However, your going might make the whole world a more beautiful place to be.

I will so miss those who pass over who valued me in their sensitive treatment of me. And in turn, I hope when I listen in on your recall of Arlene stories -- because the other side is all around you -- I will be missed for I no longer exist . A tear will be shed for my positive behavior that hopefully translated into my sensitivity to others.

This is my HOW TO HAVE A BETTER 2010. You can treat everyone around you like you with sensitivity. If you have to pretend that the person who you share a bedroom with is a dear friend, a movie star, someone special whom you love that you don't see often. See how your behavior changes to a sensitive manner towards that person. I doubt you will hog the covers, pass gas like a trucker, run in and out of the bedroom like a bull in a china shop and basically treat them like their needs don't matter to you.

LETS MAKE IT THE YEAR of LETS PRETEND -- I eat, sleep and live with someone I want to impress -- my friend/boss at work -- and just like my work performance review, they will be writing an everyday behavior review (like a restaurant review) and reading it aloud at my Goodbye Party. What would they say today? What would I like them to say?

Actually I have heard of funerals where family members got up and told the truth -- the whole truth and nothing but the truth -- the Hyde side of the Jekyl. Why -- I guess they got enraged at being told how lucky they were to live 24/7 with Mr/Mrs. Nice -- loving, kind -- the two faced Jekyl -- when they actually lived with rude, crude, who gives a shit about you -- Hyde who never let up on their hides.

The guy I am talking about was an adored Kid's Hockey Coach, so the place was packed and jaws dropped as his only son got up, in tears and told how this guy was no hero. He never gave his own family the time of day. And his tears could fill buckets as he spoke of his sister --so emotionally scarred from watching her father fawning all over some other people's kids -- while she starved. Wonder how the old man liked that family goodbye speech. Not classy, but wouldn't it be great if Funerals were the truth tellers of character. Now there's a motivational tool for change.

As I said, it doesn't matter a dam if the other person behaves like an escapee from Deliverance, it is your review that you need to be concerned about being written. And this I can assure you, if what you are doing is selfish, rude, miserable and no doubt you will be getting back anger, irritation and total frustration, you had better clean up your cooking or your review will suck just like the Hockey Coaches. I have never yet seen anger come back from unselfish, sensitive and caring behavior.

So here's the "How To" Have a Better New Year -- be a better behaved person. Be unselfish, sensitive, caring to others and especially your own. Treat them like guests - people you are trying to impress. You will get cooperation, hugs, kisses, and tears and years of misses.

The business for 2010 is minding your own behavior business, minding your manners, creating a great life and hopefully a great goodbye speech.

2010!!! a poem to the Control Freak??

Are men or women worse to live with? Answer: it isn't the institution, it's the inmates! So folks, you've heard of the O List - Oprah's Most Wanted gift list. Well the profile of the toughest inmate to live with whether it be in pants or carrying a Prada purse is on my A List - folks Most Not Wanted List for 2010. Study this one. If it is you -- get to the LCBO and pass out lots of booze! We'll all need it.

A different kind of Geek,
This is someone needing to dominate.
Its always got to be their way
or they aggravate or irritate!

Their appetite for control does never satiate.
Never satisfied unless it is realized.
They must have their way
Night by night, Day by Day.

Don't shake their world
don't move anything.
Always get their permission
before taking any action.

Less they feel powerless,
this is truly their internal struggle.
Feeling out of control and weak,
they try to manage someone and seek
To lord themselves over you.

Micro managing everything you do
if they cannot control their life at large.
Have at least one over you or something smaller,
They must rise up and take charge.

This then will make them feel better,
As they run around like an Irish Setter,
Out of control, though they project superiority,
Pitifully trying to establish their identity.

On the grounds of their lordship,
Yet such frivolities never do power or equip
them for purposeful living.
Space and grace they are never giving.

As they border on being a perfectionist,
By far on this there is no bliss,
Certainly it's a facade as they're not perfect,
And this it takes little effort to detect.

Yet the control feels so good,
they can't neglect to drive others
like cattle and to boss around,
Exert their control at home and in town.

Though they make friends and family frown
As they live in their own misery they inwardly drown.
For in some perverse way it feels good for them to prey,
On others less domineering of themselves each day.

The goal to master and have rule of others
Instead of the control of their own lives,
A master manipulator - A wretched terminator.
Of due relationship and friendship,
A deadly and sore evil,
Controlling tendencies medieval,
Cruel to the core.

With Pettiness people around them they boss,
and quickly close intimate relational doors.
As they remain discontent and seek more,
Yet it continually eludes their grasp as the precious hours pass.

Their compulsion and addiction
having great hold on them,
Meanwhile precious family and friends
walk out on them one by one.

The control freak meanwhile doesn't know
what they have done,
Enslaved in their domination
and pursuing intimidation.

Sure to soon be all alone,
Driving away everyone from their home.
If only they could just love and live,
Let others be, they could exist happily.

Eventually the controller will experience their own disintegration.
GOD HELP THE CONTROL FREAK FIND PEACE
And give the rest of the world liberation.

All Aboard the 2010 LOVE BOAT

If you are near or over 50, you will recall the show THE LOVE BOAT. We all wanted a ticket on that cruise liner whether to tell our hurtin love tales over a drink at the bar with Isaac, hub nub with lovely folks at Captain Stubbing's table or hang out with our best bud Julie McCoy -- that show was created for all the love wrecked. When you hit that ship your love problems became solved problems because you met some other lonely, lovely person. And the Love Boat became a magic ship.

It is funny how we eagerly watched that floating Soap Opera and wished, just like in the Young and the Restless, we had unconditional loving folk in our life. It doesn't matter if you axe your Aunt, pimp out your mother, or shoot up your brother; you is loved and still in the family, sitting pretty, and carving the turkey at Xmas. All is forgiven and by reason of love and that stint in prison where you got your free Botox, BA and a Hugo Boss suit -- you came out a much better person than when you went in, and now you are loved oh so much more.

Truth. We are all born love junkies and so needing love from others. We pray Mr./Mrs. Wonderful will run out of gas in front of our place and once our eyes meet -- we will be able to climb mountains, cross seas and endure untold hardships together. Because we know when we are without love -- mountains become unbearable, seas uncrossable, etc. If LOVE was not important we would not have thousands of books, songs, magazines, movies all peppered with the L word. Even our good guy Jesus wanted love to be the distinguishing characteristic of his followers.

In the word group FAITH HOPE AND LOVE, the greatest of those is Love. The word permeates our human society -- we say "we love hot dogs, love our mothers, love our pets, love green grass, love chocolate, love sunsets, etc." We fall in love with love. But what happens to love when it comes to loving our long time spouses -- we fail?

We know love is essential to our emotional health. Marriage and counselling will always be in style -- AT THE HEART OF HUMAN KIND IS THE DESIRE TO BE INTIMATE AND TO BE LOVED BY ANOTHER. Marriage, or living together, is the vehicle that is designed to meet the needs for intimacy and love. And for those who think they have accomplished that feat, we will require that your partner to truthfully answer (in the witness protection program) -- do you feel loved? This isn't about you -- its your partner's answer. Its how much love do you put out and does your partner feel loved?? How is your partner's emotional health as a result of your love efforts? And how your partner feels is the marks you get on your report card -- if I go down under some specific headings, could your F be used as the right word in describing your "its all about me" behavior.

So lets dispense with keeping the in love flame alive for a long time. It is like trying to keep the b.b.q. starter afire in a wind storm. The inlove flame is fictional -- not fact. What do the in lovers do when the romantic obsession wears down and you now deal with the *hairs on the sink *white spots on the mirror *arguments over toilet paper direction * shoes that do not walk to the closet *drawers that don't close themselves *coats that do not like hangers and socks that go AWOL on laundry day -- you argue, you threaten, you nag? And by the way the answer is not -- my partner should be the servant and be dam glad to do it because she married wonderful, special me. Its true that one spouse's/mother's trash is another person's treasure -- FOR A WHILE.

And what do you do when a look can hurt, a word can crush, you criticize your partner's efforts -- intimate lovers become enemies and marriage is the battlefield?

Solution, I guess you again climb on the Love Boat -- get plowed at Isaac's bar, dine from 9 to 9 at the Captain's table, and talk your ( not to blame) tail off to Julie until you dock and then the orderlies come aboard to take over.

Regardless love is the name of the game, and the jerk that said "it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all" must have been an alien. Because real love found and then gone bad hurts and hurts for a whole long time. It is the unbearable hurt, the hurts so bad, like the near end of labour when you scream at the nurse "get this kid out of me, I think I am going to die." I know of a woman who lost love at 16 and never ever tried to find love again.

So what do you do with a drunkin sailor and what do you do with your unlovin spouse? Who knows -- throw the sailor overboard and the spouse too maybe or try and try again. Some folks can endure labour once and some fools can endure thirteen times like Celine Dion's mother.

I guess its all up to what unselfish you have in you and how much selfish will be taken from you. But, creating love daily is a two way street of unselfish labour from the moment you get up until you go back to bed. In the beginning it was an easy mission because somehow when we meet someone we have an outer body experience and behave in unselfish ways even our mother has never seen.

And how do you know if you really are a super selfish taker? Well in conversation is your conversation riddled with I(s) Me(s) and basically others are to be seen and not heard unless they are complimenting, praising, agreeing, listening or can provide info. you don't know? Are people just a mere moment of audience for your boasting, explaining or complaining? In fact in your world do two way conversations bother you? Do doing favors, buying gifts, and regularly just going out of your way for other's happiness make you irritable? All I can say is that takers are not liked in the boardroom or bedroom and maybe losing love doesn't bother you, but maybe losing loot does?

However, once down the living together road a daily task exists to intentionally build a wall of giving, one unselfish brick at a time. She's a tough ride of foregoing all the selfish things you really want to do and were trained to do. You will feel like a set of scales -- in one hand -- your selfish fun and the other hand --unselfish making of soup for your sick spouse. If you pick out with the boys or the girls, wrong you selfish jerk. And so is in one hand money for an Ipod and in the other, flowers for her and bye, bye flowers. No one owns anyone and a good person is hard to replace or so you will find. Only unselfish is the glue that binds us lovingly to one another.

And, should I forget, if you stay home with resentment, it will show and well should your plane crash, the spouse's tears will be of sheer delight and the new boyfriend will enjoy your side of the bed. But, unselfish love -- it is always your call and within your reach. Just need two on the same page just like you started out this crazy, love journey. You recall, you politely asked her what she would like to do, eat, see at the show? You didn't run a dictatorship.

And for those of you who read my Blog, you can guess I write about what I think is the most important thing in this world -- LOVE and learning how to be more loving. If accomplished, we shall tip toe through Heaven on earth. We shall sprout wings when we sleep and sparkle like candle light. We shall shine so bright, we shall blind one another. To be unselfish is the richest legacy we should leave this world far beyond our material riches.

And so for the ending of 2009 and the beginning of 2010 -- just how selfish are you? How unselfish in love will you be this Year? Only you know and only you can make a decision to change it. Like the addicts -- one day at a time and you can kick the selfish habit. Now that's a good New Years Resolution. It will get you farther than the quit smoking or diet thing. It might get you a loving, unselfish ride in the wheel chair to the cancer word because hell we know you aren't going to quit smoking. And let's not talk about the famous diet.

So HAPPY NEW YEAR readers! My wish is that in In 2010 -- we eagerly, lovingly put ourselves last again, and again, and again!!! It won't make sense, won't feel good but that's how the last shall become first -- and if you don't the selfish shall become last!!! I think that means detested, divorced, dismissed, demoted, done and last but not least, dead early from a shotgun blast.

Divorced -- broke and home alone.....???

Our times they're a changing. Xmas 2009 for some newly divorced folks involved living elsewhere and not as classy and comfy as last year. And although you may love your mother, sister, or brother, its sort of like what Dorothy said as she clicked those ruby slippers "There's no place like a classy home." So for some folks the new divorced shabby elsewhere is a whole lot harder to swallow than your old marital classy somewhere. You are now sitting on your divorced mother's red velvet tub chairs, smacking her old clunker of a t.v.set , and wondering if she is going out tonight so you can maybe entertain your gentleman caller her parlour.

In my opinion, there is way too much hoopla about finding solutions to the flu epidemic , drug epidemic when we have folks in love crisis, and keeping love alive in marriages is serious business.

And as I tell the starry eyed folks who think Divorce is the be all and end all to the petty fighting, the emptiness, the love gone bad b.s., its not the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow ......DIVORCE is a just quick trip to poverty with an interior design job from hell. And the hell of all hells -- the spoiled kids who get their perks cut short, aren't happy kids and they don't really give a dam you would need a mattress when they need a new cell phone. Its a nightmare of epic proportion.

I went last night to see the new divorce movie "ITS COMPLICATED" and I went with three divorced women (including myself), left a newly divorced woman home living unhappily at her mother's modest digs, and met two divorced women coming out. How's that for divorce stats? And at the after party, there sat a group of divorced women with one widow. The widow was the lucky one.

I guess in summary Death trumps Divorce. On the plus side the widow gets to keep the house, the car and all the belongings. She also gets the life insurance, pension, bank account without any legal fighting and no b.s. about who will or will not show at Xmas, weddings and funerals. And bonus, not having to make sharp right turns at Home Depot to avoid the s.o.b. and his new concubine.

Nope the 81 yr. old widow was the lucky one in so many ways. However with her divorced kids she was not enjoying life as she planned either. She was a cash cow. As of last count she had not been paid for the no interest loan for the van to drive the divorced daughter and the grand kids to the new boyfriend's house. She also had housed and fed the newly divorced until they could get relocated and was shopping regularly trying to dress the grand kids. So divorce is like the flu -- it never stops spreading and weakening the whole family financial system.

Anyhow, this movie was hardly relatable. I don't know any divorced women who must get the needed $10,000/mo. in spousal support or from a booming french Bakery to support a snazzy house, a snazzy car, snazzy furniture, snazzy wardrobe and to host snazzy parties. She is planning to put a luxury addition on to the already snazzy house so she can see the morning sunrise of the beach. Also, the kids are all well educated, dressed well and drive snazzy vehicles. Probably Mama's french Bakery picked up that tab too. And when 20 yr. old son who doesn't work, but wants to hold a big party begs in his puppy dog way for Meryl to pick up the tab, the credit card is flipped out pronto. The divorced women I know are so not showing this kind of a picture.

The movie has some good wisdom though -- it brings to point that Meryl and what's his name both admitted to committing the number one marital sin leading to Divorce -- selfishness and neglect -- and brought to point, "it was just a matter of time before one of us cheated." She was glad he did it first -- guilt spousal support is much more lucrative. She also admitted not being such an attentive wife. What was interesting is that his now 10 yr relationship to wife number two -- well let's just say history repeats itself; he is not feeling special again and now wants to re water his old lawn and will have to split the nuts again. But as a big business man, there is plenty of nuts to go around which most women do not get with husbands. The UPS husband can't keep his Hyundai running and now he is going to keep two households going.

And so when they make these kind of movies, sadly it glamorizes divorce when in TRUTH -- once divorced you hit depressedville. You won't be shopping in those cute little food boutiques, but searching out your mother's fridge or the nearest food bank. What is written and promised on paper is the reason why his nose and his ears will grow so big. Without grandmothers and family, many divorced women would be bag ladies and their children, bag kids, I guess.

So with the 2010 coming in quickly -- please pass the word, Divorce is a fancy word for POVERTY. It financially sucks you dry with legal fees, real estate fees, fighting, etc. unless of course you have a thriving french Bakery, rich relatives or some other wing ding of a business that will allow you and the kids to again have everything they ever got. And are there rich men running around just wanting to remarry you and take you off the parent's payroll -- well I know a rich old guy, and his daughter is there every weekend since the mother died to make sure Daddy doesn't date and cut short her moola. Remember when it comes to the kids -- the one with the most money wins!!!

And what is the big goal of the Divorced single women I know --its to have a total set of furniture. A living room with all matching, expensive pieces. The whole set. Who knew the ex would be so stuck on getting the Queen Anne chairs, the matching coffee table and end tables unless he's gone gay. But she got the couch and lamps. And well what the hell can you do with a dresser, one night table and the box spring and mattress? And what is he doing with a highboy, one night table and a sleigh bed frame? Go figure. But that's what half gets you.

So we have what's called the interior design jobs from hell courtesy of divorce planning. Thanks to the generosity of neighbours and friends, there is some mix matched furniture in most divorced womens' homes and as they clutch their ticket for winning Cash for Life, they dream about getting a brand new car again, classy matching furniture, the house painted and new clothes for all? These are the dreams of the divorced women I know -- to live above the poverty level.

Maybe the solution for marital discord is -- just live on different floors -- cut the crap -- keep the classy lifestyle in tact. Or, first, do the life swapping. Swap lives with a divorced person -- live in crappy surroundings, fight with lawyers to get ex spouses to honour badly needed child support, pick up the kids and return the prized dog, cry in the lane way when you drop the kid off who now lives part time in the house you used to live in, do battle with the new girlfriend of the month who hates you because hubby dearest has now painted you psycho wife, stifle hate when the kids tell you Grandma thinks you were never good enough for their son, or try not to hang yourself in the closet when you find out you will be sitting alone for Xmas again because Dad has asked them to go to Disney World even though its your Xmas.

And that is the moccasins of a divorced woman that you really want to walk in before you get up on your hind legs and threaten "if you don't show me more attention, I'll divorce your sorry ass!" Its no party sister!!!

Merry Xmas !!!

When I was a kid the Queen had serious meaning. After all the wrapping paper had settled, we were forced and I say forced -- no toys, shortbreads, pets -- on Xmas morning to sit in front of the tele to hear the Queen deliver her yearly message to us the commoners. So here goes my Xmas message.

It seems like a week or two before Xmas people get out of their self centered jerky lives and act in a charming way. Whether I get a door being opened rather than some jerk racing through first; or a Merry Xmas said when I normally get a grunt; or better yet, my pressure pump wasn't working and I got a free service call -- the world seems so much more delightful by the changing of folks' normal jerky behavior. This is short lived type of heaven and used to be the 50/60s as I remember them.

Sometimes I want to believe in Santa Clause all over again, because Santa brings the Xmas kindness spirit. Or maybe there is a Xmas fairy that whacks jerks on the head into niceness with her wand and yells "poof -- begone Moron -- go forth and be nice." Is it the above two, or is that or people watch the Xmas Carol so many times they scare themselves s***less with the thought of ghosts circling their bed and the jerks get ringside seats to what people really wish as a Xmas gift for them -- a quick ride to the cemetery of their choice.

However, to my delight, miserable, miserly jerks seem changed at least for a short few weeks - praise God for small miracles. But I really do wonder what is this special magic of Xmas that creates out of body experiences for horrible people??

Along this thinking of this seasonal "nicety - nice" is my favorite Xmas movie of forced Xmas niceness -- Xmas Vacation. It shows how the host family can be forced to become so unbelievably cooperative. They invite the odd balls, jerks, the demented and even a dog named Snot home for Xmas. They nicely give the relatives the lazy boys, free king size bags of dog food or even their lane way to park the RV from hell and no doubt a robe to cover the jerk with a cigar who is releasing the waste from his motor home in their sewer system.

And how do they get their family to keep Xmas nice -- well you give the family the preXmas speech. And I quote Clark W. Griswold, who wasn't leaving it up to Santa Clause or the Xmas fairy to do the deal :

"Well I'll tell you something. This is no longer a vacation... it's a quest! Its a quest for fun. I'm gonna have fun and you're gonna have fun! We're all gonna have so much f****ing fun, we'll need plastic surgery to remove our G**dam smiles! You'll be whistling zip-a-dee-doo-da out of your a**holes."

And that's how the leader sets the pace for Xmas nicety-nice. It is so sad that it has to be ordered in agenda form -- this is our family goal and dammit, you had better meet that goal, because the game of Xmas and life in general, is to have fun. There is no other reason for life than Joy! That's at work, in the supermarket, home, or just stopping at Tim Hortons -- have fun all year long. Wouldn't you love to come to work at a place with Employee Gratitude Days -- poker games at lunch, paid gourmet lunches for employee bonding; paid for employee hiking, canoeing, sailing, skiing? Weekend Rock Concerts? How about Summer Flings, Welcome to Spring, and Winter Wonderland events???? You want to come skidding into Heaven with a smile on your face that where you worked and lived was a blast, and I wanna Go Back!!

To quote the guide Abraham: "Everything exists for joy. There is not one other reason for life than joy. We've got nothing to prove to anyone, because nobody other than All-That-Is is watching. We're not trying to get someplace else. We're not trying to get it done; because there is NO ENDING. We cannot get it done. Everything exists for the purpose of the JOY IN THE MOMENT."

Well wasn't that deep, but in reality having fun at Xmas seems to be doable, why not all year long? Why sweat about the house being cleaned to perfection ladies? Will the house not be dusty next week, the week after and the week after your heart attack because you got yourself into such a state over the never ending dust that just comes from furnace movement? Solution -- no furnace -- or just mop up the dust and have fun while you do it. If fun for you is music and a mop acting as your dancing partner, well let it be and hope the neighbours don't report you.

And what are the benefits of fun and play even as an adult ?? Well -- it feels sooooooooooooooogood! Having fun and play creates feelings of happiness which is heavenly.

Also, fun and play brings our focus into the present moment. How the hell can you be in the past and future at the same time. You can't. At fun present you can't recall the ex who didn't send the support check, the relatives who threw you out of the will, the sister that slept with your husband (the Jerry Springer relatives of relatives ) or your size 16 pants exploding to 18, or you only have $5.00 until payday when you are in the moment laughing and playing???????

And what are the benefits of laughter you ask??
1. Eliminate stress and tension.
2. Eliminate anxiety.
3. Eliminate anger.
4. Eliminate depression.
5. Enhance immune system
6. Promote healing
7. Eliminate pain (chronic pain)
8. Massages all internal organs of body
9. Enhances overall sense of well being

Basically, he who laughs often, lives longest and now that's a Xmas gift to be or receive -- A fun and playful friend.

And so that is my Xmas message -- give yourself the gift of play and have fun often. Maybe not delivered as ever eloquently as the Queen nor with my $1,000,000 tiara, but it is what I believe. You can't order yourself to have fun like Clark W. Griswald does himself or the fam, but you can think about how serious you get over nothing -- hello dust, snow to be shovelled, cold weather. What's with all the moaning over nothing. Even a kid with his tongue stuck to a frozen steel pole doesn't whine as much as people do picking up the dog poop. You wanted a dog - so scoop.

Remember the trip is so much shorter than you think and I would only hope if anyone stands up at my Goodbye Party, they say Arlene should have been hired as Federal Government's Minister of Laughter to provide relief to the people because.....

Laughter is like a Holy thing. It is as sacred as music and silence and solemnity,maybe more sacred. Laughter is like a prayer. Like a bridge on which creatures tip toe to meet each other. Laughter is like Mercy; it heals. When you can LAUGH AT YOURSELF, you are free.

And so my wish for your coming year is ..... let your play and fun be natural, unforced, inspired. It is not an obligatory task or activity to be done with a fake smile, and an empty, hallow "I'm having fun." No rather it should be genuine, just like when we were children.

And you remember that, right?? And so to all who read my blog, a Good Night!!!


P.S. you can tick the boxes at the end of my Blog i.e. interesting, cool etc. For your undying devotion, I could pluck you from your mundane life and appoint you my Manager when I am the Anthony Robbins of "THE POWER OF FUN'' seminars. You will be Arlene's Gail and that ain't a bad spot to be sitting in -- RIGHT ALONG SIDE ME in FIRST CLASS hearing Yes ma'am, getting a reclining chair, memory foam pillow, silk sleep mask, champagne and looking back at the folks in cattle car seating cheek to cheek, eating micro meals on wheels, dealing with cheeky flight attendants and getting drooled on by some guy sleeping on your shoulder!!!

Stand by your what??

Does anyone know who Tammy Wynette is -- well, I think she is the trouble maker who started that song STAND BY YOUR MAN. Always a woman doing a woman in. Anyhow, that little ditty has gotten more women hammered to the cross of guilt, shame, feeling sick inside and looking like a retard for her lifetime. Hello Hillary Clinton. Cheated on women should be rescued and have the societal nails removed, and a limo waiting to speed them to the NO GUILT RESORT so they can maintain their respect. What a waste of good wood.

On the positive side, there is something about rich people messing up, that kind of makes you feel less like a loser in the common folk's marital game. However, what is getting me up on my hind legs today is not that Tiger Woods may be the winner of the golf game and flops at the marital game worse than many of us -- its that society -- family, friends, women, men, children and probably the Pope are majorly pressuring his already humiliated, disrespected, Swedish wife to stand by her man for the sake of the kids, him and his career? We are now hearing Daddy Tiger was the winner of the teflon zipper award and Tiger cried his little eyes out with his father's sleeping around. Regardless if Tiger has inherited the gene pool of a player, you know who you are and whose your Daddy. You can't have your cake and eat it too unless you are a man I guess and society says so because this is a double standard society.

Its seems like we are an insane society whereby men are the chosen commodity. Lets just flip the Tiger Woods hole in 13 story and other holes he has yet to conquer in the game of womanizing with his competitive temperament. Lets pretend Mrs. Tiger Woods has 13 Mr isses ( that the opposite for Mistresses or 13 Call boys) what sane member of society would be advising Tiger to -- Stand by your Woman. Right -- sounds nuts doesn't it when flipped?

On the contrar -- society would be calling her every S word they can think of and it ain't the word stunning. They (that's Society) would be telling Tiger to dump that .......bleep, bleep, bleep, faster than a New York minute, and take the kids while he's at it because their mother is a bleep, bleep, bleep and unfit to be a mother. There would be no STAND BY YOUR WOMAN guilt levied on him that required him to daily walk the streets of this earth proudly wearing a sign that says "My Woman Married Up, Slept Down and Around." I doubt a man would be chasing a Cadillac with just a golf club -- she would be picking shot gun pellets out of her Prada luggage or her parents would be trying to choose the right colour satin for the coffin.

What is wrong with us when it comes to the behavior of men and women?? For instance if we look back at the OJ Trial, a woman who left an abusive sports hero has a guy do her a favor and she is the legal murder victim of the century. And whether we want to all get lost in that Black and White race b.s., the real issue is that Mr. Football Hero killed his ex wife (not current wife) in a jealous rage. And, let's all go down on our knees and pray God will forgive us for this stereotypical thought, "well that's men -- just can't stand another man sleeping with their wife." Now if the lawyers hadn't fooled around with the gloves, he would have gotten off. Male jealousy -- can build a huge case on that which drove him to commit murder and got him off on an insanity plea. Men will be men.

Yes indeed another male, sports figure of the century and we can understand why he would commit murder. But we are shaking our heads on hearing a humiliated woman is chasing her old man with a golf club because she is so enraged with her Mr. Golfer's desire to get a hole in one where ever possible.

I hope when I write about things, whether it is the coming of the indoor toilet, the importance of decor, that people will think about what I am presenting and maybe change their thinking. We are a stupid bunch of people sometimes.

Today I am asking, why should we guilt this injured, humiliated, sick hearted woman to STAND BY HER MAN FOR THE SAKE OF THE KIDS, HIS CAREER, OR HE IS SUICIDAL. No we, as society, should not put that guilt on her. If she is even crazy enough to trust this player again and Tiger can honestly say, "thank you for another chance -- a cheating dog like me doesn't deserve one" well here is my solution.

They rewrite their prenuptial agreement. If Tiger cheats again, she doesn't get half, she gets everything and, and, and, in the meantime, she gets to have 13 hot, hunky lovers which he will get to know about, not in the shabby, sleazy way she did, but they will be picking her up at the family mansion for weekends of great sex (equivalent to years of his cheating) while he stays home and babysits the kids. Plus, the $5000 rental fee for the romping with the wife for the night, well get the American Express Card ready Tiger.

Do I hear an amen from the choir ladies????

How about that deal Tiger??? All Fore it!!! Then let's play golf.

Who blew up the t.v. set?

I was born into a family of fixers. Take for instance my brother Bruce. Bruce was passionate to know how electrical gadgets worked. In order to know how well they had to be broken. So, whether subconscious or not, the old man would come home and sure enough the t.v. set would not be working again -- why? Well probably because through some freak of nature a UFO had come flying through our family room again and smacked the t.v. set so hard the t.v. set blew up.

Now in those days you didn't put the t.v. curb side with a "free" sign -- you found someone who had a picture tube for sale and install it yourself. Bruce would sit there like he was watching a strip show memorizing every turn that the maestro's screw driver made. Today he is an electrician magician. In fact he sets timers on the phone and shower so he doesn't have to yell at his teenagers. Services just shut down on command. Like the clapper.

I, on the other hand, wanted to know how love electricity works. And just like inanimate objects if the electricity is faulty relationships rot and pipes explode, etc.

Now my finding love subjects did not require a phony UFO story because everywhere I looked there were constant breakdowns. However I had no cupid maestro to show me how to remount that arrow, aim and presto, love electricity is restored.

My apprenticeship started in high school. You could tell by the gal's low, low energy that last night Mr. Don Juan had been caught out with another girl, when he told her, he was going to bed early. The love connection was broken -- crying, sighing, ring throwing, threatening, hysterics, etc. If the bathroom walls could talk. And where was Arlene to be found -- donning her tool belt -- toilet paper for crying, hand cream for soft back patting, ice pack for soothing swollen eyes and standing patiently, wide eyed while witnessing the emotional rants of a woman scorned by love. "I'm going to kill him -- take his testicles and hang them like dice on the rear view mirror in his 56 Chevy."

And like every human being, I too experienced love breakdown. Love seems to be like an appliance. Get a brand new fridge and for about two years, its great. Then the fridge starts making some serious noises and want to replace. I think that is how leasing started and today Marriage seems to be adopting the same principle. Problems, get a new person.

However, the principle sounds good except the "D" word leaves you looking and feeling like a total failure. No one likes to say they failed, nor do the kids like to be part of this failed marriage.

Just pass someone at work and say,"how's your parents" and here comes Niagara Falls -- "my mother wants the D word and she's 65. Says my father is an emotional dolt, like talking to the fridge. They are going to counselling but I know counselling doesn't work and I don't want my parents divorced." Divorce is like coming home and finding the t.v. set blew up, no parts to be found and likely will never enjoy your favorite shows again.

And each divorce is like a snow flake. It comes as a result of unique and complex problems. And since 50% of all first marriages, 60% of all second ones and 75% of third ones end in divorce, well we should expect, based on figures, Hell and smacking of failure 2 to 3 times in our life time. Get ready. What is really sad is that each divorce is the splitting of the nuts and hello poverty.

What is really a myth is that a Divorce IS A SOLUTION -- its really just a reshuffling of your problems. If your partner was not fired up on putting in the new hardwood, although 16 boxes of it are still sitting in your basement, well good luck on getting your support cheque written or having him pick up or drop off the kid on time. Temperament is temperament. Some people are born to cooperate and create a heaven. Some work on the don't cooperate -- HELL principal. You actually had a less stressful life married -- at least you wrote the cheques.

Today people walk down the aisle saying, if it doesn't work out, I'll just get a divorce. Once upon a time if you heard that D word, it was like hearing the word Aids -- unfamiliar, foreign -- until Aids grew into an epidemic. Divorce has become a normative process, a natural state of being, like a plague with its goal to regain premarital freedom of the physical, emotional and economic realm. I think its a lie sold to the masses and propagated by the lawyers so they can have their kids live in a $700,000 house, eat steak and go to Disney World at Xmas while yours eat hamburger in their town house and watch Disney on t.v. if you can pay the cable bill.

Divorce, in truth is HELL because we are all products of traditional thinking. Divorce is a negative photographic image of your marriage efforts. You failed. It feels horrible to say you are a once, two, three times a failure. And divorces, most are BAD -- never seen a GOOD one yet -- watch Tiger Woods' divorce unfold?

Everyone I know walks hopefully down the aisle into marriage and now drenched in divorce are hopeless. And where did those expectations come from? Parents, cultural tradition, fairy tales, movies, t.v. stories, music, etc. And guess what? All those cheerleaders who cheered you getting married, now have flipped sides and want to get into the act of cheering on your hellish divorce. Having been through one divorce myself, and along with other members of the First Wives Club, you won't get a "you go girl" from me. Its the hell of all hells, except of course if you are a movie star and can easily afford another mansion, hire the best attorney, shrink, plastic surgeon and vacation at a fat farm of your choice. Hello Ivana Trump. Basically a divorce is a luxury for the rich only.

What is really missing is our understanding of marriage. Marriage is just a fancy word for A DEAL. A DEAL OF A LIFETIME. Despite failed expectations the divorced person will continue that deal for his/her life time. i.e. parenting.

The initial deal, or FORMAL CONTRACT is signed with an enormous amount of side deals left unwritten. And not aware of these side deals when they rear their ugly heads, each couple is expected to be good negotiators with the surprise emotional bombs. That is as retarded as a Dentist fixing their broken tooth, or a Dr. operating on his clogged artery. Its stupid. You are just too emotional.

Side deals include emotional commitments to parents, siblings, employers, ex spouses and children. Typical Side deal -- this marriage contract forgets to include -- I promised my mother we would be at her place each Xmas and accompany my brothers fishing/hunting/beer drinking each weekend in the Spring and Summer. Well, would you really have said I do to those conditions. And what side deals does she leave unsaid -- I promise if my girlfriends are going clubbing and it is your office party, I'm going with the girls. Or if I am out with my sisters, tired, I will not be available for your family Xmas party. Basically -- YOUR NEEDS AHOY!!

In my decorating days I had a sign on my desk that said, little things don't mean much, they MEAN EVERYTHING. Its all those little overlooked little needs that cracked the fun of being married. What we all want in relationships is that this new person will meet all our needs and many of the needs left unattended by my parents and stomped on by previous spouses. This will involve much compromise, labourous discussions and a hell of a lot of sacrifice. Basically it means, both parties wake up each morning with the intent to satisfy the needs of your partner first. And hopefully if you do, well when you die, there won't be another one like you.

Actually starting a marriage is like settlers emigrating to California enjoying sunshine along the way without a clue that the ground will move under their feet, as they each stand on different ground, and the fault line runs right between them.

Why are people not getting Marital Electricians -- because Divorce is being sold as a solution for unmet needs. I believe most couples need to consider LEARNING before LEAVING a marriage or even starting one. Most people are love illiterates and need to learn the LANGUAGE OF LOVE of Sacrifice.

Love is a language designed to fill the love needs. The needs, if filled, shout in neon letters, I LOVE YOU. If you look at dear old Mom and Dad who were your love teachers, you will know why you suck at filling up the love needs gas tank. Dear old Dad bought his love of his life, a weed whacker for Mother's Day. Bet you will find that amongst her most cherished gifts when she passes over. And what did she really need -- well she pointed out to him as they passed a jewellery store, a lovely ring with the kid's birthstones on it. And Ma, who has needs for Dad to diaper the baby once in a while, is nagging Dad right to the point where she will get a chain saw for Xmas which may be cited as Exhibit #1 in the family murder case.

It doesn't matter if your Divorce Theory is the Karmic Theory -- we were past life mistakes. Or, the Shopper Theory -- people are like cars. You measure the depreciation against residual value and dump them when the warranty expires, or how about the Death Rate Theory. Twenty years used to be the usual life span, and since we are living longer, everyone gets a good divorce every twenty years. Divorce is very, very painful, should be avoided at all costs, and it isn't a new person that's the solution. Ask Elizabeth Taylor.

I say my solution for love breakdown is not leaving its learning something useful as I said. The language of love is useful in filling love needs of the spouse, the kids, and even the folks at work. We are all starved for a full tank of love daily.

And to wind up this who blew up the t.v. set in my world of love gone bad, surprise it was both parties. Sorry girls. Probably, the folks who had the worst love teachers are the most responsible. Just like the parents taught you the English language, they taught you your love language. Are you illiterate or not?? Really sit down and think about what you saw growing up? He called her "the nag" and she called him "the bastard." Far cry from honey and sweetie??? She bought him useless stuff and she complained about what he did. The last time Mom touched dear old Dad was to kick his leg when he was snoring and him, well he pushed Mama aside to get to the fridge to get another beer.

Decore Divorce Blues

For all those who may read my blog, I proclaim that Decorating is an ACT OF PASSION, primarily a female SPORT and can be added to list like HOCKEY. If you look at the pop up of accessory stores, the trail of people in them, not just the gay males, you can see the sport is rapidly growing. Many women are naturals, some take courses, some watch too much t.v. and some will just plain suck but trust me, it is a sport like hockey. Sadly, without their kids showing any aptitude for hockey, folks flip out the credit card to buy fancy skates, pay for expensive ice time, summer camps and even hire a private coach, but the kid still sucks. The kid lacks skill and ability. Still parents sit in ice cold arenas hollering at the coach until the coach wants to take a hockey stick to them -- but still you can't make a Wayne Gretzky. Natural born talent is a gift.

I believe it is the same with the world of Interior Decorating. While at Home Sense, I've watched some pretty disheveled looking people buying some pretty expensive stuff. Usually style shows in other areas, like dress, and I wonder, do they know really know where to put it and with what? Just like the Hockey equipment, snazzy outfit, stick and skates but couldn't score a goal if the goalie went for a pee.

And so like Wayne Gretzky and the Zamboni, if you put the decor gifted near a house their metabolism revs up like a race car. I don't know if its sadly or gladly, but I was born into this group, have apprenticed, but since every woman today considers she is good at the sport, there isn't much call for folks paying for my skill and ability . However, despite what women think there really is a big difference between your cooking and the skills and abilities of Rachael Rae, Martha Stewart or Julia Child's' -- the results.

In my time, I've seen many a decor job flop, just like a bad souffle, but in the world of cooking, a souffle you can easily redo. In the design world, a flop is serious. You can't inexpensively replace tile, return installed wall to wall carpet, or refit the kitchen because the walls are rapidly closing in. What many people don't understand is that decor creates mood and attitude, not to mention making a serious personal statement about you and the way you live. I worked with one woman, who hired her own designer, didn't like the results and literally staged a break in so the insurance would pay for a redo. A good decorator should be consulting with you along the way, so the end result should be personal yet professional.

Thousands and thousands of dollars of decor nightmares have occurred because of City Line and women who jumped to their feet and yelled "I can do that too." Beg to differ but there is a huge difference between watching a hockey movie than playing the sport. One looks oh, so easy. Actually some times when I start the process, and know what is at stake financially, it can be nerve wracking. I love it when the painter says, "you sure this is the right colour lady?" and you pray like hell the end result will be as great as you visualized. Normally is, but the back seat drivers love to get into the act.

Yesterday I made a pit stop to meet another member of the First Wives Club who recently moved into her mother's old house. She considers herself a Decor Diva. Actually women with really bad taste have called her accessories garbage. If you have any crap to give away, or leave at the end of your lane way, she will take it. She does the holdup approach -- make sure every wall space in the room is covered by some piece of furniture to hold up the walls. You actually feel claustrophobic. Her motto is more is more. Mine is Less is More and Impressive if the Less is Impressive. So we can't share design principals.

Viewing, as she asked me to of her house of design horrors, she was hyperventilating towards a full blown panic attack. This was one nightmare we could both agree on primarily because of excess over sized furniture and shortage of walls. Now the goal of home decor is to create an expression of yourself -- to inspire a feeling of joy and excitement -- impress others and most importantly, provide a haven from the crappy world beyond your door. Crappy had come in.

To create function, beauty and safety was the goal of cave men once they started living inside. In keeping with that idea, so many homes have now elevated the status of the bathroom from the starting outhouse -- to indoor plumbing -- to Spa. And think of it, how scared would you have been way back when -- someone was selling you the remarkable indoor plumbing concept. Like being able to poop inside a bowl in your house and then let it run through pipes throughout the walls of your house? Think of that! Anyway we have come a long way baby. Folks are now going to the bathroom inside using bidets with marble floors, art work, flat screens, pillars, fire places, chandeliers, Hers and Hers towels for the happily divorced woman -- well lets all hide out in the can --its nicer than the livingroom.

And as for divorce, many a divorce has occurred over the man's lack of understanding for this female passion. Oh yes he wants her to get the passion of his SPORT -- $1000 golf clubs, membership fees, green fees, fancy links wardrobe and bar bill, but when it comes to her bringing in a $14 goblet and putting it proudly on the table like she won a trophy from Dancing With the Stars, he is screaming "what the hell did you waste our money on that piece of crap for ?" I think if the man doesn't get this Sport of Passion for women, hell hath no fury like a woman unable to beautify her nest.

Lets now also look at the beginning of the rec room -- the 60s basement. It has come from musty cinder block cellar to paneled rec room, to the dry walled elegant VIP LOUNGE with the theater/entertainment center, sectionals equipped with drink holders, screens the size of garage doors, and projectors mounted on the ceiling, barely used pool tables and well equipped bars for the teens to use. No wonder the kids are becoming addicts of all kinds and social tards, but folks that is what is happening in below grade decor!!

As for kitchens, well we started with a hand pump beside the sink and a curtain hiding the catch bucket for the gray water. Then we jumped to taps and running water running through pipes as the poop does throughout the house -- now to Martha Stewart estate kitchens with state of the art cabinets, granite counters, flat screens, granite work islands with custom seating with movie start lighting that costs more than a new Mercedes.

So how did last night end? Well as I said, you can't put Wayne near a rink, nor me near a decorating disaster. I'm an aching unit today. I whacked up more pictures than you have in a Gallery. In the 12x14 living room was a full size piano, large coffee table and two end tables, a funeral parlor couch the size of a single bed and a full size fireplace with flip of the switch fire. Today, through the miracle of the gift remains a staged living room without my taking out any walls. In fact the piano bench, with a velvet cushion and tassels is now elegant optional seating. What is the hardest part of the design exercise -- well its getting individuals to think outside their little box of ideas. A couch can sit in front of a window and you will not be shot by a sniper.

So what can I say, Decorating is a passionate female Sport and not for the female weak. Today, I have the aches, just like Wayney but the goal of the SPORT OF DECOR is a classy sanctuary, a snazzy haven, an elegant retreat on a reasonable budget that when you turn the key in the door, it turns you on. You are glad to be home. Arlene shoots -- she scores. And do I love the female SPORT of DECOR - oh yes you bet I do because I was born to create beauty. And that's the joy of growing up -- knowing thyself!

Santa -- All I want for Xmas is a Barbie Body??????

Are women crazy or not? They can sit for hours watching the Biggest Loser, Dancing with the Stars and then jump off the Lazy Boy (and that was named for a good reason) with fiery intention to join Weight Watchers again, walk every day for 30 mins., to look into dancing lessons and serious spray tanning. In her head she says like the little steam engine that could "I will, I will, I will look like 21 again." Well God bless you sister.

On top of that she vows to throw out all the junk food -- the chocolate -- and eat healthy. Then to further incite a riot of finding the fountain of youth, she fires up the rest of the "I look like shit and feel like shit" mid life co workers. Its like watching Judy Garland walking the munchkins down the yellow brick road. Its quite a production, yet every Season some mid life excitable woman clicks her ruby slippers and begins her journey to looking like Barbie again.

Now, as a Solutionist, I try to find solutions that are reality based and doable. What is it that mature women really want to accomplish? Well first of all it should be sanity. Having a body of a 21 year old at 40 plus is about as sane as Michael Jackson with his Peter Pan plan.

Secondly highly impossible without some serious plastic surgery cash and jaw wiring. If you could out do the Octomom, who popped out 6 kids, now she has money for nipping and tucking and hopefully jaw wiring, you too could be the proud recipient of the guppy lips and a cosmetically enhanced body. So no cash, bye bye Barbie.

Also genetics aren't a solution. Genetics even the good kind are a toss up and need constant care. I cite our rich Barbie Cher who would have paid anything to redo her Chastity whoops Chaz who even went on Celebrity fit. You probably recall walking into the kitchen when you were a teenager and saw the back end of your mother taking the turkey out of the oven and thought, I'm never going to look like that. Well Wrong -- you too will probably get the junk in the trunk from the Big M...........Menopause and Munching.

Do you recall the song I Can't Stop Loving You (by Ray Charles). Well that's a mature woman's love song to a piece of Cheesecake, and any other number of therapy foods women use to stuff down the anger. Correction, I know some are using Martinis. They actually are the distractors for the disasters. You know the disasters -- I think the husband is cheating, or I'd love to leave his arrogant ass, or to deal with the dysfunctional family members who keep calling you to bail them out of something.

Menopause....the ending of the interest in men because you are starting to look like one. The time of the hormones to hell phase and the dying of the rapid metabolism. You eat an olive before going to bed and your weight skyrocketed 5 lbs and guess what it is all behind you. You go to feel around your back and you discover you are growing the back of a 300 lb. line backer. Your rump, well it ain't Beyonce Fabulous, its more like, right Your Mothers. Bet you're sorry you thought or said those awful things now -- not only did you get a kid just like you but also your mother's back and backside. Welcome to the Menopause Club. And here's another kicker. Your mother was on her feet more than you, had less fast food and stress and got those results. She didn't have a tread mill, remote control, microwave, or an array of drugs and internet crap for her kids and husband to get into.

So lets recap. We know most women don't like to sweat, so don't even go there. Exercising for most women is taking a shower, putting on makeup, etc. Crazy family you can't live without serious therapy food or drinking. And if the chips hit the counter, they hit the hips. You didn't get great genetics and menopause is mean -- need I say more. Want justice -- Go to a school reunion. Scout out the once most popular cheerleader. Today, she looks like Paula Deen - same well made up Merle Norman face, but she's wearing her husband's shirt, with great jewellery for a reason. Why -- she refuses to shop at Penningtons.

So what's left? How do we turn back time and head back into sublime? Well you can't nail jello to a wall, but you can pack it into Lycra, Spandex, or whatever magic materials the civilized world are making for the boobs and the butt. One gal pal told me she even went to a divey motel for a bra fitting seminar and her sister, suspect of the intentions, accompanied her but it was for real. And why did she go, not because she wants to look like some Porn Queen most husband watch, but because she wants to be on top of things, or at least have her things topped up. Apparently this bra fitting seminar was quite an ordeal with suggestions of trying to bring back fat into the cup -- seems impossible to me. Its like your face at amour time. Lay on your back and you are twenty years younger?

By the sounds of this seminar, the prelude to the bra fitting was worse than the Mammogram nightmare but this is really what our beloved movie stars go through. You have no idea what Meryl Streep went through to get those boobie star boobies for Mama Mia. She probably loved the rest in Doubt. Under that Mama Mia blouse was probably more duct tape than on the shelf at Home Depot - the drag queen secrets.

Actually it has been the subject of 100 Oprah Shows, but here it goes again. Cut the crap there is no easy way except putting on your big girl panties, walking into a Bra store and just like you ask for another shot of tequila, Hit Me, well its called Measure Me -- I'm ready. Two little measurements. One around the rib cage and then across the bird cage (yes that's what we will call the two prize peacocks you have ) and presto you have two measurements that will get you from a size 42 DDD into a size 38 K.

Quit screaming K. Cups from A to Z -- Its better than the Sham Woo . If you think about it -- Barbie, the goddess doll of implants and all cosmetic surgery that we played with -- has started a whole new bra industry. You can have the back of a mosquito carrying two giant pineapples and not fall over. When a door closes, God just opens another financial window of opportunity. Life just keeps getting better and better girls. And once menopause hits, you won't need the implants to increase size, just a good bra with cups the size of sand buckets with enough hoisting power to get the gals up to salute the sun.

So cut the crap, the Wii will get as much use as that dusty treadmill -- aren't trends fun -- but a good set of undergarments will get you Red Carpet ready just like the stars. So in unison, All We Want For Xmas is............a customized bra..........

Let"s Go LESBO.

Getting a little dismayed at the Lets All Go LESBO craze. Probably could be the start of a new dance. This week we had Meredith Baxter proclaim on the Today Show, "yes I'm a Lesbian." Three failed marriages and 5 kids and now she has found the Lesbian in her closet -- its not a Lesbian Meredith, its a bisexual. On the other hand, any of the true lesbians that I know, and I do know a few, knew pre puberty that having sex with a guy would have required major adjustments --a nip and tuck job -- a thorough shaving -- five hours of serious makeup to end up looking like Cher -- and then some gagging might still be involved. They also do not have husbands and kids pictures in the family album unless artificially inseminated or found extra cash for Chinese kids.

What is all this nonsense? Do you not watch Oprah? You would think we were all living in the dark ages and Penicillin had yet to be invented. Angry, exhausted women cry on national t.v. they need a wife and want the husband to be more wifely. Is it the cry of the exhausted or the need to be enlightened?

Twenty years ago I met with well known sex researchers in London who are trying to educate the head in the sand crowd that our sexuality is on a continuum. In other words, the majority of us are born bisexual, and society sells it as taboo so we don't disappear. Wishing it away or denying it ain't going to change a thing though baby. And hello, why are so many people up in arms? Isn't two women being together every man's dream?

So since societal thinking seems to be getting updated through the magic of t.v. presenting long needed research, be forewarned. The Post Divorce ( Guess Whose Coming to Dinner ) guest may not be the black, handsome Sydney Portier but the lovely Portia De Rossi with your daughter. The bisexual waves a coming. This is probably the real sexual revolution and birth control is not needed.

Is this bisexual wave a good thing or a bad? Well if you take a look our current state of heterosexual affairs -- the alarming Divorce rate and the unhappily marrieds sleeping in their separate rooms, the answer is BAD. In Quebec they have ascertained that if women could get their hands on some serious cash, all you would see is their rear tail lights. Women believe marriage was invented for the sheer benefit of man only.

On another note of logic, if you look at men and women living together it seems as nonsensical as a cat and a dog cohabiting. Look at their natures. The dog -- loyal, giving, energetic, forgiving and affectionate. The cat -selfish, lazy, sneaky, with holding, dam right pampered and willing to eat out of anyone's trash can. Now which do you think might be the man -- bingo, the CAT. And what is the dog doing -- well ma petite chien, Gi Gi, is plotting the moment when she gets her hands on that smug, lazy ass fur ball and shake the living hell out of him.

Isn't it funny that when you initially meet the mother-in-law she says something cute along this line "well, I hope you can get him to help you dear, he's 26 and I still have to clean his apartment and put his toilet seat down. " And of course you smile, not fully realizing what this crazy ass woman is saying. She is telling you to warm up those vocal cords honey because you are about to take home her pampered prized Tom Cat. Secretly she's counting the minutes until wedding day and if you hear her saying I do -- in unison with you -- it means I do release my inconsiderate, selfish, lazy ass son unto you, but don't hurt him. The happily ever after the wedding tug of war stories.

And down the road, what does the mother-in-law say when divorce is impending, "Is there anything I can do to help you two dear? Maybe you could be a little more patient or try harder in the bedroom and he will forget about her!"

Well that's when you scream, " Old Lady you could have house trained your Cat. I work too you know -- I need an adult not another child." On that note she further digs her grave and says "maybe you should go see the doctor about all that anger dear -- its not good for the kids to see or for your health!" Well you can't fix stupid. No you can't. She does not see that raising a male from child to adultery hood is anger provoking and what is karmic debt -- she is eventually going to get his lazy ass back. Smile old lady --you got Punked.

Now lets head to Sanity ville. As I said we are talking Dogs and Cats here. So while you are plotting to take out his new 25 year old bitch, girls no matter how you slice it it is still a Dog Cat relationship. It is impossible when the chemistry wears off for him to not have the new Poodle just plotting, as you did, to get her hands on his old lazy, arrogant Tom Cat Ass and defur him. He will look like he's got the mange and he will naturally come meowing home telling you what a Bitch the new girlfriend is. Do not celebrate -- insist that he enlist in the Army. He needs some 300 lb. terrifying Sgt. Dingman in his face barking make that bed, clean that toilet, etc. Its the best training a smug, pampered cat can get. Its called house breaking.

So here is my final bit of witty, wisdom to the women -- BITCHES unite. Females want affection, attention and assistance. Males want respect. Well how can males get respect behaving like inconsiderate teens? Cats and Dogs is what we are! Boot camp only takes care of the Assistance. And oh yeah, about that Garden of Eden story. With another Eve, the snake wouldn't have had a chance to seduce two Bitches into sinning for an apple, maybe a gift card to Home Sense, but a bite of an apple? Please. Only a male would jump for a little bite of something.