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!