that’s stupid

laugh

According to the magazine Cooking Light women rate drinking enough water over having sex.

When it comes to health, drinking the recommended daily amount of water is more important to women than having enough sex, according to a national survey conducted by our magazine. When asked to prioritize behaviors related to their overall health and well being, women ranked drinking enough water fifth and sex seventh on the list.”

According to the women in the survey their priorities rank in order:

  1. Getting enough sleep
  2. Keeping stress level low
  3. Finding time to relax
  4. Eating healthfully
  5. Drinking the recommended amount of water
  6. Finding time to exercise
  7. Having enough sex

Let’s look at that list again.

  1. Getting enough sleep  –Sleep AFTER sex, people! It’s the BEST sleep in the world!
  2. Keeping stress level low — Sex is a stress reliever!!!! “They call me Mellow Yellow”…..
  3. Finding time to relax — How relaxed do you feel AFTER SEX???? D’UHHH!
  4. Eating healthfully — OK, I’ll give you that one. But have you ever had a Bacon, Egg, & Cheese Biscuit after sex? OMG!
  5. Drinking the recommended amount of water – Having sex makes you thirsty. You ‘ll drink as much as you need. There’s a faucet in the bathroom!
  6. Finding time to exercise – Sex IS exercise!
  7. Having enough sex — YES! The rest will fall into place after! Move to the top of the list!
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suck sucky suck suck

cheap-fun-wineYeah, I’m pissed. And depressed.

I’m 55 years-old, smart, reasonably attractive, and fairly well-liked! I dress well, speak well, and I have SKILZ, baby!

If I were younger I would consider making an offer to sleep my way into a job.  I’d also take pictures and blackmail their asses but still….money is money.

On Friday, three days ago my daughter called me from work to tell me that one of her patients mentioned that a job had just opened for a Marketing Director at a nearby assisted living facility. She suggested that I would be ideal for the job and since I had “insider” information I might be able to beat the crowds looking for work there. It was too late to get my resume out to them by that time so first thing this morning, Monday, I called them to ask for an appointment and was told the position had already been filled.  WTF?

So I have decided that if I live frugally enough I may be able to make it through till I sell this place, collect Social Security (HA!), and maybe have something left over in my annuity to keep me from having to ask my kids to let me live with them.

So here are some ideas I have to save money:

I plan to unplug my clocks while I sleep. 

I will only eat whatever is on sale, and I will only buy what I know I will consume. In the past I have been rather wasteful. I have been known to buy items and then they sat in the freezer or produce bins until they were no longer edible. This spring I tossed some freezer burned edemame, chicken livers, a roast of dubious origins, several bags of Tater Tots , and a 4 lb. chunk of frozen Velveeta over the bank in the back field.  NO MORE! I also intend to start that diet. I think I can probably hibernate on these extra 20  40 lbs. I carry.

Two-ply toilet paper and paper towels? No more. Any remaining two-ply items will summarily be separated into single-ply and used thusly. By reducing my food intake (see above)  I will dramatically cut down on my own “solid-wastes” anyway!

I will get used to wearing a winter coat while in my house. My down comforter will substitute at night. Thermostats will be kept at 55 degrees.  I apologize to anyone visiting me but be forewarned to dress appropriately when coming by.

Coupons. I hate ’em. I will now use them.

Consignment clothing is chic, no? I may look retro-fashionable from now on (otherwise known as “the bag lady look”).

dress made from ramen noodles packages

dress made from ramen noodles packages

Mineral make-up is expensive but I love it. BareMinerals is my cosmetic of choice but perhaps some good old Pennsylvania dirt would work as well. It is, after all, mostly minerals! And it will work so well with the retro fashions I intend to adopt! Perhaps if I sterilize it in the microwave first…..

Siphoning gas from my ex’s vehicles will save me on gasoline bills for my car. Hey! Who asked him to build a house right across from me anyway?

If anyone would like to contribute suggestions on ways that I can save more money please comment and I will take them under consideration. If anyone would like to donate to my retirement fund…. I will adopt you. I could use the tax write-off of a dependent.

dirty minds

This post is dedicated to Purplehatter in appreciation for my marvelous new HEADER!  He gives great header, doesn’t he?

Hey…psssssst!!!   Wanna get hot?  I mean realllly hot!

I want you to  put on some old, worn-out jeans. Slide a  t-shirt over your head.  Don’t fuss. You’re gonna take it all off later anyway. You’re gonna get D-I-R-T-Y.

Now go out to the shed in the yard. Yeah, baby, that’s what I’m talking about… the shed.

See that  pile of logs over in the corner?  Take a BIG one! You know you want that BIG one, don’t you?

Now make it stand up!  Use your hands. That’s it! Hard and tall and proud!! You are doing great! Take your time. We have all day, baby. Feel the wood.

Now grab that axe and raise it over your head. I want you to DO IT!  Go on. Give that naughty old piece of wood a good whack! It needs a strong hand. It wants to feel the hard edge of your thrust! Bring it!

OOOoooOOOHH!

Do it again! OOOH!  Are you hot?  YES!!!!

It’s OK to scream. Let it all out! I WANT to hear you scream! Come on!!! 

YES! YES! YES! YES! OH! YES!!!!

Now look at your wood. Aren’t  you feeling amazingly satisfied???  I see the smile on your face. It was good , wasn’t it??You know you liked it. A lot!

Take a break. We’re gonna do this all day long, baby. Yes. We are. You know it’s gonna hurt tomorrow.

Now put your hands around that wood. Carry a BIG pile into your house. Gently now… put it in ..            the wood stove. LIGHT MY FIRE!!! Feel it?? Feel the heat??? Oh,  baby, I am SO hot!

   *grin*       Damn.  You are good!

(This is how I amuse myself on those winter mornings when the temperature dips into the teens and my house is cold. My children have reason to worry about the mind of their mother. )

If only

SuperLogo

If only:

1.my hairdresser really WAS a magician!

2. all cookies were sold individually I could buy a “sampler”– 6 Oreos, 4 Pecan Sandies, 3 Nutter Butters, and a Mallomar!

3.my new shoes made me feel like I was “walking on clouds”.  **coughbullshitcough* Damn bunions! Damn flat feet!

4. rice cakes tasted like pizza.

5. pizza tasted like rice cakes.

6. men came with an “on/off” button.  I mean, come on… flip the switch- turn ’em on!  And vice versa!

7. cell  phones deactivated when inside of moving vehicles!

8. my ex could have danced half so well!

9. my underwear looked as sexy on  me as it did in the store…on a hanger.

10. cigarettes weren’t bad for you..I’d have a two-pack-a-day habit! I still miss ’em after 7 years!

11. being stupid was painful.  heeheehee

12. the “Blog Surfer” button on WordPress was a transporter, I’d have all my bloggy friends over for tea (or bloody marys)!

Bad English

Sometimes I just have to share the good stuff with the rest of you!! This video cracked me up!

By trishatruly Posted in humor

brrrrrrrrrr……..

 

 

 

 

deadbug1

Dead bug position

dead+bug2

REAL DEAD BUG

This morning it was 48 degrees Fahrenheit. I went to bed with a few windows left open and when I awoke I was shivering under my quilt and spread. I am not ready for winter. I still have too much to do!

 

I went to Home Depot today to buy a paint sprayer. I have over 500 feet of three-rail wooden fencing that is in dire need of painting. In the past I had access to a husband who was willing to either

a. have me paint it all summer

b. hire someone else to paint it

c. bribe one of our daughters to do it

or

 d. leave it go till it rotted and fell over.

I, on the other hand, do not have access to his money nor am I willing to paint it with a brush over the course of weeks and weeks. My life is too short to do that! I am old, dammit! And letting it go to rot and fall down is not an option if I am ever hopeful of selling this money-sucking monstrosity of an estate beautiful, classic farmhouse and surrounding acreage.

I was just in the last bit of cursing and kicking at the self check-out due to the fact that I had indeed, despite the damned machine’s insistence that I had not “placed items in the bagging area” when my friends Jay and Pinky showed up. Jay informed me that my idea of using the electric paint sprayer wouldn’t work. I had told him I was willing to use several extension cords rather than pay for a gas-powered sprayer which could cost hundreds of dollars. He tells me this after I check out!

I had spent 20 minutes in the paint department with two lovely male employees who were both willing to help me find exactly the right items. Of course one had no idea where the exterior paint was located so I am pretty sure his advice is fairly unsound. This was the really adorable one with the dreadlocks….in HONESDALE, PA! We don’t normally DO dreadlocks here in Nowheresville, USA but hey! We are becoming quite the trendy hot spot! They tended to my Home Depot needs quite attentively and I left with my new Ryobi paint sprayer. I like Ryobi products! I also like attentive male employees!

Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that I had on extremely tight jeans or maybe it was simply “Be Nice to the Old Ladies Day”. I prefer to think it was the former.

So now here I am with my purchases and Jay, aka Mr. I Know Everything, tells me it will never work. I can only hope to prove him wrong. PLEASE let him be wrong!

I also bought a 2 gallon pump sprayer for insecticide. Ever since I fired my exterminator and started spraying Spectracide Once-and-Done Bug killer around the perimeter of my home I have had far fewer invasions of ants, spiders, and other creepy-crawlies than ever! The fact that my urine glows in the dark is a small price to pay for not having earwigs crawling on toilet seats in the middle of the night, let me tell you!

I leave you with this bit of wisdom today:
 

 

 

“The man who views the world at 50 the same as he did at 20 has wasted 30 years of his life.” —-Muhammed Ali

 

 
 

 

 

Let’s just say….

It was a crazzzzy weekend, last weekend.

My BFF’s youngest daughter got married. She (the BFF) is originally from Norway. Oodles of Norveeejuns vas ober here for dis vedding, ya! OOf Dah!. The groom’s family is from Turkey. They came. They saw Americans. They’ll never be the same.

 They combined many of the rituals and customs of both nationalities in this four-day-wedding-extravaganza! Evidently drinking and dancing are universally recognized as the way to start off a marriage. ( I happen to know it helps the rest of the time, too!)

On Thursday there was a ceremony for the women where henna is applied to one palm  of each lady to assure luck. I got a big blob of it in my right hand. A piece of gauze was placed over that and tied in the back of my hand. I was told to leave it for 20 minutes then wash it off.

Platter of Turkish wedding henna and accoutrements

Platter of Turkish wedding henna and accoutrements

The bride has henna applied to both hands, then a lacy bag is tied over her hands while the henna does its dying magic, leaving the bride-to-be with stinky orange palms.

Bride-to-be before henna

Bride-to-be before henna

Supposedly it signifies purification of some sort. All I know is it doesn’t come off for a couple of weeks and it kinda smells like sour cooked spinach.

Then there were the belly dancers who tried to teach us how to shake that groove thang.

groovethang 

I tried it. I think I am missing some extra hinge-y  thing in my hips  that lets her do this!

The next morning I woke up, went to the bathroom, did my business, wiped and then saw that brownish-orange blotch and thought I’d shit on my own hand! It took me a minute to realize that it was indeed the henna and not me being nasty. Well, we drank some the night before…

 Friday evening was more dancing, more drinking. Then some more eating, drinking, and then more dancing.   One lady snuck a grab of D’Bear’s ass while he was on the dance floor!  It pretty much made his whole weekend! LOL

Saturday, Wedding Day, turned out sunny and beautiful. The bride was radiant, the groom marvelously handsome, the ceremony poignant and heartfelt. Then there was more dancing. LOTS of dancing! Drinking and dancing and dancing and drinking! A good time was had by all…. I think. I know I had fun!

 Sunday I paid the piper (f*cking piper!). D’Bear and I mowed fields for six hours in the hot sun.  It’s amazing what a few Excedrin, a pot of strong coffee, and a tractor rumbling under you can do!

Not a DAMNED THING!  I still felt like hell!

you MUST read this!!!

fat
As someone who has battled with the same 30 friggin’ pounds my whole adult life, I consider myself to be a professional dieter. BUT I read this post by Flurrious today and I realized that I have met my match if not my superior.
PLEASE go HERE and read the funniest thing you’ve ever read about dieting in your life!!!

verily i vociferate

This morning, after having eaten nothing since Monday evening, and drinking 8.3 oz. of Miralax in every conceivable clear liquid along with 4, count ’em , FOUR Dulcolax tablets yesterday, then nothing at all after midnight and after having spent 2/3 of Tuesday hunched on a toilet bowl praying for death (or Thursday) I arrived at the offices of my two dear gastroenterologists.

rectal2I was instructed to arrive by 8:00 a.m. for “the procedure” at 8:30. When I arrived there was no one at the reception window so my SIL (bless his heart) and I stood there until this squawky voice called from an adjoining room “Be right with ya!”

As the lovely lady (cough*BULLSHIT*cough) made her way towards the window I smiled and said “Good morning!”. I was ignored. She took my paperwork without a word and asked me “So,you’re here for a colonoscopy. Did the stuff work?”

What? “the stuff“? OH!!! “Yes, thank you, it worked.” I said. My SIL took a couple of steps back.

She came around the corner and said “Follow me”. I turned to SIL and said ” Go on. Get out of here, I’ll call you when I’m done” and he scooted out the door! She took me to her little corner cubbie and attached a heart monitor and a blood pressure cuff then proceeded to squint and peck at her computer while the machine attached to my tubes and wires tried its best to cause complete blood loss to that limb.

I watched her silently pecking, looking…pecking…watching, waiting…for what seemed like hours. OK, it was about 15 minutes but it felt longer because my left hand was dead blue in color and my heart rate was jumping all over the place. Finally she asked me the same questions that I had answered on the papers I was told to bring AND the same questions this office had had their PA ask me three weeks ago. No, I do not take any medications. No I am not allergic to anything. No, I am not diabetic!! For God’s sake woman! Can’t any of you read????

Finally she stood and directed me down the hall to the prep area. Five women I assume were nurses ( Nurses are evidently NOT gonna wear white, dammit!)  stopped and watched me enter the room. Not one smiled or said a word to me. I was instructed by my  lovely (cough*BULLSHIT*cough) lady to remove my clothes and put on the handkerchief “with the ties in the back”.

Suddenly I became aware that the nurses had regained their voices. A multitude of sounds approximating the sounds of hens clucking and scratching assaulted my ears and the ears of everyone in the room.

“So I said to her ‘ I am NOT gonna take my day off to drive him to the dentist. He can get Marie to do it!” and ” Oh, you shouldn’t have to!” “Where are the bagels? I know there were half a dozen here this morning!”  “He can just go fly a kite! I am not his little servant girl!” “They want me to fill in AGAIN for Dotty on Friday!” ” Is this coffee fresh?”

Now here’s the part of the blog where I’m supposed to stop and say that I have a tremendous respect for nurses, which I do. I am supposed to say that they soothed my brow and made  me feel cared for and that theirs is a difficult job and so on and so forth.  Well, today I was not impressed. This rant is about me and my experience today so if you are a nurse, or you’re married to a nurse or you have a relative who is a nurse, please don’t go all  ballistic and start the flames, OK?

Finally one of the less hunched of the quintet made her way to my cubicle and began to ask me AGAIN “Are you allergic to anything? Do you have diabetes? Did you eat anything this morning?” She told me about the storm she witnessed last night as if I don’t live in the area and I didn’t experience the same thunderstorm. She rattled on about how she has a chain saw but her nephew says she shouldn’t use it because it’s too dangerous but will he bring his sorry ass over to clean up the branches that fell last night..oh no he won’t! All the while she is poking me with an IV needle. Holy Mother of God! She is jabbing that thing like she’s sewing up a Christmas turkey’s ass! “Sorry. I bruised the vein a little there…wait…oh, good, I think it’s in…oops, nope! Ahh……there we go.”

 I watched the male anesthesiologist roll his eyes while waiting his turn to talk to me. He whispered in my ear after she had gone “I’m sorry about that.”

I didn’t feel great about being a woman in that room of women right then. Hell, I didn’t feel great….period.

When I woke up after the procedure one of the hens…I mean nurses, came over to see if I was alive. I assured her that I was and I said “There’s something wet down here by my butt” and she laughed and said “Don’t worry about it. Everybody says that!” When she left I used my IV hand to reach down to my hip and I felt something on the mattress. Grasping it as well as I could I pulled it out and it was a plastic cup!  I must have made a noise because the nurse came back and said “OH!  That’s an irrigation cup! It spilled all over your bed!”  NO SHIT, SHERLOCK!!!!! story

 Let me tell you, I was never so glad for the doctor to pronounce me fit to go home about ten minutes later. Two polyps removed  and the doctor’s pronouncement that they didn’t appear to be cancerous (but they will be biopsied to make sure) and I was outa there! Two years of freedom from the fear of death- by- colon -cancer for me and a few thousand buckaroos for the doctor! It’s a win/win!