Put on The Blog

I think I may try to post something once a day to drive the readers crazy or to possibly have them ask for more……

Last night I had a dream about Bill Gates. I have had dreams of famous people before but never one of this caliber or fortuitous in nature. I don’t know why Mr. Gates decided to pop into my castle in the air, maybe it’s the menopause gods messing with my brain; but he landed there anyway and the dream took place in an automobile.  He was driving of course, and I was in the passenger seat.

The car in the dream was not the one I actually found myself leaning on one cold afternoon outside the Westin Hotel while waiting for the airport Taxi to arrive. In the dream, this auto was a very sleek Cadillac Escolade with tinted windows…

  I have never had the pleasure to meet Mr. gates. I have only seen pictures of him on integral publications. I knew his dad was a lawyer in Seattle like mine was, and maybe, just maybe, they crossed paths a few times in the court house elevator to exchange briefs…….

Anyway….. as I was heading back to Los Angeles and awaiting a transport vehicle to pick me up along with the other less fortunate’s who couldn’t afford a cab, the “Sit-n-Wait” bench was occupied and I was left with standing room only. Nestled under the car port in the semi circular drive to the entrance of the Hotel I noticed a Mercedes abandoned sitting close to the pick up area.  I mozied on over and leaned my too- tired-to-stand-anymore- rump against the rear fender with one leg  propped atop my Hartman carry- on, balancing  the Times on my knee working on a  puzzle I started three days earlier. Just when I finished filling in an 11  letter word for Mega rich person who monopolizes the computer industry……….

I heard an attendant scatter about rustling a set of keys and running after a man walking towards the Teal car where I was resting my laurels and he tossed out a quiet yell:

“Here’s your keys Mr. Gates”.

My tuschie came off the back end of that car as if it had just sat down on  a wet seat on the Subway  headed to Coney Island. I slowly looked to my right to catch a glimpse of what I presumed might be the Billionaire,  (it could also have been my eighth  grade science teacher. Same name different incomes outcomes).  It turned out to be the Microsoft Mogul and I was hoping  he wasn’t going to instruct the attendant to have me removed and get his car dusted for commoner butt prints….

What I actually witnessed was Bill giving me a double take. He looked at me twice before he opened his car door to get in and didn’t utter a sound.

There are only a few reasons I can think of when someone looks at you twice:

one: you think you recognize that person,

two: you like what you see and you have to have seconds.

three: “what was this girl thinking resting on his specially made Teal Sadies as if it were a hitching post equipped with a watering hole. Why the nerve of that girl placing her back pocket of her designer jeans against my hand crafted rear panel indulging in the New York Times Puzzle. What,…..  she’s too good for the Seattle Times Sudoku??”.

O.k…That actually happened…..with the exception of the NY Times…..I  was reading the Horoscope section holding a pen………

My dream  last night about Mr. Gates opened with the two of us riding about in a giant SUV and he was yakking about how we were going  to go swimming at a club that my family belongs to.

He was very concerned about my “knowing how to swim”, and “do I like swimming”.( I didn’t know how to respond because it was 30 degrees out and snow was still on the ground and swimming was the last thing on my mind.)  As I sat there in the passenger seat groping for an answer that would honor the Mega- Trazillionaire, my puppy , Charly-dog, popped onto the dashboard and rummaged through the front seat of Gates car as if he owned it.

Mr. Gates started quizzing me about Charly-dog and asked: “what kind of food he eats” and “if the food was expensive” and “was it tasty“.

I informed him of the brand and mumbled that I had not yet sampled it.

Then I woke up. I woke up with a feeling that I had just held a private meeting with one of the top richest men in the country and our conversations centered around swimming and dog chow, instead of  great stock tips or insight to a new pc product.  I was left drowning in a  Pool of Purina……..

I don’t know about anyone else, but conquering menopause without medication is starting to have it’s effect on me.  The estrogen has now hit the subconscious below sea level. My anterior pituitary has reached its last droplets of hormonal secretions and is casting its FSH out to the sea of dreams. Flooding the GATES of  REM.  I use to have dreams that had me floating atop the clouds care-free……with no Dog interruptus……….

Thank God my puppy was there to witness the whole thing, he smiled at me in the morning as if everything went swimmingly well…..

spread the humor.

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Another Blog Faced Liar….

So Charlywalker added a photo to her blog in hopes that some day the Freshly Pressed Gods will smile upon her and iron out the wrinkles in her writing…maybe add a little more starch..maybe have it permanently pressed.

I’ve been hiding behind my Gravatar because it is ageless and I am incapable of mastering Photoshop.  I have read many blogs, responses, and comments on this lovely WordPress wonderland and have found that most of you Blog-heads out there will use your likeness in your Gravatar…so…….I felt it was my duty to come out of the Gravatar closet and stop hiding behind my screen.  If you find this photo offensive kindly let me know and I will return to that sassy photo I have used in the past and , which I feel, truly depicts my lovely sarcastic nature.

If you take the time to read the blogs posted on this lovely word pressed outlet mall, you will notice a barrage of precisely chosen Gravatar’s that suit the Blogger’s genre.  I have decided to comment on some of my faithful followers pictures used to represent their Blogs, and I would love to commend those folks that actually  use a photo of themselves as their Gravatar.  Personally, I think  that takes a lot of guts to do. Guts….something we are all  equipped with, but usually it just lies dormant in a hollow cavity waiting to spill out and expand among the readers. Guts I did not possess until now.  Guts to actually locate and download a photo that I find acceptable..and er…airbrushed.  I do not like to have my picture taken, unless it’s by accident…… taken in Black & White…..from three miles away on a crowded island……without a telephoto lens.

Some Gravatar’s I have witnessed really suit the Blogger and their field of blogging.  Some of the most bright ideas face me with their intense yet quizzical look thinking to themselves: “Who is this person behind that fifties photo OP, and does she really wear her  hair that way?”…”Does she actually blog in pearls?”.

Some pictures merely depict just a portion of one’s head or face.  That bothers me.  When I see the partial head shot I feel as though I am back in Dial-Up Days waiting for the download to complete.

One picture shows a “Gent” sitting upright yet listing like a sailboat to the port side as if someone just threw a pie at him and missed.

I adore(?) the Cereal Killer’s mug shot…..the one who aids and abets in nectarious nectarine recipes that cause me to drool incessantly leaving traces of DNA on my keyboard.

I love love love the cartoon characters……..come out from behind the mask Batman..you have me Hooked.

You certainly can’t beat the animal Gravitars…GRRRAnimals.  The dogs & cats melt my heart…..although I know one Dusty Cat that can scratch a mean Post, followed by an ordinary bloke who blogs behind one tiger with bad hair…..I can’t get my Phil of his posts.

I am, however, puzzled by one Gravatar of a lovely caricature of a petite red  Blog-headed woman who sends lovely comments to me, yet I can never get onto her site to send the same in return.  Every time I click on her blog name I am sent to Cyber-space.

I can’t take my eyes off Mr T. Gravatar.  When visiting his blog I “sense the intense” and I “Pity the fool” who doesn’t take the time to discover him.  My first inclination when I stumbled upon his moniker of IRRATEBASS; I immediately thought he was either a really angry fisherman, a mad saxophone player or he just hated his guitar……..

I admire the Gravatars that actually define what their blog spot is about and try not to throw you into an S-curve of figuring out what that Roschach represents.

There are so many Gravatar’s i collect in my dashboard and too many to mention.  I am thinking of developing a Gravatar Award.  Kind of like the Versatile Blogger award, but I might add a Psychological profile to the addendum……..

Sincerely, Charlywalker……you were expecting a guy?   Spread the humor.

Blog Up His Sleeve

I normally never tout another  Blog unless forced to.  One of my weaknesses in life is drooling over pictures of food that are displayed like  priceless pieces of art.

This Blog’s chef will not burden your eyes with a messy blender exploding yellow lava down a counter  top or a batch of brownies that resemble hockey pucks after the playoffs.  You will not have to weave your way around wasted words of adventures and snore through a detailed step by step process.  This Chef just masters his art for food sake and leaves your libido lost in his magnificent makings. This chef not only creates and displays the food, he also hands out his secret recipes to the fruitcakes in the kitchen…..like me.

I have been secretly stalking this creative cook on his blog and have commented ever so lightly, so, if per chance he catches on that it’s me he may call for a restraining order……………..This Chef’s site is :

rufusguide.wordpress.com

If you read his blog please don’t tell him that I cut and paste his food pictures onto my families plates and add a scratch-n-sniff feature to make their meals appear more  life like……..  Although my family still complains that they taste like paper…….

Rufusguide…I tip my randomly used apron off to you and I am anxiously awaiting the day I can reach for your recipes bound at Barnes & Noble.  And please, if you would…stop making those delicious pictures of sumptuous meals so appetizing…I have gained ten pounds just reading your blog.

Now, I am cordially inviting you to my Thanksgiving table… BYOR….Bring your own Recipes, because you’ll be cooking!    Oh, and BYOCU……Bring Your Own Cooking Utensils…..I’m lacking in that arena…Oh..don’t forget…BD…..Bring Dessert…oh, heck……just move in………

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All’s Fair In Love and Blog

I am about to discuss a very important issue on this quilted Northern Hemisphere that seems to go unaddressed by our lovely Nation.  An issue that just might be the cause of our next world war without a White Cloud in the sky.  An issue that can set off a persons inner  time bomb to explode beyond belief and and cause an irrefutable trickle down effect to the most modern of nuclear families……………….

I’m talking about that empty roll of toilet paper left behind in every bathroom exposing its matted cardboard frame with one quarter of a torn tissue left hanging on for survival…..when it’s mom’s turn to use the potty.

We have four bathrooms in our house with four people occupying these rooms when needed.  Each of these persons Bath hoards numerous spare rolls of toilet tissue under the sink neatly stacked behind the cabinet doors.  Every time I wade through one of these bathrooms sponsored by a teen or a college coed, I am left with Shock and Awe at the inability to replace the always empty toilet roll holder.

I spend more time cleaning these utility rooms than using them, although at times, the incentive sets in during the cleaning process and urgency is promoted by my (now) working environment.  Usually I have the foresight to recognize the missing  piece in the bathroom puzzle and replace the roll with confidence and assurance that one of my immediate family members will follow suit and reach for that Charmin(g) call of duty.  I have tested the Ultra-Soft approach and tried to subpoena my relations to the table of toiletries to discuss the ramifications of the last Emperor on the throne who abrogates the final piece of 2-ply and refuses to Over throw the empty cylinder into the trash and reestablish a Fresh Cottonelle for the Queen of the house.

I decided to use tough love.  I sat my prodigy’s and husband through a slide show of the history of toilet  paper and offered a few of the highlights of the evolution of this product and the people involved in it’s making.  I gathered a few things from the compost pile to use as a visual  in order to gain the best effect.  Prior to the luxury of Kimberly-Clark, ancient folks had the glory of utilizing what was in their own back yard:

GRASS LEAVES: A bit thin and narrow for those tight places….(.hmmm…wouldn’t phase the coed daughter she’s use to the rubber band panties offered at Victoria Secret….).

FUR:  Well, I don’t own a mink or any Faux Furs…..maybe Charly -dog can lend a hand…er a paw….er a pelt……..

MUSSELL SHELLS:  I think not.  The vision alone makes me not want to order them again with a chorizo base sauce..

CORN COBS:………….I don’t even wanna know….must have been invented by a major Colonel……

I explained the tactics used by the ancient Greeks and Romans who brandished pieces of clay, stones, and sponge on a stick while holding my Rubbermaid pot scrubber Upright.  I told my nuclear family that I take this “not replacing the empty toilet roll” very seriously and it has reached a point of no return. Which is what my family does….No RETURN with a new roll……..

I continued to explain to these deaf ears stuffed with tissue,  about the antediluvian methods the Early Americans used as the Official Toilet Paper:

THE NEWSPAPER:  ….Oh great..now I need to subscribe to the Inquirer.….( it was then my son raised his hand and asked if ” THE DIGITAL EDITION WAS ACCEPTABLE”….).

And lastly:

  THE SEARS  CATALOGUE:  Also known as “Rears and SoreButt”….  One could puncture a hole in the corner of the book and hang it from a hook and rip out pages for usage. ( hmmmm…..my coed daughter could fixate on the shoes and make use of the sales……….could produce a shortage).

After I finished flushing history down my families throats and sanitizing  the grunts and eye rolling, I continued on my rant featuring the discoveries of Joseph Gayetty of NYC and his first packages of  pre-moistened medicated sheets established in 1857. He was so full of himself that his name was printed on every sheet.  The whole country was engulfed with aloe treated toilet paper having a grand old party wiping away their woes…….with gaiety.

( This set off a light bulb in my brain…..monogrammed toilet paper  with each individuals initials on every Extra Soft Single, to rest assure that when they wipe their egocentric bottoms they will be initially reminded that it is indeed a special roll to be hung with glory that faces them daily. My Brood will be made to sit and reflect on that empty stainless steel holder that mirrors the image of a wanton fool who neglected to replace the Two-Ply…………..

Because mom  now knows who the “wasn’t me” culprit is………….well..at least it’s Splinter Free.

Great SCOTT!

spread the humor.