Archive for September, 2012

Musing on boobs

Hello Blog!

It’s been 10 days since we’ve hung out together. That may be a record. I’m really sorry. I’ve been preoccupied. I’m worried about my cholesterol (high), boobs (strangely dense, according to the mammogram) and skin (suddenly rashy). Don’t even get me started on work, and the fact that I’m two months behind on a major project (sorry, Regine!).

So, what have you been doing? I see you’ve been hanging in there with a hundred or so views a day, mostly from people wanting to get a look at some parasites.

I’ll bet you’ve really been wanting to talk about Romney and his 47 percent comment. It’s tempting, but I just can’t get into any more arguments this week. It’s pointless. No one is going to change his/her mind at this point. And if people are still undecided, then they aren’t really paying attention and/or don’t care enough to understand the issues.

The two choices for president are Mitt Romney and Barack Obama. No one else has a chance. So Obama’s not perfect, but I like him better than Romney for a variety of reasons.

Ann Landers once said:

The true measure of an individual is how he treats a person who can do him absolutely no good.

The corollary to it is that you can tell plenty about someone by the way he treats the waitstaff. Or the family dog.

Yep. That about sums up Romney’s character, I think, and his feelings toward almost half of America. Yet many of the people in that group, like the elderly (Hi, Dad!), will still vote for him. He’s got no plan, no numbers, no compassion, no sense, no charisma, no conviction.

And I’m not even a Democrat!

Faced with no real alternative (WHY did they choose Romney?), I’ll choose the party of “We’re in this together” versus “You’re on your own.” Maybe 2016 will be different.

Wait a minute. I just I did my own kind of flip-flopping. I said I wasn’t going to talk about this. Sorry about that. It was just too tempting, I guess.

Suddenly I’m not as concerned with my high cholesterol, dense boobs and rashy skin. And that work project seems manageable.

Thanks, Blog! You know how to make a girl feel better.

See you in a couple of days!

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Here’s to you, Honey Boo Boo

Dear Honey Boo Boo:

Let me just say right off the bat that I love you. I think you are a funny, charming attention hog just like other 6-year-olds. There’s nothing appalling, earth-shattering or world-ending about your behavior.

It’s your mom who is unusual.

It has nothing to do with her so-called “forklift foot.”

It has nothing to do with her dreadful eating habits, which extend to the rest of the family (and to the rest of America, truth be told).

It also has nothing to do with her “criminal past” — a 2008 stint in jail for unpaid child support for your half-sister.

No, what is unusual about your mom is that, unlike many reality TV moms (and reality TV people in general), she appears to be the same on camera as she is off.

I love her as much as I love you, and I think she is also completely charming.

Many folks are on the warpath about your show, lamenting the decline of Western civilization and all that nonsense. Even Kris Jenner — that fine upstanding example of motherhood — has attacked your mom, claiming she exploits your family for money.  Because Kris Jenner would NEVER do that.

But I’ve defended your mom, you and your show. In my opinion, she and the rest of your family set a good example in one important way:

You clearly love each other and enjoy spending time together.

Sure, many people would look down their noses at going mudbogging, attending the Redneck Games, and hanging out at a rural water park.

But you know I’m not like many people. In fact, I bobbed for pigs’ feet at the games in the round after your sister. So I understand.

In a world filled with so much artifice, it is refreshing to see a family that approaches “real” more than any other family on television. For better or worse.

I guess the family that farts together, stays together.

You and your family should just keep on doing what you do. I’ll watch, which will make TLC happy, and will bring you more money for your trust fund.

You just try to ignore the critics. They don’t have to watch if they don’t like it.

See you Wednesday!

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Dear Eddie:

Seventeen years ago today, we paraded around in Forsyth Park. You were wearing a tuxedo and I was wearing a lacy concoction I’d never wear today. Your hair was super tall and curly. I had accidentally dyed mine black. We still looked OK — for ’95 anyway.

Most of our friends were there with us, wearing clothes they’d never be caught dead in today. Remember Pat’s teal suit?

Since that day, we’ve had so much fun together. We’ve traveled around the world, kept great friendships and made new ones, created two new human beings, and laughed with/at each other every day. You roll your eyes at my reality TV obsession while I sigh at your fitness ones. You sew while I like to raise chickens. You like to play the part of Megatron with the kids while I’m off playing Words with Friends. It works.

Some people get together and want the other person to change. But we don’t do that. We are essentially the same people we were when we got together. We’re both independent and self-sufficient. We don’t need each other; we want each other.

We’ve gone through some rough patches, but we both realize that marriage is work. That work reaps amazing rewards. I credit She Who Must Not Be Named for helping us strengthen our relationship early. It was the opposite of what she hoped, I know (cue evil laughter). And to Nancy Lopez, who said we wouldn’t last a year, well … [the title of a Cee Lo Green song applies here].

I think we’ve lasted because we took our time getting together in the first place. You know that saying: Good things come to those who wait. OK, yes, it was a ridiculously protracted time, but whatever. It worked.

And it doesn’t hurt that you look better now than you did when we got married.

I’ve seen pictures of some of the people I used to date and I think, “Dear God! What is that thing?” “Well, I certainly dodged a bullet.” “My husband is unusually handsome!” So thank you for not letting yourself go all to hell. And I hope you don’t think I look too raggedy. I’ve tried to keep it together.

Anyway, happy anniversary. I love you (duh!) but I also still like you. And I think that’s more important.

Love always,

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Stop the madness

Dear People Running for Office and Your Fervent, Angry Supporters:

I can’t take it anymore. I can’t take the venom spewing everywhere.

I know who I am voting for because I have examined carefully your platforms. I have evaluated what is important to me, and what will help me in my life and the lives of my friends and family.

Nasty ads are not going to make me change my mind. Snarky Facebook memes are not going to make me change my mind. Rage-filled comments telling me I am an idiot because I don’t support you are not going to make me change my mind. (In fact, those kinds of comments make me want to dig in my heels a little more.)

Of course, if someone wants to talk rationally WITH ME (not talk AT ME) about the different platforms, I’m all for it.

Perhaps you folks should do that.

The right and the left are not as far apart as screaming talk show hosts would like us to believe. Sadly, there’s no room for shades of gray in political rhetoric. (“50 Shades of Grey,” though, would be AWESOME!)

I’ve lost my will to correct people about their “facts.” I’ve lost the will to comment on an old college friends’ ridiculous slogan-filled status updates. I’ve really lost the will to use Facebook at all because I’m afraid of seeing more of the above. (I know I’ve posted my share of political things, but I’ve tried really hard not to be malicious. I’ve also tried to be fair if not balanced.)

We still have two months to go until the election. By now, I doubt there is a person left who has not made up his/her mind. So please can you just STFU?

I thank you, and my blood pressure thanks you.


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