Hey, Where Ya From?



Looking back on the most humiliating moments in a life full of them, I have come to realize that about 80% weren’t even my fault. They had nothing to do with me, and yet, I have borne witness to things so embarrassing that I felt mortified just by being there. This is what I mean, and this is by no means an isolated incident, just one of the most memorable.

My ex’s Uncle Billy was married to his Aunt Rose for 40+ years. Remember Aunt Rose of cake stand fame? Well, she died, and not long after that, Uncle Billy took himself a new bride, a very large lady named Evelyn. The wedding was one of the most cringe-inducing experiences of my life.

This one even tops the time at a NY wedding where the lights dimmed, guests were told to take their seats, and a quartet of the world’s most untalented women took to the stage and sang, “It’s Raining Men”, complete with slickers and twirling umbrellas. One of them fell on the fake rain and broke her leg. It was awful.

It didn’t stop the revelry. The DJ kept the tunes coming, and people were dancing amid the EMTs and stretchers. It was a free-for-all in Great Neck, but that’s another story.

Ok – back to the Uncle Billy nuptials. The MC/singer/band leader was a real piece of work. Did you ever see the Johnny Venture character on “Rhoda” or Bill Murray on SNL? That is exactly what he was like, so we’ll call him Johnny.

Johnny was the star of the day, not the bride and groom. He started his schtick by making continual jokes on all that could go wrong on the wedding night. The happy couple being in their late 60’s, so let’s just say that none of the jokes was a testament to Uncle Billy’s ability to perform. This carried us through the soup course.

During salad service, Johnny undid his tie ala Sinatra, and said, “I’d like to do a song by a young lady out of The Windy City, a place I like to call Chicago. She went on to become a superstar.” Now, I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t call Minnie Riperton a superstar, but whatever. The point is that he not only sang “Loving You” in that high, high falsetto voice, but roamed the tables accosting guests to sing with him. At one point, about 80% of the room was in line for the restrooms, whether they had to go or not.

Johnny practiced what he preached (“It’s all about the love, people!”) and tried to referee a little tiff between the bride and her daughter. The problem seems to have been the daughter’s choice of outfit – a long white lace dress, The bride took umbrage at this breach of fashion etiquette, and heated words were exchanged.

Long story, short – Johnny intervened and made the unfortunate choice of having a live microphone to document his attempts at detente. His involvement ended when the daughter told him to back off or she would shove the mic “up his ass so far it would knock out his dental caps.” Back to the bandstand.

Johnny probably felt the time was right to get warm and fuzzy. So – Toast Time! Given by the best man? No. Anyone related to the couple? No. It seems that Johnny had appointed himself as toastmaster.

I’ve already told you that Evelyn was a very large woman, and in no way would I make fun of her for that. As a formerly obese person myself, I know how hurtful and destructive those comments can be. I am just telling you what he said, just when you thought he couldn’t get any worse. Toast time is usually heralded by someone clinking a glass with a spoon. Not this time.

“QUIET!” At this time I would like for you all to raise your glasses and join me in wishing a long (how long could it be? yuk yuk yuk) and happy life to Billy…..and Elephant!”

All I can remember is staring at my champagne so intently, I could have melted the glass. Then, I felt pins and needles in my head. I didn’t dare look up because I have never – NEVER – wanted to laugh so hard in my life. It was painful, it was awful. I had to leave the room because I was crying with suppressed hysteria.

Sometimes I tell a story that sounds so crazy, it is unimaginable. I don’t make this stuff up, folks. If I could, I would be a successful novelist. I just chronicle actual events, because some of them are so bizarre, they defy belief.

Anyway, we all breathed a sigh of relief when Johnny mopped his brow like James Brown. I’m surprised he didn’t have someone come out and drape a cape over his shoulders after his virtuoso performance, and have his depleted self escorted offstage. I have truly never witnessed anything like it, and although I had no hand in it, I have rarely been more humiliated in my life. See what I mean?





Paging Dr. Phil…



I have a like-dislike relationship with Dr. Phil. I am not so invested that I would say love-hate, but sometimes, he really annoys the daylights out of me. Robin? Don’t even get me started.

As DP is so fond of bragging, “I have more degrees than a thermometer.” Who says that? He is listed as having a BA from Midwestern State, an MA and PhD from North Texas U. Not only is that three by my count, but you don’t always need a medical degree to know that someone is seriously fucked up.

While the good doctor recently did me a solid with a piece of actually usable advice, I have stopped checking in more than once a week or so because it is the same show and some of the people are so awful that I wonder if they are real. I fear they are real, but my other question is why would you go in front of millions of people and tell them what a gross and disgusting individual you are?

Usually, Dr. Phil yells at the offensive parties and then sends them to a fabulous treatment facility. I want to get on in the worst way.

Think about it. You get your head shrunken in the AM, then your afternoons are free for shell hunting on San Marco Island, or getting massages in Malibu. I know because Dr. Phil shows us the brochures.

I’m guessing that you won’t see many swim-up bars at the infinity pools, but several of your fellow inmates should be able to get a line on some really good weed.

Occasionally, there will be a couple on who want to know if they should get get married (or divorced.) The guy may have a lengthy prison record and a serious gambling addiction. She may have been racking up huge credit card debt and sleeping with his brother for years. They call each other vile names, bring home STDs, fight incessantly, and try to hurt each other any way they can.

One couple thought that having date nights would be the glue that binds, but every date started out with the two of them zonked out of their gourds and having a knock-down drag out in whatever gin mill they landed in. She would barf in her purse, and they would call it a night. In all fairness, rekindling the magic is never easy.

After this seemingly endless cycle of misery, they look at Dr. Phil and actually say, “We want to know if you think we should get married (or divorced).” What?!

At this point, Dr. P will say, “Well, you do have some things to straighten out. I will arrange therapy for you in your town.” WHAT?!!

Today, he had on Kristina and Jayson, a couple on with questions. I am not making this up. YouTube May 20 if you don’t believe me. The guy of the couple had neglected his 4 children from another relationship, was CONVICTED of sexually abusing his toddler daughter and son, jailed for same, threatened to kill Kristina’s mother and blow up her house, failed his polygraphs, and what do they do? Have a baby!! He has assaulted her, does not work, and is a stalker.

Yep, Jayson is a special kind of someone and Kristina still loves him. She wants to work it out. I guess she’s waiting for something bad to happen.

Dr. Phil said, and I quote, “I’m the incurable optimist. I don’t think anyone is irredeemable.” He set up aforementioned therapy.

Therapy? What does he want to salvage in this relationship? Just once, I would love to hear him say what we are all thinking. That is, “FUCK NO!!!! You two are too stupid to live, never mind marry and procreate!! What has to happen before you throw his sick ass to the curb?”

His ratings would skyrocket. Did you ever see the faces of the audience when one of these freaks is on? Seriously, there are some blood-thirsty bitches in that studio. They would LOVE it if DP gave Kristina an assault rifle and gift card to a shooting range. That’s what I would do.

You know that Her Royal Savviness could rock her own show. I am thinking radio for now, as I have developed a fondness for working in my bathrobe. Right now, I have to run if I am going to finish up this post by 3:00. Dr. Phil is confronting giant babies today and I don’t want to miss it.

A Day In The Life



People ask what I do all day now that I’m retired. I couldn’t honestly tell them. The days just seem to happen. “Unproductive” is such a negative word. I prefer to think of them as “organic.”

Some people get out of bed, fully intent on giving it their all – 100%. I prefer to hover at a more attainable 72% and hope for the best.

What the hell DO I do all day? I decided to track my activities for a day, and report the spellbinding results to you, my readers. It’s pretty compelling stuff, so hold on to your seats, Helsinki! You’re in for the the thrill of a lifetime!

6:45 AM – started my day with true purpose, made pot of coffee and to-do list

– Paint trim in bedroom

– Start compost pile

– Weed garden and plant tomatoes

– Hand-scrub bathroom floor

– Do laundry

7:15 AM – packed Tom’s lunch, waved him off to work, ready for first list item

7:16 AM – sat down and Googled, “What do chipmunks like to eat?” instead. Happy to find dried cranberries in cabinet. Watched them eat in yard. Chipmunks! Cute!

7:30 AM – pondered life’s imponderables

– to what extent can humans comprehend infinity?

– what role does God truly play in our lives?

– why is Justin Bieber on “Ellen” so often?

7:53 AM – showered, dressed, looked at laundry on way by basket

8:13 AM – thought about getting a life coach

8:14 AM – realized I would hate life coach

8:15 AM – fed dog. Still feeling guilty about leaving her for vacation, made her scrambled eggs. With cheese

8:23 AM – walked dog. Sunny and 70!! Energized!

10:31 AM – studied picture on wall, noticed there’s a duck in it

10:32 AM – mail call. Got notice from the federal government – Be A U.S. Citizen!!

10: 36 AM – researched caterers for my swearing-in party

10:53 AM – called Tom. Told him how expensive caterers are. He says he’ll cook.

10:57 AM – put in load of laundry, started dinner prep

11:37 AM – thought of all the free stuff I’m missing out on as an illegal alien

12:03 PM – moved laundry to dryer

12:07 PM – hoped feds don’t have my name listed as Fatima or Nazeerah

12:13 PM – sat down to work on blog post, wrote another blog post instead

1:38 PM – made refrigerator pickles like we had in Charleston

2:15 PM – cleaned and filled bird feeders and bath

2:20 PM – walked dog

2:53 PM  – cleaned up grass and bug vomit (from dog)

2:59 PM – turned on Dr. Phil

3:09 PM – wondered why I ever watched Dr. Phil

3:54 PM – ignored posts in progress. wrote about Dr. Phil

5:15 PM – finished dinner prep

5:51 PM – Tom home, ate dinner, Tom to gym

6:30 PM – sauteed beef liver for dog

6:47 PM – read new library book

Well, that’s pretty much it. See what I mean? Days just happen.

Tom will be home soon, and we will probably watch a couples of episodes of “Turn.” I don’t think more detail is necessary. I think we’ve all had enough excitement for one day.






Love, Actually


I am not of the modern tech age. Facebook, Twitter, MySpace, and the like mystify me. Sure, I occasionally check my page. I like to see my friends’ pictures and enjoy the fact that they think of me and send relevant content. If you are in my life, I am interested in your life.

That said, I do NOT understand the need to share every…single…thing that someone did or said today. (Just saw a bug!) Can anyone have an unexpressed thought anymore? Why do people find themselves so fascinating? Why do they think you want to hear the minutiae of their lives?

Doing that just wouldn’t occur to me. I’m not that interesting.

If someone wants to read my blog, that’s wonderful; but if not, that’s fine. I am not going to bombard them with endless details of my mundane existence vis a vie their news feeds.

I’m sorry. I’m veering off course on the topic of the overshare, and the specific target of obnoxious couples.

You know the ones. These couples have to post pictures of every date, didactic videos of themselves making out, declarations of love and lust, in-jokes like “Kumquats!!”. That sounds like some weird sex thing and I just don’t want to know.

It’s hard to find someone with whom you choose to share your life. Relationships are fraught with perils – hard times, hurt feelings, disappointment, heartache. Most of us have experienced those things, but we have also experienced being in love.

I get it. The world is an increasingly hostile place. I am happy for anyone who manages to eek out some love and comfort, who gains life enrichment with another person, or who makes a connection that is meaningful to them. I also understand that people in the first stages of love want to shout it from the rooftops.

What brought on today’s SS rant? I keep getting my newsfeed clogged by this crap and I don’t even know these people. I keep having to ask Facebook to end the posts. I feel like an unwilling participant in a stranger’s relationship, and do not find it cute. I find it irritating as hell.

The Couple Who Facebooks Together, Stays Together is a study out of the University of Wisconsin, and is an interesting take on how our behavior has adapted to the social media age. Despite the name, the study finds that couples that share too much are not destined for a happy ending.

Here’s the SS cold, hard truth… when two people really love each other, enjoy each other’s company and share a level of intimacy, the need to document every move is not necessary.

You not only sound like you are protesting too much, but more importantly, you are annoying the ever-loving shit out of the rest of us.

So here are some SS guidelines for Squishy Face and Schmoopy Pants:

No photos of you two apple picking (gag), no videos of getting your names tattooed on your asses, no modeling his and her T-shirts, and please, in the name of all that is holy – no pictures of you in bed together. Seriously, what the hell are you thinking?

No documenting your “monthiversaries” (“Two months together! They said it wouldn’t last, but I still love my baby!”) No saying goodnight on each other’s wall and I see it, too. No home-made T-shirts for your boyfriend that say, “If you think I am cute, you should see my girlfriend” and “Back off, girls! I’m taken!”

Someone just stab me in the forehead. Please.

Love makes the world go ’round, will keep us together, and is a many splendored thing, but please spare me the proposals on the Jumbotron.

I’m asking you – no, begging you, Squishy and Schmoopy. Stay out of my life and discover the joy of private texting. Thank you.

Love you guys. And I mean that sincerely.

Assholery – The Societal Pandemic

anti_no_assholes_yard_signUntil the mercury breaks 70 here in New England – probably around mid-August, I find I have an inordinate amount of time on my hands. I’ve been thinking a lot about assholes – not the orifice, but the increasingly large number of the world’s population. There are just so many of them. It’s a very disturbing trend.

Now, I have been known to exhibit my share of assholery from time to time. I admit it and I regret it. However, I was recently reminded of a guy I knew who declared, “I’m sick and tired of being called an asshole!”

Well, you know what? If this is a daily occurrence in your life, perhaps some introspection is called for. Maybe it’s time to take a hard look at yourself. Ironically, total lack of self-awareness is one of the classic signs, so you will rarely hear someone say, “Wow! I really AM an asshole.”

Along with other ideas still in development (ask me about the Shower-Bed!), The Savvy Survivor R & D team is working on the “A-NAL-Alert.” That’s right, friends, 4 out of 5 proctologists agree A-NAL Alert is the real deal!

It originally emitted a beep whenever one gets close, but I found that the number of hits out there was overwhelming. Now you a-hole detective newbies get a rather pleasant buzz sensation. Where you place it on your person is entirely up to you. If you feel the need for a cigarette after using, smoke ’em if you got ’em.

If you order on Amazon, you can also get my online course free with purchase. Upon completion of the syllabus and dissertation, I will personally come to your house (look for air charge on your credit card) to present you with your official “Asshole Detective” badge, certification, and cattle prod (for extra subway fun.) You can eventually get the pricey options like tear gas, but that is still being perfected in the SS lab. It’s in my basement.

I personally do not need one of these as my asshole-detection skills are honed to a rapier-like precision. My rule of thumb is anyone who approaches me, which is probably why I haven’t voluntarily left my house since 1987.

Just to prove it’s not all about the Benjamins with The Savvy One, here are some tips to help kick start your new awareness, and to make you feel more comfortable about coming over to the dark side. You know who you are, and you know that these are only a few things you may have thought of as well. It’s OK to brand the following as assholes. Ready?


1. Talk loudly on their cell phones. No one wants to listen, and possibly not even the person with whom they are speaking.

2. Are couples who plaster social media with their posts about their adorable relationships. No one gives a flying hoo-hah about how your moronic boyfriend hid a diamond in the chow mein. They don’t want to see the dental X-ray of your cracked molar either. No. One. Cares.

3. Bore you senseless with stories about their kids. If I’m interested, I will ask.

4. People who talk about themselves and have absolutely no interest in a dialogue. I no longer worry about being rude. Go ahead. It’s OK to walk away. You’ll be forgotten as soon as you leave.

5. Any Kardashian.

6. Those who feel entitled to ruin your entertainment experience, be it at a movie, the theater, or a concert. If you complain, they don’t even know why you are upset. Perhaps it’s because you just dropped a good chunk of change to see something and they think it’s fine to talk, eat, get on their cells, etc.

7. Anyone who makes you feel badly about yourself.

Keep in mind, these are very basic. You will fine-tune your skills over time. These cannot be taught. They must be cultivated, and cultivate them you shall.

Eventually, you will find it within yourself to let these people know that you think they are an asshole. Once you accept that you are doing these jackasses a solid, you will feel better about expressing yourself. You may also get shot, but use your better judgment.

This will be covered more comprehensively on the graduate level, as well as on subsequent posts.

Really, I urge you to consider not only my product, but my philosophy. People suck, and that suckitude is not only chronicled by me, but also by my dearest friends, the smartest people I know.

Cynical, yes – but in the end (no pun intended), it will save you a lot of grief and heartache. And if that’s not worth $29.95, I don’t know what is.



Oh, That Gwynnie!

spaceReaders, I have interrupted my account of our vacation because I have a confession to make. Gwyneth Paltrow’s GOOP newsletter has led me down a dark path. It has been a short hop to her gift guide.

I know that I have posted a similar piece before, but really, I just couldn’t help myself today.

The gift guide has become one of my main sources of levity, intellectual stimulation, and emotional sustenance. I laugh, I cry, it becomes a part of me. So, feeling a little blue today now that vacation is over and it is a cold, gray day, I took a peek at the last gift guide.

In what I am guessing is an effort to be more relatable, GP has added wonderful, practical gifts for those we love most, like the following. Please read the last sentence twice, because I find it mind-boggling.


“This two-part adventure begins in 2016 with a behind-the-scenes invitation to a World View test flight. The Miraval Resort in Tucson, Arizona, is home for three nights; spend your days with the flight’s chase and recovery team and tour Biosphere 2 with original crew member and World View CEO Jane Poynter. In 2017, you and five companions will experience 360° views of Earth as a high-altitude balloon lifts your luxury pressurized capsule 100,000 feet above our planet. $90,000.00”

I know what someone’s getting for Christmas this year!

Spaces are limited to a lucky ten people. I want to meet those 10 people, but more importantly, I NEED to meet the recipients. If someone is willing to spend 90 large to send you 100,000 feet in the air, you have to be a special kind of someone. They are selling 10, but I guess only 6 make the cut.



The Hermes Mah Jongh Set – $46,000  Is there any wonder as to why there is a waiting list?

Even by Gwynnie’s standards, those have to be major gifts, so if it’s stocking stuffers you need, look no further. Yes, GP has a section for Not So Basic Sex Toys.

For short money, Goop recommends the $395 Kiki de Montparnasse Droplet Necklace. “A discreet vibrating necklace that turns into nipple clamps,” the description says. Awesome. I love jewelry that multi-tasks.

I was contemplating the very affordable $20 anal beads when a particular item caught my eye. For that special someone (or yourself), you can get a 24-karat dildo $15,000.dildo

Since I feel that you can’t put a price on pleasure, I looked more closely and noticed two very important points.

  1. This item comes with discreet packaging. Well, one would hope so. My letter carrier is a very nice man, but I don’t want him coming to my door and saying, ” Here’s that solid gold dildo you’ve been waiting for!”
  2. It comes with a 10-year guarantee.

Personal note to GP – Honey, I don’t judge, but if you are worried that you might wear out a solid gold dildo in less than 10 years, something is amiss. What the hell are you doing with it? Gwynnie, talk to me, goose. I’m your girl and you can tell me. Really. Call me.

I’m also thinking that this is where that whole vaginal steam cleaning comes into play, but I could be wrong and one has nothing to do with the other. I may bring it up. I may not. I’ll just see what mood she’s in when she calls.

Haul Out The Steamer Trunk! We’re Going On Vacation!!!!!

trunkOnce every decade or so, Tom and I go on vacation. It is a very exciting time for us. We talk about the trip, the route, where we’ll stay, what we will do. It’s really a lot of fun.

There is only one fly in the sunscreen – Tom’s clothes, i.e. his pickiness and excessive packing.

Yes, the time grows nigh, and I am getting nervous. He doesn’t have everything he needs. And by “needs”, I’m talking three changes of wardrobe per day. The changes never happen, but he likes to be prepared in case the DuPonts have us over for lawn bowling.

Now, I would die for that man with no hesitation, so believe me when I say that I’m not JUST making fun of him, I’m also just telling you how it is.

Under the best of circumstances – and by that, I mean when I was prescribed Xanax – clothes shopping for him is one miserable experience. I can only say that it must be like shopping with one of the Kardashians. Or all of them.

This time, there’s added pressure because Tom has been really rocking it at the gym. Boyfriend is looking pretty damn fine, so his fashion bar has been considerably heightened.

Help me, Rhonda.

We made a preemptive strike at shopping last Sunday, and honestly? Victoria Beckham isn’t as exacting over a stripe width. Just waiting for him outside the fitting room is torture because I know that when he comes out, nothing will have pleased him. I think some nice bar set-ups outside of the fitting rooms at all department stores would be gold mines.

It was as painful as usual. We went in for a bathing suit, golf shorts, jeans, sneakers, and a couple of shirts. We left with a 3-pack of undies.

We are going to NC to see one of the people I love most in the world, my friend Pam, who recently moved down there with her boyfriend Bobby. He’s great, too, and we are really looking forward to it.

This time, I will take pictures and post them with my vacation report.

What do pictures have to do with anything? Absolutely nothing, but when you’re old and have your own blog, you can do whatever the hell you want.

Anyway, I am not a picture taker. I just don’t think of it unless there is a dog involved. Tom was scrolling the pix on my phone once and remarked that out of 300+ pictures, only two of them had people. And one of them was standing next to a dog.

So, I had gone to visit my friend in December. I went alone, and when I got back, the first thing Tom asked was to see the pictures. Oh. It is moments like these when I realize how truly odd I am.

Pam had just moved into a gorgeous home, and had done all these lovely renovations. On top of that, it was Christmas time and decorations made it look even prettier. Understandably, he was looking for pix of the new place. Plus, he wanted to get a general idea of what the area was like.

I had one picture, and that was of my friend holding, like, a 30-pound Whitman Sampler.  Note: Box is larger than it appears.IMAG0139 (1)

Who does that?! Who is so strange that they go to a new place to see someone they are thrilled to see, who has a new home, in a new state, throws a party with friends and neighbors, has a beautiful, spacious yard – and the only time it occurs to me to take a snap is of her with a giant box of candy? Who?!

This time will be different. I will take tons of pix, some of which I will share. If I forget, I know Tom will pick up the slack. That is my pledge to you.



Gisele and I – Soul Sisters

giseleI suppose that by now, you guys all think that I hate anyone richer and more successful than I am, but that would be almost everyone, so that isn’t true.

Actually, I like Gisele Bundshen a lot. She has worked very hard to get to the very top of a fiercely competitive business. She speaks like five languages fluently, she is very well-read on many topics, and seems to be a very devoted mother.

Yes, she is married to superstar QB Tom Brady, a man even more stunning than she. g&tThat sounds like enough, but I don’t think it’s a walk in

the park to be married to a man who is so thoroughly committed to such demanding standards. Reportedly, she wakes up at 3 AM to find him reviewing game tapes, and this is in the off-season.


Gisele’s book has just come out. Before the first printing, it cost a mere $700, and it was sold out before it came into print! If you don’t believe me; : http://www.people.com/article/gisele-bunchen-books-sells-out-before-release

Yeah, I know I need to learn how to do the “click here” thing. Anyway, you can now get it on Amazon for under $50. BTW, props to her for donating all the proceeds to charity. Even though she already has oogobs of money, there are a lot of celebs who would have kept it, so good on Gisele.

To get back to the story, G is off on a publicity tour to flog what I am sure is a gorgeous book. She recently told People magazine that she was rejected 42 times before she got an Alexander McQueen gig that launched her career. So, don’t be discouraged, America. Even the Queen of the Catwalk was told it was a no-go – 42 times.

You know what, Gisele? I’ll see your 42 and raise you by about a million.

I get rejected for shit that I don’t even understand.

  1. Not too long ago, one of the better marketing firms sent me an email to get preliminary info re an upcoming focus group study. After name, age, blah blah, the first question was, “What is the 7th month of the year?” Like a fool, I typed in “July.”

Next screen pops up with – “You are disqualified!” I swear to you! I checked the calendar twice. It IS July!

2. I have submitted articles to many, many different places, magazines, web sites, newsletters, etc. Almost always, they are rejected with some form letter. However, one editor (of an online ezine!) had the balls to tell me that my piece was so bad that she had to ask me not to send any more. THEN, she went on to say that my characters, sentence structure, and content were not up to their level of excellence. May I note here that they had not even published their first issue?

HOWEVER, she said that if I cut the piece by at least 2/3 and followed her detailed changes, maybe…just maybe I could make the cut, and while no money was involved, I would have “bragging rights.” Yeah, honey, I’ll be talking THAT up down at the Quickee-Sack.

3. A while ago, I was asked to write a piece published on one of the rescue websites/newsletter. When I later submitted it to a dog magazine, I got a really nasty email, telling me that I plagiarized the piece and this submission could be actionable as I had agreed to only submit original work, and this was already written. Yes, you fucking moron! It was written – BY ME! Look at the name!

4. I did get a rejection once that was kind of a compliment. A guy in my Italian class asked me out for a drink after class, during which he told me that now that he could really look at me, I wouldn’t do. He said that nice-looking women are bitches that will ruin your life and that he didn’t find me to be a good “candidate.” Didn’t he see me in class? He kind of scared me.

So, HE asked ME out – and I got rejected.

Do we really need to go into the rejections in my assisted living years? No, I didn’t think so. Some of them are just depressing and who needs that?

MY POINT is that I think just as Liz Taylor and I had a moment when I sold her that eye shadow so many years ago, Gisele and I share a bond. Yes, a deep personal bond – several, actually. We are both women. We are both married to men named Tom. That’s pretty much where it ends.

Oh, yeah – the rejection thing. That’s the tie that binds.

Gwyneth Paltrow – Bitch, please..

GwenethGwyneth Paltrow is said to be one of the most disliked people in Hollywood. I guess she is not only rude to everyone, she hugely gets on people’s nerves because of the ridiculous things she says (remember when she and Chris Martin decided to “consciously uncouple?”), and the useless, expensive products she sells via GOOP.

GOOP (her initials) is what she calls her brand. It covers a whole lifestyle. All it requires is that you:

  1. Be a multi-millionaire
  2. Have an unlimited amount of time on your hands

In the interest of having a clue of what it is all about, I looked at a couple of her Goop Newsletters.

In these, Gwyneth shares her tips for living. She generously shared a recipe for “Beauty Milk”. The ingredients include pumpkin seed milk, Moon Pantry tocotrienols, lucuma, schisandra berry and PEARL.

This may be shocking, but I was unable to find even one of these things at my local Market Basket. I guess the beauty milk will have to wait.

1. The last time Tom and I had a vacation, we spent three days of freezing our asses off in Maine because it was the only time of year that we could afford a motel near the water. If you’re thinking of getting away from it all for a bit, I recommend you take a look at GOOP first.

Gwyneth suggests a stylish tent in the Kalahari desert in Botswana for some R & R. Check it out.

2. Her products include such low-cost accessories such as:

skull_gallery_primaryEnamel skull pendant – $1,500

earringsEarrings – $1,250 one is the word love and the other is a safety pin.

throw_gallery_primaryA $900 throw

3. Finally, if you take anything away from today’s post, let it be this – Gwyneth revealed that she steam cleans her vagina. I think this bears repeating.
She Steam Cleans Her Vagina.

She shared that Mugwort V-Steam is her favorite beauty treatment at some Korean spa in LA.

Mugwort V-Steam. It sounds like a provocative encounter with Harry Potter, doesn’t it?

And I think I’m really pushing the envelope when I get a pedicure.



More Martha – Someone Stop Me!

MarthaWhy can’t I get enough of this woman? I have no intention of doing any of the crazy stuff she does, like the time she fashioned massive (MASSIVE) balls out of the depleted grape vines from her vineyard. Then, she festooned them with thousands of lights and crystals.

How she got them hung is a mystery, because the trees were gigantic, as they would have to be to accommodate the size of these orbs. Of course, she had the trees – rare, and hundreds of years old. The result was jaw-dropping. There is no doubt that they were visible from any space station orbiting the stratosphere.

I laughed out loud when Martha made some dish, and said, “This honey is from my own hives, but any quality honey will do.”

Who says stuff like that? And from whom else would it sound so right?! Of course, Martha has a professional beekeeper on staff. She probably doesn’t slap on the old net and lift combs out of the swarms herself, but you know she could if she had to.

I wanted to smack her one, though, when she smirked at an interviewer and said, “I don’t have a microwave.” You know damn well she didn’t think we should have one either.  If there is one amongst you, my reading public, who says that she has not stood in front of your microwave, tapping your foot – you lie. Yeah. I said it.

I learned this a while back in an article in USA Today. We learned a lot of the nitty-gritty of Martha’s inner life. I suspect that Martha has dark depths that no one has dared to plumb, but who knows? Still waters run deep. I’m just sayin’.


– We learned that Martha has forty sets of dishes. Forty! Sets of dishes. They are neatly stored. I have one and maybe 1/3 sets, which I sometimes have to wash because I need to use them. Presumably, said sets of dishes have myriad combinations of tablecloths and napkins to go with them. I found an old package of paper cocktail napkins this past Thanksgiving Day. They had turkeys on them, so thought I was the cat’s ass.

– Martha does not order out pizza. She did it once and didn’t like it. Well, I’m sorry, but that’s just un-American.

– She makes her Christmas gifts, like hand-sewn silk-lined scarves. For me, hand done is if I hand it to someone.

– There is a proper way to iron a monogram. This is good to know because if I ever a) have anything with a monogram or b) find the iron, I can call it up on YouTube.

– She gets up early to rollerblade with her dogs. Maybe I can teach my dogs to rollerblade, too.

It’s for shit-sure, I’M not strapping them on. That has emergency room written all over it.

– Martha says we need preparation and organization, and I can proudly say that I am already making inroads to Thanksgiving preparation. I already hand-dipped the leftover yams in gold paint to be part of the centerpiece come November.

I wasn’t going to tell you this because I don’t want you feel inadequate, but I not only boiled the turkey carcass for soup; I turned it upside down, and fired up the Bedazzler. It will make a nice holder for pine cones and juniper sprigs come December.

– I didn’t get this through Martha, but am thinking of submitting the idea to her magazine. What do you think of votive candles in the toilet when guests come over? Pros? Cons? I put this one to you, gentle reader. Your thoughts?

– Martha says even the most wealthy and influential of her friends want to know how to remove stains and properly fold a towel. Martha – get new friends.

Martha is very tech-savvy. Note: this has probably been a wonderful thing for her, because I imagine that making your own paper can probably get old after a while.

She has her own drone. I am not kidding. According to The New Yorker, she sends it all over her estate and farmland and it takes amazing aerial photos. When asked if it didn’t annoy her neighbors, Martha chuckled merrily, and said, “I don’t have any neighbors.”

Of course, whenever she cooks anything, she point to a beautiful array of multi-colored eggs which her own chickens have laid. She can tell you the genus of each chicken. I know that someday one of them will lay a Faberge.

She went on to mold some craft that she discovered in Turkmenistan, but no worries because you can find the supplies at any Turkmenistany craft store.

Now, I could lie and say that I’ll never post about Martha again, but you know that won’t happen. It won’t happen because she keeps upping her game. Martha just keeps discovering and getting more outrageous, and I love it.

I keep threatening to do some crazy Martha thing someday. My present thought is to turn my living room into a continuous mural of the Industrial Revolution to commemorate Labor Day. I don’t know if it will happen, though.

September seems awfully soon.