Thoughts on a few Christmas Shows...

Okay, so I am working on my computer, but I was very excited to learn that Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer was on tonight. I made sure about 10 minutes before 7 that I turned my TV on the right channel so I wouldn’t miss a second of it.

Then I remembered. Other than the fond memories of being a kid and hurrying with my pillow and blanket to get as close to the TV as possible to watch it every year, I cannot stand this program. I have determined from years of watching this show as an adult that Santa and the majority of the reindeer, as well as most of the elves, are pricks. And when did Mrs. Santa Claus turn into an Italian or Jewish wife - EAT PAPA EAT! And talk about an unhealthy diet...what the hell is in that soup? She stands there and feeds him and he blows up like a balloon! Come to think of it, I think I had that soup the other day...

First of all, Rudolph’s dad…come on. I mean really? He threw Rudolph under the bus the minute he saw that his son was different. Clarisse is the only one with any sense, and Hermey, the elf who wants to be a dentist. And to that really mean elf in charge – Alfie - I mean, is it so horrible that Hermey has aspirations other than being an elf? Being an elf is not necessarily respectable “out there” in the world – but apparently being an elf makes you even lower on the scale than Rudolph in the North Pole. With Santa in charge, being an elf really bites at Santa’s Workshop. What’s with the singing of the song thing that they had to rehearse? They even have to entertain Santa, let alone make all the toys? Jeez, Santa.

So Santa sees Rudolph and immediately breaks into song about how HE is Santa or whatever, and cannot be bothered with a reindeer whose nose glows bright. By the way, the glowing wouldn’t be so bad, but why does it have to make that horrendous squealing noise too? Nobody ever mentions that. The coach, Comet, is the ultimate hated egotistical coach who makes the doughy kids cringe. Hateful jock prick.

I know I must seem to have quite a cynical view of this, but basically my problem with this whole program is that it’s not okay to be different until it comes in useful for somebody else (in this case SANTA the PRICK). Right down to the very last minute, when they thought they would have to cancel Christmas, Santa was still being an A-hole to Rudolph telling him to basically “shut his nose up” while he was trying to come up with an idea to be able to uphold his reputation… oh, wait, (can you say red lightbulb?) - we CAN USE that nose! So all of a sudden everyone loves Rudolph. Poor Rudolph – such a people pleaser. What happens if, once puberty ends or he hits his teens, the nose gives out? Will they shun him again when he can't help them out?

Santa plays it as the martyr because he wants to deliver the toys to the kids, but the truth is Santa wants to save his own fat ass. That’s the truth. I know in the end it all turns out okay, even with the toothless abominable snowman...poor guy...no more solids of any kind! I'd think there'd be a happy medium somewhere...

Now, with A Charlie Brown Christmas, that still holds a good message, at least in my Snoopy-loving opinion. I know that Lucy is an uptight, controlling biotch throughout, and everybody treats Charlie Brown like a pile of Christmas reindeer poo, but they don’t USE Charlie Brown at the end of the program like they do Rudolph. They come to realize the true meaning of Christmas, whatever that is…and help good ole Charlie Brown decorate his sad little tree (also adding lots of needles and branches)… and who can blame Charlie when he comes back after they've decorated and yells, "WHAT'S GOING ON HERE?" He probably thought they had stomped his poor little tree, since that's the type of gang type behavior they had displayed earlier...

To me, as a kid, the main Christmas programs to catch were (not in any particular order): A Charlie Brown Christmas, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer (before my enlightenment), Frosty the Snowman, and The Grinch Who Stole Christmas. The one with the Heat Miser is pretty good too. How about that Little Drummer Boy? Yikes! One year I invited a bunch of friends over for a party to watch Christmas programs (on VHS – the old days) and for some reason I only remember the part where the Little Drummer Boy’s sheep was able to walk again. Holy crap – the beginning of that is horrendous with the Al Qaeda people burning down the boy’s house and killing his parents! Jiminy crickets…I had to fast forward! No wonder that’s not seen on mainstream TV these days.

So I apologize to anyone whose favorite program I left off. Just for the record, I am strictly talking either cartoon or Claymation forms of entertainment though – not movies or real stuff.

Sure, most of them have excellent messages about Christmas not being about presents or commercial things…blah blah blah, but mostly they were just pure entertainment. It’s not the same anymore – now you have to search the cable stations to find who might be showing The Grinch (and now we have to make sure it’s not the MOVIE version for cripes sake), or to save the trouble, it can just be purchased on video. There is no longer the anticipation of knowing it was coming on (usually CBS – Channel 4) and they would run that Special Presentation thing before it would start – ohhh the excitement!!! It always sucked when it was over because you knew it would be a whole year before it would be back…

Ahhh, those were the days. I’m sure glad I was a kid when I got to experience those feelings of genuine excitement and high expectations. Please feel free to share any of your stories - I love to hear from you!

Black Friday

Howdy folks! Hope everybody had a Happy Thanksgibbing. I am not sure why, but I am just not feeling the holidays like I used to. I don't know if it's because I've been living back in St. Lou again for a few years now, where usually I'm living away from here so I have the anticipation of visiting...oh I don't know. Maybe it's because I had to work on Thanksgibbing. I work from home, but I still had to miss dinner at Monda's (mom and Linda's...my sister) so blah blah blah. But I am feeling a little restless. So here are some random thoughts:

I can't stand when people pull their carts behind them at the grocery store rather than push them. They take up too much room! Plus they don't look behind to see if their cart is blocking someone from getting to what they need. I mean, I remember as a kid my mom used to do that when she let me push, but that was obviously so nobody would get a "flat tire" since I could barely see over the push-handle. That's different. Also, people who pull their carts seem very arrogant to me.

Beware of people driving in front of you who have their washer-wipers going at high speed during a light drizzle. They apparently tend to overreact, so steer clear of them.

And can we please stop doing the wave? It is so 80's and I am over it. I just don't see it as one of those longstanding sports traditions that needs to continue. Peanuts, yes. Beer, yes. Even "We Will Rock You" - mmm, okay. But please let's let go of the wave.

How is it that cars can continue driving for what seems like miles with their brake lights on? And why do they always seem to be in front of me? Of course, this coming from someone who really doesn't like to use my brakes at all if I can help it...

In keeping with the holidays, I will say that in all the places I've lived away from St. Louis and my family at Thanksgiving or Christmas, one thing has always been true: there are really nice people who never want you to be alone and will ALWAYS invite you to dinner. Humanity CAN be kind!

I admire people who are passionate...it doesn't matter what their passions are (excluding violent crimes or crimes of any nature really) but if they are gung ho at 110%, I think it's great. For example, I saw a commercial for a barbeque contest on some channel, and this lady says, "I'm not in it for the money, I'm in it for the prestige!" I thought, more power to you lady - these people LOVE their barbeque! Or the paranormal people...they are passionate about their ghosts! I don't know if I have anything that I am that passionate about...I am too lazy to be so passionate, at least these days.

I am in love with David Bromstead on Color Splash, HGTV...yes, he is gay but I find him incredibly adorable and check out those arms...whew.

I am also in love with Dr. Spencer Reid from Criminal Minds. Now with his hair growing longer, he's looking good and yummy!

I think I may have found something I am passionate about: gorgeous men I can never have.

Oh, this is sorta funny. Sometimes I work selling jewelry cleaner at the local home shows/womens' shows at the Ed (Edward Jones dome) and out in St. Charles. It's fun because it's so opposite what I do all day every day - I actually get to talk to people! It often reminds me of why I do enjoy working at home, alone. Anyway, I think it was the last one I worked where there were several little incidents that made me laugh and/or shake my head. And when I say laugh, not in a good way. First, I was cleaning this guy's ring...it was an okay ring. I'd seen many men's rings that were way nicer, but you know...I don't judge. Anyway, I finish cleaning it and hand it back to him...he looks at it proudly and says, "Yeah, uh, what do they call this - ling ling?" I had to stop and think because my mind immediately went to a panda. "I think you mean...bling bling?" I was nice and left off the part of it not really meeting that criteria..."Oh yeah," he said laughing in a creepy way. He was sort of a greasy guy who thought he was cool, but ewww ~I couldn't believe he actually seriously said "ling ling." It was a little weird.

Then, a little while later I look over and see my co-worker cleaning a ring for a lady, and the lady's family was sort of hovering over looking to see the whole process. Well I couldn't help but notice her husband's shirt - it had a picture of a fish on the front and, after clearing any blurriness from my eyes and double checking, it said, "Here Fishy! Fishy!" Really now. I wiped my eyes and looked again...yep, it was still there. Aww. He probably got it for his birthday or even Christmas, probably from his kids. I am learning that perhaps I am shallow and horrible because personally I think a shirt like that is just cause for divorce. But I have no depth at all. Luckily he met a woman who didn't care about that stuff. That leaves only one thought - I will always be alone.

Last year when visiting my grandma, we were sitting at the kitchen table watching...well, the Lawrence Welk show. Not exactly the Lawrence Welk show, but some sort of flashback show - anyway, it doesn't matter. We're playing Yahtzee and half-watching when this guy is introduced...I don't know what his name was - Steve something maybe? Anyway, my grandma pretty loudly exclaims all of a sudden, "Oh I can't stand that guy - he is such a PUKE PUSS!" What the hell is a puke puss? I just looked at my grandma and couldn't say a word ~ I had never heard that expression, and certainly not from my 89-year-old grandmother! I love my grandma...she is the best.

A few weeks ago I saw a Hummer parked at a Bank of America ATM. I thought to myself, "Isn't that the picture of America these days!"

And to finish up here, while at a Blues hockey game with my brother and my nephew, we were sitting pretty high up where, as my nephew says, "the real fans sit"...well one of those real fans was very frustrated with the way the Blues were playing - not just with this game but with the past few. The team just couldn't get anything going...so this guy, I'm assuming a future NHL coach, takes an opportunity during a quiet moment to yell at the top of his voice...."QUIT SUCKING!!!" It was hilarious - we all laughed...those were the best instructions I have ever heard yelled at a sporting event...EVER...please feel free to use it if necessary - I'm sure the guy won't mind!

Well, signing off for today...Black Friday. See ya soon!

Shermie

Thankful for what?

Hey there Friends of Shermie (or as we say in Ireland “Friends O’Shermie”! It’s been a while - too long!!! Long time no write, so there is a lot to talk about. Unfortunately I started talking quite a while ago and then lost everything due to not knowing how to work this computer. It’s tiny, so I think I hit something and all of a sudden it shut down and goodbye and goodnight! Anyway, we won’t waste time or energy worrying about that right now.

I must say, as long as it’s been, I am going to talk about today. Right now I am hanging at my local Borders. I had a blueberry scone (dry, but I think they’re supposed to be since they are European) and a most delicious beverage called the Sugar & Spice Latte (to which the nice girl added a touch of chocolate, making it the ultimate , most best tasting ever!) At first I was feeling very conspicuous amongst the students who look so cool with their Macs and big laptops, and me with my tiny purple netbook. The problem isn’t really my computer though; it’s more my wardrobe. Here I am in my maternity looking sweatpants and matching sweat jacket, although I must say my striped scarf is pretty cool (Target $10). So maybe I’m not too much of a lost cause. I don’t think people are looking at me disapprovingly, and I must say there is quite an assortment of folks who have wandered in to take a seat. Okay I feel better because some kid (kid being in his 20s) just came in wearing what I think are South Park pajama bottoms, so I’m feeling pretty good. Hold on while I save what I have written thus far, so as not to make the same mistake! Those who do not have a good memory tend to repeat their mistakes, or whatever that saying is…

So I’m not a big fan of my day today. Of course it is Monday, and oh joy of joys I am off from the full time job tonight! Whew…it was a busy weekend, so I am grateful. Anyway, the girl I work with at my part-time job in the mornings (Tracy – you’ve heard me mention her before…the friendly Republican) had her baby on Friday, which is great in itself because all are happy and healthy!

But of course we’re talking about me here, so my drama is just beginning. The Most Organized Tracy left me a detailed list of what to do with certain emails, forwarding them appropriately, etc, and I am a nervous wreck. So I go in and log on to her computer to get into her email. Another lady comes over to say that so-and-so is looking for an email from Friday that Tracy ALWAYS sends out on Friday morning…then, carefully following my list, I forward an email that is to be sent to certain people, correctly I thought, until yet another lady, Diane, comes over to say that I did it different than Tracy does it because she can’t get into it without a password. Great. So I figure out what I did wrong and re-do it. Being me, I added a cute little note in the subject line saying that now it should be able to be opened (by cute I mean friendly sounding). I have to send these from Tracy’s computer, so it won’t let me put my name in the line about who is sending it, right? Anyway, I get a response from a guy who I would say is pretty far up the food chain in our office. In the past I’ve had trouble figuring him out…I know he voted for Obama (according to Tracy because he’s Jewish and I’m not sure what that means) and he seems to have somewhat of a sense of humor… I always think I can get him to crack a smile, but so far not and I always chalked it up to his having one of those “dry” senses of humor. Well, see how you would interpret this email…it’s from him and it says, “Uh…who is sending this email? Is it Tracy or somebody pretending to be Tracy?” I took it to be humor, beings that everybody knows Tracy is not in and won’t be for 3 months. And as far as the pretending to be Tracy remark, I took that as me being a Tracy “wannabe”…I thought it was funny! So I respond to him, “Watch it mister.” I felt pretty lighthearted about my spirited and good-natured response, but about 30 seconds later I heard his door open and heavy footsteps (he’s a big guy). Not so funny I guess. He said it was too “confusing” to be receiving emails from Tracy’s address and that we needed to set up a way to send them from mine. Oh boy…really? Confusing? Okay…she JUST had a baby like 48 hours ago. She is not here and I can’t put my name in the line to say it’s from me. Just TAKE IT EASY MAN! So Day 1 is already a disaster in my mind.
Between the deal with the big guy, the first guy complaining, and the unopenable attachment sent to everyone, my lighthearted mood disintegrated to the point where I was plotting my resignation the minute Tracy walked back in the door from maternity leave. Oh yes I would show THEM. Anyway, day 1 is behind me and hopefully day 2 will be better. Luckily it’s Thanksgiving this week, so it’s a short week and there is less chance of me screwing anything up majorly.

Of course then I came home and after shoveling in some ice cream, I decided it was nap time. My naps (oh and I guess the ice cream shoveling too) are coming to an end though, people, because it is time to get serious about fitting into those cute clothes in my closet. It is time to become the person that fit into those clothes…don’t get me wrong, I am not saying I am not comfortable in my own skin, but actually right now I have more skin than I need. It’s time. I got the cool Skechers tennis shoes with the rocker bottoms that are supposed to really help tone up the butt while walking, and I am going to try a product called Nexagen which is supposed to help curb cravings and appetite, not to mention boost my energy (which really my naps never did because I took too long of naps) so I am ready to hit it! I will keep you, my friends, up to speed on how that goes. Please feel free to add your comments, advice, stories, etc. I’d love to hear from you!

Well friends, I’ve listened to about as much Christmas music and Norah Jones overhead as I can take in one evening, so I am going to close up shop here and head home. With my new transportable way to write, I will be adding more daily, so please come back and visit! Next time I’ll try somewhere else to check out the folks there so I can talk about them to you, and possibly there will be a good story that unfolds before my very eyes!

Remember, if you’re bored with your life…YOU’RE NOT PAYING ATTENTION!

Bye for now friends!

The 7 Most Inappropriate Products For Children (PHOTOS)

The 7 Most Inappropriate Products For Children (PHOTOS)

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Tales of the Crypt...okay, It's just the gym...

Well I went to the gym and looked like one of those people who had never been in a gym before. Since I actually HAVE been in a gym before, I knew that, in most places anyway, the rule is that after using any equipment, a person is supposed to wipe it down with the bottle of “sterilizing” stuff and the towel they provide. It's usually situated on walls throughout the gym. Well, being one who follows rules and often sweats a lot, I performed my civic duty. However, I had to take it one step further and look like a total dork because when I went over to make an appointment with a trainer, I realized I had carried the bottle of cleaner stuff thinking it was my water bottle, which I was also carrying, so basically my arms were just full of stuff that I was apparently collecting as I walked around the gym. The gym guy, Josh, thought it was just hilarious. He said, "You have just totally entertained me." Really? Great. Well fantastic Josh. That's what I live for.

So being ambitious this particular day, after turning over the bottle of cleaning solution to Josh, I then sauntered my way over to ride the stationary bike (40 minutes total of cardio – yippee!). I smile casually at the woman on the other bike next to mine, and as I hike my massive frame to climb on the poor bike, my foot slipped out of the little stirrup. I mean, I guess my feet have gained weight too because all of a sudden they don’t fit in the stirrups right! Luckily the immense mammary glands attached to my front (otherwise called mammoth boobs) kept me from crashing into the front part of the bike, and then the bike seemed to be tipping over! The very nice lady on the next bike over said, "Are you okay?" after realizing there was no dodging the catastrophe occurring before her very eyes, and being ever so clever and witty, I mumbled, "Don’t they have any 'special' equipment for people like me?" She laughed…politely. I finished my time without any more drama and skulked out of the building, vowing to never return.

Prior to all the gym debacle, I had at least I managed to escape the grocery store without too much incident...I had stopped there on my way to the gym to get cat food (not for myself - don't worry) and found myself drifting creepily up and down the snack aisle looking for something "baked"...or whatever. Apparently I was drawing the attention of the stock guy due to my creepiness and continuous aimless meandering up and down the aisle. He asked if I was looking for anything in particular. I muttered, "No...” and then I had a minor confession and meltdown… "I shouldn't even be here!” I practically shouted at the wide-eyed frightened young man. “I'm supposed to be at the gym right now!" I must've seemed so pathetic because he, like Josh, also thought I was just hilarious. Neato. I can sure make the boys laugh. So who needs to be svelte and sexy? I mean, chubby and comical worked for Natalie on “The Facts of Life”, didn’t it? I wonder what ever happened to her…surely she is still jolly after all these years.

Nail Glue

Well I can't believe I am going to share this with you, but here goes...

I am an idiot. There - I said it. Now let me tell you one of the many reasons why:

It is Sunday night. My mom and I are leaving EARLY in the morning to go visit my grandmother in Michigan. I am also going to be seeing my cousins, whom I love dearly (I mean I love my grandma dearly too, but it's different...)

So it's a proven fact that I have some disgusting toenails. I mean it. I know everybody thinks their toenails are nasty, but I have had comments made, such as "Ewwww, what happened to your toenails!?!", "Oh, we need to cover those babies up!" and years ago my niece spoke one of her first full sentences of her life and said, "You have icky toes Aunt Shermie." So that's proof... I have disgusting toenails.

My dreams of wearing flip-flops and sandals came true when I discovered fake toenails! They are exactly like the fingernails that you can buy, but they fit on your toes. I mean...wow, I couldn't believe my good fortune! The first time I ever stumbled upon them was just a few years ago, and the first couple of times I always gave my mother the pleasure of helping me glue them on. (This is just another in a long line of reasons why I could never be a mother...oh the sacrifices!) So here I am, Sunday night before my trip and I get out of the shower, dry off and decide to place my toenails on my toes...by myself. Neat, huh? You can maybe see where this is going - straight to Disaster Land. All goes well with the first foot. All five toes each have their properly placed nails and do they look GORGEOUS!!! Oh I am so proud, especially considering I am not a monkey and with my rotund middle section, I am having trouble reaching my feet.

So on to the other foot. First toenail, great. The big toe is the easiest really. Second toe - cool. No problems. Third toe is getting to the tinier nails. I put the super nail glue on the back and start to press it to my toe. Oh, wait...it's sticking to my finger. The glue must have come off by now, so a little more glue will work. Okay - oops. Nope. Sticking to my finger now is the fake nail, oh and now my other finger is also sticking to my finger. Somehow the toothpick thingy that comes along with the kit to help press the nails on is also stuck between my fingers that are stuck together. Most certainly if I am patient, the fingers will separate a little. Ow ow ow. Oh my god. Am I really this moronic?

I somehow get up off my living room floor (a site I am certainly glad I didn't have to watch) and go to the kitchen. Warm water will soften the glue and my fingers will easily come apart. No. That is not true. With my free hand I reach in and find a paring knife. I know...I know what you're thinking. Really? She is this idiotic that she is now reaching for a knife? Yes. My plan is to cut the glue, NOT my finger. Oh the burning - when I try to pull my fingers apart, I find it hard to believe people cannot use this method to get rid of their fingerprints when they go to commit crimes. Ow ow ow. It hurts. And also on my left hand (the one where my fingers are all moving independently) there is a big dried chunk of super nail glue behind my index finger nail. It is hard, crusty and feels very weird. Plus it doesn't come out. So I try to ignore that and train my attention to attempting to surgically separate my conjoined fingers. I am not sure if I am actually cutting the glue, but as I pull my fingers apart, I can feel a sense of accomplishment as they are actually separating! Whoo hoo...ow ow ow. Yeah - not quite there yet. It seemed like forever but was probably just a few minutes of me using my tiny paring knife to saw at my fingers ever so slightly. But it works and eventually - ahhh. Freedom. I triumphantly wave my hand in the air and wiggle all my fingers to make sure: a) they are still attached; b) there is no blood; and c) well, a and b are enough. So yay - success! I almost...ALMOST...forgot what caused all this in the first place until I saunter back into the living room amazed at the genius that is me and that I didn't end up at the emergency room needing a real surgeon. Then... the reminder. There are the rest of my nails on the floor, along with the tube of super nail glue, and I look down at the two fake-nail-less nails remaining on my foot.

"Why, I can hardly see them anyway, " I say outloud to no one in particular, "so I can just leave those go." I am not brave enough to tackle those pesky little tiny toenails that are all scrunched up anyway. Probably by the time I wake up in the morning I'll have to go digging through the bedsheets to find those that popped off during the night anyway. So, needless to say, I am having difficulty typing this. "Why?" you ask. "Is it the sheer embarrassment of being such a nitwit that you are having trouble sharing your story?"

No. Duh - I can't feel three of my fingertips and I am having difficulty typing this! Jeez.

July 27

Monday, July 27, 2009: Happy Birthday to my little Mabel - she is now ONE whole year old...in this picture she was only 6 weeks! She's my baby - I can't believe how fast time has gone by!

So anyway, back to reality...as you may remember from a previous post, I of course am having car trouble due to the fact that I purchased a lemon in the form of a Mercedes Benz (no, it's not yellow hardy har). Remember how my window would roll down but not back up? Okay...well it got worse than that. My neighbor downstairs one night knocks on my door to tell me, "Something's leaking from your car." Reaaaaalllyyy now...what a shocker! So we head down there to check it out... keep in mind this particular neighbor is a young black female but she enjoys dressing like a boy - baggy shorts, skull caps (if that is the right term) and basketball type jerseys, etc. So I walk up to my car without my keys and of course the window is down, so I just reach in and pull the lock up. Oh boy - I discovered the one thing that works for sure on my car is the alarm. Lights start blinking, the horn is blaring - I said, "Holy crap! I don't have my keys...I'll be right back!" So I start running (as much as my BMI, bad knees and bum hip will allow) and yell back to her, "Just wait right there!" and she looks at me with big eyes and says, "Hell no!" I realize what a ridiculous thing that was to say, since the chances of the cops believing that she was just there waiting for me were slim to none! Luckily it didn't take me long to get my keys and huff and puff my way back out there to shut the dang thing off. Wow.

Long story short, the leaking was antifreeze and my water pump had gone out. Oh just probably around $400-500. No problem. So I make arrangements to take it back to Jimmy (my new BFF) when I get paid next Friday, so in the meantime I am driving my brother's van. And a lovely van it is, I might add. I think it's a Plymouth from around 1990 maybe? Let me tell you though, this van has windows that roll up AND down, it has air conditioning, AND it runs!!! So please know I love this van, but I must admit a beauty it is not.

So I am on my way home from work around 12:30 this afternoon. First, a truck of some sort pulls up alongside me while I'm putting along Manchester Road, and I'm thinking maybe they want to race. There was a day I would've looked over and maybe shot them a cute look that said "You wanna go?" but not today. I am not feeling it...so on I go. Eventually I pull up to a red light and wait to turn left. I'm rocking out to KC and the Sunshine Band on the oldies station. The sound quality reminded me of when I was a kid and we actually listened to music on the AM stations. I'm feeling good though, happy, and then up next to me pulls a convertible with this long-haired (thin) blonde listening to some type of rap music, probably a CD. I felt myself sort of shrink a little, but tried to pull myself together enough to sit up straight and feel proud to be in a 1990 Plymouth van. I am sure all she wants is attention and looks from men and women - looks of lust from the men and jealousy from the women. But I showed her because I kept my eyes straight ahead on the red light and waited for the green arrow. I played my own game of racing her and actually gunned the gas, pulled into the intersection a nose in front of her sporty self, and then as van shifted itself into gear it seemed to remember its age. I am grown up and beyond all that petty stuff though...right? I mean we do get over the jealousy at some point in life - would I have made a snipey remark to one of my friends if they had been in the car/van with me? I told myself that before she pulled up to the light, she was probably listening to KC and the Sunshine Band on the oldies station too, but as soon as she slowed down she switched it to try to feel cool. Why in the world would that make me feel better? Jeesh.

I'm thinking it was just the moment. I don't think I normally would've even noticed if I'd had a friend with me and we were talking and stuff. I am chalking it up to allergies. That's always what I use when I have no other real explanation.

I could go on and on as this becomes some form of therapy for me, but I must go and blow my nose. My allergies are really acting up today...

July 7

Holy cow man...what a day.

I have no children. I have 4 cats. Yet somehow my life has become a daily ritual of Murphy's law. People who think my life is easy because I'm not a mom or married, I have news for you... my life should be a breeze but instead - well, no. I strive for an easy breezy life - I try not to get bogged down with responsibility, cooking, cleaning or whatever else I can try to let slide by. I am sort of like the kid in class who acts like they are busy thinking so they won't get called on by the teacher...

I have a part-time morning job and today it only consisted of a meeting that really just went over my head. Especially when a woman who has seriously magical powers of putting me to sleep almost instantaneously the minute she starts talking came into the meeting and sat right next to me. Uh oh. I told my friend later that I was going to record her at the next meeting so that when I have trouble sleeping, I can pop in a tape and - snap - out like a light. It'll save me from reading big books, like the bible.

This was made worse by the fact that allergies had attacked my eyes during the night, so they were a lovely shade of red with what felt like twigs sticking into them, and goobery. Terrible. I must've just looked frightening - so anyway, this all sounds boring but the best was yet to come. I had mentally planned to go home to a nice nap, maybe checking out the Michael Jackson memorial on TV...you know, the perfect life of a single woman with no major responsibilities.

Well, the nap never happened. I got home and did a few things around the apartment - nothing productive mind you - and went in to check out the memorial. Holy crap. I lost it when they wheeled in the casket and I was nonstop waterworks for the next 1-1/2 hours! Did THAT ever help my eyes look and feel better - oh 100%. I just don't know what hit me - the music, the stories - just when I thought nobody else could get me, here comes everybody up on the stage to sing "We Are The World"...oh man, are you trying to kill me here??? I was literally sobbing. Just keep that between us though, okey doke?

So, no nap, eyes on fire and now swollen shut from crying, a headache, and lo and behold it's time to get to work. Of course it's very busy - we have people out on vacation so it tends to spill over, so I try to stay focused. A few hours in, I realize - I am hungry. Off to the kitchen to try to find something somewhat healthy and decide on my Boca Burgers in the freezer, but I will add a slice of cheese to make them better. I also crammed some steamed green beans into the microwave - you know the kind that steam in the bag and turn out perfectly? Love those.

What I don't love is the electrical system of my apartment. It is old. Very old. I should've known...cook either the Boca burgers on the electric skillet OR steam the beans. Yep - fuse blows. Please insert the "F" word here pretty loudly. And then...dammit! Normally it's not that big of a deal - just get the flashlight and head downstairs to change the fuse, right? Nope. Not in the Murphy's law world that has become Shermie's new world. No spare fuses left. Also, none of the fuses are marked well, if at all, and that makes it a bit difficult to know which one needs to be changed - at least not to my untrained, red, itchy, goobery and now swollen shut eyes. Crap!!! So I run to the grocery store (yes they have fuses by the batteries and stuff) but of course I buy the wrong kind and being on the second floor is no favor to my obese BMI when trudging up and down the stairs to see if the fuse I had just changed was the "one" - and throughout all of this drama, I'M SUPPOSED TO BE WORKING!!! Well, the fuse that blew also took out the use of my landline phone and of course I haven't paid my cell phone bill in forever, so I can't use that. I trudge downstairs to my neighbors to borrow the phone. She is not in a good mood but she has teenage girls so I can understand that; plus I think she was hungover from the last bender. She hands me a cell phone and I trudge back upstairs. The emergency guy answers and asks what number can I be reached at? I hem and haw and then admit that I just don't know. Can I call him back? Back downstairs to Crabbier-than-Me-Even, who writes down the number for me. Eventually I talk to my landlord. Normally (due to the convenience of having people come fix stuff without it really costing me) I love renting and highly recommend it, but they can't get anyone out here until morning. You mean - I have to brush my teeth in the dark? Well, luckily I have a very strong familiarity with where my teeth are...but I'm more worried about having to move my alarm clock to the hallway outside my bedroom? Yikes - I have a dr. appt tomorrow (OB/GYN - lucky me! - more on that tomorrow...maybe.)

So currently I am finished with work, my eyes are blind, and I have to go fumble through the bathroom to get ready for bed, which I actually am looking forward to some sleep, and peace I hope. Some day I will tell you about my dream life though - it is very often more exciting than my awake life!

I know it doesn't seem like much to people who juggle work, cooking, family, errands, blah blah blah...but come on, I am striving for mundane here. I guess I can always hope for a dream about...well...sleep.

Sayonara - more tomorrow!

Mary Tyler Moore

Wednesday mornings were different from other mornings. The owners of the restaurant we worked at came in for meetings, so some of our opening chores were put off, like vacuuming. Jeff and I worked the mornings just about every day together, so it didn’t take long for us to get the restaurant ready to open for the hectic lunches that occurred daily. We were fortunate to work in a very nice, well-known and well-liked place that was busy almost all the time – lunch, dinner, weekends – and it was one of the “places to be seen.” We attracted celebrities regularly, mostly of the sports variety, which was a lot of fun for me, but also actors, politicians, and yes, even a Miss America (who by the way was later dethroned, hint…hint).

So, there we were, my cohort Jeff and I, all ready to go with still another 1/2 hour or so before opening the doors and welcoming the masses…what to do? We were bored, and let’s face it, we know that idle minds are the devil’s workshop.

We wandered around for a while, chit chatting about this or that, double checking the silverware, glassware, and did we have enough iced tea prepared? Sure we did. Well let’s wander on up to the reservation book, shall we? Let’s flip through it…nothing too exciting. We would change all that. “Let’s make up a reservation!”

We sat across from each other recalling this story over lunch 20+ years later. Of course it was a major story in both of our minds and we laughed and laughed as if we had pulled off the biggest bank heist of all times, especially since nobody ever found out it was just little ole us…

I had said, “Let’s put down Robert Redford!” Of course everyone would be excited about that, am I right ladies?

“Too obvious,” is how Jeff described my selection. “Let’s use Mary Tyler Moore!” Mary Tyler Moore? Don’t we want people to actually care about this reservation? His little face was very excited though, so that’s what we went with…after flipping ahead about 2 months into the future, we carefully wrote “M T Moore, 4 – ***VIP***” in the 7 p.m. slot. If we made it for 5 or more people, then we had to get a phone number, so four it was! Hee hee, we giggled, just so very proud of ourselves, and off we went to await the chance to fill water glasses, bring bread and clear plates from the tables. By the end of the day, we had completely forgotten about the reservation that, in my mind, nobody would really care about anyway…

Fast forward about 6-7 weeks…approximately 1 or 2 weeks prior to the date of our visit from Mary Tyler Moore, or should I say, the results of our boredom. Life went on as usual, but there were murmurings and stirrings…

Now at this stage of the story, Jeff and I have varying memories; let’s just say the journey may have been different, but the results were very much the same.

All the whispering made Jeff and I start to squirm just a bit, but we also figured it would all pass by…all these whisperings and murmurs were about Mary Tyler Moore!!! Oh…my…gosh.

I should point out that one of the owners of this particular restaurant is a well-known sports figure who happened to work at one of the largest radio stations in town at that time. One of the rumors I later heard was that our boss’s boss (the owner of the radio station) wanted to know why in the world was MARY TYLER MOORE coming to our city for no other reason than to eat at this particular restaurant??? Of course he had no answer… oops.

Thanking my lucky stars, I worked during the lunch shift on THE BIG DAY and hightailed it out of there before any suspicions arose and the truth was revealed. Jeff says he worked that night, but I remembered us both being off…I guess he would know, so we’ll go with his version.

Of course, Mary Tyler Moore, America’s sweetheart and the All-American girl herself, was a no-show. Uh oh.

I didn’t need Jeff working that night to tell me that the managers, who had all arranged to be there to greet Miss Moore, were HOT, as in under the collar, fuming, P-I-S-S-E-D, to say the least. So…it was not easy, as I do not possess a poker face, but it was necessary to save my job (and possibly my life) to pretend to be shocked that anyone would do such a thing! I mean…really!!!

The managers didn’t want to let this go – they were determined to get to the bottom of this mystery and somebody was going to pay…holy crap. So, when asked, I replied brilliantly with the best lie of my life, “It must have been Fred.” Poor Fred – it wasn’t fair, but he had already been fired about a week before, so no harm, right? I was not comfortable and couldn’t believe that we had gotten in so deep…it was important that Jeff and I stuck together with our stories though, which we did. Whew. So, get this, handwriting analysts were called in! The hostesses and wait staff had to submit samples, but lucky for us, we were lowly bus persons…no suspicion fell directly on us! The perpetrators were not discovered!!! Yahoo!

As happy and relieved as I was, I must admit the guilt over the years really got to me. I looked up to my managers at that time…I was just a young high school graduate who loved my job and respected authority, especially Lou, the manager who had taken a big chance and hired me as the first busgirl the restaurant had ever had. I worked hard not to let him down, so if HE were to find out, I would be devastated.

Now in our early 40s, Jeff and I discussed the idea of going back to visit our old bosses and friends that were still around at the restaurant. Someday perhaps we would actually go eat and have someone bring us bread, refill our water, and clear our plates! “How exciting!” we decided.

That evening finally arrived. Jeff wanted to clear the air with Lou, who would be there to greet us…the thought nearly sent me into cardiac arrest, or perhaps more accurately a major bout of hyperventilation…NO NO NO. He even joked about making the reservations under the name “MT Moore” which under any other circumstance I would’ve thought was hilarious, but not in this case.

When we finally arrived, Lou greeted us and it was so wonderful to see him and give him a big hug…he was such an important person in my life at a time when I really needed someone like him to give my personality a chance to blossom, which working there definitely did. Jason, one of our former fellow bus persons, is now a manager there and also was there to welcome us. We did some quick catching up, and then Lou had to leave. After a very nice dinner and a bottle of wine, Jeff was able to convince me that we should tell Jason it was us.
I was very reluctant, so I downed a beer to help me figure out what to do. I sauntered over to where Jeff was talking to the young female bartender – I mean it was JEFF after all…he has not changed one bit in all these years. So as I walked up, she asks me, “Do you think Jason will tell Lou?” What the ???? JEFFFFFF… why can’t you keep your trap shut? Oh it was all unraveling.

As of today, when I finally got the nerve to ask Jason, “Say, not a big deal Jase (cough, cough), but did you ever mention that whole Mary Tyler Moore fiasco to Lou?” Of course, I played it down to as low of a level as I could muster…

Jason says, “Not yet…”
Hmm. The saga continues.

Meet Shermie...

It’s me, Shermie! I hope this day finds you doing well!

I will tell you a little about me…I am 42 years of age, single, and considered by my latest Body Mass Index to be obese. I live a pretty average life, although in my mind I am SO much more and even though I’m over 40, I still feel I am destined for greater things. Sometimes I think I’m still in my 20s with my whole future ahead of me, and that’s the way I act and think. There have to be millions of other people out there of all ages who still think their best days are ahead of them, wouldn’t you agree?

Things here are the usual weirdness and “mellow chaos” that is my life. Of course the car I just bought from those squirrely dudes down at that car dealership is starting to show its true colors. So much for trying to support local small businesses. Luckily I haven’t really needed the air conditioner too much lately, but my driver’s side window is now getting stuck – unfortunately only in the DOWN position!! I can’t believe it. So anyway, I get home from the part-time job the other day (more on that in a minute) and of course my window won’t go up. I know what you’re thinking – why do you keep putting it down? Well, that would be a good question. Let’s just move on from that. Okay – I forget sometimes and automatically hit the switch to lower it. When I do remember, I have tried having the sunroof, passenger side window and back seat windows on both sides rolled down and then I feel stupid because MY window is still rolled up. It looks stupid. I guess I would look more stupid driving home in a downpour with my window down, though, wouldn’t I? Hmm…good thought. I should just get that air conditioning checked out…I say I haven’t needed it, but haven’t I really?

So back to my original story. I was inside working in my office when I thought to myself, “I’d better go try to roll my window up before it gets dark.” If I give it a little time, it will usually work again. So out the door I go, after waddling with my creaky knees and sore hip down my zillion steps. What is this on my front door? Why, it looks legal. My neighbors have one too. We live in a duplex. I’ll get it when I come back up from fixing my car window. Luckily that didn’t give me too much grief…after a little maneuvering of the button, the window reluctantly went back up. So let’s check out this paper.
It looks as though the owners of my building have been slacking on their payments, so some type of measure is being taken – you know I don’t get one little iota of legal-speak. Not one. I did see one word – FORECLOSURE – which sort of jumped out at me…yikes! Wait – they just passed a law protecting renters from landlords who don’t pay their mortgages, so I should be okay. I will call my property manager in the morning to see what’s up, right? She didn’t know. I faxed her the legal looking papers. I am telling myself that I am NOT going to have to try to move 4 cats and myself with no money somewhere within 90 days. I have not heard back from her, but it’s the July 4 holiday, so probably she’s busy. And no news is good news…?

Where would I go? Don’t know. I’ll keep you posted on that.

So back to my part-time job. It is such an interesting place for me to be working. I am definitely in the minority as far as the liberal/conservative opinions go, but it’s not something you can really ask people about. Tracy, the person I work most closely with, is clearly on a different page from me as far as politically and otherwise, but luckily we can laugh it off most of the time if any type of discussion arises. For example, this one that happened the other day…I am sitting at my cubicle working away, focused and basically happy. I hear from her cubicle next to me, “I am going out on a limb and saying that Pooh is gay.” Well, okay. I felt compelled to go see what triggered such an outburst. She is searching for decorations for her new baby’s nursery, which I will go out on a limb and say Winnie the Pooh style is not an option.

She continued on about how much of a wuss (sp?) Pooh is. I said, “How can you hate Pooh? He’s all about peace and love.”

“RIGHT!” was her response. “I just don’t get his world of all sparkles and sunshine.” Oh boy. Even though I have learned her husband is a rootin’ tootin’ member of the NRA and RNC, and knowing that she grew up in Kentucky, a more conservative-leaning state, I was still taken aback by the hostility! She is very funny, and even though I don’t agree with her anti-peace and love attitude, she is really pretty cool. She goes on to tell me the story of taking her 2-year-old junior NRA member son to Disney (I don’t remember which one so I’ll leave it at Disney). She said they had made reservations for breakfast but when they got to the specific restaurant she asked for, they said she was signed up for a different restaurant and they couldn’t accommodate her at this particular venue (I’m thinking it was pirates and stuff like that)… of course she asked where WERE they supposed to be?

Unfortunately, the response had to do something with Winnie the Pooh. She made them acutely aware of her feelings for Pooh, exclaiming to them, “I hate Pooh! Why would I make a reservation there? I’d rather take my son to see princesses and fairies!” Needless to say, they were taken to a table right away. Yikes! I mean, I hate that little toilet paper bear and the little bear from the fabric softener sheets, but they aren’t Winnie the Pooh! I mean, what about “The Tao of Pooh”? It's a book about getting through life as Pooh does, simply and peacefully. I have it (somewhere but can't find it) and I would take it in to show her but I’m afraid that with her world views, book burning is still encouraged. The humor brings us together though. I suggested perhaps she would like Pooh more if she knew that he is an active NRA member? She basically said he’d have to be, but that it still wouldn’t probably work.

Now I am 42 years old and still learning about people and how they tick. I am in a place where I get frustrated with people with opposing views than mine, but I try to keep my mind open enough to understand where they are coming from – does that make sense? It’s a difficult place to exist, but it’s necessary so that I don’t become too closed minded but also to not be a doormat. In this situation, be sure to learn as many proven facts as possible about as many of your passionate topics as possible. Knowledge is power...that is my advice for the day.

Here’s another story along those same lines that confuses me a little. You may or may not know this, but my brother is Catholic. He hasn’t been all of his life, but he is now. So the other day the news about Michael Jackson is just starting to spread like wildfire and he calls to see if I’d heard the news. I said, “Yes!” and he continued on to say that now Michael Jackson has to stand in front of Jesus and answer questions about what he did to those little boys. Whoa...my first thought was to say, “Well it’ll be a while with all those priests lined up in front of him…” but instead of that I went with, “Doesn’t he have to check in with that dude at the gates?” He said, “You mean Peter?” but he said it as if I were a complete ingrate. I said, “Yeah, Peter – I guess I won’t do well on my test.” He said, “No.” I said, “I’m going to ask Peter, didn’t you sing Puff the Magic Dragon?” and then my brother said he had to go and get the groceries inside. He sounded as if he couldn’t believe he had actually called me in the first place, even though we get along just fine when I’m not dogging his religion. I respect my brother's right to believe what he believes, I really do. Anybody who finds strength and peace through whatever means, I'm all for it. Just please don't judge me because I don't believe what you believe.

That’s what I don’t get – why is it when people find religion and talk about Jesus, they usually become exactly the opposite of what Jesus was supposed to represent? My brother generally tries not to become judgmental, but I believe his religion encourages him to. Wasn’t Jesus about love, tolerance, acceptance and turning the other cheek? Why then, when people “accept Jesus into their lives as their Lord and Savior” do they become judge and jury in the trial of life? Anyone who doesn’t believe what they believe or follow their particular faith is a degenerate. I’m not just talking about Baptists, Christians, Catholics or really any particular religion, but just ORGANIZED religion, I guess… any ideas on this topic? I welcome them.

So I am following this weight loss program that I ordered after I heard and read some good things about it. Umm…I just ordered the 2-week plan for a boost to get started on losing weight and giving up my Obese status on the BMI index. I am on day 3. I liked it because it is basically easy – they provide 5 small meals (oatmeal, bars, shakes, etc) and I only have to fix ONE meal. I like that ratio. Except that one meal is becoming a real problem for me. I only have to fix a little piece of meat and something green. It’s hard for me. I am not able to do much in my little kitchen that becomes hotter than hell in the summer. I keep telling myself I would do better if I had more room to move around, but I guess I don’t know if that’s true. I think it is though. So anyway, I’m only on day 3 and this has become a stressor in my life. I just need to start walking again, but between my knee and my hip, I have pain…I just have pain. I am really even sitting here writing this to you with my whiny face on, racked with pain.

Welcome to Shermie's world!