Saturday, September 22, 2012

Pigs, Poodles And Possums

     Several bloggers have asked me recently why I don't post weekly or even daily on  my blog site.  Professional bloggers recommend it in order to increase traffic and followers.  I know this is sound advice, but I am ashamed to admit that I am often stumped by writer's block.  And that's when I turn into a professional procrastinator.
     This is how it starts:

5:45 a.m.
     Obnoxious alarm clock jars me awake.  I want to yank it from the wall and toss it out the window onto the neighbor's lawn.  It wouldn't matter because they get up at  the ass crack of dawn to rev up their lawn mowers.
      On my night stand sits the TO-DO list I scribbled out last night when there was still adrenaline coursing through my veins after watching a rousing episode of Top Chef.  In the bleak morning light, that TO-DO list becomes a GO-TO-HELL list.  No way am I getting up early to make everyone breakfast.  That's why God invented granola bars and oatmeal-on-the-go.
     Slap the snooze button on the alarm for fifteen more minutes.

6:00 a.m.
     Just as I have drifted off into Never Never Land, I hear a nagging buzzer go off, and wonder if I'm on a new game show called, "Wheel Of Misfortune."
     I REALLY need to wake up.

6:15 a.m.
     Coffee.  My morning elixir.  Jumper cables to my heart.  Now I'm ready to work.

6:30 a.m.
     Realization that just because my body is doing the happy dance doesn't mean that my brain has caught onto the dance steps.  Need more coffee.

7:00 a.m.
     Staring at a blank computer screen, convinced that my muse bought a one-way ticket to Bora Bora and is completely content to sip Mai Tais on the shore while I struggle to post something witty on my blog site.

7:30 a.m.
     Still staring at blank computer screen.  Pick dog hair off tee-shirt and make a daisy chain out of paper clips.  I end up trolling Facebook for status updates.
     "Wow Camille, you sure look wasted in those office party pictures.  Do people still do that kind of stuff on copy machines???"
     "Aw, Cynthia, I just LOVE little Tommy's mullet.  Is he channeling Billy Ray Cyrus?"
     "OMG Vicky!  Your poodle just pooped in your Jimmy Choos?!"

9:30 a.m.
     Staring out home office window.  When did the neighbors get a hairless cat?  Oh, that's a possum rummaging around in the trash can.  I didn't know possums liked beer.

10:00 a.m.
     Glance at Facebook again to see if anyone commented on my latest status update: "Is it too early to add whiskey to my coffee cup? LOL!"

10:30 a.m.
     Check fridge to see if anyone left an amazing surprise in there for me to eat, like an ice cream bar or a leftover egg roll.

11:00 a.m.
     Back on the computer and begin typing blog entry: "Hello Readers!  I'm hyped up on caffeine and shaky as hell but my brain has a log jam and I.....oh look!  A cupcake!

11:30 a.m.
     Gotta get this blog post going...whoa, what's this?  New outdoor decorating ideas on Pinterest?  Pot-bellied pigs for sale on Craig's List?

1:00 p.m.
     Stalk other blog sites for inspiration.  They're all good.  Damn good.  This leaves me feeling a bit insecure and I pick up the phone and call a friend for moral support.

2:30 p.m.
     Damn possum is back.  Brought some of his buddies.  I didn't know they could carry a six pack and beach chairs.

4:30 p.m.
     Wake up to computer keyboard imprints on my forehead.

5:00 p.m.
      Feed and walk dogs, try to figure out something clever yet appetizing for dinner.  My family is starting to catch onto the fact that I'm recycling leftovers tossed into pasta and rice to confuse them.

8:00 p.m.
     Back on the computer.  Something skitters across the floor and under my desk.  Could have been a cockroach.  Or a possum.  Call Husband to exterminate whatever predator is stalking me.

10:00 p.m.
     Loud cheering from the TV room.  My family is either watching a Dolphins football game or The Kardashians.  I need to investigate.

     Computer screen still blank.  So is my brain.  Time to reboot both.  Possums now sitting around campfire singing Kumbaya and making smores.

     Surely tomorrow will be a more productive long as a parade of pugnacious pot-bellied pigs and prancing pink poodles doesn't pass by my office window...

Saturday, September 8, 2012

Menopausal Mama Drama

     Got a complaint? Pick a number and stand in line. It will be three lunar eclipses before I have time to address your grievances. I would rather spend the day scraping up the collective gunk in the corners of my refrigerator drawers than discuss these issues, but I just can't keep my mouth shut any longer. In the past, I was a pro at sidestepping conflict, but there comes a time in a woman's life (known as MMP---Menopausal Mean Phase), where we've just GOT to unleash the hormonal beast raging inside of us. I'm tired of being stretched in ten different directions like a Stretch Armstrong doll just to please the entire universe. Some days I'd rather pull the covers over my head and staple the blanket to my mattress to prevent people from disturbing me in my cotton fortress.  Just. Go. Away.
     Maybe I'm feeling this way because I'm menopausal-bitchy-hungry-tired-hot flashy, or maybe I'm just older and wiser and have realized I don't need to put up with the bullshit anymore. My kids and my husband, I can handle. But outside of that comfortable nucleus, if you see a sign posted on my front door that reads, "Beware Of Rabid Otter...Enter At Your Own Risk" trust me, it's up there for your own good.
     Things that REALLY piss me off:

     *People who shove their political agendas down my throat via emails, robo calls, television ads, bulk mail and Facebook. This is especially insulting if the political onslaught hits me early in the morning when my eyes are at half mast. I'm basically brain dead until 9:00 a.m. when the coffee kicks in, so don't ask me to support your cause or I may end up voting for Sponge Bob.

     *Waiting not-so-patiently in the "Ten Items Or Less Express Lane" at the grocery store only to have some jackass in front of me who:  A) Has 15 items in his basket: 8 cans of sardines, 6 jars of pickled pigs feet and a ginormous bag of kitty litter). Dude, what are you doing-- hosting a redneck feline barbecue in your backyard?  B)  Decides he can't afford that many jars of pickled pigs feet and has the check-out girl de-scan them all.  C)  Tries to pay for his purchases with a credit card that has been denied (guess that case of chewing tobacco he bought last month maxed out his card).

     *People who can't pay their mortgage but somehow scrape up the funds to book a room for a weekend at the beach, drive Beemer convertibles and suck down lobster tails at a five star restaurant.

     *Late service calls. "Dear Mr. Internet-Television-Telephone-Electricity-Repair Man: I don't mind sitting in a dark cave for two weeks, waiting for you to show up and restore our service. I'll just sit here in the candle light and crochet a pastel noose while I wait patiently for your visit.

     *People who criticize me or my family behind my back because they're too insecure to face their own demons. Criticize my kids and I'll go all Charlie Sheen on your ass. Yes, I know they've done some stupid things over the years, like sticking bubble gum in a sibling's hair or throwing a hot iron at someone who was poking fun at them...but at least they didn't shove a raisin up someone's nose like my older brother did to me when I was little. Raisins+nasal passage=emergency room.

    *Erratic drivers multi-tasking behind the wheel while speeding down a busy interstate. These people aren't human--they're aliens from a planet that produces colonies of octopus people. Amazing how they can text, apply makeup, slip a contact in their eye and brush their teeth, all while dodging in and out of traffic.

     *Diet products and expensive exercise equipment that promises to turn women into JLo. *NEWSFLASH* The money you wasted on these items could have been invested in a Twinkie factory, because either way you're going to come out looking like Melissa McCarthy from the Mike and Molly show.

     *Celebrities who whine about their lack of privacy and run-ins with the paparazzi. Well duh, after clawing their way to the top, what did they expect? They can always switch careers---I hear they're hiring janitors at the local middle school to scrub spit balls off the bathroom walls. No need to worry about paparazzi showing up there.

     *People who try to involve me in the he said/she said game. I'm tired of playing referee and would rather sit along the sidelines while they duke it out in the Octagon. Popcorn, anyone?

     *Door-to-door salesmen. In the dinosaur days before internet, people used to sell encyclopedias door-to-door. As a kid, it was pretty darn exciting to flip through the glossy pages and look at the mating cycle of the woolly worm. But nowadays, it never fails---we'll just be sitting down to dinner when the doorbell rings and some squirrelly looking guy who seems to be hyped up on meth is trying to sell me an alarm system, a magazine subscription or a set of Ginsu knives. The only sales people allowed to cross my threshold are the ones selling Girl Scout cookies or those giant World's Finest chocolate bars to support the high school glee club.

     *People who brag about their high paying jobs, yet bitch about the lengthy hours they put in each if the rest of us poor slobs do nothing but sit around the pool all day and sip pina coladas. Who do the they think they're kidding? Just. Shut. Up.  Everyone knows they're the ones keeping TLC, MTV and the Bravo channel ratings up by never missing an episode of Honey Boo Boo, Sixteen And Pregnant, Real Housewives Of New Jersey and Toddlers And Tiaras.

     *Cheap people. Don't bring the Walmart wine-special-of-the-week wrapped in fancy trimmings when I know damn well you can afford the good stuff. You can wrap your trash up in a pink bag with purple bows and it's still gonna smell like crap to the garbage man.

     These are the types of people who have been sucking the life out of me for years. To hell with them. Now it's time for me to kick back, pour a glass of wine and watch back to back episodes of Koalas Gone Wild.


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