Hurricane Sandy: It's Over...or is it?

Nearly thirty hours later, the power is back on.

While living without a computer, TV and lights was an inconvenience, life during and after Sandy was not that bad...for me. Heat, we have gas heat and that was not an issue. We had no loss of running water. Funny how the little things like flushing a toilet are so overlooked in everyday living, but become so important in a disaster such as this. We were very lucky.

The 8"-10" of rain never materialized. If it had, things might have been very different. Living three blocks from the river means you are always aware of problems with the weather. The winds were like nothing I had ever experienced. Hearing the roar of the gusts as they blew in through every possible point of entry in this old house, made me shudder to think of the sound of a tornado.

The power came on 3:52 this morning. Turning on the news, it was the first time I was able to see the devastation. The shore as I knew it is gone. The overhead shots of Seaside Heights looked as if the town, or what is left of it, was built in a desert. The streets have been replaced by tons of sand deposited as the flood water receded. Listening on the radio to Governor Christie's press conference yesterday, he talked about the Boardwalk, or what used to be the Boardwalk. I knew this place. I knew the sausage & pepper stand which was built right in middle of the Boardwalk. I knew the amusement pier, whose rides are now sitting in the Atlantic Ocean.

Now, in the scope of things the Boardwalk doesn't matter. Too many people have lost their lives and their homes, to think any differently. But it is about the memories. The Boardwalk will be rebuilt, but it won't be the same. It will be much more modern, it will feel different. And for the younger generations, it will be fine. They won't have the memories of spending the day being toasted on the beach and spending the nights strolling down a Boardwalk smelling of sausage & peppers, or fresh made zeppoles. It will just be different.

So now New Jersey and a bunch of other states start to rebuild. Some places will be starting from scratch. Me, I'm just fine.

And thankful.

If you can, please donate to either The United Way, The Red Cross or the Salvation Army. Time, blood, cash.

We can all do something.

Sandy: The Waiting is the Hardest Part

Been up since 4:30. Already the wind was picking up.

At this point almost three hours later, the winds seems around 30 mph sustained. The time has passed for preparation, it's now nail-biting time. We've all been through hurricanes before, this one is different.

It appears that Sandy has an agenda, and New Jersey is the center of the bulls-eye. The shore towns have been evacuated; only fools remain to ride this one out. All transit systems are shut down. New York City's Times Square is empty. Only my local convenience store is open this morning. Love those guys.

I live three blocks from the Passaic river. It floods...though in this area, infrequently. Upriver and downriver, the destruction caused by the Passaic is well documented on news reports and insurance claims. During Hurricane Irene last year, the river overflowed its banks and was a block and a half away, before slowly receding. I think tomorrow it might be even closer.

There hasn't yet been a drop of rain, so the emotion I feel most is one of impatience. Let's get it over with already and deal with it head-on. Not looking forward to the inevitable loss of power, and really dreading the dog walks in hurricane force winds. If she gives me one of those "I don't want to be out here"  looks, I'll be sure to remind her that I'm not happy about it either.

Time to run the flat iron through my hair. We may not have power for a few days and well...priorities.

Stay safe.

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Frankenstorm: Gone Shopping Yet?

We are now into the second day of the unofficial Kat Hurricane Watch. Unofficial because Official might imply that I actually know what I'm talking about.

We left off yesterday after the early morning broadcasts of impending doom. Thank you for the heads up, but does it need to be non-stop coverage five days ahead of the storm and pre-dawn? I think not.

Left the house around eleven to do my Friday ritual of grocery shopping, getting gas, and other errands to get ready for the weekend in the Poconos. The price of gas was a nice surprise. Found a nice nest of competitive stations where the highest price was $3.07. Filling up at $2.99 a gallon was something I did not expect to see again in my lifetime. And as usual in Jersey, WE DON'T PUMP GAS. ever.

the line up.

Next stop...Shop Rite. Parking lot full and at this time of the day, it should not be. Finding an aisle where two men are getting into their cars; I wait. They are just about across from each other, so as they both pull out, there is really nowhere for anyone else to go. But that didn't stop a car from each direction in trying to pass them. Gridlock Aisle Four...and I'm still in the parking lot.

Now there are different types of shoppers and shopping trips. Around the holidays there are serious looking women on a mission, armed with detailed lists. They know what they need to do. Storm shoppers...not so much.

Yesterday the aisles were full of abandoned carts, which mainly happens when the shopper leaves the cart because they just remembered something they needed three aisles back. Then you have your duos. The elderly mother and her daughter, each with their own cart clogging the aisle, while the daughter screams every item she thinks her mother might need...and still the mother hears nothing.

Storm shoppers are like battle fatigued soldiers. They know they need supplies, but what to buy? Staples like milk and bread (btw, the 'uncle' saw a woman yesterday with an entire cart filled with white bread...wtf?), and batteries. We are told to buy them, but do we ever remember to check what size we need before we rush out the door...NO. So there you have the battery aisle overrun with people blindly staring at the battery display.

Other than beer, which is considered a staple in my home, I don't think I bought any of the usual storm supplies. I'm pretty sure we can get through a few days on my normally overstocked food supplies.

Update, update!!!!!
Morning news reports they are beginning to see the surf getting rougher and winds are picking up in Florida.

All Sandy, all the time.

Gotta go check my flashlight.

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Oh Sandy Girl...Hurricane Watch Begins

So this is how it's going to be for the next five, count 'em, days. Sandy, Sandy, Sandy, sports, Sandy, Sandy.

As I watched the NY local news at 4:30 this morning, every station had a reporter out on some beach talking about the the hurricane. The storm, Hurricane Sandy, is not predicted to hit this area until Monday-Tuesday. Every station. A beach. Four-thirty in the morning...in the dark.

There were no winds blowing sand in the reporter's faces (one of my personal favorites), no shots of the surf eroding the beach, there was NOTHING. It's four freakin' thirty and pitch black. So what is the point of dragging every low level reporter in town out of bed at some ungodly hour to stand on a beach...in the dark.

And, it's just beginning. As the storm pulls into south Florida, our local news will be teaming up with the Miami affiliates and we will see their reporters standing on the beach looking around, showing the waves begin to rise, the idiots still trying to surf and the stranded tourists who thought it would be a kick to experience a damn hurricane.

Already they are putting everyone into panic mode. I need to go to Shop Rite later for my usual weekend shopping trip. It's gonna be a zoo. The store manager is sure to have a smile on his face as he sees the pallets  of bottled water go sailing out of the store. Big news.

At some point, I'm sure they will send a reporter out to cover it.

Most likely before the store opens.

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Could You Do This Job?

The Wild West has officially returned to New York City.

In what has become the latest in shootings of New York police officers, off-duty cop Ivan Marcano was shot in the chest as he attempted to stop a crime in progress.

From his car, Marcano saw three men robbing a man on the street. He exited the car with his gun drawn, identified himself as a police officer and was shot by one of the robbers, who then fled in their white Mustang.

As the cop's girlfriend began to drive him to the hospital, Marcano spotted the getaway car. The gunmen's car then crashed and a second gunfight occurred. While still holding his bleeding chest, Marcano tracked the suspects, trying to find cover behind parked cars.

As bullets flew, Marcano got off a shot that found its mark. One of the suspects lay dead next to the white Mustang, with a bullet in his head. The other two men are still at large.

Seriously, you can't make this shit up. Want to take bets on how long before this story finds its way onto one of the TV crime shows...ripped from the headlines.

Thankfully, it seems Officer Marcano will recover from his wounds and deservedly receive medals and accommodations. Unfortunately, the New York City area had three police officer incidents in the past week. Besides Officer Marcano, one cop was killed making a traffic stop and another was killed by a passing car, after he responded to a crash involving a drunk driver.

Under the best of circumstances being a police officer is hard way to make a living. When we get caught speeding, we think it's the cop's fault. If we see some maniac weaving through traffic, we bitch there's never a cop around when you need one. And day after day, they leave home and family behind to report for duty...knowing any day might be their last.

Just a simple Thank You doesn't seem to be quite enough.

But it's a start.

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The Cycle of Life...And Stuff

If you've been reading this blog for a while, you know my dad passed away in August.

The time since his death has been an adjustment for the entire family. No more so than for my mother, his wife of 64 years. To her credit, she has adjusted quite well to living alone for the first time in her life. She has created her own schedule and is beginning to rearrange all the aspects of her day-to-day living. This includes disposing of a lot of my father's things. I'm not talking about his clothes or jewelry. I'm talking about the stuff he collected and stored in the house they have lived in for over fifty years.

Did I mention he loved to collect things?

In the past two months my mother has unearthed: travel logs he wrote over thirty years of vacations, statistics from the baseball pool he was in for the past five years, books he had ordered still in the mailing envelopes, VHS tapes by the score...he taped everything he had an interest in, and gadgets of all types.

My mother has found them all. She is now making piles: things to go directly to the garbage, things I might want to keep and things my brother might want to keep. There is no pile for her. It now seems everyday when I see her, there is something else that leaves her house and finds a home in mine.

Many of these things are perfectly useful, like the dumbbells he used after his open heart surgery. As someone who loves having books around, I have taken many of them, knowing they will sit on the shelf unread.

Then there are the items which are kind of cool and I know I don't need, but I will take it anyway. Case in point, the tool in the picture. Brand new. Only god knows when we bought it, or what this 87 year old man was ever going to do with it. It is now in my house and I don't have a clue what this %# year old woman is ever going to do with it.

How long my mother's purging process will take is anybody's guess. There's the attic, basement, their bedroom, living room and the two bedrooms which once belonged to my brother and me, and which have long since become the last resting places for all of my dad's collections.

As my home begins to look like a hoarders and hers turns clutter free, I can only hope my mother's enthusiasm for this project wanes before too long. Else I may need to make some give-a-way piles of my own.

Hmmm. Who wants this...
Line forms to the right.

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A Life Lesson on a Beautiful Day

Right now I'm supposed to be writing...just not a blog.

I'll get around to what I need to do a little later. But I just had a few thoughts about the day, so here I go.

Yesterday, as we drove up to the weekend house the weather danced between pouring rain and brightening skies. Through it all, we could see the colors of the season bursting out of the gray sky. By next weekend, many of the leaves will have dropped, leaving barren spots where the crimson red and marigold yellow used to be.

Across the river into Pennsylvania, the colors were still beautiful...until we made the turn up the last small hill before the house. In mileage, it's only 2/10 of a mile, but the elevation is just enough to create a different eco system. In spring when the snow throughout the community has melted, we will still have piles scattered around, refusing to fade away. Summer comes a little later and fall lasts a few short weeks. Today, only a few trees have any color left, mostly they have turned brown or are bare.

This morning as I caught up on posts from some of the other writers I follow, there was one which made me rethink my day. Now I spend most of the week working from home and most of my time in front of a computer. Weekends are usually spent up here in the mountains and I treasure every minute of it. But today, the plan was to spend most of the day again, in front of the computer. Until I read the post Curating a Bucket List on the Fly by Jonah Gibson.  Jonah has recently found out he has cancer, and unfortunately it is not his first trip down that road. With each series of tests, his diagnosis has become more ominous. His post reflected on his imaginary Bucket List and how useless and absurd it was. There is the distinct possibility there will be no time for everything he once thought had value. A life lesson to be sure.

Indeed, tomorrow is promised to no one, and we should all take each day for the gift that is offered. Today life offered me a beautiful day and the chance to breathe in fresh air as I walked around the lake. I greedily accepted the offering, and I am both mentally and physically recharged. There is a certain amount of discipline to have a writer's life. But there is also only a certain amount of life we have to live.

Thank you Jonah for reminding me of that.

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Sniglisms: Part 1

In our first chapter of Sniglisms, I offer two stories while distinct in their subject matter are definitely sailing on the same ocean.


Story #1: Internet Use Disorder. Oh c'mon, you knew it was coming. I'm just surprised it's taken so long. We now have a name for the feeling of anxiety or shakiness we may experience when we are yanked off the internet...you know, offline. Are we ever offline anymore? Apparently gamers are the ones most affected by this new disorder, which goes by the nickname IUD. Correct me if I'm wrong, but haven't we already used that little trifecta of letters? I'd hate for a health care professional to get the two confused.

Now this little affliction is so new, they don't even know if it is an actual disorder or if it will need treatment. Scientists believe this internet addition may damage the same areas of the brain as drug and alcohol addiction. It appears to affect processing of emotions, executive thinking skills, attention span and cognitive control. You know, pretty much everything you need to be a stable human being. The younger generations are so screwed.

Here's the full story: Internet Addiction

Story #2: Writers are more prone to mental illness. huh, Imagine that. I thank my beautiful niece for this story...I think there was something she was trying to tell me.

A study done in Sweden has concluded that creative people are the craziest. They needed to do a study on this? Have they never done any actual...reading? Writers are nuts. Period. We write because we hear voices, shit did I say that out loud, inside us with lots to say. So we say it...in words.

Well, it seems the study says writers in particular, are the ones most likely to be bi-polar, clinically depressed, schizophrenic and be addicted to something or other... the internet perhaps? Do you see where I'm going here?

Writers. On the outside they seem to be pretty normal, but when you read some of their work you really start to see they are no-doubt-about-it, residing in another universe. Sane people just don't have those thoughts...or do they?

With so many writers out there who write and are published primarily on the internet, does it mean they are doubly afflicted? This is not good.

 I am a writer. I write for the internet. I am screwed.

Read the story: Writers are crazy or something like that.

And On A Thursday, She Created Sniglisms

Sniglisms. Don't bother to look it up, it doesn't exist.

Sniglisms is word I made up to create another category for the more acceptable sniglet. And yes, you can look that up.

snig·let

   /ˈsnɪglɪt/ Show Spelled[snig-lit] 

noun

any word coined for something that has no specific name

Or basically what the creator of the word, Rich Hall said "any word that doesn't appear in the dictionary, but should."

Since this is the internet and all that, there are thousands of stories each day which are, in my opinion, overrated. And equally, there are thousands which are overlooked. Usually those are the ones I enjoy the most.

Now, from time to time when a whole bunch of things clog up my head, I do a recurring feature called "Random Thoughts from a Scattered Brain." In that, I've been including crazy things I have observed or annoyed me (and we all know that doesn't take much), and my take on different stories I have read. Usually it's things I think should be mentioned, but there's not enough meat there to write a full blog.

Here's where we bring in sniglisms. 

This feature will offer my interpretation of stories I find fascinating, but may not have reached the masses. Full disclosure...in the past I have found quite a few male anatomy "slice and dice" stories...amusing. That's probably not the best word to use...

Anyway, tomorrow's post will be a learning experience...for you and me. I will try to offer some information which hopefully you will find interesting and/or humorous. And I will learn how quickly I can offend people.

Judging from past experience, it shouldn't be too long.

Tomorrow...snuggle up with a Sniglism Part 1.

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RUN..............

People from outside of the area think New Yorkers are rude, crude and uncaring. Well, some are...no doubt about it. But for every story of bad behavior there are ten stories of courtesy going unmentioned.

So here's just a short fun story, giving a shoutout to a security guard.

This past Friday, the 'uncle' left Queens to join us at the weekend house later in the day. Before starting the trip, he needed to drive into Manhattan to pick up a winter jacket he had ordered. He found a parking space on the street, fed the meter...allowing a half hour to run in, pay for the jacket and get back. That should have been more than enough time...except it's the 'uncle.'  Shopping for him is not exactly a quick in and out procedure.

Because clothes shopping for him is always a hit or miss thing, he tried on the jacket to be sure the fit was acceptable. hmm, maybe I should try the next size for comparison? Can you hear the minutes ticking? Yes, the next size was better, so he pays for it and realizes he is now 3 minutes over the time limit.

Now, ticket agents in NYC are like vultures smelling a dead carcass...they appear from out of nowhere and will swoop down and slap a ticket on your windshield at the exact moment the time expires. Fully aware of the looming $65 ticket which will be appearing at any time, the 'uncle' runs out of the store. As soon as he goes through the doors...beep, beep. The cashier forgot to take off the security tag.

No time for that, he keeps running...now with a security guard on his tail. As the guard yells to him to stop, the 'uncle' turns around and tells him he needs to feed the meter and laterals the shopping bag to the guard. After a complete catch by the store security, the 'uncle' continued to his car and the security guard went to check the package and have the tag removed.

As the 'uncle' returned to retrieve the jacket, he was met halfway by the security guard. Nice. He explained that he was only doing his job. That he was and it was done well. 

And no $65 ticket on the windshield.
Life in the big city...sometimes it just makes you smile.

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On The Soapbox: This Is Heath Care?

Well, I said on the Music blog that I wasn't going to rant about the Vice-Presidential debate and I'm not. I've got bigger fish to fry. My only comment on the debate is Martha Raddatz...that's how you do it son. Do you realize she has spent more time in war zones than all the candidates combined? Wouldn't you like to crawl into her head and find out what she thinks?

But anyway, today I need to write a few words about something I saw they other day. A quote from Romney about health care in this country. To be fair, I don't think any plan out there right now will work. The system is way too broken. Do I have an answer, I do not. What I do have is common sense and this ain't it.

“We don’t have a setting across this country where if you don’t have insurance, we just say to you, ‘Tough luck, you’re going to die when you have your heart attack,’  ”

Well, yes that is true. If you pull up to the emergency room turning a whiter shade of pale and grabbing your chest...ding, ding, you go to the front of the line.

“No, you go to the hospital, you get treated, you get care, and it’s paid for, either by charity, the government or by the hospital. We don’t have people that become ill, who die in their apartment because they don’t have insurance.”

We don’t have people that become ill, who die in their apartment because they don’t have insurance? Have you never heard of the word Cancer? Or MS, ALS, Diabetes, Alzheimer's or a host of other diseases where you die a slow death. Yes, you are going to die, just not quick enough for a trip to the emergency room.

How many people cannot afford to buy their daily medications, never mind afford the long term care needed for a chronic or terminal disease?  No, apparently it is better to wait until things become critical, then dial 911.

When a self-employed individual in this country needs to spend nearly $1000 a month for decent...not great health coverage, obviously something needs to be done. I know, I've been there and it is not easy. But having a candidate who really believes that emergency room medicine is the way we should go, well that's just crazy and scary.

Anybody out there got any ideas that actually make sense?

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Baseball Playoffs: October Rules

So here's what I love about baseball...EVERYTHING.

Right after football winds down and you are in the middle of a god-awful winter, you start to hear little chirps. A trade, or your pitcher who had surgery is starting to toss the ball...just little peeps. Then you mark your calender for P's and C's (pitchers and catchers) reporting to camp. Little by little, you inch your way to Spring Training. YAY.

Years ago, there were never any televised Spring Training games. But now, where there is revenue to be made, there is media. Now Spring Training games are far from exciting. Maybe an inning or two of your veterans and the rest of the game is filled with guys wearing very high numbers on their backs, who haven't got a snowball's chance in hell of making the team. So you watch a few innings, because you are a junkie and you haven't had a fix since October.

Then, just when you and the players are sick of meaningless games...it's Opening Day. YAY. We now have 162 games to savor. Granted not all of them will be exciting, some will be downright painful to watch, but it's still baseball. The beauty of the field, the ballparks and let's not forget those hot guys in tight uniforms :) ...but I digress.

For those who say the game is boring, I say... learn the game. Not know the rules...learn the game. It is anything but. These days when most everything about the game is based on statistics and rating systems, once in a while you get a classic moment when a manager listens to his gut. Last night in the Yankees-Baltimore game, there was one of those moments.

Bottom of the ninth, one out. Perennial whipping boy Alex Rodriguez is due up at bat. Arod, not exactly lighting up the scoreboard as of late, is pulled by manager Joe Girardi, in favor of 40 year old Raul Ibanez. Two pitches later, the score is tied as Ibanez hit one out of the park. In a move that showed a good deal of class, Arod was the first teammate on the steps of the dugout congratulating Ibanez.

Fast forward to the 12th inning. And guess who comes out to bat again...Raul Ibanez. And yes, another home run to win the game. YAY. Are you kidding me...they make movies out of shit like this.

Tonight we play game four. Hopefully the Yanks will finish the O's and I pray the game will end before midnight.  Then we can on to the next series and keep playing baseball while the frost is forming on the pumpkins.

As Mr. Fogerty sang so sweetly...

"Just to hit the ball and touch 'em all, a moment in the sun

It's gone and you can tell that one goodbye"

...Play Ball.

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A Couch, A Rant and A Plea

Ok, I was going to start writing about the guy who got caught with his pants down. What's the big deal with that, you ask? Well, at the time he was having sex with an abandoned couch. Not on an abandoned couch...with it.

Yes, that was a fun topic and I was ready to give it a few paragraphs until the latest rantings from a GOP State Rep from Arkansas. Oh boy. Jon Hubbard has written a book titled "Confessions of a Frustrated Conservative," in which he confesses to basically being a racist. Let's just read a few snippets from his book:


“… the institution of slavery that the black race has long believed to be an abomination upon its people may actually have been a blessing in disguise. The blacks who could endure those conditions and circumstances would someday be rewarded with citizenship in the greatest nation ever established upon the face of the Earth.” (Pages 183-89)

The blacks who could endure, would be rewarded...? Yeah sure, after they were whipped, raped, lynched and torn apart from their families, they most certainly would be thinking about their future generations living in the land of the free. But wait, it gets better. He talks about integration being not beneficial to either blacks or whites, sees blacks as lazy, and evidently they should consider themselves lucky for being enslaved. Because living in Africa...well, it basically sucked.


African Americans must “understand that even while in the throes of slavery, their lives as Americans are likely much better than they ever would have enjoyed living in sub-Saharan Africa.”  
“Knowing what we know today about life on the African continent, would an existence spent in slavery have been any crueler than a life spent in sub-Saharan Africa?” (Pages 93 and 189)

And of course, this guy is running for re-election. People of Arkansas...do not let this man be re-elected. Speak out against intolerance, inequality and racism..

Then we can all go back to talking about a guy and a couch.


Book quotes are from an article on talkbusiness.net.

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Tales From The Island: Part 2

A while back I began the tale of the ultimate fun vacation taken by six people...a trip to Jamaica for the purpose of attending the Reggae Sunsplash Festival.

The six of us were varying degrees of friends. We were an unorthodox blend of two brothers, two girlfriends, one couple, one ex-couple and two friends of one of the above. Most of us hardly knew the others, which made things interesting and fun. Part 1 of this series told the story about how we thought we would die surrounded by goats and chickens. This post is the tale of a phone call.

There was a restaurant within walking distance of the hotel, it was named the Dolphin Grill. They served breakfast, lunch and dinner. The front section for breakfast looked like a diner set-up, but the back two dinner rooms were really quite nice. It even had a fountain which doubled as a small pool...but that's a story for another day. We ate a great number of meals there. We ate a great number of hamburgers there. At some point, the burgers fought back, and each and every one of us ended up spending a lot of time in the bathroom. It was worth it, the burgers were spectacular.

Two of the three rooms of our group were adjoining. The door between the rooms was always open and we all spent a lot of time in each others room. One late afternoon, 'the other' and I were relaxing in one room and our friend 'the princess' (who is a he btw) was waiting for a call from one of the girls he'd picked up during our five nights there. It was also his day to spend some time sitting. Before he went into the bathroom, he stuck his head in our room and said he was expecting a call, and if the phone rang to answer it. No problem mon...irie.

A little while later we thought it might be fun to call his room and see what his reaction would be...so we did. We heard him calling out to us to please answer the phone...and again...and again. As we are holding in our laughter, we see him dash bare-ass out of the bathroom to answer the phone. As he said "hello," he was greeted with maniacal laughter at the other end. Turning around, he saw us with tears running down our faces. Seriously, he should have known better.

It was just a lesson to be learned:
When it comes to romance...shit or get off the pot.

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The Big Bird Affair

Let the revolution begin.

Poor Mitt. Why'd you have to go and pick on Big Bird? It seems you may have won the debate but pissed off another whole segment of the population. Luckily for you...they don't vote.

According to an article published in the Huffington Post, 8 year old Cecelia Crawford was none too happy about Romney's statement that he would cut funding to PBS, essentially firing Big Bird. Ms. Crawford wrote she hoped to have children some day and would want them to have the same opportunity to watch Sesame Street as she did. She further wrote "Do not cut it off."

Then the kicker "Find something else to cut off."

Out of the mouths of babes.

And I think I'll just let that one go.

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Cleaning the Pipes and Assorted Other Things

The plumber was coming today. Clean the drains, install a new kitchen faucet, a couple of odds and ends. Of course that meant I had to clean the bathroom, clean out everything under the kitchen sink and make everything look presentable. We all do this. God forbid this man comes over to snake out a drain and the shower is less than spotless. And, we know full well that we will be cleaning it again as soon as he leaves.

Now I do not have a cleaning person other than myself. But I do hear from everyone I know who has one that they clean the house before the cleaning person comes over. And they are paying these people to clean, right?

There is something in the human nature that tells you: You can live like a slob as long as no one else sees it. But as soon as there is the possibility of another human being having the opportunity to pass judgement on your cleanliness, we look around the house with a more critical eye.

Now the world of plumbing is not a pretty one. My plumber is third generation and let's just say, thrilled with doing it for over 30 years, he is not. But at this stage of his life, I am sure he is unwilling to give up the comfort factor of a thriving business, even if that business well...stinks.

Now I have a kitchen faucet which no longer leaks and a shower drain free of all that gross, ugly stuff which gets caught in it. And, I have another room in the house cleaned.

I also have a manicure which looks like it was nibbled on by wild wolves.

I think I need a cleaning person.
On second thought, I don't think my house is clean enough to let one come in.

Why is life so complicated?

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Random Thoughts from a Scattered Brain: October 1

Today is the first of October, a date which holds absolutely no significance for me. It just happens to be the day when I thought it might be a good idea to gather a few of the weird things or interesting stories which are bouncing around in my brain.

First up: So did you hear about the woman who has 100+ orgasms day? It seems there is a whole new syndrome out there, and while it sounds like quite an enjoyable one...as syndromes go, I imagine it might impact your life adversely.  Persistent genital arousal disorder (PGAD) affects some women to the point where they cannot go out in public or at the least, battle their bodies to have a semblance of a normal life. Everyday activities like driving or laundry create intense and uncontrollable waves of both pleasure and pain. Sounds like it could be annoying as hell.
But then again...

Check out one woman's story

Next we have our old friend, Todd Akin. You remember him, the "legitimate rape" Republican House Representative. Well, I guess he landed back on earth from whatever orbit he was in following that insulting and idiotic remark. Listen up, he's got a new one. He feels government shouldn't be involved in deciding if women should be paid equally to men for the same job. He thinks when the government starts putting their nose in the private business of the people, well that's when trouble happens. NO SHIT. But that apparently did not matter when he was giving a whole new definition to rape. ugh.

Listen to him here.

And how about the Bagel Heads in Japan...didn't catch that one? Well tell me, why wouldn't you want to inject a huge glob of saline solution into your forehead so it looks like a giant zit about to pop? But, that is not quite the look they are after. After the technician injects 400 cc of saline, he then puts a thumbprint into the middle of the faux zit to create a bagel shaped design in the middle of your forehead. Why, you ask? Try Extreme Body Modification...yep, that's what I said. Luckily these injections dissipate in about sixteen hours. So do you get one of these injections for a special event? And if more than one person shows up at a party with a bagel head, is that like two women wearing the same dress... just asking.

Look at the Bagel Heads

Don't think that look will be seen on the streets on New York any time soon.

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