Flip a TV channel and there will undoubtedly be a drug commercial aimed at treating some ailment--from allergies and cholesterol, to smoking cures. Watching them is enough to cause depression. If you have trouble sleeping, there’s a drug which allows blissful sleep--but be careful-- the side affects may put you on Cloud 9: hives; difficulty breathing; swelling of your face, lips, tongue, or throat. The warnings also include that one should not drive or pilot an airplane while taking the drug. No kidding... Erectile dysfunction can be alleviated with a drug, but if it works too well, see your doctor. How does a fella do that? Wear a dress? Another drug for kicking the nicotine habit shows a cheery-faced woman who says she didn’t think she could ever quit the habit.
Side effects of the 'marvelous' drug may include: thoughts of suicide, or the attempts thereof; depression, paranoia, hallucinations, confusion, mania, and dangerous impulses. Good grief! Sounds like a Steven King novel…
I’m lucky to have a drug-free medicine cabinet. Except for the occasional aspirin--now where did I put that bottle? There’s probably a drug for that…
“Hey, Tom! Looks like we need to replace the weather stripping--wha-at is that?" I said as I looked closer at the now open sliding door.
I took the end of the flattened black strip and pulled it out from under the door-- a long, black, slightly crumpled indigo snake. Just the thing to kick start my early morning, with a foggy head, before my coffee.
I quivered as I went outside, depositing the smelly snake in the bushes. I was also thinking of the many times we leave the doors open to get some early morning cool air into our warm house. What are we inviting in that we don’t know about?
When we first moved into our home, I found two scorpions in our bedroom. It’s easy for skinny creatures to creep onto the lanai, with the open grooves in the pool decking leading out from the pool cage enclosure.
I’ve thought of plugging up the outside channels to keep snakes and wolf spiders from creeping onto the decking--nothing like seeing a questionable snake, sunning itself by the pool--or a huge furry spider tucked under the pool coping.
I have some cleaning to do in the house. What’s lurking in the corners?
Watching football all day on Sunday is enough to drive a sane wife nuts. Don't get me wrong-- football can be exciting--with all those 'tight ends' running around...
I was a big 49er fan during the Joe Montana days: Joe and Clark, Craig, Paris, Rice, and Lott kept the excitement in high gear. The Niners final game score often hit the stratosphere. They inspired a big love for the game.
We now watch the Patriots, rooting for Tom Brady--since Jen went to high school with Tom, and shared a class or two.
Yes, there’s little movement coming from the men during Sunday football. Maybe a grunt or two… or an outburst in response to a stupid play.
After several hours of channel-flipping-between games, the remote is barely juiced by the time I want to use it to turn on Desperate Housewives. Shoot! D.S. isn't on.
Instead, I sit plugged into my earphones and portable dvd player, watching a couple of Laverne and Shirley episodes. A few outbursts of my own drew glances from the guys, wondering what I was laughing at.
When football season comes to a screeching halt, what are our men going to do on Sundays? Rosie Greer took up needlepoint. Hmmm…
We’ve had digital cable for a few months now. There must be 200 channels, so why is it so hard to find something to watch?
Some really good movies are televised overnight and during the early morning hours. Tom always says "Why can’t they show this program in the evening?" And how many times is The Shawshank Redemption and Arachnophobia going to be shown?
Tom likes The Military Channel when military aircraft is profiled. Otherwise, it seems like a recycled History Channel.
Just as we get hooked on a newly discovered series, Destination Truth, the series is running the season finale . We’re watching the older D.S. shows On Demand; makes one think about the eyes caught glowing yellow-red in our woods one night…
Ghost Hunters is creepy fun, especially when there's actually something peculiar and eerie caught on film or audio. The TAPS team would have had a field day in our California home…
Spooks and hairy creatures aside, Channel surfing through the Guide is what we all do. It doesn’t take Paul long to settle on UFC. We’ve gone from seeing Anthony Zimmern drinking goat’s blood with Masai, to trailing blood on Randy Couture. I keep a good Chocoholic mystery by Jo Anna Carl on my lap.
I’ve been watching some classic and very funny Netflix Laverne and Shirley; also the quirky series, Arrested Development and Seinfeld on Jetflicks.com on my phone. Give me a good laugh, any time…
My friend, “Mark” recently went through some of his son’s belongings left behind when he moved out of state. Mark needed some advice on shipping box sizes.
There were two large duffel bags filled with bulky items and a few grade F porno flicks stuffed inside of a brown paper bag. The discovery didn’t surprise Mark.
His son had a couple of roommates at the time and Mark figured these movies belonged to them. I’ve never seen or wanted to view a pornographic movie.
When Tom and I went to Copenhagen years ago, we went to a very "popular" section of the city, Vesterbro.
Along the Istergade were buildings with huge windows illuminated with bright colored lighting. Looming above the street, seductive women posed in the colorful windows.
A movie theater announced the showing of Emmanuelle. A number of American tourists were streaming into the theater. In no way was I going to that movie. Tom thought it would be a lark to see a soft porno flick in Copenhagen. Nah-uhh, no way Jose...
We continued to walk the street of ill-repute, ogling, with eyes-popped. Store windows displayed devices which looked as though they belonged to the French Inquisition, or Caligula’s House of Joy. Some of the stuff was so wild, I was imagining the instruction manual must be enormous….
I eventually found a huge box for Mark and all his son's stuff. Mark decided to keep some of the items of clothing after all. The shipping would be too costly. As for the brown paper bag, it was no where in sight…
Naples hosted its first International Film Festival. I was sitting in Books-A-Million at Mercato last Thursday when a a group of tall and exceptionally handsome Italian men walked into the café for coffees.
The third thing I noticed about them were their shoes: shiny, black and barely out of Reptile Junction Shoe Emporium.
The well-dressed men slithered past me, slim and model-like--no bulging gym muscles creeping out from their designer shirts.
The air smelled wonderfully fragrant. I haven’t smelled anything that knee-melting and sweat-inducing in a long time. One gorgeous man looked over at me and smiled broadly, his teeth sparkling snow-blinding white.
Wouldn’t it be cool if they were producers or directors and wanted me in a film I daydreamed, missing the sip of my tea, and dribbling tea droplets down my Marshall’s top.
I dabbed and snapped back to reality as the group of men flowed past me one more time, speaking Italian. Snow White smiled, and I smiled back, flashing my Crest Whitestrips teeth.
Tom picked me up a few minutes later. As I slid into the car, a salty-sweat scent filled my nose. That’s my guy…
I know what I’m getting Tom: one of those scented tree hangers for the car. I wonder if they come in Calvin or Ralph Lauren scents? Ahhh.
It’s that time of year again when craziness descends in the form of two-legged, pushing and shoving humanoids, who have just squeezed into the last known mall parking space on the face of the earth.
Beam me up! Now, please, before the multitude of swarming, caffeinated creatures, embodied with special sale radar and nudging elbows suck me into their hive of madness.
Buy 1 and get 1 at 110% off!! Huh…? Swarm, buzz…
The head-wrapped kiosk man with Omar Sharif eyes is demonstrating an amazing flying toy, acrobatically diving and swooping. Omar zeroes in on me since I foolishly looked over at him.
“No, no thanks,“ I reply. He’s swooping the toy back and forth. “Okay, only if it can fly me up and away from here!” “You crazy lady, go away--no come back.” Another Seinfeld moment. My Kodak moments are getting slimmer and slimmer...
I’m trying to find a wedge of space to see what’s on a sale rack of clothes. Ladies with vulture sized handbags are flinging and shoving coat hangers of polyester and silk… I’m suddenly thinking of a nice hot cup of vanilla caramel tea within the comfort of my four walls.
I slink and dodge the invading masses of female flesh navigating down the aisles, some of whom are wearing athletic shoes;others are perched precariously in stilettos. I find the exit door, and finally, my car.
Home never looked so good as I seat myself at the computer, sipping my tea. Online shopping is great: I find some used, almost new books on Amazon for a penny.
I continue to weave my way through the World Wide Web, until I hit the Black Widow of Cyberspace: the servers are down--please try again later.
Medical dramas give a false impression of doctors. I’ve never had a doctor that even closely resembled the handsome hunks in the TV series.
Jen worked in a local hospital where there was one particular doctor that every female office worker swooned over, keeping his picture planted on their desks. His profile was used in the hospital’s advertising. That man was born under a blanket of lucky stars, and then some…
My doctor resembles a cross between Don Knotts and Boris Karloff. Just once, I wish the doctor would match up with the cute name my fingers had so carefully picked out in the Yellow Pages.
My present doctor also reminds me of an old Italian nun I had in the eighth grade. When I first saw Sr. Christine, I was scared. She had dark searing eyes with a stone-like face.
Yes, just once let me pick out a doctor that will curl the edges of my paper gown--and my toes-- and whose needle won’t look like a harpoon…
I hate standard time. The morning light jars me awake around 5:30, which might be okay if I was 12 and had a paper route …
So, trying to fall asleep again is like trying to teach an alligator to roll over. The birds are awake early, chirping full trottle, and the pool pump next door is droning a few feet from our bedroom window.
Give me back my enjoyable evening light, when I could sit at the dining room table during dinner and look out at the woods, illuminated with the glowing colors of the setting sun: Trees fringed with lavender and gold...
Now, while I cook dinner, the windows are dark, and my eyes are getting droopy. It feels like 10:00. Looking ahead to six months of progressing darkness puts me in hibernation mode… zzzz