No Words

Now, something to say "enough" about. As a parent, I cannot begin to imagine what the parents of those kids are going through. Send your kid to school, never imagining that being gunned down is a potential scenario. Good lord.

Don Bleep Dies

Don Ho died yesterday. Unfortunately, his death cannot be reported by mainstream journaists or they might lose their jobs. In fact, I'm a little concerned that Blogger will toss me from the blogosphere for uttering his name. You must admit...the timing is a little humorous.

That Was The Week That Was

There were a lot of crazy things that happened this week in the news, but I would be remiss if I didn't weigh in on the Imus story. I think everyone agrees that racial humor is unacceptable, but why Imus and why this time? What about Howard Stern, Eddie Murphy, Chris Rock and countless other comedians who make their living offending people? How did Rush Limbaugh get away with calling women "FemiNazis" on his radio show for years? Oh right.... that pesky old First Amendment.

Clearly, this wasn't the first time that Imus said something offensive over the years, yet millions of people continued to listen to his show, advertisers continued to sponsor him, and politicians and journalists...red and blue alike...continued to appear on his show. But when he offends sports figures that somehow crosses the line? Maybe this says more about America's obsession with sports than with our supposed "outrage" over public racism. Michael Richards made a vicious rant against black people that was not a part of his comedy act, yet Seinfeld videos continue to sell and advertisers continue to sponsor the syndicated reruns. Mel Gibson's career didn't go down in flames after his anti-Semitic diatribe.

Phil Mushnick of the The New York Post had a good take on the situation and the hypocrisy involved in his column here. I think it's sad that this will be Imus' legacy, when he's done so much good for so many. Sure, he brought it on himself. But let's be equal-opportunity enforcers and practice our newfound zero tolerance across the board.

For another EXCELLENT take on this topic, check out Upward Over the Mountain.

The US vs. John Lennon - A Must See Film

The best 100 minutes I've spent in awhile was spent watching this documentary. Not only did it take me back to my own anti-war roots in the late '60s and early '70s, but it made me realize how apathetic we've become as a nation. We speak in polite tones about how appaling the current debacle in Iraq is, but we don't express it with the passion and outrage that we did during Vietnam. And if you think the comparison is not valid, here's an excerpt from a Richard Nixon speech on Vietnam (some of which was capured in the film). If this doesn't sound familiar to you, listen a little closer when Bush speaks about Iraq:


"We have adopted a plan which we have worked out in cooperation with the South Vietnamese for the complete withdrawal of all U.S. combat ground forces, and their replacement by South Vietnamese forces on an orderly scheduled timetable. This withdrawal will be made from strength and not from weakness. As South Vietnamese forces become stronger, the rate of American withdrawal can become greater.

I have not and do not intend to announce the timetable for our program. And there are obvious reasons for this decision which I am sure you will understand. As I have indicated on several occasions, the rate of withdrawal will depend on developments on three fronts.

One of these is the progress which can be or might be made in the Paris talks. An announcement of a fixed timetable for our withdrawal would completely remove any incentive for the enemy to negotiate an agreement. They would simply wait until our forces had withdrawn and then move in.

The other two factors on which we will base our withdrawal decisions are the level of enemy activity and the progress of the training programs of the South Vietnamese forces. And I am glad to be able to report tonight progress on both of these fronts has been greater than we anticipated when we started the program in June for withdrawal. As a result, our timetable for withdrawal is more optimistic now than when we made our first estimates in June. Now, this clearly demonstrates why it is not wise to be frozen in on a fixed timetable.

We must retain the flexibility to base each withdrawal decision on the situation as it is at that time rather than on estimates that are no longer valid."

Of course, most of the film centers around the outrageous behavior of the FBI and their attempts to silence dissenters on behalf of Nixon's White House. Truly horrifying. There are no conspiracy theories posed about the death of Lennon. I applaud the filmmakers' restraint in that regard.

For me, there was a bit of comc relief as well: Seeing Bobby Seale as a guest on the Mike Douglas Show. Those were different times, my friends.

"Happy Yeast"

My grandmother's accent was a constant source of amusement for me as a kid (and admittedly still is, years after her death). It was always affectionate amusement, though, as opposed to the "sauce of entertainment" that is my mother.

Easter is a holiday that I just don't "get". Since my recovery from Catholicism it holds no religious significance for me, and now that I have children older than 6 there's no secular significance either. No bunnies or coloring of eggs around here. If it's supposed to be a celebration of the beginning of Spring, tell that to the 36 degree winter-like conditions out my front door.

In the 60s, however, it was a wonderful opportunity for parents everywhere to humiliate their children by dressing them up in spongy "spring coats" and scratchy hats with annoying chin straps that were prime targets for snapping (until bra straps replaced them). Boys were not exempt. They wore suits with shorts, a look that has just never caught on. Understandably.

Here are some real life illustrations:

This is my mean sister, the one I don't talk to anymore. It tickles me to post this picture of her with the Jackie O hat, sexy netting and all.


I do love this sister, so I hope she doesn't kill me, but the hat is priceless. The ultimate Easter Bonnet. She actually looks younger NOW, at 61.


Two of my cousins who were just so damned cute as little kids. But note the suit. And shorts. And wallpaper.


Me in my "Total Dork" period, complete with missal and Edith Prickly eyeglasses. My mother's fashion sense (for us, not for her) could only be described as "Pastel Refugee".


OK, I'll admit that this was one cute dress. It must have been a gift!


So.... to all who celebrate, "Happy Yeast!". As for us pagans, we'll be spending the day watching The Masters and anticipating the start of the final season of The Sopranos.

"...and your little dog, too!"

margie_gulch, originally uploaded by panthergirl.

My mother always hated animals. In Brooklyn, we would say she "shkeeved" them. If we were visiting someone who had a dog, she'd cringe if the little thing so much as brushed up against her. Every once in awhile I'd drag a stray kitten home, but it would be banished outdoors and would eventually leave. Since my dad loved dogs (sort of, but that's another story), we got a German Shephard puppy when I was about five. She was not allowed in the house except to sleep in a small area of the basement. Eventually she got sick. My parents took her to the vet and came home without her, tossing some matter-of-fact explaination, leaving us shocked and heartbroken.

When I was in High School, a friend found a puppy in a dumpster and gave it to me. I did a big sell job, promising my parents that she was going to be a small dog, and somehow my they agreed to let me keep her. AND because she was so little she was even permitted indoors. I named her Stymie, after the character on the Little Rascals. (Clearly she was neither male nor black, but those details didn't dissuade me.)

Stymie was kind of a pain, as she never really got the hang of "housebreaking", but we all adored her. She was the strangest looking creature (although no match for Mr. Winkle). We guessed she was a cross between a Corgi and a Pekinese, without any of the cuteness. But one day, much to my amazement, I heard my mother coo, "We love you, Stymie..." Huh? "We love you"?? She never even told her KIDS that she loved them!

When I was 17 and graduated from high school, my parents moved to Florida and took Stymie with them. A few years later she died of leukemia and they were devestated. We couldn't even mention her name without both of them dissolving in tears.

The face that softened my mother's heart?

Netflix Picks

Never having watched "Boston Legal" but knowing many people who love it, I've started renting Season One from Netflix and I'm hooked! I've loved James Spader since "Sex, Lies and Videotape" and he is just great in this show. What a psycho. And William Shatner as William Shatner (no matter how many times he says "Denny Crane", he's still Shatner to me) is just priceless. I loved "The Practice", but otherwise am not a huge David E. Kelley fan. This show, however, is smart and funny and very well crafted. Now...what time is the mail coming?




"Queens" is a terrific Spanish comedy that is less about several gay men planning a group wedding ceremony than it is about their mothers... very funny stuff. The kind of film you might only see thanks to the eclectic Netflix library.

Sanjaya Quits Idol!!!

Quoted today as saying, "I am certain that I have a better chance at being a pop star if I quit Idol now. It's clear that I have a huge fan base who will buy millions and millions of my records as well as my "Hula For Dummies" DVD, and I want to be free to manage my own career now. I will only be held back by waiting to be crowned this year's American Idol, and besides...those songs they write for the finale show have WAY too many words."




April Fools!

Boo Booze

When I mentioned in my last post that I'm going to be on The Today Show, someone commented that there has been a lot of bad blogger press about this story featuring moms who drink "socially" during playdates with their small children.

I watched the video of the woman featured in this piece who tripped over herself trying to explain that she and her friends don't "get drunk", and that she watched her parents drink all the time (surprise, surprise) and never witnessed any bad behavior.

As any of you who read this blog know, I'm no prude. But this story made me sick. It's not that it's so horrible for someone to have a drink while watching her child, but is it SO difficult not to? The woman said that no one would bat an eye if dads were drinking while supervising little kids, but I certainly would. I don't see it as a double standard thing. I see it as a/ a poor message to kids ("Mommy's stressed and needs a belt.") and b/ potentially dangerous on a number of levels (Mom/Dad is impaired when child gets hurt, or child takes a swig when no one is looking.)

One of the biggest differences (and there have been many) I noticed when I moved from the city to the 'burbs was the whole culture of drinking. It just didn't seem to be the same in the city. Here, you can't walk into someone's home without them immediately offering you a drink. I was dropping my son off one day at NOON. I was literally getting out of my car, leaving him at his friend's house, and getting back into my car. His friend's dad offered me a glass of wine and was so insistent that I had to say "no thanks" several times before he got the message. I was starting to feel really uncomfortable about leaving my kid there, and if he were younger I wouldn't have. I know that at 12 years old he would call me if there were a problem. I've since seen this dad clearly loopy on several occasions so I'm not so sad that Lucas doesn't visit their home anymore. He had dinner out with them a few times and he said that the dad drank quite a bit and then drove home (thankfully my son rode with the mom, but the dad took his two younger children in his car). This isn't the only parent that I've seen impaired around his or her kids, and I think it's irresponsible.

Call me judgmental... I don't care. When you sign on to have kids, you've agreed to change your life in some ways that aren't so much fun. And maybe saving your cocktail hour for adult time is just one of those ways.

Note: I don't think this is the mom on the segment I saw, which was a "follow-up", but she was on the original piece. Interesting that her father was an alcoholic, no?

Today was here... today!

A producer from the Today Show, a camera crew and author were at my house today interviewing me for a segment that is going to air sometime between now and mid-May. I don't know how this happens, but it will be the third time I've wound up on TV after contacting a news show (and there was one time when I wrote to Dr. Phil about my daughter and high school homework woes. They called me to be on the show, but my daughter refused to talk about her issues on national TV. Go figure!)

They were here all day, interviewing and shooting. When Lucas got home they even shot us walking Kelso and me gazing into the woods from my deck. Who knows how much of that will end up in the final segment, but it was fun. See... watching America's Next Top Model really does pay off.

I'm not going to tell you what it was about... but i'll post the air date as soon as I get it!

Separated at Birth

Where's a coyote when you need one?

Photo Friday: Sentimental

Raggedy Ann is really the subject of this week's theme. My daughter got the handmade doll for her first birthday, but didn't show much interest until she was about 2. After that, "Raggy" became not just a sleeping companion, but a constant presence. We went NOWHERE without Raggy. When my daughter's dad and I split up, Raggy had to travel from house to house, and if for some reason she had been left behind, one of us had to get in the car at 10pm and chauffeur Raggy back to her rightful place, next to Emma.

One fateful day, Raggy sat in the stroller while Emma played in the playground with her "manny", Arthur. After a few hours, they returned to the stroller to find the precious redhead GONE. Someone had stolen Raggy. (Who does that?) When I came home from work that night and heard the news, I cried. It was like a death in the family. Emma was inconsolable.

We called the woman who had made Raggy and asked if she could make an identical one. Our plan was to tell Emma that she had been found, not that she was being replaced by a new Raggy. The problem was that by that time, most of Raggy's face had been kissed off and she was in pretty rough shape.

So, when the new Raggy arrived we explained that she had gone to a "spa" for a makeover. Emma bought it and all was right with the world.



Over the years, I think there were about five Raggys...each replacing the other seamlessly. Emma is now 21 years old and has every one of them and still keeps the latest one with her wherever she is sleeping. If that's not sentimental, I don't know what is.



Maybe my determination to keep Emma connected to her heart-doll was driven by my own experience as a child. This is a photo of me with the stuffed animal that I held dear. My beloved poodle that was bought to appease my yearning for a real dog. I walked her on a leash, dragging her up and down the streets of Brooklyn. When my mother determined that she had gotten too rank, she threw the poodle into the mouth of a roaring garbage truck as I watched in horror. I may not have erased that memory by treating my daughter differently, but I can rest assured that her sentimental feelings about Raggy will not be forever marred by an unhappy ending.

The Torture and the Hair

The rash that won't go away, the cockroach you just can't kill, the festering boil that is Sanjaya. Thanks to Howard Stern and friends, he will continue to wage an assault on our eyes and ears for another week.

The little girl who couldn't stop crying during Tuesday night's Idol was like manna from heaven for Joel McHale of The Soup. She was too good to be true!

Last night, I watched the show on TiVO when I got back from dinner out. I thought my TiVO cut off before I got to see the judges' reactions to that sham of a vote-off. But from what I understand, the judges were nowhere to be seen last night. Absent in protest?

What is the real problem here? Why doesn't "Idol" limit the number of votes ala DWTS? Because they can't say "after 30 million votes..."? When 15 million are coming from Sanjaya's mother, the numbers hardly impress. Based on prior "winners", the votes mean nothing anyway. Ruben Studdard anyone?

C'mon, Sanjaya. Have a little self-respect and throw in the towel. One woman in California is on a hunger strike until he is given the boot. Can you blame her? She's simply trying to reduce the volume of upchuck after next week's performances.

Dancing with the Stars Who Didn't Make It Onto The Surreal Life

Billy Ray Cyrus. Need I say more?

Yes, I am watching the car wrecks of all car wrecks: Dancing with the Stars. With all the money that this show is making, do you think they could spring for the ACTUAL recordings of the songs? As if watching the 'dancing' weren't bad enough, the music reminds me of every bad wedding band I've ever heard (no, not mine. I never use a band when I get married).

Still, it will all be worth it if Heather Mills' leg flies off.

(I know, I'm going to be struck by lightning. Fear not. Been there, done that.)

Macho, Macho Man...

"300". The most hilarious serious film you'll see (or won't see, if you're smarter than me) all year.

I made the mistake of believing the 8.3 rating on IMDB, not realizing that those who voted were probably 18 year old boys who like to scream "raaaargh" and pound their chests. At the movies.

The dialogue is absolutely ridiculous. One reviewer hit the nail on the head when she pointed out a moment when a character says "This won't be over quickly, and you won't enjoy it." That's a one-line assessment of this film. Although I wouldn't say I didn't "enjoy" it. I was laughing so hard I was crying. How can you not enjoy a film about the Village People confronting Grace Jones, Quasimodo and Dumbo? Especially when it tries to be so. heavy.

You think I'm kidding? If you see it, you'll know exactly what I'm talking about.



I realize this was inspired by Frank Miller's graphic novel. But this isn't a graphic novel. It's a cartoon. It's the Road Runner in Speedos (with a lot of impaling and decapitations).

If you do plan to see this film, you might not want to schedule it before or after a meal. If the gore doesn't make you nauseaus, the script will.

Dick Objects to Vagina

If you are living under a rock and haven't heard this story, please click the link and read it.

Basically, three high school girls (in MY district High School...yay!) were facing suspension for daring to utter the word "vagina" in an open mike event at school. They were reading from Eve Ensler's The Vagina Monologues and refused to compromise the piece by substituting the language with oh, I don't know, va-jay-jay?

The principal, named Dick, says this is about "insubordination" and not censorship. Ok DICK...whatever you say, DICK. I strongly suggest that you not utter your name in front of a group of high school students ever again.

In a related, but not newsworthy, story: I was subject to something similar this week at work. No, I did not say the word vagina. We use an application called "Parts" which is changing its name to "Blue". In preparation, I had some posters made that say "Does winter make your Parts turn Blue?" The legal department rejected it, saying (with a straight face) that the language was "too risque". Those dirty-minded lawyers. Mind you, I work for the company that makes that men's deodorant with the completely sexist TV commercials that run on MTV.

But, to quote Tom Petty, "I won't back down." I'm taking my cue from the Vagina Girls.

The Real "Mr. Bean"

Apropos to this week's Photo Friday theme: Addiction



Ever wonder how Starbucks became the behemoth company it is today? I attribute their success to one man, my late ex-husband Tony...Lucas' dad. Yes, his coffee addiction built every one of those Starbucks stores you see, one Venti Cafe Americano at a time. (He didn't even buy the Mochafrappacaramellolatte crap...just your basic cup o' joe. But he did also buy truckloads of ground coffee to make at home.)

This was a typical day for Tony. We'd wake up and if I started to chat with him as he rose from the bed, he would back out of the room as he answered me. The coffee pot was beaming him downstairs, and he had no physical control over it. Then, as I'd be getting ready for work, putting on my makeup in our tiny bathroom with no counter space, he'd arrive at the doorway with MY cup of coffee. The expression on his face and the gentle way he cradled the cup would have made any observer believe he was bringing me manna from heaven. Sounds nice, right? Call me ungrateful, but there was no place to PUT the cup, and while I enjoy coffee it doesn't have quite the same euphoric effect on me.

He would proceed to have at least two more cups (one of which he would take into the bathroom with the newspaper and a cigarette. YUCK! Who does that??), while a second pot was brewing. Before leaving for work, he'd pour that pot into a large thermos (10 cup) and off he'd go.

That thermos took him through the morning. At lunchtime, he'd go to Starbucks for a few Venti Cafe Americanos. They knew him by name. At more than one location.

This all sounds very silly, but it was a serious addiction. If he did NOT have coffee for a few hours he'd fall asleep. No matter where he was, or what he was doing. When Lucas was an infant, I went out to the store one afternoon for about an hour. When I pulled into the driveway, I heard my infant SCREAMING inside the house. I ran in and found the baby in his little seat, two feet away from a sleeping Tony who was in a slumped position on the sofa. It took me no less that 10 minutes to rouse him. As always, when I did manage to wake him, he swore he was not sleeping.

I avoided leaving him home alone with Lucas as much as possible. When I did have leave him, I would suggest that he not sit on the couch at all. Then, when Luke was 4, I came home (again from a 15 minute trip to the store) to find Tony passed out and little Lucas sitting on the kitchen floor surrounded by 4 empty yogurt containers, several empty bags of chips, and eight little applesauce cups. Tony did not hear me enter the house, and I was tempted to take Lucas and then call ... asking how everything was going and if I could talk to my little boy. (Thinking I might be able to scare him into different behavior) Of course this plan would not have worked, because the phone wouldn't have awakened him.

He took Lucas to the movies once and when they arrived home, my son told me that "a lady had to help me wake Daddy up". Thank god the "lady" wasn't a hair-dye wielding child-napper. And so much for father-son movie dates.

At dinnertime, he HAD to have a glass of wine or a beer. But if he hadn't started a pot of coffee prior to dinner, therefore having to wait for it after the meal, he would often fall asleep right in his chair. It was not unusual for us to clear the table and go off to our evening activities, leaving him right there. He'd usually come-to around 9PM.

I often suggested that he needed to go to a sleep clinic, that he might have sleep apnea, but he adamantly denied a problem. However, one evening we went to a local children's carnival with the kids. While there, Lucas spotted a little playground area with a $1 entry fee. I was out of cash at that point and Tony only had one dollar in his pocket. However, the coffee demons were beckoning him. As he lied and told Lucas he didn't have enough money, I rolled up my sleeve and slapped my forearm: the universal sign for "You are a junkie, you asshole." (Sorry to speak ill of the dead, but this was beyond anything I could fathom.)

It probably became scariest for me after we separated, because I was terrified that he would inadvertenly start a fire in his apartment when Lucas was there. (All of our plastic kitchen utensils, like ladles etc., had been disfigured from being left on the stove near an open flame.) I also knew that a smoke alarm would not have broken through his 'coma'. I told all of this to the court but they did not limit his custody rights. Thankfully, no harm came to Lucas (he was also thoroughly trained as to how to check the kitchen constantly and how to call 911.)

Only because Lucas was not with him, I find this final story the funniest of all. He drove his car onto the Bridgeport Ferry in CT which goes to Long Island. It's a $90 trip with your vehicle, and takes about one and a half hours to get across the Sound. His sister was expecting him at her house in the Hamptons that afternoon. Hours and hours went by and she did not see him. She called me, but I had no idea what happened.

As it turned out, he was reading on the top deck of the boat and fell asleep, head hanging into the open book. He fell asleep and made THREE ROUND TRIPS. His neck was severely sunburned, but what really burned him was that he was charged for all three trips!! As with most other things, he took no responsibility and blamed the crew for not waking him up. (They may have attempted, as I had so many times, and given up.)

Bottom line is that he was a self-medicater. Many people accept drugs and alcohol as the addictive substances that people abuse to balance their own brain chemistry, but I can tell you first-hand that coffee can be just as bad. I hated having our lives controlled by chemicals. While I like to have my coffee in the morning, some days I'll purposely skip it just to assure myself that I can.

Things That Make You Go "WTF?"

I was in a restaurant today for lunch, seated a few tables away from Frank Gifford. He does not look like this anymore, by the way. I've seen him several other times, always accompanied by Kathie Lee, but not today. She's pretty scary looking in person too. I was tempted to go tell him that people are brought to my blog in droves, several times a day through Google and other search engines, with a burning desire to see a photo of "Kathie Lee braless". (This is probably the most searched for term on my blog, although I have never posted such an image. This is followed closely by a search for "Jo Frost's tits". Go figure.)
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I saw a segment on The Today Show about how credit card companies are screwing around with people, jacking up finance charges so they never, ever get out of debt. I decided to look more closely at my American Express bill, and whaddya know...my finance charge had risen to 30% !!!!! So, I called them and just like that, no questions asked, they lowered it to 13%. Hmm.
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Sabrina voted off American Idol....



Sanjaya NOT voted off American Idol.

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Jesus married with kid(s): Impossible!!!
Jesus comes back from the dead and flies up to "heaven": Totally believable!!

Hokey dokey...

I Beg Your Parton

How (or why) does one go from THIS Kelly Pickler:


to THIS one:


(see video clip here). What a shock, that she idolizes Dolly Parton! Looks like a case of Single White-Trash Female!

Photo Friday: Alone

....... almost. ;)

(not that easy to be alone on Daytona Beach)

What I've Been Doing Since Last Friday

1. Working from Home

(No, that is not me. That is not my deck, that is not my glass of wine, I wouldn't be caught dead in those shorts, but the weather looks damned nice as opposed to the slushy mess outside my door. Oh, and that is most DEFINITELY not my laptop.)

2. Being tended to by paramedics and the State Police.

You might think it sounds like fun to have eight men in your living room at 1 AM (you being the only person in pajamas), but I'd beg to differ. You can read about other asthma adventures in this post called "Back in the E-E-E-R". The good news is that this time I called early enough in the process to be treated at home. Lucas never even woke up.

3. Watching this:


Yep... it's bonus time kids. Got me some Samsung 56" DLP HDTV with Surround Sound! I've reclaimed the living room. The X-Box has been relegated to my son's room, and I can see every pore on Rosie O'Donnell's face. OK, it was still worth it. Did you know that Jane Seymour's eyes are two different colors? And I could practically count the feathers on all those fabulous Oscar night dresses. You know, before my lungs cut out on me.

There are some things that hi-def just cannot help with.

Did I mention the cool wireless rear amp and speakers? I may never leave the house again.

Silly Idol

OK, so I'm as much of an American Idol geek as the next person. And my insights this week aren't earth shattering: the guys sucked, the white chicks sucked. Period. Jordan is my girl. Lamika is great, Melinda Doolittle is awesome, but I'm pulling for Jordan. Love me some Chris Sligh, but he'll get himself a career regardless.

One of my biggest beefs with the show are the mostly awful song choices. If I hear "Ribbon in the Sky" one more time I think I'll yank my intestines out through my nose with a crochet hook. One reason I love Jordan is that she picked a Joan Armatrading tune! Thank you Jeeeezus.

But what I will never, ever understand about this show is the concept of having the LOSERS "sing one more time". Huh?? "America" has just told you that you are the worst of the worst, the silt at the bottom of my gas tank, the nose goblins under Stimpy's desk.... and yet we want to hear you again? No, the point is that we NEVER want to hear you again!

And can someone please instruct Ryan Seacrest on the fine art of contestant elimination? He either pulls the band-aid off one hair at a time, or he offhandedly informs the stunned victim that he or she is heading home with about the same amount of drama in his voice that he'd use to say "Um, you've got spinach in your teeth."

So... that's my Idol wrap up for this week. The show that makes TiVO worth every penny I spend on it.

Everything You Need to Know About Britney...

...you can find here.

What My Dog Dreams About

In Honor of the Westminster Dog Show

Didn't get to see as much of the show as I wanted to this year, but I do have my own favorite little video to share starring that Dog of Dogs, Triumph. In the words of Perez Hilton, if you are easily offended do not click here.

"One hundred and EIGHTY!"

OK, so I should probably add an 11th "things I've done that you probably haven't" that reads: Got my picture in the New York Observer and my name in "Bulls Eye News" for my outstanding dart throwing skills. (Yes, there's really a magazine called Bulls Eye News.)

When I was married to husband #2, he taught me how to throw darts. We had a board in our kitchen, and at night while he was working I would throw and throw and throw while my daughter was asleep. He was a really skilled player, so we started to frequent a dart bar and eventually started joined the NYC league. I played a lot and became pretty skilled myself. (Except for the choking factor, but that's a general problem I have with all sports.)

It was an interesting world, the dart world, because the people in it were either hard drinking, hard smoking types (think Tuesday nights at the bowling alley), or white collar ad agency types, or artists and musicians. This picture was taken at our home base -- a bar called Muffin's Pub --, in 1990, when the New York Observer did a cover story about the dart scene.

One night in 1992 I was scheduled to play but decided to meet a friend for dinner instead. That night Muffin's was held up by two masked gunmen and who came in firing shotguns, killing the bartender. One of those "simple twist of fate" things, I guess.

Cuddly Lizard

One doesn't think of lizards as being cuddly, but "one" probably never met a bearded dragon. (I know my blogfriend Elle of True Blue 4Ever can relate because they have one too.) The story of how we acquired Dylan, our beardie, is worth repeating every once in awhile. (I'm sick, plus I'm going away for three days, so i might just post a few reruns to keep this place moving):

Meet Dylan, the Bearden Dragon. This story will give you a little insight into the way things work at Chez Panthergirl. Two and 1/2 years ago, I took my son on a routine visit to Petsmart to buy dog food for Kelso, and the following conversation ensued:

Lucas: Mom, can I buy an Anole??

Me: [buy an asshole? WTF?] What's an Anole, honey?

L: It's a lizard.

M: Let's see it. [ok, it's just a little thing. What the heck. Then again, don't want a pet that's going to croak in a week. We've had our share of untimely death in this family.]

M (to dorky salesguy): Is this thing going to croak in a week?

Dork: Yeah, probably. You'd be better off with a Bearded Dragon.

M: [Hm. Anole, $15. Bearded Dragon, $79. A lizard that doesn't croak in a week: Priceless.] Ok, he's pretty cute.

L: Yeah! Yeah! I'm going to name him Dylan after my cousin and a kid I knew at camp.

The bearded dragon was about 5" long and just a baby. They actually grow to 24" or so, which sounded pretty cool. You can walk them on a leash. Dorky Salesguy shows me the $200+ worth of stuff I need to get for said dragon, and off we go. Dragon takes enormous dump in the shoebox we're given to take him home. P.U.

After setting up his elaborate habitat, I proceed to join the Yahoo! Group for Beaded Dragon people (see, this is what I do. I jump into whatever it is with both feet and an arm or two. That's how I wind up married 3 times. Nothing is done halfway around here.) I learn from the "Pogona" (genus name?) group that almost everything I bought is totally and completely WRONG, and if I don't get the right lights and the right food and the right substrate, I'm going to wind up with a croaked-lizard afterall.

After about two weeks of buying and returning and buying and returning, Dylan was on the road to a happy and healthy lifestyle. (I, on the other hand, was broke and exhausted.) I became an expert in cricket-keeping as well. But it wasn't fun keeping a pet for your pet, especially a particularly gross one. I have since switched to silkworms and if you think that's gross, you never dealt with crickets. Besides, I can mail order them. You should see the faces of the mailroom guys when the box labeled LIVE WORMS arrives for me at work.

As promised, Dylan is now about 24" long and I have to admit that I really dig him. He's a lot of work at times (my mornings weren't crazy enough without having to make a freakin' SALAD for a lizard), but he's clean and quiet and actually likes us. Here you can see how long he really is:

Couldn't Be the Inheritance, Could It?

I am *really* confused. For years, I have seen men on Jerry Springer, Judge Hatchett and various other kooky tv shows anxiously awaiting the on-air results of paternity tests to prove they had NOT fathered the child of a woman they had happily ridden bareback on at least one occasion.

Now, after the untimely demise of poor Anna Nicole Smith, three men (so far) are climbing over each other for the opportunity to raise her baby girl.

Hm. What's the difference here? Oh yeah... the Springer and Judge Hatchett won't-a-be dad segments generally involve women who are living below the poverty line with their children. The kids in question aren't usually sitting on top of a mountain of money bags, just waiting for another trustee to manage the funds.

Something tells me that the men involved in the Anna Nicole dispute (with the possible exception of Howard K. Stern) are not clamoring to become financially responsible for little Dannielynn, or for a chance to cart her to and from ballet lessons. Or am I being too cynical?

Shadow Malfunction

Didn't you love Prince's halftime show at the Superbowl last night? I really, truly did. But what I loved most was this shadow shot, hilariously reminiscent the famous Austin Powers tent scene...

BadFellas

Earning a place as one of my favorite films ever, The Departed deserves every nomination and award it's received and more. It is a new classic, right up there with GoodFellas and The Godfather. The script is brilliant...intricate, compelling and at times absolutely hilarious.

But brilliant script and direction aside, what makes this film soar is the cast. While I love, love, loved Little Miss Sunshine and its ensemble, I now believe that The Departed may have the best ensemble cast EVER. When we left the film and started to talk about who's performance was outstanding, it became clear that every single actor in the film was at the top of his game. I'm not a big DiCaprio fan. I've always seen him as a little boy, and he's rarely convincing or compelling for me. Not so here. The whole lot... Nicholson, DiCaprio, Damon, Baldwin, Whalberg, Sheen... absolutely amazing. It's in re-release now so I do recommend seeing it in the theater, but it will be on DVD next week and this one is a keeper.

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While we're on the topic of "BadFellas", I watched This Film is Not Yet Rated last night, and MAN... the things I didn't know about the whole MPAA rating system and the bullshit way that works. Thought censorship was a thing of the past? Think again. A very small ("secret") group of people (including selected CLERGY) and corporations are controlling what you get to see and what you don't. (When they slap an NC-17 rating on a film, the release is dramatically impacted. Many, many theaters across the country will not show the film.) Rent it. It's a real eye-opener, and a who-dunit in it's own right.

The Dirtiest Job

Awhile back, I wrote a post about the Discovery Channel show Dirty Jobs, and listed some other occupations that I thought would fit that bill.

However, when I woke up this morning and began to watch various newscasters delivering reports about the Groundhog Day festivities in Pennsylvania, I realized that there was a job I hadn't mentioned... a job so dirty I don't know how they get anyone to do it. What is it?

Saying the words "Gobbler's Knob" with a straight face. That, my friends, is the dirtiest job of all.