3 Things About Death and Taxes

I have nothing to say about taxes, but here are three indisputable facts about death that I've been pondering lately:

1.  Every animal, fish and person that was alive 150 years ago is dead.  All of them.  Every single one of them is gone, except for maybe a couple of koi fish, bowhead whales or giant tortoises.  150 years.  That's really not that long ago.  That's 1861.  Every animal, fish and person that was alive at the beginning of the civil war is gone.  Dunno.  Sayonara.

2.  There are two options when it comes to death.  We either die or we live long enough to see everyone else bite the bullet along the way.  Neither of these are pleasant options, but they are what they are.  Period.  That's life, or the lack thereof, in its most basic terms.

3.  I can't remember what number three was, but it was equally profound.

Not Guilty

This morning, I used the very last drop of my Gucci Guilty free sample.  Santa, if you've got an extra $70 could you hook me up?

Valley of My Couch

What a wonderfully awful movie.  Not a bad way to spend a Tuesday night.

The Sweet Spot

EDIT:  Since I wrote this post, my two sisters have passed away.  Bonnie passed March 20, 2014 from oral cancer and my sister Terry passed away seven years to the day after I wrote this post, November 19, 2018, from pneumonia.


When people are in their early adulthood, they're so wrapped up in the big questions of life that they might not appreciate the little things.  They're so caught up in thoughts of school and work and "Will I ever get married?" and "Will I ever get a job?" and "Will I ever have kids?" that they might not look around and appreciate the right here, right now.

When you get to be an olden person like me, you look back and realize that those years were filled with most (if not all) of your grandparents, all of your siblings, all of your parents, all of your friends' parents, all of your cousins, most of your aunts and uncles and great-aunts and great-uncles and even some of your great-grandparents.  That's the sweet spot.  Part of you knows it won't always be that way, but another part of you takes it all for granted, because you think you have all the time in the world.

Everybody, not just the early adult-ers, needs to look at right here, right now and realize that you are in your own special sweet spot.  Right here, right now you have who you have.  Love them and cherish them, because it can change in a heartbeat.

Thank God, thank Buddha, thank whoever you believe in, thank your lucky stars for everyone you love and for everyone who loves you and God bless us everyone.

Happy Thanksgiving.

I passed by a fried chicken restaurant yesterday and there was a smiling cartoon chicken outside the restaurant holding up a sign with the specials for the day written on it. That  seemed to me to be highly inappropriate. A chicken shouldn't be pimping out the delicious fried meat of his fellow species.

Bastards!

Yesterday, a very good friend of mine (possibly named later, if it's okay with her) went to the church where she works at 4:00 p.m. in a populated area of Beaumont's west end to pop in and out and get something she needed.before running errands for her job.  

While she was inside, someone broke the back window on her car and stole her purse.  She forgot she had the church credit card and, by the time she canceled it, the bastards had charged things in Winnie, Baytown and Houston.  She saw TWO Suburbans leaving the church parking lot when she came out and they went toward the highway.

I'm thankful that the criminals chose my friend randomly and hadn't been watching her waiting for the perfect opportunity to rob her, but I'm also angry that these Houston SOBs are targeting our Beaumont mothers.  The police told my friend that these guys target mothers at day care centers (there is a school and day care at the church), because they know the moms are busy, frazzled, have their hands full and leave their purses in the car.

Saturday night, I prayed that these particular friends would make it home from the big Halloween celebration downtown unscathed.  In my weird brain, I'm picturing The Universe saying, "Okay, safe they shall be Saturday, but Monday we still need that purse."

Thank you God for keeping them safe.  Everybody else, be careful out there and lock your purse in the trunk before you leave work to pick up your kids.

Bastards, who stole the purse...

Karma.

That's all.

Just...karma.

PS: People send out goofy ass e-mails about needles in gas pump hoses and poison on the back of business cards, but nobody forwards e-mails about the real stuff.   Please tell your friends about this.  
 
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Self Examination

There's nothing like a beautiful sunshine-y morning to make you open up the blinds, let the sun pour in and ask yourself, "Holy shit.  When's the last time I dusted this rat hole?"

My Morning

• 7:30 a.m. Power went out as I sat down to my makeup mirror
• 7:30 a.m. Large stuffed animal fell out of a chair in my office beside my bathroom at the exact same time the lights went out 
• 7:32 a.m. Packed up things to finish getting ready at work
• 7:33 a.m. Continued to flip light switches even though I knew the power was out
• 7:36 a.m. Left for work with wet hair and no makeup
• 7:37 a.m. Tried to close garage door with garage door opener like an idiot
• 7:37 a.m. Got out of car to close garage door manually and smelled smoke
• 7:37 a.m. Freaked out
• 7:38 a.m.  No smoke pouring out of my townhouse or any others around me
• 7:38 a.m.  Stopped freaking out
• 7:39 a.m.  Drove to work
• 7:40 a.m. Tuned radio to local station to try to find out why there was a power outage and smoke in the air and heard disc jockeys talking about "alternate paths" and "we'll be out there later"
• 7:41 a.m. Freaked out 
• 7:42 a.m. I realized the disc jockeys were talking about the path for a procession for a local soldier who died in Afghanistan  (RIP)
• 7:46 a.m  Tried to pull into the parking lot at work, but there was a man walking two huge black Great Danes and a lady was blocking my path into the parking lot, I assume, out of fear of the dogs.  She wouldn't move left or right, forward or backward.  She just stood there.  MOVE dammit!
• 7:50 a.m.  Walked into my office to find two co-workers already there who never get to work before me.  Never.

Weird ass morning.

Don't Go Back in the House!

I got a call from my four year old grand-fabulous-daughter yesterday. A fireman and firetruck went to her preschool Wednesday. She told me the following all in one big, rushed, important, excited breath, "Grandma! I got to go on a BIG firetruck! The fireman told us that if there's an emergency, we have to call 911. Do you know that grandma? Call 911! He said that if there's a fire to go outside EVEN IF IT'S DARK! Go outside. Don't go back in for your baby dolls. Don't go back in for your puppy. Don't go back in for your kitty. He said, 'Your mommy and daddy will buy you a new baby doll or a new puppy or a new kitty.' It won't be the same baby doll, but that's okay. Don't go back in the house! Okay, grandma?"

Red Hot Chili Peppers = A Bunch of Old Guys

The smartass punk kid on VH-1 Countdown (just kidding about the smartass thing...I like him) just announced that this video is number one this week and "even though they're a little bit older, they still make great videos."

So, I thought, "When did the Red Hot Chili Peppers become a bunch of old guys in the eyes of the VH1 world?" The VH1 audience isn't exactly the young MTV crowd. So, I looked it up. Flea and Anthony Kiedis are both 50. How is that possible? I think I need a nap and some Geritol.

On another note, "Pop Up Video" is coming back. I love "Pop Up Video."

15 Minutes of Fame

My daughter-in-law went to a "Fame Party" and had the pictures below taken of their beautiful family. They are incredible. I'm not sure if this is available everywhere, but this is such a great idea. It's sort of like a Tupperware party, but with a photographer. Each family gets 15 minutes with the photographer and you purchase the whole CD of photos to do whatever you like with them. You can also purchase prints. Here's the link: Fame Parties.

My Grand-Fabulous-Son Talking About His Day

This is my one year old grand-fabulous-son Lucas (4 year old Ava's fabulous little brother) talking about his day.  What do you think he's saying?  I would love to know.

If I was a cop...

...I would spend all day searching for assholes who run stop signs.  Then, I would stop the asshole, turn off my cop-car-camera and slap the piss out of him.  Then, I would turn my cop-car-camera back on and give the asshole the largest possible ticket allowed by law.  Then, I would go to court on the day that the asshole tries to tell the judge (a) that he didn't run a stop sign and (b) that I slapped the piss out of him.  Then, I would tell the judge, "Throw the book at the fucker!"

Then, I'd probably have to get another job, but it would be so worth it.


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"It Might be Diarrhea"

Saturday, I had lunch with my family including my 4 year-old grand-fabulous-daughter Ava.  As usual, while we were waiting for our food, she announced, "Grandma!  I have to go to the bathroom."  Her dad was the same way as a child.  Every trip to a restaurant required an inspection of the facilities.

So, off we went.  When we got to the bathroom, she went into the stall, locked the door and announced that she was a big girl now and I did not need to go in there with her and that I did not have to help her wipe.

I made a quick scan of the restroom and decided that, if necessary, I could squiggle under the door in the event of a potty emergency.  Although, I didn't have to squiggle under the door for Ava, in an unusual bit of foreshadowing, later in the weekend I did squiggle under a door into a restroom stall to assist a friend in need.  That's a different blog post.

There was a young girl in the restroom with us and as she was complimenting me on Ava's cuteness, Ava announced from the stall, "Grandma, I think I have to poo poo."

"Okay," I said.

"It won't come out," she announced.

"That's okay," I said.  "Take your time."

"I'll sing.  That always helps me poo poo better."

The young girl stifled a giggle and as she left, a mother/daughter duo came into the bathroom in the middle of Ava's Poo Poo Serenade.  It was a lovely lyrically creative and melodically diverse tune.  And, it was loud.

The mother smiled at me and I smiled back.

"Grandma," Ava said, "I'm going to take off my skirt and my panties.  If I don't take them off, I might get poop on them and then people will be walking by me and they'll smell something bad and they'll say what's that smell and it will be poop on my skirt and on my panties.  I'm going to take them off."

"That's a good idea," I said.

As the mother/daughter team left the restroom stifling their own giggles, another lady walked in.  At this point, Ava announced, "Grandma.  I think it's di-uh-reeee-uh.  Yep.  It's di-uh-reee-uh."

That was when I quit trying to stifle my own giggles and busted out laughing.  Ava decided that this new turn of events might require some extra grandma help with the wiping and opened the stall door for me.

I'm pleased to announce that there was no di-uh-reeee-uh and the skirt and panties remained poop free.

To paraphrase 10cc, "The things we do for love...like walking in the rain and the snow...and helping your grand-fabulous-daughter go."

Mission accomplished.