Archive for August, 2010

Let’s Get Right To It!

August 30, 2010

From the three boobs for the price of one department: Gustavo Rojas, of Venezuela,  a First Justice (socialist party) candidate for a National Assembly position is raffling off not television sets, not a weekend spree in Mount Airy Lodge, er, sorry, Mount Airy Casino Resort ( I wonder if they’ve kept their heart theme and replaced their heart shaped tubs with heart shaped gambling tables?…just sayin’)… no! Rojas is raffling off breast implants in exchange for votes. Says he, “The raffle, is a financing mechanism, nothing else. It’s the doctor who will do the operation, not me.”

From the what a busy weekend I had department: I worked all weekend, Saturday and yesterday in hopes to get as much of the (thankfully) unending mounds of work done before the end of the month. We canceled two separate–I guess you can call them events, (as opposed to, say, irresponsible romps)–but work comes first and if only I could have taken five minutes to take a nap, to recharge the batteries, so to speak, I’d have been better off. But you know, sometimes, finding the perfect conditions for catching a few zzz’s can be difficult; you can’t get comfortable, the sun might be in your eyes, or reflecting off of something from behind, there might be people around and you’d feel embarrassed if you inadvertently nodded off. Well, our troubles are over! Please witness the following.

Coupled with your new limited edition Snuggie it makes for a glorious siesta!

And finally for today, I have some more pictures of the construction, this time from the inside. Over the weekend they worked mostly on the insulation and since it was one of those occasions were they swept up and made neat in there, I thought I’d show you some “inside” pictures.

The first shot is looking out the front…back?…side? wall. Side wall. Looking straight out the kitchen window, soon to become an entryway. The next shot is the pantry. That’s going to be immediately to the right of the entryway. Beyond that, we’re replacing the blue folding chair and yellow scaffold table with honest to goodness dining room furniture. And this third shot is looking toward the sliding door which opens to the back of the house. In the opposite corner of the slider is where the breakfast nook is going and the rest will be, I guess, dance floor.


And there you have it, my quick attempt at an off the cuff Monday morning blog. Have a great National Toasted Marshmallow Day! And if you toast them on the stove using a fork, be very careful not to singe your lips. Those 3 or 4 blisters that appear instantly are murder to try to explain without someone else peeing themselves from laughing at your idiocy. But you’re an idiot only once, so they say. Well, when it comes to toasting marshmallows.

Where Is Loverboy When You Need Them

August 27, 2010

I’m back, but briefly. I’m at the end of my work week and it’s been a grueling one indeed and I have four more days, including tomorrow and Sunday to meet the end of the month deadline, working for the weekend, so to speak.

I never even got to tell you about the wedding I missed. From the sound of it, it was a dodged bullet, but one that now I wish I had attended so I could blog about it firsthand. The story spilled out over last weekend when we were out to dinner with my aunt and uncle, who had the great fortune to attend said Floridian wedding as, VFW’ish as can get in which the bridesmaids, of a considerable advanced age, flashed not only each other, but the attendees, (and I also understand there was nether-region grabbing of some of the guests) some of whom traveled all the way from the great Garden State. It was moments before I dug into a long awaited queen cut prime rib with the saltiest wild mushroom demi glaze known to man, which ended up being completely inedible that this indelible story was told. And if that wasn’t bad enough, I was so disappointed because no amount of scraping off the sauce or sopping it up helped. The very first bite was so salty that burned my throat on the way down, but I could feel the pressure rise up in my head. Now THAT’s salty.

I didn’t want to do it, but I”m afraid I must. I must tell you that I’ve finally learned the secret pathway to fame, and perhaps fortune and it’s not by sweating and dropping a few tears and an errant ‘y’ now and then as you toil over your keyboard in the hopes of penning the world’s next greatest novel, hoping to get recognized. It doesn’t even require much talent. No, it’s as simple as a few key elements; abs of steel, a tan, a tube of hair gel and there was one more thing…oh, yeah, a clean shirt. You know, “gym, tan, laundry.” Not only does Mike Sorrentino garner sixty thousand dollars an episode on The Jersey Shore (and an iconic American art form known as the Soap Opera suffers in the balance) he also takes in between fifteen and fifty thousand dollars for personal appearances. He’s set to release a fitness video and also a line of “dietary” supplements. Once you get all toned like Mikey there, you can buy one of his shirts which I’m sure will be easy to lift to reveal all your hard work in the gym after he starts his fashion line. You can keep yourself refreshed and recharged knowing that he also drinks Vitamin Water and you can relax on Monday nights with a good gimlet made with yummy, Situation-promoted Devotion vodka while you watch him tear up the dance floor on Dancing With The Stars where it is reported that if he makes it to final round he can make as much as $365,000. But wait, there’s more. He has applied to copyright and trademark the words “The Situation”. He just received and undisclosed (nor confirmed, actually) six figure advance to for the new literary classic he’s about to write: Here’s The Situation.  Ah, but it’ll be over in about fifteen minutes.

Yeah, and I’ll be working all weekend, making my humble little living in my humble little home office, posting my end of the month numbers, cancelling the plans I had and damning my little beer belly for not being published yet.  Speaking of  beer belly, I’m also sad to say and make my apologies to those of you affected by any bogus notifications you might have gotten, I don’t really have sexy pictures in my profile. That’s a message that seems to be popping up on some of my email contacts’ computers (it is also happening to me from others) but I’m here to tell you and I’m sorry to disappoint you, I don’t have any sexy pictures. I mean, look at me! So if you get that message, don’t open it.

And even though the house project is moving along, yesterday was probably one of the more frustrating, if not THE most annoying since this entire project began. Just trying to make contact with a certain “other” party ( not the Lou-natics), who apparently has a sense of self-importance that there is no time to talk on the phone for two lousy seconds because all of this party’s business is conducted through email, email that also goes unanswered. It was an underlying factor throughout the entire day until it finally got semi-resolved by late afternoon.

But I have a few more pictures and now with the latest addition, the brickwork can get progress.


Whoops, I said briefly, didn’t I? Okay, bye!

Mind Over Mind Games

August 24, 2010

I was talking to a friend of mine the other day…no, no, the other one…about how it’s either one or the other, or possibly both, the government or the media that’s brainwashing us all into non-thinking dummies and I was talking specifically about driving while talking on a cell phone. Not that I do it (often) because <gasp> it’s against the law–but then again, so was eating runny eggs in New Jersey once upon a time in the not-to-distant past–and I noticed how the more I hear that talking on a cell phone while driving is like driving drunk, the more I actually drive like I’m drunk.

When I first started carrying a cell phone, way back when all a phone could do was make a phone call; it didn’t get the internet, it didn’t fold, it didn’t really fit into a pocket, in fact, about the only thing you could do that was fun with is was change the faceplate to a hip and cool color or leopard print, I never thought twice about dialing and calling someone. It was more or less as easy as changing the station on the radio at lightning speed. Heck, I could even reach over and roll down the passenger side window, or sip from my cup of coffee.

But now, because the media is relentless about telling me how dangerous it is to do anything but breathe in my car, I find that,  if I happen to get caught without my bluetooth and the phone rings,  I’m swerving all over the highway like a drunken stunt driver. And forget changing the radio. The second I think that I’m tired of listening to Justin Bieber and I reach to my dashboard, again, I’m cutting someone off.

It’s because they get you so worked up that everything you do is wrong, that you’re constantly worried and consumed with fear about what you’re doing. Since cell phones are a part of everyday life anymore, and some people seem to be born with one in their hands, they should just make using one part of the road test when you’re going for your license; K turn, parallel parking and callling your BFF to tell her that you’re taking your driving test. Of course you get extra points if you text that message and you automatically get a reduction in your insurance if you’ve got your seat reclined. You just shouldn’t be allowed to drink hot coffee while you’re driving because if you spill it, you’ll stain your pants. And to the best of my knowledge, walking and chewing gum is still not against the law… for those who can actually do it.  

In the meantime, here are the next pictures of the house, from over the weekend and from yesterday.


Another Week Pinned Shut!

August 20, 2010

Another week over! Pinch me. It is Friday, isn’t it? Oh man, and we’re still on Zsa Zsa watch. I know there’s at least three of us just itching to get those points!

Isn’t it funny how dreams can sometimes seem real, even to the point of waking you up? I was jolted awake this morning out of a dream in which I was being attacked once again by birds. I can’t recall the instance, but for some reason, I had taken down a nest of  eggs that had been made on a piece of cardboard and was nestled in the crossbeams of one of those camping canopy tenty things that was erected in my backyard, only it wasn’t my backyard.  I needed the eggs to make a potion or a cure or something like that and I grabbed at the nest and knocked it to the ground. In my dream, I know I didn’t know what type of eggs they were that fell to the ground, but I  also knew I kind of had an idea they were pigeon eggs. As I stood pondering the species, a swarm (no, that’s not right–well, it wasn’t exactly a flock, it was only 3 or 4) of pigeons came at me and one started pecking away at my butt. I woke up trying to flail my way away from them but my arms were trapped under my covers.  I’d had this brilliant idea recently that perhaps the reason I can’t get up and get out to walk is because it’s too cold with the air conditioner blowing and who wants to get out of bed when it’s cold? But the extra blankets only make me wake up in a sweat, but I leave them on, hoping against hope that my plan will actually work. I’m sure the eggs reference has something to do with the great egg recall of 2010 and quite possibly I’m still reeling from Walter Pidgeon Day on Turner Classic Movies’ August Under the Stars yesterday.  

Well, surprise of surprises, the Lou-natics showed up out of the blue yesterday afternoon and put in quite a few hours. I hadn’t talked to Lou since the inspector was here this past Monday and I reviewed with him what the guy had told me. The way I describing it, Lou said it was commercial grade specs the guy is after rather than residential. And the one inspection he insisted we needed before going any further was already done. I didn’t realize it until Lou told me and I checked my “approved” tags and sure enough, that particular inspection passed on August 9…and by the very same person. Hmm, is right!

I had the picture of the finished roof, where they left off before their extended time off, to show you and I took an “artsy” picture of the addition. If you call looking through the overgrown evergreen bush and hardly being able to see the new structure artsy. And then I have what they did yesterday and we’re all up to date.


Speaking of booby traps: Two 14 year-old Parisian girls were arrested and a 12 year-old accomplice was placed in a home for stealing money from cash machine customers. They first tried to distract their first victim by sticking a newspaper under his nose, but ended up having to resort to opening their blouses and revealing their breasts and grabbing his nether regions while the accomplice grabbed the money. They used the same tactics on a woman a few days later.

Two videos:

This first one I’ve been seeing on television during the day while I’m working.

It makes me titter (pun very much so intended). It’s an interesting product, and I’m sure a useful one but the approach they use seems to be too heavily concentrated on covering up rather than accentuating which leads me to ask, why wouldn’t you (generally speaking) just wear a better fitting top if you don’t want the entire world to see what’chu got? And I’ve never seen a hole that size made by a safety pin.

And this second video happened to pop up while I was looking for the above one and it, too, made me laugh.

Have a great weekend. It’s sure to be a dry one, we’re not camping. Although we do have a family function to attend, so we’ll see.

A Few Things For Sure

August 19, 2010

It’s been a busy week, plowing through piles and piles of work, with no apparent end in sight. But, that’s fine, it keeps my mind from wandering, as long as I remember at the moment of inception to write down important things that manage to come into my head, to wit: a card for a certain occasion coming up that we need to acknowledge. Jokingly we were told if we didn’t send a birthday card this time, like we didn’t for Father’s Day, we’d be replaced by some other set of  “sons number 4 and 5”. We couldn’t let that happen. The birthday is two days from now and I figured I’d get the card while I’m out on Friday afternoon. Sure it would be a few days late, but, thanks to Ariel, the card is on its way.

Busy as I am, every now and then a stray thought will come into my head, something to recharge the batteries, so to speak. I was watching Turner Classic Movies yesterday; it was Ann Sheridan day in their August Under The Stars line-up and it’s doubtful that had anything to do with it, other than to set the scene, but I had this sudden urge to try to make that ‘fart’ sound from my armpit that I used to do as a kid. It took a couple of tries and a variety of hand placements, but I got it going. And I laughed my head off then got back to work.

I also did my daily check on that agent lady’s status, to see if she was once again accepting submissions. A week or so ago, maybe three, the one page I was looking at completely disappeared, but I found her status on the agency’s main website and it was listed as “until further notice”. Yesterday morning, even that page was changed to say she was no longer with the agency. I did a quick Google search, found her own personal blog and sure enough, she’s left agenting altogether and has gone to work for another undisclosed publishing house in an undisclosed capacity.

Okay. This interesting little tidbit flashed across my screen and I decided to explore it further and in so doing, I got more confused, but this is what I got out of it, so don’t hold me to it. The word “OKAY” is said to have originated by Irish supporters during the re-election of President Martin VanBuren, changing the spelling of “all” in “all correct” to “oll korrect” to imitate the Irish brogue. Some also say it alludes to VanBuren’s nickname of Old Kinderhook, from his birthplace in Kinderhook, NY. Another source says it came from the Choctaw ‘okeh’ which means ‘it is so’.

I’m going with the Irish theory, simply because, well, I’m Irish. But who knows how these things really get started and how they have their holding power? Fo shizzle. Peace out!

Round And Round We Go

August 17, 2010

Back in the news (or maybe it never left–perhaps it was overshadowed recently by more important news like Lindsay Lohan’s legal woes) is the debate over the mosque waiting to be built near Ground Zero. Some see no reason why it should not be built, in the name of religious freedom and there are those who are adamant against it…in the name of religious freedom. Yes, this is the greatest country in the world but even with that, there should be a modicum of sensitivity and respect to those who lost their lives and to those who survived them. Mayor Michael Bloomberg, apparently in favor of the construction made this statement: “In rushing into those burning buildings, not one of the firefighters who died in the 9/11 attacks asked: ‘What God do you pray to? What beliefs do you hold?’ We do not honor their lives by denying the very constitutional rights they died protecting.” Of course not, they were doing the job they were trained to do, to save lives. It could have been any religious background behind the attacks, but that it was a faction of the Muslim religion, having this building so close to Ground Zero also dishonors the firefighter’s lives.

President Obama, in his statement said this: Muslims have the same right to practice their religion as everyone else in this country. That includes the right to build a place of worship…on private property in lower Manhattan…. This is America, and our commitment to religious freedom must be unshakable.” The Leader of the Free World letting down those who still live in the shadow of the attacks, who might not be able to separate one sect from another of the Muslim religion while they flip through pages in a photograph album, wondering whatever might have become of their loved ones had they not so cruelly been taken from them.

I also remember hearing more of what Obama said on the news and the line was “We treat everyone in America the same.” Which brings me to yet another topic: gay marriage. Now California has put the just over-turned ban on same-sex marriage on hold. That’s not treating everyone in America the same. Another quote I heard, and I wish I had saved it so I could take it down verbatim and also to credit the author, who was someone who commented on the story on the news and it concerned the ban on same-sex marriage and how it effects family values. It went something like this: “If you are going to stop same-sex marriage …then you must also stop straight divorce. What does that say about family values?”

What does any of it say about values in general?

Go Ahead And Rain. That’s Right!

August 16, 2010

Perhaps it’s a prerequisite along the same lines as what food servers learn in waiter/waitress school that they don’t come to your table to ask how everything is until you have a mouthful of food, that chefs, at least those who enjoy the celebrity of patting themselves on the back, convincingly mmm-mmm’ing everything  they make until your mouth waters, wishing you could combine onions and turnips like they do, that every step of every recipe they make on television must lead with “you go ahead and…” You start out with a bowl and you can go ahead and place your flour in there, then go ahead and add your salt and your water then go ahead and use your whisk to mix it. If you have a food processor, then go ahead and use that.

The reason it came to mind is because I was looking at a certain chef’s article on cooking perfect rice and even in the text, “you go ahead and…” showed up several times, twice of which were in one sentence. I went ahead and though, gads, that’s just not right, until I went ahead and realized it was the transcript from the featured video clip.

I must be the culinary version of “amazing”. I also remember saying at the end of this year’s official TV season I was going to stop watching any show that used my favorite “A” word any more than twice in a single episode. But I’m hooked on the shows I watch in the summer season and everything is amazing and I can’t stop watching. But I bristle every time I hear it and think back to my vow.

Another sort of catchphrase that amuses me is one I hear on the news, pretty much daily. When a story is being turned over to a remote reporter covering a story, say, an amazing cook-off where the reporter will join in and go ahead and try to cook something, she (or he should the circumstance warrant) begins the report with “That’s right!”

You also know that it is requisite for rain when we go camping. We had our fourth camping trip of the season, (man it’s going by fast) and all was well. The weather was cool and comfortable, the food and drink plenty, the company around the bonfire colorful and enjoyable as ever. When we turned in for the night on Saturday, after crunching on some post fire cheeseburger flavored Doritios (holy moly!) and realizing a good night’s sleep was the only cure for our throbbing feet, we left the stars twinkling brightly in the sky above. I awoke to a gentle patter above me on the rainfly, but in a 4am stupor I could only imagine to be tree droppings from the breeze I could hear rustling through the leaves. Long fancy story short and drearily to the point, it was indeed raining and now the tent is in the garage and tarps are hanging all over the basement.

I haven’t uploaded any news pictures of the house construction yet and I’m not exactly sure whether any of the Lou-natics (my new fun nickname for them) will be here on their own this week while the master is not. And the only current picture I have is the visible side of the roof they finished shingling. A lot of the other work they’ve been doing is boring wiring on the inside and not much fun to photograph so I’ll probably have time to post the roof pic.

Today is the 33rd anniversary of the Elvis Presley’s death and it’s also Madonna’s 52nd birthday.


August 11, 2010

I felt like one of Pavlov’s dogs yesterday; the Lou Crew had the day off and I had to function in silence, without the pounding of hammers and buzzing of saws and the occasional sound as though the house just split in half. I have no new pictures today, but maybe tomorrow.

I remembered it was some time in August of last year when I switched over my blog but I wasn’t exactly sure of the date. Turns out it was the 24 th. And that gave me an idea. I decided to look back to see what I was talking about a year ago. It went thusly, with a follow up:

I’m still working with Belinda on trying to get this blog page back up and running to its full potential and I’m also waiting out the new 3 day period from my last website issue (for McGinty), which possibly, we might have narrowed down to a specific spot that’s causing the trouble. I could go into detail but it would probably just be confusing to you so, let’s leave it at the fact that the trouble may have been pinpointed and it’s being looked into. The “Belinda” issue never did get resolved, most of all my pictures disappeared (except those I posted after the crash and the few I was able to recover) and that’s why I moved the blog. McGinty, incidently is still on hiatus. Need to get working on that soon. How many strawberries can they possibly harvest, you know what I mean?

In the meantime, I finally got off my you know what and got myself down to the gym yesterday for a much needed return to exercise. Not only do I feel the need (sore back, aching feet, panting with nearly every step I take) I also saw in the mirror the most obvious reason to get back to the weights and some heavy duty aerobic exercise. There, I’ve painted a nice grotesque picture of myself for all the world to see. It wasn’t the most stellar performance of my life, but I muddled through and just have to keep it in my head to persevere. And of course that means not capping off the night with a Mr. Tod’s mini pie or two. I bought a box of 10 mini pies at the end of last week so I could also wish him good luck on the show, Shark Tank, but I didn’t get to actually see or speak to him this time. Turns out, though, he got the investment from one of the “sharks” on the show.  The image in the mirror is only slightly less reprehensible than it was then and I’ve been trying to get downstairs in the mornings before the Lou Crew arrives (at mostly inconsistant times between 7:30 and 8 since this new major construction began–two mornings ago they arrived and were ringing the doorbell while I was in the shower and I ran down the stairs, soaped up and in a towel and it was before 7:30 because they had to get something done before the inspector came.  I haven’t been to Mr. Tod’s store since the posting a year ago. Everytime I would go in there for a lemon chess pie, they never had them, so I started making them myself. I haven’t had one in quite a while. I really don’t need it. Less reprehensible is a better place and I’d like to keep it that way.

The next thing I have to start concentrating on (both of us do, actually) is getting back to walking in our 4 mile route in the mornings. I know I mentioned it quite some time ago we were going to get back to it. We still haven’t. A year later and status quo! I don’t know what the aversion is. I love that time of abandon, when most of the immediate world is still asleep, when nothing else is on my mind other than trying to get a few steps further each day or trying to ignore the stabbing pain of a newly formed blister on the back of my foot and relishing that euphoric feeling after returning home,that sense of accomplishment.  Maybe an unscheduled walk on a weekend will break down that wall.

I got an invitation to attend a writer’s conference with a guaranteed 15 minute, one on one sit down with a publisher for a personalized discussing and chance to pitch my novel. If I registered by yesterday I could save $50 dollars off the admission fee. I hemmed and hawed, as I usually do and when I saw the price tag–$395– I thought ‘you gotta be kidding me!’ I can’t afford that and there’s no assurance it would even do me any good.That probably sounds defeatest, but that’s quite a chunk of cash to throw away on a rejection. That’s defeatest, I know. The most recent agent lady I’m hoping to court is still not taking submissions. Time to keep looking. And time to get back to finishing my second book. I know… I know!

I saw a report this morning that Paula Abdul could possibly end up on the new season of Dancing With The Stars, either as a judge or a contestant.  I just reported the other day how she is now signed to something else and will not be returning to American Idol, nor, would I imagine, Dancing With The Stars since both are on conflicting networks to the one she is currently signed with.

Well, that takes care of that.  Whoops, sorry, still at Walmart: If only this guy was at the fair.

Smile! You’re Not At Walmart Anymore!

August 10, 2010

It took a couple of years, but we made it back to the Middlesex County Fair this past Friday night with one thing on our minds: FOOD! First stop was for an Italian hot dog and a sausage and pepper sandwich. Oh man, I was tasting that sausage and pepper sandwich for days in anticipation. As the last bite was swallowed, we sought out the deep fried Oreo wagon which was right next to the butterfly chips stand, and we’d get to those later. A ride on the Round Up then a huge barrel of vanilla rootbeer and a beef stick from Romeo’s Oriental Barbecue.

You know how the clientele from Walmart is oftentimes described as freakish, in body type, clothing style and other general physical attributes? Well, as we stood gorging ourselves on our butterfly chips it was like the floodgates at the local Walmart flagship store were swung open because they were all there at the fair  on parade. That might sound crude and disrepectful, but, really, when you’re 350 pounds, Daisy Dukes are not really a flattering look, sir. Then for ten dollars we had the opportunity to have our picture taken with a wolf, but however docile and presumably socialized they were, not to mention beautiful, they were in a small pen, about 10×10 feet, along with a table for photo processing equipment, another for other souvenirs, and accompanied by two trainers and the photo girl and no apparent means of getting out of the way quickly should the aroma of sausage and peppers become too enticing. We passed on that opportunity. But the gray wolf knew his position, he’d hold his pose and after the flash of the camera, would lunge for his treat.

Smile! On this day in 1948, WABC TV channel 7 in New York begins broadcasting and Allen Funt was right there, giving new life to his Candid Microphone radio show, turning it into the iconic Candid Camera.

Twenty-three years ago today Chicago native Clara Peller, who worked for 35 years as a manicurist, died. At the age of 80, she was signed on to play a manicurist in a television commercial set in a Chicago barbershop. She was then asked to sign a contract, and soon the catchphrase of the mid-1980’s, “Where’s The Beef?” was born. The first commercial featuring the rancorous Peller aired on January 10, 1984.

As you can see, the Lou Crew has been going strong. What you can’t see is that the outlet/switch boxes are installed and the boxes are in place for the light fixtures…oh yeah! and my fan came in. Wait til you see this thing. Funny quick story…this past Saturday we went up to where we camp because it was the campgrounds BIG weekend of the season. As we were getting ready to leave, even though he was basically standing right in front of it, Ariel was oblivious to the 4’x4’x1′ box, housing the fan that was leaning up against my garage door. Okay, maybe that’s not really funny. Come on, get it? It’s a huge box, and blue and he didn’t notice it.


Anyway, these two pics are what I would have posted yesterday that they did over the weekend and what they did yesterday and the basic framing passed inspection. The one thing that’s a little different from the original plan is that we’re losing the bedroom window. We’ll work with it and at some point down the road, make that window a doorway and have access to the attic annex and make a closet out of the space, some day, when we win the lottery, or my book sells, or we find a bag of money on the side of the road.

Friday Falderal

August 6, 2010

There’s not much to say on this last day of the week, except, hooray! See ya! Nah, just kidding, I’m sure I can find something to blather on about.

Out of nowhere yesterday, I had a flair up on my wrist where years ago I had surgery to remove a ganglion cyst. The lump had grown to about three quarters of an inch high and was sometimes painful. One of the ways to get rid of it was to smash it. I had that done one and a half times: once in my German class in high school..ja wohl!… (that was the one half time, I wouldn’t let my friend, Danny complete the job) and the successful time was from my then doctor (turned drug dealer, and possibly kid toucher….he’s dead now). He said to me, hold your breath, and with both of his thumbs he pushed. Well, the lights went out and when they came back on I felt like I was in a cartoon. Dots of all colors and cloudy wisps of darkened dementia all swirled before my eyes and he sent me home in that haze of confusion. Jerk!

It was with another doctor I had it surgically removed and now I think it’s coming back (31 years later) and I’m considering that I may actually have to go have my doctor look at it. I just have to watch if he starts limbering up his thumbs. Apparently it doesn’t affect my typing, thankfully, since I type for a living.

If you’re a man and you want to capture a woman’s attention, wear something red, even something as insignificant as a tie. Red denotes confidence and higher status. Women in a study conducted in the U.S., Germany, England and China said they found men in red, or framed in red more sexually appealing than in other colors. Of course, to substantiate the findings, the results were compared to the primate world where the highest ranking male chimpanzees turn dramatically red during competition for primacy and the females go out of their way to mate with the highest ranking male available.

From the I’ll handle this one for you Shazz department: Will she, or won’t she? Probably not. Another American Idol rumor was afoot saying that Paula Adbul would be returning to American Idol. So You Think You Can Dance judge/producer Nigel Lythgoe said that if he had his way, she would be back on the panel, but because of an exlusive contract with another network for another dancing show. Unless that contract were to be amended, she cannot appear on another competition show without getting the stuffings sued out of her.

I have more pictures. The first is a repeat of number 11, the one I posted with my phone so you can see it better. Then it’s a view taken from inside the house to get perspective of how big that room is going to be. The next picture is of what was done yesterday. I don’t think very much got done; there was an injury to a crew member that had to be tended to but the recess for the fan was cut out, which you can see better in the last picture, also taken from inside. I have no idea what is splattered all over the window either.  I was going to  use this shot for the inside persective but when I saw how dirty the glass was from one day to the next, I had to put the other one up  for contrast so you didn’t think my windows were that filthy. But at least that’s one less I’ll have to worry about cleaning since it will soon cease to exist.



Have a great weekend.