Posts Tagged ‘I Love Lucy’

Ready…Set….

January 4, 2012

Sleep.  Whoops. Today was the day I was to get my sorry self back out on the street for my four-mile walks but having checked the weather forecast yesterday and seeing the temperature was going to be an insanely low degree, I thought better than trudging out in the freezing cold. I mean, there has to be a limit, after all, even if my walking would be a major health benefit. I don’t need to add hypothermia to the mix of high cholesterol and high blood pressure and aching joints (recall the grimacing detail resulting from getting out of my comfy red chair..). Why not do a round of aerobics, instead? I would have except that I slept past the time I would otherwise have been finished. Well, it was really too cold to get out of bed.

Apparently this is just a temporary cold snap and maybe tomorrow morning I can get out there. I need to drop some weight…yes, it’s that time again. I’ve only had since November when I last saw my doctor, but now March will be here before I know it when I have to go have blood drawn again to see how my numbers are doing and if they haven’t adjusted enough to the doctor’s satisfaction I’ll be going on whatever is they give people with high cholesterol and I really don’t want to be on any more meds than I have to be.  Being on the blood pressure Rx is one Rx too many…I just don’t want to live out of a medicine bottle if I can avoid it.

In a complete non-sequitur, as I’m writing this, I’ve got I Love Lucy playing in the background, which has finally returned after a month-long stint of Christmas-themed movies on The Hallmark Channel. Anyhow, it’s the episode where Sam and Nancy Johnson, the oil tycoons move into the building and in short order the Ricardo’s and the Mertz’s invest. Later, when a detective friend of Fred’s asks about Sam Johnson, the foursome assume they’ve been swindled and it turns out, after Lucy gathers “evidence” of the con, the detective reappears after just making a windfall coincidentally after someone just returned some stock and everyone gets mad at Lucy. However, if you listen carefully, it’s Ricky who plants the idea they’d been duped after the investigator first arrives… “suppose he doesn’t want to see Mr. Johnson about buying some stock…” which prompts Lucy to exclaim, “We have been swindled!” How about that? I can’t find a video online. Nevertheless, I declare Lucy free from blame in this caper. So let it be written….

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Peace!, Mary, David, Jesus

December 16, 2011

For those of us who never saw the image of Jesus in an oil spill, in a water spot on a wall or on a piece of toast, well, now you’re chance. Yes, you can now have your “daily bread” with Jesus’ face burned onto it whenever you like with The Jesus Toaster for around $30 plus shipping. The designer of the toaster, Vermont businessman Galen Dively said he got the idea two Christmases ago when he bought a toaster with a cartoon character on it (probably that anti-Christ Mickey Mouse…One Life to Live and All My Children fans will understand that reference!!). Dively’s toaster is available with other designs such as a peace sign, the Star of David and the Virgin Mary. Click here to explore his website.

Perhaps my favorite instance of pareidolia (seeing images, usually human, in places where they don’t exist) is this one. It’s near the end of the I Love Lucy episode “The Ballet” where Lucy mistakenly appears, ready for her much rehearsed burlesque routine, for the ballet number when one of the dancers dropped out. In keeping with the burlesque routine, anytime the “stranger with the kind face” hears the name Martha, he attacks the person saying it and this time Ricky got a pie thrown in his face. The result is a face on the wall. 

 

Don’t you hate when things just don’t click? When I was writing about the “PlayStewardess” and “PlayFlightAttendant” yesterday, I could not remember flight attendant for some reason. Later, watching the news, where I saw the Jesus toaster featured, the anchor was talking about a policy in Atlantic City about waitresses, the ones that troll the casino floors, will have a four year shelf life and must reapply for the job after that because of a “pretty” policy. He then asked what about cheerleaders and then he also couldn’t remember the politically correct term for stewardess. That was just a silly aside. Sorry.

And then, another coincidence, and perhaps the biggest news from yesterday, our company rang the closing bell at NASDAQ yesterday. Ariel was there, along with about 70 other company execs and afterward there was the executive dinner. This was the second time we rang the closing bell, this time celebrating 30 years of business and 25 years listed with NASDAQ. Go us! The coincidence is that Ariel’s cousin’s company she recently started working for, Michael Kors, was just listed on the NYSE and he was there to ring the opening bell.

Is that a good way to close today? It feels like I should have had something else to say. I hate to close in the middle of

pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis

August 11, 2011

…That’s the longest word in the English language and it refers to a lung disease caused by silica dust.

While trying to figure what to write about today, I came across an article about some Tshirts geared at trying to rehabilitate hardcore neo-Nazi extremists. The shirts were given out at a right-wing concert, emblazoned with the slogan Hardcore Rebels and included a skull and nationalist flag. After their first washing, the shirts read: If your Tshirt can do it, you can do it, too–we’ll help you get away from the neo-Nazi scene”. I guess that’s sort of like those glasses that do a strip tease when they get cold, or coffee cups that show a scene in an otherwise stark black field when they heat up. But that was a rather wordy slogan. Perhaps, as an example, it should have been more to the point with something like, well, like: NJ and You, Perfect Together, which then turns into HA HA HA!

I also read about the Lucille Ball 100th  birthday festival in Jamestown, NY, attended by a record-breaking 915 adoring, look-alike fans, some coming from as far as Australia.

Last night we finally cut into the first beefsteak tomato to come off the assembly line. We waited until half-time during So You Think You Can Dance to make a lettuce and tomato sandwich, with a schmear of mayo and a twist of ground black pepper along with a dash of salt on downy soft Sunbeam bread

 

It was our “Melanie’s gonna wipe the floor with the other 3 dancers and win season 8 ” beefsteak tomato sandwich. It was the reverse of our usual “get rid of so and so” dish from whichever competition show we happen to be watching; whether it be a homemade slaw, or a 5 minute chocolate cake. We’ll mostly like have the other half tonight for a little extra boost to victory.

That mud nest on the sunflower leaf washed away in the torrential rain we had the other day. Alas. But I did manage to finally get the mint flowers cut off and the bee/wasp/ugly flying transformer-like Daubers are gone.

Here’s a quiz: take a look at this picture and see if you can figure out what plans we have this weekend.

And then just for haha’s…..

Through The Fog

September 17, 2010

Show of hands! How many out there remember those anti-smoking commercials not too long ago where people who no longer smoked found it insanely impossible to do ordinary tasks, like backing the car out of the driveway or eating? I always thought they were so ridiculous. But I think I can say that I get it now. I get the point they were making. Not in such a crucial way, as in being concerned about one’s health, I’m not disputing that, but rather just functioning, or trying to, with a certain stimulus no longer present. Perhaps it’s a silly comparison, but getting through the first days brought those commercials to mind. I have my daily self-imposed cattle herding-like, cookie cutter routine; start work by 7:30 or 8, turn on the NJ news at 9, watch CNN Headline news at 9:30, switch to the Hallmark Channel for The Golden Girls until 11 and then I Love Lucy until 1 when I take my lunch break. Well, thanks to the channel’s new line-up, Martha Stewart is in those time slots. I don’t watch Martha Stewart. I don’t have the desire to learn how to make napkin rings out of hollowed out tree branches. So, I scrambled all week trying to get a new routine, which in essence is like having my own babysitter. It’s Friday and I’m still not sure what I’m doing. But I’m getting better. I’ll muddle through.

News on the house front! The brick is done, as you can see below, but it still has to be grouted and also the ledges for under the front and attic windows have to be put in place. I didn’t think I was going to be able to get this shot because just after they called it a day the skies opened up and it was thundering and lightning and it was so dark. But it blew over and I was able to get my shot. But that’s not the news. The walls will probably be painted today–the ceiling was done yesterday. The floor will be going in, he said, I think, this week, which means either today or tomorrow and by next week he wants to break through the existing walls for the doorways. Oh, and the plans for the patio were discussed, as well as one tiny other project that’s been long in the coming and it’s looking good, according to Lou that it can be all be done by the winter.

Remember how earlier this week we played Bingo for charity? Well, we’ve got one more charity event coming up this weekend, but I don’t want to talk about it just yet so I don’t jinx myself. I’m a little nervous about it, but I made up my mind several weeks ago to do it. Tickets are bought. Our group is gathered. The meeting place and time is all set and I can’t back out now. I don’t know if I’ll be able to blog about it on Monday, since the event is Sunday and will run late into the night, but by Tuesday I will have the story. And more progress pictures of the house, no doubt.

And sadly, after 13,858 episodes, the world will stop turning later this afternoon for the residents of fictional Oakdale, Illinois on As The World Turns, the longest running television-only soap opera that debuted April 2, 1956. It was decided last December to cancel the sudser due to declining viewership and is ranked as the least watched of all the remaining soaps. Coincidentally, a year ago tomorrow marks the first  anniversary of when Guiding Light went off, the 72 year old soap that started on radio, then was broadcast on both radio and television before making the exclusive jump to TV. In ATWT’s place, there will probably be some game show or yet another talk show. This is what you want, dear television viewing public, so have at it! Just leave my story alone! Long live One Life To Live!

On that note, it’s National Apple Dumpling Day. Rejoice!

Whoops, sorry, I just got this in. Herbert and The New Shazzam wanted me to tell you they’re still on the job and  they asked to me quickly tell you the latest out of the American Idol camp and they’re sorry they missed letting you know about J Lo and Steven Tyler being the new judges. To celebrate the 10th season of American Idol, online auditions will be accepted from those who cannot make it to the try-outs. Each hopeful has a 40 second shot with only one entry per person allowed. I would imagine with several different email addresses each would try more than once. They can sing songs only from a select list of approved songs and submit them through “Idol”‘s mini MySpace page until October 6. The ones that make it will move forward to the call back round in Los Angeles.

The Green Light

July 20, 2010

Yesterday started off like any other day. I got up, had my coffee, customarily mopped up the trail of water in my basement, decided to work out later in the day after I was sufficiently awake, sat down at my computer and dug into the pile of work that suddenly appeared. Then I answered the phone and was told, “There is a building permit ready for pick-up”. I was nearing the end of one of the projects I was working on so I closed up shop and headed over to town hall with my check, then got myself a sandwich at the deli and called my contractor.

He swung by last night while I was listening to an episode of “My Favorite Husband” on my Droid, through an app (free) called Old Time Radio. They have several genres; mystery, drama, comedy, etc. from the golden days of radio (even the Mercury Theater presentation of War of the Worlds). I chose “Liz Changes Her Mind” which, on television transformed into “Lucy Changes Her Mind”. But many, if not all, of Liz and George Cooper’s antics were rewritten for Lucy and Ricky Ricardo.

Right, so, Lou swung by with the contract to sign and to get his initial deposit and as he looked over the inspection papers; plumbing, electric, etc. he discovered that by ordinance, because of the addition we’re putting on, we now have to have hard-wired smoke detectors in specific spots throughout the main house and the total we came up with is seven and we’re talking around another grand for that alone.

Today started off a little different than any other day and general consensus has it that it might have been from the landing I made jumping off the ledge in the back of the house while we were attending to the other gutter over the weekend. Well, the pain, far up in the groinal area, began last night when I went to get up for a banana flavored bar of Bonomo Turkish Taffy (which tastes like those circus peanut marshmallowy things, which I also enjoy) and I could barely stand on my right leg and had to basically crawl up the stairs to bed. This morning, it feels as though my sciatica is beginning to stir on the other side and so far, during this short time of writing this blog, I’m squirming around to find a comfortable sitting position. But once I’m up and moving about, I’m fine and I got outside to take picture number 1 of the area that’s being worked on so I can keep a better photographic journal of the addition’s progress unlike the upstairs bathroom and I’m still trying to locate some before pics.

The Last Lament

July 1, 2010

It’s that time of year again, when my internal clock starts revving into action, but somewhere along the way, I lost my power source and my clock is flashing 12:00, 12:00, 12:00. Of course you know what I’m taking about; not going to Provincetown this year. Somewhere around the beginning of June I start getting little flashes, little vignettes that last a only a millisecond each, at first, of being at any given spot on Commercial Street. As the month wears on, the visions become a little longer and begin to invoke the memory of sounds and smells and tastes.

And for me, summer officially begins when we arrive in town, in time for breakfast at The Post Office Café, usually a ham and cheddar omelette, even though the cheddar ends up being something white and stretchy, probably provolone and no matter where you go in town and order cheddar that’s what you get. There’s also a gin bloody Mary and coffee with that breakfast. I know it’s the season of summer, but I’m taking about the attitude of summer. And conversely, it ends when we get home. Otherwise the time between June and Labor Day are just hot sticky and insufferable days.

Apparently, our decision to not go to Provincetown this year has sent a ripple through the time space continuum. Our friend Bobby we travel with each year decided to cancel his trip. He didn’t want to go without us. But we’ll get together with him closer to home this year and keep the tradition of celebrating the 4th with each other going.

Also part of the traditional drive is watching DVD’s along the way while reciting the dialogue, proper inflection and all. The essential travel DVD’s are “The Women” (1939), “All About Eve” and the “Housewarming” episode of I Love Lucy.

Oh yeah, and get this, you know that Massachusetts school board that wanted to make condoms available for all students, including first graders? It was Provincetown, as it turns out. But they’ve since rescinded that decision and will now make them available only to fifth graders and above. Phew!

So, we have a few irons in the fire to help pass the holiday weekend and then whatever we come up with to do for the rest of our vacation will just be played by ear. And the irony of it all is that we’re still waiting for the permits so the work on the house can begin, which was part of the reason we decided not to go. But more importantly it was the money we’d save by staying home. And I’ll just have to wait one more year for that orgasmic French Onion Soup at Ross’ Grill and my customary 1-1/4 pound boiled lobster clam bake at The Lobster Pot. Everything will taste better.

Yikes, I almost forgot to show you who was sporting that frilly yellow bikini in yesterday’s Iconic Bathing Suit picture.

It was Sally Field, looking all cute Gidgety. Or maybe that’s what Sister Bertrille wore under her habit so she could take an off-screen dip in Carlos Ramirez’ pool. But we like her. We really like her! 

There is also a new logo and quote for July on the main page. You can click here to see those and while you’re there, you can see if McGinty and company have come in from the strawberry patch yet.

I Don’t Have A Title For This Blog

December 29, 2009

Perfect timing. This is the last of my baby pictures and this is the last Baby Picture Monday of the year. I hadn’t planned it that way, it just happens that’s how it worked out. Actually, there is one, well, two more pictures in that stash I came across; one is my high school year book picture and one is my cap and gown picture, but they’re not really baby pictures in that sense, but they were taken when I was 17, during the summer before my senior year. Maybe one day next year I’ll put those up, if you beg me enough to see them. In the meantime, this is me at 7. I think I finally grew into those ears.  (What the hell? ) At least I’d like to think I did.

Yesterday I heard of an intriguing story that I learned was already about a year old only to find the story was first broadcast on the news in 2004. It concerns a young boy by the name of James Leininger whose parents were convinced was reincarnated from fallen WWII fighter pilot James Huston Jr. From a young age, James Leininger was consumed with airplanes until one night they began to give him nightmares. He would wake up screaming and would tell his mother, Andrea, “Airplane crash on fire, little man can’t get out.” Another time, Andrea bought her son a toy airplane and pointed out something on the underside that looked like a bomb, but the boy corrected her, telling her it was a drop tank. The family maintained the youngster’s television viewing habits were only children’s shows and that no conversations about military history took place in the house, nor were documentaries watched on television. On advisement from a therapist, as the boy shared his “memories” with his parents his worsened nightmares became less severe and less frequent yet he was becoming more articulate about his “past” and most of his recollections came at bedtime when he would be drowsy.

Among young James’ remembrances were that of his plane having been hit by the Japanese and he crashed, that he flew a Corsair and that it always had flat tires. He also noted the name of the boat he took off from, Natoma, and the name of someone he flew with, Jack Larson. After some research, Natoma and Larson turned out to be factual. Young James also said he was shot down at Iwo Jima and his crayon drawings would be signed “James 3”. Bruce Leininger, the boy’s father, learned there was only one pilot killed at Iwo Jima–James M Huston Jr.

The late pilot’s sister, Anne Barron, was contacted by the Leiningers and she, too, was convinced of the phenomenon, as there was no way the young boy could have otherwise known the things he spoke of. She gifted young James with a bust of George Washington and a model of a Corsair aircraft, effects of her late brother’s that was sent home after the war. Perhaps the pilot’s mission in the afterlife has been carried out; telling what happened, because the boys vivid recollections are beginning to fade as he gets older.

Upstart Miley Cyrus is now condemning Angelina Jolie and Madonna for allowing their children to be on camera all the time. Hmm, Miley “Hannah Montana” Cyrus’s television career began at the age of 9, had recently pole danced atop an ice cream cart (it was art) and gotten tattooed (in memory of her friend who died of cystic fibrosis). Oh, but wait, the worldly 17 year old hasn’t had any children of her own yet to be so judgmental, not that she has a right to be shooting off her mouth given she’s a child star purposely in the public eye.

How to store your baby walker: First remove baby.

Looks like rabbit ears are making a comeback and more than 13 million American households watch TV the old fashioned way, and for FREE. Apparently, dozens of channels are available. This new antenna, which can range in price from about $5 to nearly $200 (depending on the its complexity) also needs the help of a TV that can process a digital signal and if it’s an older set, a converter needs to be installed. So, it’s kind of like going “digital” in reverse. It’s a one time charge as opposed to a monthly one and if Turner Classic Movies would be available through an antenna, I’d almost consider it. Hmm, but maybe I’d be able to find a rerun of I Love Lucy, which is nowhere to be seen on any of the I don’t even know how many channels I have on my cable. But I’ve got all The Golden Girls I could ever want–8 hours a day on the Hallmark Channel alone!

Braille Dictionary.  Must see to appreciate.

As part of the new flying safety regulations since the recent (failed) terrorist bombing attempt, passengers cannot get out of their seats durinig the last hour of their flight. Nor can they hold anything in their laps. Nor reach for anything in the overhead compartments. Really? Will that help? Well, first of all, if everything was screened and assumingly correctly to ensure nothing of any consequence got on the plane (which is the bigger issue here) why can’t a passenger continue reading his book or magazine, or keep his chilled legs warmed with a blanket? Utterly ridiculous. If there’s going to be security checks, then check EVERYONE and EVERYTHING. The last time we flew, my carry on bag was rifled through and tossed aside, leaving me to have to repack it (not an easy task when you’re being pushed and shoved by others in a hurry), my pants nearly falling to the floor because I had to remove my belt. Then I would have been arrested for indecent exposure. My mother, who was being carted around in a wheelchair (for swifter mobility through the airport) had to be searched. Ariel, with his belt firmly around his waist, went through, without so much as anyone looking into his bag.

This will make us all feel better. It was announced yesterday that with or without Simon Cowell, post 2010, the show will go on. Fox TV is putting the finishing touches on a deal to keep American Idol on beyond the end of its contractual run in 2011.

Today the exterminator is coming to see what they can do about our stink bug problem. Ordinarily I would be squeamish in admitting I have a “bug” problem, but everyone I talk to is in the same situation and they’re not going away. The only thing is, I thought they were coming yesterday. I called them to see if they could come on Thursday, hopefully before we went to Newark but the time window they gave me would be cutting it too close and they had nothing on Saturday and I’m this certain I repeated out loud so Ariel could hear it when they told me it would be Monday. Four hours after they should have been here, I called and was assured it was set for today. Same time frame. Who’s right? Who’s wrong? Who cares, just get rid of my bugs.