The Ugly Chair

The time had come to say “good-bye” to the ugly chair. His discomfort was painful to observe. This was a difficult moment and he was going to have to find some way to get through it. His separation anxiety  ratcheted to an all time high.

His favorite chair and ottoman were being replaced; banished forever. A huge hole remained in the space they had once occupied, taunting him with their absence.

Shopping for new companion pieces was going to be difficult for him, but I would be sensitive and patient to ease the transition. I would try to disguise my glee at the opportunity to replace the Buick sized duo. I would diplomatically steer him to current options that featured comfort as well as style.

As soon as we arrived at the furniture store, my beloved headed straight for the recliners and I found myself in the ninth level of chair shopping hell.

His eyes lit up when he spotted a huge, dark brown number with massive overstuffed arms. The gimongous power cord peering from underneath the chair was a huge clue this was not furniture Nate Berkus would embrace.

The salesperson, obviously suffering from too much caffeine, could scarcely conceal her glee at an opportunity to unload the ugly devil on someone who fit demographics most likely to appreciate its benefits. The chair did everything but make frozen margaritas. It reclined backwards at the touch of a button. She practically swooned as she demonstrated the chair tilting upward and forward, depositing its sitter upright, feet on floor with little effort.

Hubby informed perky salesperson; he did not require mobility assistance and left the store in a huff.

I am grateful to the overly zealous salesperson. Thanks to her, we are now the owners of a new chair that features comfort as well as style without a power cord.




Congress Who??

I heard a song on the radio called “My Give a Damn’s Busted.” It reminded me of congress attitude toward their constituents.

They apparently have decided to sign the Grover Norquist pledge while ignoring their electorate. I watched Grover on U-Tube compete in the 2009 “Funniest Celebrity in Washington” contest. He wasn’t talented or funny. We should all be relieved to know that’s where congress support lies.

Congress sent billions in taxpayer money to bail out Wall Street firms. While the rest of us sucked wind from financial losses, there is no law against them profiting from stock trades by using information that is unavailable to the public.

The Stop Trading on Congressional Knowledge (STOCK) Act, is designed to close this loophole for members of Congress. However, despite being introduced three times it has yet to be presented for a vote.

I have a few suggestions that might get congress attention and encourage them to clean up their act.

1. They should have the same healthcare plan most Americans have.

2. They should pay for all of their perks.

3. Withhold their salaries until they can agree to act like businessmen. Most of them would have been fired if they were working in the private sector.

4. Issue job performance reviews to establish salaries and make them available to voters.

5. Publish individual voting records on major issues in a format such as the weekly TV guide.

6. No holidays permitted while there are pending issues requiring a vote. Consider it unpaid overtime.

7. No unrelated or last minute amendments allowed on any bill prior to the vote.

8. There should be a pop quiz on each bill prior to calling for a vote and the results made public.

9. All unused campaign funds are forfeited when leaving office.

10. Eliminate the ability of any individual member of congress to hold an issue hostage.

Come election time, congress better depend on votes from Norquist’ groupies because “My Give a Damn’s Busted.”




The Pool Siren

My BFF and I headed to the indoor exercise pool at the gym. We had not committed to our regimen to the extent we wanted to subject ourselves to the horror of purchasing new suits. Trying on a suit that advertises industrial strength spandex is humiliating. My suit has “endurance” boldly emblazoned across the front right hip. It is not referring to my aquatic capabilities.

The suit had seen better days. It resembles a worn out slipcover for an overstuffed couch. The seat stressed to the extreme, is an awful shade of worn green/black. There appears to be a derriere inside even when none is present.

My friend assured me her suit was tacky too. She usually exaggerates but this time she had not. Her suit was a polka dot number that had done hard time. She covered the lower portion of the suit by donning a pair of exercise shorts. “Shabby chic” does not apply to swimsuits.

A session in the hot whirlpool had reduced our hair to limp strings. Without makeup, we looked like two crumpets prior to toasting. A quick trip to the pool with beach towels draped Burka style covered most of the damage.

We were forced to share the pool with three irritating males whose antics were reminiscence of high school boys except for the glaring man boobs. Suddenly there was a thrashing in the water likened to a feeding frenzy by sharks as the “boys” made their way to the entrance of the pool.

She must have watched the old movie “Picnic” too many times. In her best Kim Novak move, she descended the pool steps slowly. A vision in a pepto bismol fluorescent pink suit, she sported perfectly coiffed, newly tinted red hair. Her makeup was complete with eye shadow, mascara and lip-gloss. Gold hoop earrings completed her ensemble. As she held court at one end of the pool, the pubescent acting males abandoned their splashing and crowding.

The pool siren and her groupies have not been seen since.

There is something to be said for not being a part of the “popular” crowd and saggy spandex. My BFF and I enjoy the pool in our ratty suits in total isolation.