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Lies and Excuses

Seems like every day brings a new onslaught of half-truths and outright lies.

Fox news and Congress top the list of spin and we take everything they say with a hefty dose of skepticism or outright disbelief. We know there is a gotcha lurking about somewhere.

Misinformation found a home on the internet and people are eager to cite the outrageous as factual.

The take away from this is we are becoming liars in instances when the simple truth would suffice.

For example, when someone makes up an unbelievable whopper to decline my invitation, I’m aware the intent is to spare my feelings. More often than not, they insult my intelligence.

Topping the list of least believed lies is the “conjure an over the top conflicting engagement.” Am I to believe that your last-minute opportunity to visit the Vatican conflicts with the exact same time I was coming for a visit? (And, don’t send a photoshopped pix of you and the pope for proof.)

New age excuses are so yesterday and lame. I don’t believe for one second you are backing out of attending my dinner party because it conflicts with your horoscope according to the Mayan calendar.

I am also aware of the “bait and switch/reward” technique. This is usually deployed when declining an invitation is accompanied by a dis-ingenuousness offer to meet at the Hari Krishna restaurant for brunch Sunday morning at 5:30 AM. The insincerity of this invite implies my transportation to this event involves a short yellow bus.

Telling a whopper has its consequences. If you are going to fib, don’t be surprised when your birthday party takes place at 5:00 AM for brunch. It’s the least I can do to honor your new early morning fitness agenda. I am thrilled that I remembered you stated a fondness for Krishna’s cuisine and you probably won’t miss the celebratory mimosas at all.

You will no doubt be ecstatic when you receive an autographed photo of the pope along with a framed copy of the Mayan calendar.




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Native Origin of Dinner

Nutritionist tell us eating fish is healthy. Maybe; depends on the native origin of the fish.

Wild caught salmon is expensive, and I waiver between paying the mortgage or buying wild caught.

Farm raised salmon was an alternative until I read the fish are naturally gray, then dyed red to appear more appealing. Aside from questionable cosmetic enhancement, fish that swim upstream have to be in better shape than those that loll around in a tank all day.

A grocery circular featuring a sale on sea scallops prompts a race to the store. My research on sea scallops indicates they are often carved from cod and passed off as sea scallops. I flatten my body against the meat case peering at the scallops to determine if their grain runs vertically and they are not cod in drag.

I try to make myself invisible to the other shoppers who look at me as though I escaped from the asylum.

The store demo at the seafood counter was hawking monkfish as “poor man’s lobster.” He assured me it tasted exactly like lobster tail. Sure it does and rattlesnake meat taste exactly like chicken, but who wants to go there?

Shrimp is another matter entirely. If the price is too good to be true, the shrimp are native Indonesian. There’s nothing wrong with being from Indonesia, but shrimp making the journey may have experienced more trauma than I wish to ingest.

Much of the Tilapia at my supermarket comes from China. The possibility I might glow in the dark gives me a reason to eliminate that choice. I give up and head to the produce section.

Should I flip a coin and get the stuff from the farmer and hope I can get all the pesticide off, or should I get the prewashed, boxed organic and trust it’s truly organic?

Too much information about food sources is depressing. I arrive home empty-handed and famished and call the pizza delivery guy. It contains neither fish nor lettuce.


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Rick Perry’s Heart

There is a country/western song that says “God is great, beer is good and people are crazy.” That’s as good an explanation as any for Rick Perry being elected twice to serve as governor of Texas.

He does little to contradict the image of Texans as varmint shooting, beer swilling rednecks. His “Texas twang” becomes more pronounced with each televised appearance. He must have channeled Robert Tilton for his day of prayer performance.

Wearing cowboy boots with a tuxedo  screams “hick”.  Most men in Texas who wear cowboy boots have never been cheerleaders.

“He feels in heart, this is what he is supposed to be doing.” Perhaps Perry needs stem cell therapy for his cerebellum. His lack of brain activity has long been a source of amazement and frankly, no one really gives a darn about what he feels in his heart.

He is a hypocrite of the first order as evidenced by his proposed amendment in 1989 to the Texas constitution that called for “the automatic resignation from office of certain public officials seeking other elective office.”

The kicker to that proposal was, the resignation would have to occur within the first 180 days  of holding public office. Having dodged that that requirement, he can continue to serve as governor of Texas and run for President. Nothing of value has happened under his watch. Texas’ constitution mandated a balanced budget, not Rick Perry.

Now that he has screwed up the state education system and healthcare for women, Tricky Ricky is following the time honored practice of seagull politics otherwise known as the dump and run. As much as Texans would be delighted to be rid of yet another political Doofus, we would gladly suffer through the remainder of his term as Governor, if we could be assured he would retire from politics altogether.

London odds makers are giving Perry decent odds to win the Republican nomination as their candidate for President.

If the Brits like him so much, maybe he should move to London. Wouldn’t that be loverly?

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Why Should A Woman Hide Her Engagement Ring for A Job Interview?

A news item advised women not to wear their engagement ring to the interview if they wanted to be considered serious job candidates.

This sounds like career advice women received in the sixties.

Divorced, with children and no recent work experience, was not a good place to be in the sixties. There were few female hiring managers and you couldn’t count on them for support. Their status had been hard won and few would risk it for any reason.

Women had the vote, but you’d hardly know it from questions posed by male interviewers. “Do you plan to re-marry?” “Not unless hell freezes over” or “Are you out of your freaking mind?” did not come across as politically correct responses. The other version of this job interview landmine was “You will re-marry someday. Should we decide to hire you, we’d have to replace and re-train your position”.

An engagement ring was the least of my problems.

In the sixties, divorce carried a stigma that fell for the most part on women. During an interview, it was difficult to refrain from stating if it were not for my children, I would have raced to a nunnery; but as I was damaged goods, placement in a religious institution was not an option. I was not asking to become indentured, just the opportunity to make a decent living.

“What will we do when your children are sick?” Assuring a prospective employer that you had arranged for care for your children was next to impossible.

After swearing to never date or have sex until well past retirement, you might have a chance at getting a job that paid less than a man performing the same duties. After all, men were the head of the household.

I remarried and moved to a larger city. There was not much difference in attitudes. Metropolitan interviewers were more brazen. They did not hesitate to ask how long you had been married. A truthful response brought a different twist on the same old tired line. One male interviewer solicitously stated, “You will want to mesh your new union with a child.” Using his superior visionary abilities, he had determined in a ten-minute interview my family planning objectives.

No woman of today would want to revisit the restrictions of the sixties. For younger women, who might not be aware of how their current rights evolved, some research is in order.

Hiding an engagement ring is a step in the wrong direction.

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Life in the USA under a Perry Presidency

Wonder what it might be like to live in the USA if Perry beat snowball in Hell odds and was elected President?

He’d have an all-male cabinet along with some right-wing nut like Bill O’Reilly as vice president, a pharmaceutical lobbyist for chief of staff and a hairstylist on call 24/7. Government contracts awarded to the biggest campaign contributors.

Healthcare would be provided via WebMD.

Perry stated abstinence works. He could prohibit birth control devices with an executive order. When black-market contraceptives failed women could give birth at the local fire station.

After being vaccinated for HPV teenage females would undergo a sonogram to ensure it had been done.

Perry’s own poor academic record was the basis for assigning a low priority to education in Texas.

Public education would cease in the sixth grade with textbook material approval by Pres. Perry. As a result of a lack of support for education, low-wage jobs would be the norm.

As a  standard pre-employment test the ability to articulate “would you like fries with that,”  ensures unemployment falls to an acceptable level. Failing that, a career as a tent revival preacher might prevent homelessness.

National parks without funding would evaporate into ghost towns. US borders would close to international travelers and Americans would be required to pack heat and wear cowboy boots. Fox network would be the only source of national and world news.

The Urban Dictionary states, “labeling someone a turd in the punch bowl is most appropriate when the individual’s deleterious influence goes beyond mere faux pas or nuisance behaviors and rises to the level of deliberate offense for its own sake.”

Based on his leadership as Governor, Perry has satisfied the first requirement of the aforementioned label and requires only the punchbowl.

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Pool People

Our community pool is visited by a cast of colorful characters.

Impeccably groomed Miss Couture arrives poolside, deposits her accessories in a deck chair and tests the water with a perfectly pedicured toe. She then begins her catwalk down the pool stairs and glides into the water. She is going to do nothing more strenuous than take up real estate in the pool.

Next arrives Unkempt Joe. He’s hauling a beer cooler, boom box and pool float with cubbies for his beverages. He hasn’t shaved in five days. The flies that accompany him indicate an absence of a bath for at least that long. His man boobs compete with the bay window hanging over his swim trunks for space in his raggedy suit. Thank God, he doesn’t know about Speedos. After turning on Leonard Skynard full blast he executes a decibel bursting belly flop and lands on the float. Miss Couture is not amused.

Miss Fitness Freak arrives with barbells, paddles, noodles and weights in tow. Slathered in sunscreen spf 75 she proceeds to enter the middle of the pool after giving Miss Couture a look of disdain and a warning glare to Unkempt Joe, she begins her exercise routine. All she requires is space and non interference from pool mates.

Last to enter is Miss Socialize. She’s as perky as a poodle and talkative as a parrot. She is poised to greet  her next victim. Miss Couture unavailable to those who don’t meet her standard of fashion. Unkempt Joe is belly deep in “Sweet Home Alabama” and longnecks. Miss Fitness Freak is a whirling dervish of activity.
Miss Socialize chatters away to anyone who hasn’t managed to escape.

Miss Fitness Freak is the first to depart the pool leaving behind an oil spill of sunscreen glaze. She is the picture of efficiency as she gathers up her equipment and makes a hasty retreat. She is followed by Miss Couture,  gives Unkempt Joe a withering, warning glance as she runs for the pool exit. Miss Socialize who has managed to drown out Skynard has accomplished what no one heretofore has been able to. Unkempt Joe and his redneck accouterments exit the pool.

Miss Socialize is left to her own devices and ring around the pool as a parting gift from Unkempt Joe. Fellow poolies, having noted her arrival and departure time, will make sure their paths do not cross again. I think she planned it that way.

Sharing water can be a challenge.

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Fourth of July Sale Sputters

I have given up on bargain hunting for summer clothes after the fourth of July. There are none. The selections are unattractive and shop worn. Still, I decided to brave the heat to search for a couple of summer outfits. The giant poster of a girl holding a bouquet of autumn leaves at the mall entrance should have been a big clue.

The broom skirts were all that remained and made me look like a weeble wobble. The airy cotton tee shirts and sweaters had morphed into trapezoids from try-ons. The hanger bumps would require heavy construction equipment to remove. We won’t even mention the selection of swim suits whose style would be better suited to a big box home improvement store.

A major home accessories retailer emailed a flyer advertising half priced summer sales. After opening the email I was hit with “Get a Start on Christmas Home Décor”. The usual holiday gilded angels, bells and whistles were featured. It’s a hundred and six degrees at 8:00 AM in the shade. Free jumbo frozen margaritas could not entice me to shop for holiday décor.

The holidays are nowhere near being on my radar screen. Promoting holiday items in July is lunacy and a huge contradiction of this upscale retailer’s image as the “go to” for elegant home accessories. I’ll bet the summer sale selections are tacky stuff no one would buy and Christmas home décor consisted of last year’s Santa and Rudolph too.

Next year I will ignore the lure of 4th of July sales. Labor Day, however is less than sixty days away.

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If You Will And Other Annoying Phrases

“If you will”, is one of the most annoying phrases on the planet.

It seems I hear or read the phrase almost daily. What does it mean?

Maybe you are half-heartedly offering an opinion that you are not entirely comfortable with.
Are you asking your listener to endorse the ambiguity of your remark?
Perhaps you attempting to impress someone.

The term is overused and pretentious. What would happen if I responded, “I will not”?

“Beg to differ” is downright spineless.

Don’t beg. Disagree or have a fist fight, but don’t beg. My personal view is people who use this phrase are being condescending and don’t give a hoot about your sensibilities. I think a knock upside their noggin might be in order.

I don’t understand the phrase “thinking outside the box”

My thoughts don’t live in a box. Most of the time they are all over the place. It would be more efficient if they were filed away in a box, ready to spring into action when I need them. When asked for a creative solution or a different approach, the thought would hop out of the box, ready for action.

I’ve been asked to add “my bad”.

This clunker originated around 1970. It’s in the same category as “totally” and “like”. Women over six years of age should never use these words as adjectives. If you want to label yourself as lacking ability in any attempt other than chewing gum, feel free to continue usage.

I believed “awesome” indicated something original and exciting.

Just as I’m all set to hear about something unique, most of the time “awesome” describes events, objects or actions that are not. Dark chocolate is awesome. Most of the other stuff to which “awesome” is attributed is not.

What the heck does it mean when someone has “issues?”

Are they ill? Do they have a phobia of some sort? I never know what I am supposed to do or say after being warned a person has “issues”.

I’m going to totally like retreat, if you will until I get my adjective issues under control.

If you beg to differ, feel free to leave a comment.

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I Got Good Hair, Pack Heat and I Wanna Be Yor President

The Republican Governor’s leadership conference in New Orleans should leave no doubt as to the quality of its leadership. It was a shameless demonstration of buffoonery. Naturally Texas Rick Perry was present front and center.

Now that he has screwed up our state he wants to move on and lead the nation that he wanted to secede from. The thought of Gov Perry leaving Texas would be music to my ears if he’d move to Pakistan. The possibility of him winning the presidency is frightening, but it could happen – remember W?

• Perry vetoed legislation in Texas that would ban all drivers texting while driving, stating “he views it as a government effort to micromanage the behavior of adults.”

• Perry had no misgivings about micromanaging female adults when he supported the invasive sonogram bill. This is the equivalent of peeing on our leg and telling us it’s raining.

• He is a glaring example of why there should be separation of church and state. How can you wave the bible and then oppose programs that benefit underprivileged children?

His rhetoric flip flops faster than a catfish out of water. If it proved to be politically expedient he’d do a photo op with mixed race homosexual couples in front of a Planned Parenthood clinic.

He is the male equivalent of Sarah Palin. Good hair and packing heat are not qualifications for intelligent leadership. Unfortunately fruit flies multiply rapidly, and as preposterous as it seems, he might just pull it off.

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Brains vs Testosterone

How can  men figure out how to photograph an awkward component of their anatomy and post it on the web? Most dummy up when it comes to operating the dishwasher. They plead ignorance involving operating any domestic appliance beyond the TV remote.

Call me crazy, but I’ll go out on a limb and say any man caught flashing his junk on the web probably wishes he’d learned how to operate the dishwasher instead.

Prominent woman in politics are rarely involved in that kind of scandal. If a woman engaged in that type of behavior, she would be pilloried. Some “experts” say women have less testosterone and decreased libido and we don’t have the same temptations as men, thus we are better behaved. We may have less testosterone, but we apply it to better use than men.

I’d be willing to bet if it were a woman who “used bad judgment” her spouse would be nowhere to be found when she had to face the music.

When a political lothario makes a complete jackass of himself, the little woman is expected to pony up and appear for a photo op indicating her support. Her presence lends no credibility to the situation. Everyone knows what she would really like to do is broadcast his personal stuff in a jigsaw puzzle.

Recent events seem to indicate wives are opting out, leaving the bum to defend himself solo. Too bad that extra blast of testosterone is not apparent when bumbling apologies of deviant behavior are offered.

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