Wednesday, September 19, 2012

Out For The Count

                                 Butt on the Bumper, The Count

Last night they screened 2 new episodes of "Counting Cars". I DVR'd them but I only caught a few minutes of one.

I'm going through an 8 week course of treatment for a systemic infection and yesterday was a doozy. I was out flat. I'm not sure who's going to kick it first, the infection or me.

Monday, September 17, 2012

Saving A Buck With Nuck

Save A Buck, Thanks Nuck!
Nucky Looking Imperial on Boardwalk Empire

In last night's season Premier of "Boardwalk Empire", Nucky Thompson showed he has rotted through. Like the running board of an old Packard, he let everybody down. He went from the balance of good and bad that made him appealing to somebody's idea of what a modern hoodlum would look like in spats.

The "Blast Fest" from last season's finale continued. Characters were felled right and left for plot development and stylistic effect. It was gross and overblown. Good writing, skillful dialog, and keen acting have given way to the gun happy blood splatter of a video game.

I was so inspired by the episode that I cancelled my subscription to HBO before I went to bed.

That is seventeen bucks a month saved.

Since HBO decided to have an almost 1 year hiatus on True Blood, I will take a hiatus from paying their high prices. I'll pay them when they have something I want to watch.

In the meantime I have the scrumptious "Leverage" on TNT. There's also the car chasing Count on History Channel. The odd couple from "Wheeler Dealers" is starting a new season on Velocity. BBC "Top Gear" may even start showing something besides reruns soon. There is plenty to watch on my "basic" cable without having to plunk down cash for crap.

Monday, September 10, 2012


This is where I should be putting in my two cents worth about last night's "Counting Cars" episodes.

Except I missed them.

They are recorded safely on the DVR and awaiting my perusal. But I ain't feelin' too inclined.

Labor Day weekend started off with some WalMartian jetting out of the parking lot and straight into the side of my car. By the Grace of God, he caved in the back seat door and not the driver's door. Of course the WalMartian was driving a jeep with a home made "brush bar" welded onto the bumper. So an iron rod with sharp ends tore down the side of my car and destroyed the door.

The driver didn't report the accident to his insurance company and he isn't the owner of the vehicle. Oh joy, joy, joy.

I've been to the body shop that I prefer and they gave me a written estimate the insurance company says they'll honor.....if the insured will talk to them.

In case you're wondering why I have a favorite body shop....that would be because they are the body shop that replaced my front bumper a few months ago when I got popped in a movie theater parking lot.

Physically, I'm sore, my back hurts, and my nerves go on high alert when I get in the car.

I'm still in the process of a 3 month treatment plan to get my body to absorb iron, magnesium, and other nutrients. It quit a while ago and my general practitioner didn't know what else to do.

Like I said, I'm on my third specialist and this one seems to find something new awry with every test. But she thinks she's found the cause for my going unconscious every once and a while.

I'm almost through medicine number one and I've started medicine number two in the combo. I've been warned that in about 4 days I may be sick as a sea serpent on a tilt a whirl. But the only way out is through.

Now I remember why I quit blogging. I spend all my time taking pills, potions, and blood tests! I've FedEx-ed bodily fluids to test labs all over the United States.

At my house, boxes of very unpsychedlic prescriptions and supplements arrive from compounding pharmacies with startling frequency.

If I was a car, I'd say I was in need of a rotisserie restoration. From the pills I'm taking and the test results the doctor is going over with me, I think I may be getting the human equivalent.

Maybe tonight I'll get to spend some quality time with "The Count". Between the 6 p.m., 8p.m., and 9p.m. potions.

Could this man give me a full rotisserie restoration?
"The Count" giving a gun show.
From the "Counting Cars" section of the History Channel Web Site.

Monday, February 06, 2012

Blogger Is A PITA

Blogger has changed layouts yet again. 

I am paying for a domain name and hosting and now I'm putting up with Blogger thinking they are the best thing since sliced bread.  I work at Tuxedo Inn and elsewhere. I am not 12 years old.  I want to do more with my evenings than sit and fool with code.....seriously blogger you've missed the point.

We will soon have a link here to our new site......

Wednesday, December 14, 2011

It's That Time Again. . . .

Next week is it.   Christmas.

The Tuxedo Inn is continuing our tradition, established last year, for holiday decor.

We have wired the large indoor ficus trees with white "fairy lights".  We've scattered more light around the members areas.  The fireplace is lit.  Toasting forks are available from the bartender in the members' bar.  Members are encouraged to bring marshmallows or hearty bread for toasting.  Our crumpet and tea bar has been augmented with holiday cookies and candies.  The bar has low and high octane eggnog upon request.

That is where the Tuxedo Inn has drawn the line. 

In order for our patrons to enjoy a less stressful holiday atmosphere there are no Christmas Trees, holiday music, and no holiday programming on the televisions.

In honor of what worked so well last year, we are playing an AC/DC concert a night on the big screen television.  I personally keep AC/DC CD's in the car for drives through holiday traffic.  It keeps my spirits up and helps me cope with the insane behavior of holiday shoppers.

Last year I managed to drive home in a blizzard serenaded by"Thunderstruck" and the sound of the sleet on the windshield. 

Ah, the holidays!

We hope yours are joyful.  Whatever you celebrate.

Friday, November 04, 2011

A Night In The Hospital & Open Crumpet Bar

The long awaited "Tom Petty & The Heartbreaker's 30th Aniversary Concert" video will make it on the flat screen at the Tuxedo Inn tonight.   The bar will be closing early and then reopening in time for the second half of the concert.  The bartender, Rex, has got to drive me over to the hospital for a night of tests. 

It's just so exciting that I can't stand it!

I also would rather stay home and sleep in my own bed, but that's the way it goes.   This allergy season has left me wheezing and sneezing without any relief, so it's off for sleep tests, breathing tests, blood tests, etc.   It will be a hootnanny of fun!

Tomorrow morning I will be sprung from the "joint" at 6 a.m.   To celebrate the Tuxedo Inn will have a crumpet and mimosa bar until 11:30 a.m.

The halloween decorations are coming down this weekend but have no fear, the Christmas decor will not be displayed until after Thanksgiving!

The holidays have stopped being fun and started being a forced march these days.

This month's "Top Gear" calendar features a pic of the Highly Esteemed One throttling a woman. 

Not much else is perculating in my brain at the moment, it's all most time to pack the overnight bag and wend my way out.

Friday, October 28, 2011

Back from Tiki Time

It's been a while since we've had any news here at the Tuxedo Inn.  Well, that's not exactly true.

We've had news, but I haven't felt much like blogging it up.

We spent the summer with a 7 night a week rotation of calypso, jump up, and Tiki music.     We actually compiled an in-house CD with 27 versions of "Yellow Bird" played on the steel drums.  Our limited edition of 5 drew no takers.  I get the distinct impression my "steel drum summer season" didn't attract a lot of followers in the house.  But since I run this joint, I get to indulge my capricious whims once in a while.

We've put up a fence and turnstyle around the swimming pool after a second Dalek fell in the pool in August.

We've added an enclosure around the pool so we can keep it open year 'round.  We had the hot-tub open but too many people were getting up to hi-jinx in the thing so it's currently drained.

The long awaited season of "True Blood" bit the bit one and sucked it hard.  Despite the "Evil Necromancer" storyline there was an overload of "fan fic" like episodes that took the plot nowhere and seemed like teen-girl fantasies. 

Luckily the new season of "Boardwalk Empire" has come on strong with a cliff hanger story line that keeps us anxious for the next episode.

Summer was, for me, a lot of hours working overtime putting on new software releases and arranging training.  In August we finally put mom to rest in Arlington National Cemetery.  It was the ideal and fitting thing to do.

There are plans in the works for a December get away weekend, but we'll see if that happens.

Right now, we're undergoing an overhaul.  With professional help we've gone through about half of everything in the house and sent a lot of stuff off to sale or donation.  The studio  has been subjected to a lot of sort-and-toss and the furnishings are in disarray.

To celebrate fall we've been rocking the big screen television and sound system with Tom Petty concerts.  This weekend we anticipate screening the 30th Anniversary Gainsville Concert. 

We're going to turn the lights down and let everybody sip and sing along in peace.

The weather man is promising snow tonight and tomorrow.  That bodes ill for us, we usually don't see snow until December.  We're all hoping this isn't a harbinger of a blizzard filled winter.

Pumpkin Carving Contest tonight.  See you there!

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Sharkey "BBob" Belafonte Condition Update

A few days ago we mentioned that "The Shark" had been brutally jumped and was on life support.

Despite the behaviour of the "True Blood" franchise,  Sharkey is still "with us".  He sustained extended injuries on Sunday and Monday when the second episode of season 4 of "True Blood" was released.

Quick actions by Sharkey's friends saved his life.  He is  currently under the care of nationally certified marine veterinary professionals in a high tech "hospital" tank. 

Meanwhile a restraining order has been issued against the "True Blood" franchise.  They are not permitted within mile of Sharkey and may not broadcast anymore season 4 episodes without an ASPCA monitored "stunt shark".

Meanwhile, HBO has confused the number of viewers who tuned in for Sunday night's dreck as "positive" numbers and not "newly alienated viewers". 

Monday, June 27, 2011

Oh That Shark!

The Shark was invited in, given dinner and drinks, and  presented with a box of Cuban cigars.  Then he was jumped.  Ruthlessly.

The shark was sent home, battered and bruised, in a taxi cab.  The thing couldn't even swim, it had to be put on a respirator.

The season 4 premiere  of "True Blood"  left the shark in critical condition.  It was a huge disappointment.

Vampire Bill Compton in Happier Days
The end of season 3 left the all the characters up a tree, in a pickle, or paddling towards a waterfall on  ye' olde' shite creek.  Rather than bore us with how everybody got themselves ironed out, the season 4 premier skipped ahead a year.   Arelene's demon baby is crawling around the house looking normal.  Hoyt and Jessica are snuggled up in a bungalow.  Jason is a competent police office complete with a van dyke beard.  Tara has changed her name, become a cage fighter, and turned lesbian.  Sam's brother is living with Hoyt's mother. Sam belongs to a shape shifters anger management group.  Lafayette is being recruited by a cult.   Bill is now King of Mississippi.  Erik bought Sookie's house and the episode ends with him about to rape Sookie.

The books that spawned True Blood have been tossed aside.  Anything that makes sense has been hurled headlong down a worm hole. 

Will I keep watching?  Probably.   Did I stay up half the night to watch "Episode 2" that was available on line.  Most assuredly not.

Have I read the newest book.  Yes.  I bought it and finished it in two days.   Charlaine Harris promises two more books in the series and then she is ending it.  She might as well leave the last two books out.  The whole story line is about faeries now.  The telepathy and the vampires are hardly mentioned.   Everything is a grim march towards some envisioned end on the horizon. The writing is flat, forced, and feels like an "over due homework assignment".

I'm disgusted with the whole lot. 

Here's hoping that HBO pulls a spectacular season 2 of "Boardwalk Empire" out of its hat.

Thursday, June 23, 2011

Uh Oh, The Steel Drums Have Shown Up

Patrons of the Tuxedo Inn will notice that a steel drum band has set up in the library/bar area.  Although this runs contrary to our usual "quiet and restful" atmosphere, we hope patrons will come out and enjoy the music. As an incentive, we've brought back the "Tea & Crumpet" bar. 

In the tropical spirit Sam, our bartender, has mixed up some umbrella drink specials for everyone to enjoy at discounted prices.  Try a "Sunburned Zombie", "Tequilla Tuxedo", or a "Hammock Hugger".  Stop by and welcome Sam to the staff.

Sam At A former Job
Once again I must remind patrons that, in keeping with zoning regulations, the Tuxedo Inn is a Dalek Free establishment.  Last weekend a guest held an unsanctioned "Dr. Who-abration"  and we wound up with a Dalek at the bottom of the pool.  As a result the pool will be closed until tomorrow afternoon for reparis and cleanup.  Health & Safety regulations require that we have the pool drained, sanitized, and refilled.   The offending member will be charged for the damaged pool filtering equipment.

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Fix, Fixing, Fixed ?

Unless you are a cat or a dog, I do not want a relationship with you that involves any type of "fixing".

It's often said that when women are young they pick out a man with the idea of fixing his flaws.  I've reached the stage where I don't want a man unless he is "all fixed".  And I do mean that in more ways than one.

I'm in that redline danger zone of life when a woman is just liable to go batcrap crazy.  I'm done with the whole "childbearing" thing,  but I could still have an "unfortunate mishap".   I've been through the vast panorama of "self-improvement" and "soul searching" and I've decided that my soul's purpose at this point is to "have fun and be creative".  This means the best guy for me is not a raging alcoholic, a drug addict, or anyone in need of rescue.  It's been all I can do to keep myself from running in front of the ice cream truck,  I just don't have the strength to sign up to do it for anyone else full time.  (After all there are trained professionals for that sort of assistance.)

It's not that I'm not steadfast, loyal, and true.  It's just that I'm not suicidal. 

If I have a good day, where I don't hurt and I have energy, I hoard it to myself.  I don't phone anyone or invite anyone along on my rambles for fear something will happen to break the spell.    Sometimes just going to an art gallery or a movie on my own is enough.  I savor it and keep it stashed for the days when I don't feel so great.

A great appreciation for my own company doesn't make me totally antisocial. I have a heck of a good time exploring the BJ's Warehouse club with Luv Monkey or attending my monthly alumni association luncheons.   But the point is that I don't want to climb Mount Everest or skydive to prove I'm alive.  Life has kicked my ass enough that I realize I am on the physical plane and subject to the experiences therein.

I want companionship for fun things, non life threatening things, like taking the steam train through the mountains to see the fall leaves.  I'm even thinking of striking Disney World from my "to do" list because it involves strategizing and planning like a friggin' military campaign.  The last few grand vacations I took to retreats left me unimpressed.  I enjoyed  the sunset on the Taos Tribal sacred mountain or  the milky way from the cabin porch swing more than I enjoyed the retreats themselves.

I'd like to spend a few days in Venice Italy so I could see if the light there is a magical as Whistler and the impressionists made it out to be.  I'd like to take a vacation to Fiji or someplace where I could stay in a guest cottage over the water  and spend my days soaking in the water and the sun.   I'd like to have a beach vacation where I could body surf and stare at the ocean a lot.   I'd still like to go for a 3 day driving course at Skip Barber driving school. 

I don't need to ride through the Alps on an elephant or scuba dive over an underwater volcano,  I just want some simple old fashioned fun.  How about a little time to relax instead of ticking off things on some great pre-ordaned list?  Way back in economics class we studied "conspicuous consumption", now I feel plagued by another equally dubious phenomena, conspicuous leisure.  There seems to be an unrelenting societal drive for constant "productivity".  When we arent' being super achievers at work, or world class women at home, we are supposed to be National Geographic Society caliber explorers on vacation.  Somebody has slipped a cog somehwere.

I understand all this productivity and conspicuous consumption drives the economy but what does all this "full tilt" living do for me?  That is another dangerous symptom of my life's new phase. I ask, "What's in it for me and do I even want that? "  I've adopted Barbara Sher's phrase, "You can't get enough of what you don't really want." as my mantra.

I've seen the bumper stickers and advertisements about "Living on the edge." and "If you're not living on the edge, you're taking up too much room."    

I ask, "Edge of what?"  and "Too much room where?  We're not in airline seats!"

I've been on the edge of reason, the edge of life, the edge of a coma, the edge of a cliff, and a lot of other edges where it wasn't healthy to be. 

Hunter Thompson said that the only ones who truly knew where the edge was were the ones who'd gone over it.

I'm all in favor of examining your comfort zone and giving yourself tiny prods outside your well worn path.    I'm also to the point where I'm well aware that if you have to jump off a cliff in a flying squirrell suit to "feel anything", you may be spending a good portion of the rest of your life "numbing" yourself against something you don't want to deal with.  Do you routinely jump off a cliff because you love the sensation of falling?  Or do you do it because it gets you away from a family who you hate? Or do your few soaring moments cancel out the hours the little voice in your head nags at you over and over?

I don't like the sensation of fallling.   I stay the heck off the cliffsides.   If I don't feel alive, I find an alternative way to suss it out and relieve the situation.  It's too easy to spend your life running to or from the past.   Facing that down is a hell of a lot scarrier than jumping off a cliff dressed like Rocky the Flying Squirrel.  It's more difficult, but in the end it's more rewarding.  Once you've dragged that boogey-man out of the closet and had a good tussle with him, he looses a lot of his power.

Yep, I'm at that dangerous stage of my life.  I'm starting to be comfortable with me, just the way I am.   

This might make me eccentric, unpredictable, totally predictable, odd, average, mundane or incredibly powerful.  I don't know.  This is a whole new phase for me, like grade school, or puberty, or graduating college.  The only thing certain about it is that I can't avoid it.  It's what comes next.  Nobody talked about it in school, or on the playground, or around the water cooler, or even at the dinner table.  But it's what comes next and I'm not about to go dress up like a squirrel and throw myself off a cliff over it.

Wednesday, June 01, 2011

Bippity, Bloggity, Boo

You know you shouldn't smoke in bed!
Alexander Skarsgard  Putting the "Eric The Viking Vampire Vibe" On Simmer.

Ye Olde' Countdown Clock on says it's only 25 days and 4 hours until season 4 of "True Blood" on HBO.  That means it's time to have the HBO turned back on. 

I had HBO cut off after last season's "Boardwalk Empire" finale.   It was just too pricey to leave it turned on when nothing worth watching was on.  

When my cable package came up for renewal I wound up with Showtime tossed in and I wound up hooked on "Californication". 

Since this week sprang June on us with 95 degree temperatures, Luv Monkey and I spent the holiday weekend indoors with the shades pulled down.   Instead of our much anticipated trip to the drive in to see "Pirates 4" we  fired up the premium channels and viewed such cinematic masterpieces as "Kung Fu Panda", "Cats & Dogs 2",  and "Californication Season 1".   

We made our customary sojourn to BJ's to pick up 120 pounds of cat liter and an economy sized bottle of Advil.   I mean it's not a weekend with Luv Monkey without the "animal hoarders valu-size" order of cat liter!

At one point we were drawn into the "Top Gear" marathon.  LM was immediately impressed when James May began speaking to an auto tech in German.  He was then immediately unimpressed when James began fighting with Jeremy over a cell phone.    We flipped over to a "Mythbuster's" marathon instead.  We finally settled on David Suchet giving a tour of the "Orient Express" train on it's journey. 

Tonight it is hot and humid and all I want to do is return to the cool comfort of my "girl cave".  Instead I am going to wrangle with the lawyer over paperwork she should have done months ago.

Perhaps when I finally slink into the house I'll be able to catch a rerun of last season's "True Blood" and see "Eric the Viking Vampire" sink his fangs into someone. :)

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Well It's Wednesday

crazy shoes - crocs - crocodiles - It's a Croc!
Say these are comfy!

I will not be able to read the next installment of the "Parasol Protectorate" Sci-Fi series when it comes out in July.   The author, Gail Carrieger, has stated that she would wipe out sweat pants, Fiestaware, and Crocs if she could.

Since I am a fan of all three I figure Ms. Carrieger has declared war on me.  All I did was buy her first few books, but apparently I offend. 

In English fashion I give her the two fingered archer's salute!

A public school in Chicago has banned home made packed lunches.  They've decided that parents don't provide the "proper" foods.  After all the government knows best and they will quickly tell you so.

Georgia has put up advertising billboards  telling children that if they are chubby they will die soon.  They also have billboards telling children they are chubby because they are gluttons.   Apparently Georgia has decided  they know best about everything as well.  They figure that scared, crying, self loathing children fit in better with the government controlled school system.  Keep them frightened  and self-hating  and they'll be too busy to make any waves for the teachers.

I'm not sure when the United States became such a hostile place.  Where did manners go?  Why is ok to malign an entire religous group because of one crackpot clergyman?  The "apocolypse prophit" is fair game for ridicule but all Christians are not the same. It smacks of targeted religious intolerance.

I actually had someone in the grocery line look at my purchases and smugly say, "I don't by food like that!" I had a loaf of white bread, Twizzlers, and a bag of chips in my cart with the canned veggies, milk, and produce.

I smiled and replied, "With that stick up your ass it's probably hard to eat."

They wanted to keep bitching  but fell silent when I used my, "I will stick this can of corn down your throat" look. 

When did suburban America go from "live and let live" to "live and run over"?

Folks are taking the hostile hatchet to each other all over the place.

The Federal Government is currently spending its employee pension fund because it's out of cash. Republicans are ranting about making fed employment more like private industry.  However they haven't ever taken a good look at private industry.  For most of the high paying positions on the federal roster, private industry equivalent salaries would be 10% or more higher.   They are raving about making federal employees pay five times more into their pension fund.  That would make feds pay  more than private industry. Gardener Group studies show that government employees do more, make less, and are a better bargain than private industry.  (The worst treated federal employees are in the armed services.  It's amazing how many millitary families need "food stamps" and government aid.) If the federal employees weren't there we'd have no TSA agents or IRS.  We also wouldn't have medicare, medicade, social security, the coast guard, national highways, unemployment, disability income, or FAA.

Congress is, of course, not talking about cutting their pensions or their benefits.  They are also fogetting that a government isn't private industry.  A government isn't to make a profit, it is to protect and serve the people.  Few companies, if any, have a mandate to protect their shareholders from terrorists or take care of their orphaned children and aged mothers. 

Fiscally spending needs to throttle back but jingoistic slogans and re-election promises aren't going to fix the problem.  Destroying the nation isn't a palatable option either. 

Instead of all the political infighting why don't they ask , "What Would Walt Disney Do"?  

Disney's company is a model of both fiscal success and polite and pleasant industry.

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

James May Shows Me What's In His Pocket

I was in a bookstore last night, a real brick and glass bookstore, meandering through the promo tables.  The touch of the slick paperback covers and the smell of the print were comforting, familiar.  There was a copy of Jeremy Clarkson's "How Hard Can It Be?"  with an "import" sticker on it.  I stared at the pricked up ears of the red squirrel sharing the cover with Jeremy and thought about how nothing ever lasts forever.  Red squirrels are being driven to extinction by grey squirrels.  The Stig wrote a book just like Clarkson, Hammond, and May and and the BBC canned him.   Jeremy Clarkson denounced the Stig as "greedy" in an interview.

 Top Gear has motored on with a "New" White Stig but it's not the same.  Everybody knows how the Stig we knew and loved was treated.  Nobody forgets seeing someone kick the dog. 

Lately Clarkson has appeared in the gossip columns as a philanderer and adulterer. Supposedly he has been having a fling with a Top Gear staffer.  Unnamed witnesses claim to have seen the two of them cavorting on the last Top Gear World Tour.  The Clarkson swagger and ego don't seem so put-on and funny anymore.  Nothing remains changeless.

I was debating on buying Clarkson's book.  There was a thump of thunder.  The power went off.

In the sudden, dark quiet I waited for my eyes to adjust.  No one was saying anything.  There were a few rustles and bumps as people shuffled around.  I was too far back in the store to see any light from the windows.  I did see the faint green glow of an exit sign not too far away.  I shuffled along with my hands out in front of me until I bumped into a door.   I shoved and the door opened.  There was a stairwell lit by a flickering emergency light.

"You have to go up to get out."  A calm man's voice said.

He was standing a few steps up motioning for me to follow him.  In the meager light he was more of an outline than details.    Another green exit sign was glowing a few steps above him.

I put my foot on the first step.  The emergency light dimmed out.

"Come on, it's just a few steps up."  He said quietly. His voice was familiar.

I shuffled a foot around looking for the next stair.  Feeling dizzily midair, I stopped still.

"I can't see anything.  I can't find the edge of the stair."  I squeaked in spite of myself.

A soft circle of light appeared inches from my face.  It was the glow dial on a watch.  It flurried around and then the illuminated face of a cell phone materialized.  I could see fingers pushing buttons on the phone and the screen came up bright white.  The phone moved down towards my knees  and  illuminated the edge of the stairs.

"Can you see the stair now?" 

I nodded futilely in the dark then stepped up. 

A big hand slipped around my wrist. 

"Just follow me up.  That's it." 

Things weren't making sense. I'd been in that bookstore hundreds of times, there was no way it could be "up" to leave by the back door.  Then I recognized the voice.

"You're James May aren't you?"  I answered.

Then I woke up in the muggy  3 a.m. darkness of my own room.  I was disoriented but I could still make out my surroundings by the light of the alarm clock.  I turned on the television and queued up a rerun of the Craig Fergusson show.  I settled back to sleep listening to Craig and Geoff the robot making double entendres.

Nothing stays the same.  Everything changes.  We startle and settle and go on.

Note: The pic at the top of the page is a very rare white kiwi.  It isn't an albino but white.  It was born into a special breeding program in New Zealand.

Monday, May 23, 2011

How Can You Mend A Broken Bridge?

Monday morning dawns, my face is rosy and pink with the early light.  It is also subtly green  down one side.  The left side of my mouth is  plump and swollen, as is my left eye, and the left side of my nose.  I am missing three of my front teeth.

I am a vision of throttled loveliness. 

I am coming to the alarming conclusion that I paid someone to maim me.  

I paid them enough for a nice down payment on a new car. 

My temporary bridgework, to cover up the splendor of my mending jaw, was broken by the oral surgeon.  It doesn't fit over my mangled gums anyway.  A new temporary bridgework will cost me more than my monthly car payment.  Somewhere in the last few months I must have lost my mind.

 Last week marked the 2nd anniversary of my mom's passing.  Oddly enough the Federal Government commemorated the event by sending me another tax bill for her estate.  Each year they send me a bill counting health insurance payments as income in hope that I will pay them 2 to 5 thousand dollars in tax that isn't owed.  Instead I go to the accountant and hand  over the details and they concoct the appropriate reply.  That costs me about 250$. 

The Feds topped off the festivities by sending me an email with mom's funeral date.  After 2 years of dancing around red tape, we have an August date. (And  it's August of this year!)

The funeral director phoned me last week about the commemorative foot stone I've ordered for our family cemetery plot.  There is no problem with placing a foot stone for a relative not buried in the plot.  The problem is that they can't find the cemetery.  According to them it's now a corn field. 

Unless Google Earth is really falling behind I can see the family grave marker on the satellite picture.  The cemetery is still there.

Life is a very grey mountain of grief today.  Mom has been gone two years yet this week she's still raining paperwork and saddness on me.  The grief is not the same as it was the day she died, but it is still here, dark and weighty.  I feel pinioned under grief, paperwork, memories, and mountains of junk.  Mom's glasses and teddy bear still sit in a bag in my storage room.  My purse is full of her tax returns, and military discharge papers. 

My own life is a bit of a battered mess without adding this unhappy haunting to it.  My job is soul sucking.  My health is mercurial.  I long for a home with a solid family and friends. Instead I have what I've always had, a rag tag collection of part time boyfriend and long distance friends.  Things limp by.  I abide.  I rise in the morning and abide through the day, continuously believing there must be something better than this and somehow I will reach it.

Friday, May 20, 2011

It's Been Another Wild Week

The world ends tomorrow. (According to some.)  Arnold S. is being called out by all his 'down low' girls.  Obama wants Israel to redraw their borders. The U.S. government is now spending money from the employee funded Federal Pension Fund because it can't borrow any more cash.  (They may be counting on the end of the world.)   Does anybody need to be reminded where the Social Security money all went? When U.S. Steel does it, it's embezzlement.

Wrestler Randy "Macho Man" Savage was killed in a car accident.  The Queen of England has visited Ireland.  Prince William and the Duchess of Cambridge are on a  three quarters of a million honeymoon trip.   My lawn needs mowing.   Johnny Depp returns to the screen as Captain Jack Sparrow today.  (I'm really  much to old to hold up to Captain Jack in IMAX 3D! All that guyliner would give me the heebie jeebies!)

Jeremy Clarkson is being bashed by rumors that he had an affair with a staffer during the "Top Gear Live" tour.  It's being bandied about that he's been put out of  the house but is fighting to save his marriage.   The "Daily Mail" isn't exactly the most reliable source on the planet.  "The Telegraph" is more encouraging.

Luv Monkey considered that perhaps Clarkson has treated his marriage like he treats the cars on Top Gear, "Drives hell bent until something breaks or he crashes."

Luv Monkey and I have had several separations over our 25 year acquaintance.   Mostly we've had "trial togethers" with being far apart as a given in the landscape.  This could be why my vintage ice pick is still in the art studio, poised for opening tubes of glue, instead of in the police evidence locker. 

Of course for most of the last week I've been feeling prosaic on the news.  I've been on "the good drugs" and flat out in bed.  Consequently I've been listening to the news when I've been too loopy to find the remote control.  

I had a bone graft to my jaw last week.  The "highly recommended" oral surgeon left the entire left side of my face swollen and dark purple.  Despite his pronouncement that the swelling would be gone in 3 days, the swelling is still around one week later.  I look like I lost a fight, or perhaps like Luv Monkey won one.  The oral surgeon was so rough that he even broke my temporary bridgework.  I firmly insisted that he repair it.   From the look in his eyes when he saw me on a follow up visit yesterday, he probably suspected my ice pick was in my right hand and concealed under my purse. 

When I go back to the regular dentist I will do my best to make sure this guy gets no more referrals.

On the up side, it is Friday afternoon.  Also if the world ends tomorrow I don't have to file yet another amended tax return for my mom's estate.  I'll know if I've  wound up in the 'bad place' if the IRS is there.

Monday, May 09, 2011

Looks Like I'm Not The Only One Who Includes Mr. May In Their Blogs

I found this video posting on the "FAIL" blog. It's worth a click.  James smashes himself in the face with a carseat.      CLICK HERE

Monday, May 02, 2011

Kate Middleton Married Osama Bin Laden? What?

I was staggering around the kitchen trying to get caffeine this morning when the day's first phone call asked me if I had heard the "BIG" news.

My first thought was that Kate Middleton had left Prince William.  But I was quickly informed that U.S. forces had found and killed Bin Laden.

After caffiene I turned on the news and noticed the president is green.  I've seen the job wear other presidents down to a grey looking ghost on the boob tube, but this one is turning green.  He doesn't look good.

Apparently he'd been getting 'revenge' on people this last weekend.  He roasted Donald Trump at the Corespondent's Dinner.  Trump was on the tube moaning  about getting picked on.  It's amazing that someone would be dumb enough to call a sitting president a literal "bastard", a transcript forger, and an illegal immigrant and then go to a party they host.   It's a bit like teenage girls getting in a slap fight at the prom.

Princess Diana's ghost is in the news today.  They are auctioning off some of her gowns for charity.  Her doomed image has been popping up on television all week.  Every network has replayed some part of her wedding.  At the time I thought she looked like a lamb going to slaughter,  now re-watching the wedding is like watching an execution.   I change the channel each time she appears floating along in her 1980's gown heading into history.  It seems so cold and sad that she had to buried on a swampy overgrown  lump in a lake to prevent grave robbers from digging her up.  It seems even sadder that this morning some film producer has announced he's doing a movie about how the royal family had Diana assasinated.

The world seems to be spinning a little bit faster and a lot more out of kilter than usual today. I know it's just the illusion of a Monday morning. 

Friday, April 29, 2011

Thank Goodness It's Friday Afternoon!

The Royal Wedding Festivities have wound down.  The clothes washer is fixed.  We've scheduled dental surgery and a jaw bone graft.  We have turned the frustration of dealing with Arlington National Cemetery over to a funeral director.   We've also tasked the funeral director with finding out about the family burial plots elsewhere.  We've even ordered a foot stone for an unmarked family grave.  We're doing our will and medical directives as well.  As you can tell it's been a rather grim time around the Inn with nothing much work writing about. 

We're all rather exhausted and it's only a few hours until we can crawl into bed and release ourselves to sweet sleep!

The Big Fluffy Bed Is Calling!

This amazing chair is what they used to call a "bordello chair". The possibilities boggle the mind don't they?
  Lexington has renamed this oddly shaped chair as a "leat"
Take a gander at Lexington. Com for the sumptuous furniture pictured on today's page.

Thursday, April 28, 2011

Tuxedo Inn Royal Wedding Festivities

Chris Balcombe via Tardis Adventures
Celebrates the Royal Wedding
The Tuxedo Inn will be celebrating the royal wedding with a self serve Tea & Crumpet Bar.

Starting this evening we will be putting out several types of loose tea and all the paraphernalia  necessary for guests to make their own custom cuppa.  Currently we have Earl Grey and English Breakfast.  Because we are American we will also have Luzianne Iced Tea available.

Fresh crumpets have been brought in from Trader Joe's and we have  butter, cream cheese, and an assortment of jams. A commercial toaster is being hooked up so each guest may have their crumpet as crispy or squishy as they like.

The big screen television has been rolled into the room and hooked to cable for everyone's viewing pleasure. (Please note, all "adult entertainment" channels on the cable have been blocked.)

Those of us who run the Tuxedo Inn remember Princess Diana's wedding.  It is with great hope for her bright future that we watch Catherine join the royal family.  May God bless and keep her safe.  We have an inkling that Lady Diana will be watching  from her place on the other side.

Please note that the Tuxedo Inn will not admit Daleks to the premises, no matter how festively they are attired.

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Would Somebody Please Turn The "Drama" Knob Down?

Forget that silly Bugatti, it's you I really  NEED!
When I bought my house you might have thought my  head would have been abuzz with dreams of granite counter tops and stainless steel appliances.  But no.  My heart was fit to burst with joy over the washing machine and the water heater. 

I ogled both of those appliances during the home inspection. I twiddled their knobs and tested them out.  I drooled ever so slightly at the idea of taking a truly hot shower.  I let out a tiny "squee" at the idea of having enough hot water to wash my hair!  The idea of taking a complete shower without a neighbor turning on their sink and shutting my shower down to a trickle made me nearly the giddy!

Then there was the tearful joy at the idea of spending my weekends at home instead of a laundromat.  The unmitigated excitement of having clean underpants without leaving the house was almost more than I could stand.

When you've lived on the top floor of a converted Victorian house for 6 years you don't miss steps, cold trickle showers, blown fuses, falling downstairs with your clothes basket, and fighting for a parking space.   Life became instantly easier when I shuffled my junk into a basementless rancher with a tiny driveway.

Last night at bedtime I went to check on the beautiful blue tri-color shirt I had gently put into the wash by itself.  I discovered that the color had run like an indigo nightmare that the shirt had become one solid color. 

I also discovered that the washing machine was broken.  Its tub was full of inky blue sudsy water refused to drain.  No matter what "trick" I tried, the blue ooze remained. 

I fished out my ruined blouse and took it to the bathtub so it could think about its treachery.  Then I debated on how to get 10 gallons of violently blue dye stained water from the machine, across light beige carpet, and to the nearest drain.

As I was planning my route it dawned on me that I will most likely going to have to drag my nasty clothes to the laundromat this Saturday.  The "mat" will be closed on Sunday for Easter.   The thought of shoveling my clothes into the car and dragging them across town and back made me wail a hopeless shriek.  This shriek was heard by "Luv Monkey" via the phone call we were on.

Luv Monkey, instead of being supportive, snorted and let out a bitching rant about my attitude.  This from a man who has not done a load of laundry for anyone, including himself, since 1983.  (Yes his mother still does his laundry.)

After I let him know that it was my laundry and I'd cry if I wanted to, he began bitching even louder.  Somehow, my cordless phone disconnected him. 

James May can "Man Lab" all he wants.  He needs to teach "blokes" how to be helpful when their woman faces the horror of a holiday weekend in the laundromat.

Today I checked the prices of a new washer, let out a shriek, and promptly called my paid "Honey Do" man.  "Honey Do" will be by tonight to check the washer and make sure it's just the water pump.  He will order parts tonight and have them on Thursday.  No weekend laundromat!

This is where I point out that it's much better to have a talented paid "Honey Do" man than a "Luv Monkey".

Once you've passed 30, sex is just not gonna motivate who you need when you need them.  Get a college degree,  develop a good career, and hire men to do the job then go away.  No heartbreak. No STD's. Nobody elses's  laundry to do.

Monday, April 18, 2011

Wrecked. . .

It's been another few tough weeks around the Inn.

I've been down with a sinus infection and a jaw infection. It's been dentists, antibiotics, and a lot of rest.

Saturday was spent in the Lapidary Lair weaving together some chainmaille. Sunday was spent shoveling through 3 weeks worth undone housework.

Nothing fun and nothing worth blogging about.

OMBH I would point you towards a blurb on the Top Gear web site about Jame's May's new series "Man Lab". Apparently he's actually using Twitter now. Does that make him a Twit or a Tweeter? Either way it all seems suspect.

Monday, March 21, 2011 good....for a prison break

OMBH,  I officially give you all my alphabetizing.   

I hate to file anything.  I hate to alphabetize.  Hate it! 

I arrange my books and CDs by category and artist, but never by alphabetical order. :)

My papers are kept in file boxes by year.  If I need something I wade through and suffer.

I know that A is at the front and Z is at the back and the rest of the letters can just take care of themselves! :)


She who will not file.

(Except for my nails.)

Luv monkey has not been a brute....but my heart is broken by life. 

Perhaps some daredevil fly boy in his Sopwith Pup broke it years ago and it's never properly mended.  Who knows?

My dad was an American "Fly Boy" and he certainly broke my heart with a fracture that not even super glue can set to rights. 

The old standard "Long Ago & Far Away" is running through my mind tonight.  It's just the kind of song to sing when laying low and nursing a broken heart.

Long Ago & Far Away

Long ago and far away, I dreamed a dream one day
And now that dream is here beside me
Long the skies were overcast but now the clouds have passed
You're here at last

Chills run up and down my spine, Aladdin's lamp is mine
The dream I dreamed was not denied me
Just one look and then I knew
That all I longed for long ago was you

Chills run up and down my spine, Aladdin's lamp is mine
The dream I dreamed was not denied me
Just one look and then I knew
That all I longed for long ago was you

A trial, a separation, and a what's next?

As James May takes up column space about how he likes "windscreens" and how his "missus" cowered in the floor of a Catherham, I have to ask  myself.....isn't it time I said good bye to Top Gear?

Monday night's used to be a mad rush to get home and have a cold beverage in hand when my favorite "car porn" show hit the airwaves.

Now, I look at cars and think, "Oh heaven what a pain the ass that one would be." 

Perhaps it's "change of life".  Perhaps it's how many cars I've loved and who have ruthlessly broken my heart.  I'm trying to temper pragmatism and experience against disappointment and bitterness. 

My health is on the mend and I'm still fragile.  My art studio is in a shambles.  My love life reads like a bad sci-fi story. I've got little left in the way of family or close friends.  I feel like it's time to go through the material possessions, find a new horizon, pack up and leave. 

I'm not going to make it to driving school this year.  Probably not any year.  My health isn't going to let me.

I'm not going to get to drive any of these mouth watering heart breakers I see on the tube any more than I'm going to get the chance to live in a mansion surrounded by footmen who look like a young Antonio Banderas.

Why torture myself with car porn?  Why torture myself by looking at 3 guys who are lucky enough to make a living out of driving fast.  In Jame May's "new" series he gets paid for getting drunk and acting stupid.  Seriously I don' t need that thrown in my face any more than I need a steady stream of news photos of the horrific things happening all around the world.

Where will the blog go next?  Who knows?  I think I only have 1 reader.  I can stay buds with them without the blog.

I've got the opportunity to take an intro course in "lost wax casting" for silversmithing.  Maybe I'll do that.  Maybe I'll go back to taking bookbinding classes.    Maybe I'll take up yoga or tarot card reading. Something, anything, that gives me possibilities instead of rubbing my nose in  what others get to enjoy but I never get to have.

Friday, March 18, 2011

Shelter Box ORG

The contents of a "Shelter Box"

Shelter Box is a non-profit organization that creates survival kits.  They drop off survival kits to families who have had their homes destroyed by earthquakes and tidal waves.  

What's in a "Survival Box"?  A large storage tub contains a 10 person tent, water purification equipment for 10 people for 12 months, a small cookstove, basic tools, survival blankets, and other things as appropriate. 

A box can house and provide water for up to 10 people.  The tents are designed to stay warm or cool as needed and to withstand heavy weather.

The folks of "Shelter Box" are headquartered in the UK.  They are already distributing "shelter boxes" in Japan.

They are backed by the Rotary Clubs.  The head of "Shelter Box" has been awarded the "CNN Hero" title.

Read this article at CNN:

My parents lived in Japan in the late 1940's and early 1950's.  My mother served in the USAF there.  I made a donation in her honor.  If she were alive and able she would want to be there nursing and comforting the Japanese.

Shelter Boxes ready to go out.

Thursday, March 17, 2011

Everything Is Boiling

The world seems to be boiling today.

The reactors in Japan are boiling dry.  The congress and senate are boiling with rhetoric.  The budget extension bill hasn't been signed and there is less than 48 hours before the Federal Government coffers boil down to nil.  The office I work in is boiling with people filing grievances with the union and nobody knows what about or why.

I don't think I've ever been in a place where people were more jealous and petty about everything. They don't talk to each other, they just file grievances. 

My tiny puddle of enzymes, hormones, and endocrine systems chemicals has dried up and I'm exhausted.  

Right now there is only prayer and waiting.

Wednesday, March 16, 2011