Pandemic 2.0

What. the. fuck. its happening all over again, How I mean, we had the illusion of two kinda-good months… and were back to where we were,

My sleep patter is back to April 2020. Barely sleeping. Jolting awake. I call it “death sleep” its the same sleep that happened when my mom died.With Dad being un the hopistal and the Dr telling us that Dad was on his way out…was really rough- I guess it was SO close to a death, the closest Ive come to losing my Dad, and it was a shutty dress rehearsal showing how poorly I will do when that day actually comes. Life is so volitile, it been hard to concentrate on anything

Now, these insane ” starts” awake, are happening again- that and my stomach is a mess, I am beyond exhausted, business is shit because of so many appointments being cancelled from COVID.

I really hope this is just a dipped moment. Music saves the day though see great vinyl purchases, and good company now and again

I am so distracted I can’t even focus on ITKWD. Let alone think of anything creative to write. I really need things to change, Im wiped. Im burnt out, Im antsy, Im feeling so OFF…

A day at a time.

I swear there are meat in these here pickles…

For some, living in a world where everyone is sick, depressed sad, forlorn, completely worried about lives and the state of the world and overly cautious– picking up and moving to a new life in a new state with zero guarantees or reassurances seems a bit, well crazy? Well I find it comforting, I mean I KNEW what was going on to happen in Las Vegas — no clue and who knows what will happen with the state of the world here, in Austin, Texas.

So far, yesterday: Ive met an older man who just found out after his father (who was some big game hunter of strange animals) dropped dead wearing Mardi Gras beads out in a small town in West Texas town, and family found out he had some totally other secret family. One gal I met, is being haunted by the ghost of her ex from a past life. All in the matter of an hour! – In Vegas, there wasn’t much going on except for the random weekly suicides off parking structures. Who doesn’t like interesting people with interesting stories, I have to say on a time ratio ,hour by hour its much more interesting here and less Predictable, as The Kinks would say, than where I lived before.

Once we (once we) had so many options
Once we (once we) had dignity and grace
Now we (now we) have got nothing but our own time to waste
. – The Kinks, “Predictable”

Three people in a week

Welp, my uncle, aunt and friends mother all died this week of covid. Makes me so so sad and shocking to see people with these, these full- larger -than- life -lives and die, alone completely with no one around them, whatsoever. It makes everything else in my life seem so tremendously small. Minutes later my sister says she’s sick and my friend Lou down in So. Austin is sick too, too many- too much too fast. Alarmingly. My cousin was beside herself, She was there for me so much when Mom passed, and hearing her so distressed and broken hearted, I wanted to be equally there and present for her in her time of grief, but what can you do over a text message, Compassion in the days of texting is so damn hard but do able.

After a gut wrenching few hours…

I afforded myself the luxury of… yeah- “delivered groceries” – Delivery. Of really anything, The luxury of the pandemic. Honestly, I didn’t feel like doing curbside or much more of anything after hearing this news. I felt like laying on my couch and wiping my sad ass soul down with a lemon-scented, Lysol disinfecting wipe. For oh, so many reasons.

delivering up the strangest things

So far twice I have got someone else groceries. Once on Thanksigving day, I received a random delivery of groceries and once I got the WRONG groceries completely, an hour later they delivered the Right ones. Random! In the days of covid they’re not allowed to pick them up again. Some stuff I would NEVER use and dropped at am local food drive, the other stuff piqued my interest… like an order with probably 6-7 varieties of pickles.

Thank G-d they are lo carb because who doesn’t love pickles? WAIT – before you answer that- I have noticed there’s some trend against olives at the moment. Saying there an “evil” grape. WTF. That is a whole other blog post because olives are literally the fruit? vegetable? of the gods, an “Ambrosia in Brine” if you will. ( there’s a song in there somewhere- maybe to the tune of Chris De Burgh’s “Lady in Red” )

Ok there in my passion lays ,as we get back to pickles and throw in music while I am at it.

is there meat in this? I ate it and still don’t know

Writing blogs have their downsides, because I don’t write like someone is over my shoulder, so what you get is what you get is what you get. not easy but” nessa,” like Dr Little old man would say,

“It is NESSA!…. Don’t tell ME what’s NESSA” – High Anxiety


-So these pickles! I see why they’re so popular, I mean all the posts and trends of “Charcuterie boards are just “grown up lunchables” Oh come on, well maybe. I could fight this and debate it but who has that kinda energy, I surely don’t. Let’s just say, Lunchables are gross. Charcuterie boards with delicious things, are well. Delicious.

if Im not at Canters,back home in LA, I am not really apt to eating a warm pickle. God help me, I can taste home now.

I am still getting to the meat of the matter, or pickle, stay with me here…

SO it lets get one thing straight, I can’t STAND Walmart, I think they are the bane of all shopping existences, They have crap product and screw everyone mom and pop business out of town and their mere presence costs the town that they are in millions of dollars in taxpayer money just existing. You wanna change my mind, lets talk- Oh please lets talk… LOL but dammit, they have these….

briney maple, bourbon pickles. I gotta find a sams club replacements. hmmmm There was no meat harmed in the making of these pickles.

Ok so I used this brine to make a martini. ( of course I did, what goes better with a first pressing of Radiohead’s “OK COMPUTER” is a bourbon-based martini?) So I added, a splash of Bulliet bourbon…

instead of vermouth, and garnished it with said pickle chip. God help me, I should call this drink The Big D, because dammit ….if my eyes didn’t roll to the back in my head.

So THIS is one of the accidental pickles that I got delivered… who knew?!?! So basically this little jar of sweet, spicy and tasty things were brought into my life by pure accident. BUT ARENT ALL GOOD THINGS? or not? I dunno. I’ll take the 5th.

But you know, they kinda tasted like…Brisket. That smokey kinda flavor. Yet none in sight. Curious if this is a Texas thing? Kinds like back in the 70’s growing up in California, everything had “Lemon” in it. Shampoo, Soda, Lemonade… lol you get the gist.

I digress *is an understatement* ….This happened when I bought some pre assembled ( because Im tired pre-occpied and in no mood to mess with a mess), bough these cook-at-home, pre assembled jalapeño poppers. That tasted just like brisket, it even SAID BRISKET on the package….I look at my kid:

“Is there brisket actually IN these?

We searched NO, but it tasted like it. Zero brisket in sight in both the pickles or the poppers. Lets move on shall we?

the rest all showed up to the party

So the rest of these accidental tourists, relinquished us from the whole brisket thing, but were just good and unusual as the others.. without the briskety-mystery so lets go through these because you have a life to live, and since probably no one will commit to a “long read” blog post on pickles. well ok, then. These. Below. Yeah they all showed up and I am sure glad they did. Or you know, I wouldn’t be enjoying their interesting and diverse company.

Lets hope next time I get a delivery they accidentally pop these guys in there or finding them again may put me in a….. well. you know the rest.

Video Movie Paring : Crossing Delancey “The Pickle Man”

wow, I need my own pickle man…. she’s so stupid.

I’ll never fall in love again….Or not?

Well Shit, Ive gone and done it again. I honestly thought I was done with the hogwash. I thought it was over, done with KAPUT, but yeah, I had to go, AFTER SEVEN YEARS and break the record.I was doing so well, staying on on track. Tried and True, alone! Solo…Just me. Hermiting on weekends, collecting my records making playlists and doing…..Just fine.


Until fucking INSTAGRAM. Im early 50’s and fall in love with someone on INSTAGRAM? What educated, intelligent, pulled-together, degreed person does THIS!? Even writing that is embarrassing. Holy mother of God, if it wasn’t 2020 I would be begging my guardian angel for forgiveness for allowing social media so easily into my little happy “VIE SOLITAIRE”

I guarantee my guardian angel is probably closer to Jeri Blank than some “Clarence” type Angel from “Its a Wonderful Life”….


Well this person is a real person, a real person I have met, A real person who I speak to, who I chat with ( chat, I always disliked when that came back in to play, esp when I was working at aol.. it seemed so, lackadasical… and lived up to its name to this day because “chat” can be dangerous – misinterpreted :both in the good and bad aspects)

This person is a good person, this person is a fun person, this person is a fucking awesome person. thus person is an UNAVAILABLE PERSON. Before you judge me, I mean I can only say this:

Honest… I ran out of gas. I… I had a flat tire. I didn’t have enough money for cab fare. My tux didn’t come back from the cleaners. An old friend came in from out of town. Someone stole my car. There was an earthquake. A terrible flood. Locusts! IT WASN’T MY FAULT, I SWEAR TO GOD!

I mean is this my fault because I knew better? I mean, when I came to my senses I realized this isn’t a good thing for anyone.I knew this right away, I knew this from “hello”, My moral compass went flying out the window and I honestly I don’t know if either one of us ever had one.

I am not this type of person.

SEVEN YEARS on my own and this. I mean. THAT. IS. A. LONG. TIME.

Is my presence just making his life better with someone else? Probably. Am I just a passing fancy. Probably. Talking, texting and video chatting hours upon hours a day. then…. he ghosted. but still likes my posts. Now… almost no contact. I truly don’t understand. I really don’t. I mean I fell hard for this person… communicated every iota of feelings I had, honestly and forthrightly. I feel he didn’t exactly do that, and in the mix of the shitshow that ended up happening in the entire mont of November and December, he blew it with me and lost tons of credibility, I know, it sounds crazy, and incredulous but, there was SOMETHING there. is/was… am – I mean wtf?

I set myself up for failure the day I found out there was NO VACANCY for my presence in his life. I must have been out of my mind thinking that there would ever be an “US”

I am USUALLY the one who is the voice of reason, the one who tells people/friends/whoever “this is a really BAD idea” and I mean, I did this on my own with no wise counsel, without telling anyone because you know what: I KNEW this was a SHIT ass, fucking BAD idea. but…. but..


Does this count as a pass? Welp. I deleted his chats so I can’t see when he’s online. Until I “Like” a story of his. ( I know, I KNOW! ) and then – there it is.. Again… That glowing green light – so many nights Ive stared at it glowing- pulsating.. into my brain in wonderment….

It is extremely akin to Daisy’s glowing green light that Gatsby was so obsessed with across West Egg Harbour. Damn you, F. Scott Fitzgerald! Wonder if Daisy would have run away with Jay if they were in a pandemic? Would she have left her secure marriage, for someone she really loved? Probably not.


This is what I have told him…he is three…hours…away. He isn’t thrilled if I date other people. Which sounds like a bore….there are things we don’t talk about or what is happening on his end. Unsaid things we steer clear from.. for me preserving this was out of respect. ( “FOR FUCKING WHO!…” My Jeri Blank guardian angel is screaming at me, throwing her hands in the air and a drink in my face)

You know, the more I write- the more I put these words down in front of me, and seeing what a sad sorted stream of affairs this all was, (is?) the sadder of a sod I feel like. I feel a fool for getting myself into this, for letting my heart run away like this. No one likes a desperate sounding woman, or man, I need to preserve my integrity and maybe have no contact with him ever again, Like Ever. I feel ghosted by him anyway. I feel sick even thinking this.


Ill say this, it got me to feel something again and reminds me, no… I do not want to be alone. I do want someone in my life, Wish It was him, I do, wish it was him.

But I know it will never be. I know he would probably do this to me, what he is doing to her now.

I am surely not his everything, I am not his dream girl, I am not someone he made promises to, loves or even cares about.. and I did it to myself-and I am not ok, and I guess it will be ok , I am always ok, not for now anyway and that’s ok. Right?


So now what is the logical thing to do here… Jesus really ? Is that logical. I mean what is logical in this, it is all kinda crazy if you ask me. Every time we talk or text, my heart beats so fast, my legs get shaky and I can’t think straight, I am either still in love with him or allergic to him – the feels are all still there- and time can only take this away. I need time to pass quickly here…to forget him. I wish there was a big hole I could bury this love in, and make it all go away. Not so easy. My divorce was easier than this, and this hasn’t been all that long,


So why is it so hard, it honestly hasn’t been that long, but the minute I heard his voice I feel like I have heard him before, The minute I saw his face, feel like I had seem him before, the minute I touched him I feel like I had touched him before– Is there a pattern forming here?

this is. just. so. hard.

Klonpin time. More tomorrow, I hope to g-d he doesn’t message me. but then again I really hope he does..

Well, Fuck.



It’s been over 2 years since I really had something to say. I guess you could say I needed to hibernate and get grounded again. Since the accident, since the divorce, since a lot of shit.. since since since.

You would think that an educated, intelligent, Mensa going gal like myself would not be lead by my heart like it is. But sadly, as you can see from my other blog entries… my brain, is sadly, made of celluloid. A female Walter Mitty ( not the new one, the old one… Virginia Mayo, Danny Kaye…

a-pocketa, ta-pocketa.

Ingrained in my brain are movie scenes, song lyrics and daydreams that never, really, come to pass. Rethinking, is it engrained? … or ingrained? It’s been a minute since I really wrote anything — sad, as I promised myself a few years ago I would keep writing everyday like I was doing back then. Long reads, long writes… now I just lay in bed and listen to DooWop and smoke weed and I havent has a carb since October. I have been throwing everything away I can get my hands on in my house and embracing full minimalism by Summer, hopefully.

I am already balls deep into paring down on STUFF. I think that is why I am thinking so much lately, I have the energy and time to do so. To be clear… to, be clear. Clarity is everything, rash motives and actions are a think of the past for me.

Moves are carefully constructed, non-sponetaneous, to a point.  Till something grabbed me by the heart and threw me to to groud.


I am not that person. I left her behind so long ago. I am that other person.

The one I am now. The friend, the one who keeps a distance from any  engtanglements or situa…. I am not answering that text, I have answered them for 8 months, I didnt feel like this the whole time mind you, It just kinda happened. Dammit, I answered the text, I can’t help it I swear.

Want to know what it was like? It fucking happened pretty much just Like THIS!

Then the logical part of me is more Like this— I kept tucking it away for a good few months, It was absolutely not like this to start, not that the potential wasn’t but I wasn’t in a place and this person was far from it too– so as I say  ” it is just nice to be nomiated.” thus meaning that it was nice to have a friend who I had something in common with to just… be a friend.

Well, Fuck. That seemed like it all went to hell one night a while back when texting songs back and forth, got, well- interesting, Not even sexy interesting just the song types started changing and so the playlist plots thickened.

Id love to post some snaps from said texts but I can’t even bring myself to go back and read them like I used to. I just can’t. I have had my head in my hands for about 10 minutes between paragraphs here… and doing a little pacing.

I do my best to just work and go home, live my life. But after certain things arose, well it was Frankie Valli’s fault.

After the concert, I treated myself to see Frankie Valli crooning some of my favorite songs. I was so excited I rushed over afterward, to show off my blurry pics and far-away videos partial songs. Regardless, I was on cloud nine. He got out of work and we sat in my car, like some Dan Fogelberg song….

It was  just a perfect storm. The cold, the rain, the 50’s tunes on the radio… and he.

Screenshot 2017-03-02 at 2.53.31 PM.png

we  kept each other’s secrets. this is one I can’t tell him.

WHY, WHY! I know so much better, I am the older wiser one but the heart wants what the heart wants., But I know — or at least think I know, it will never be so I have to let it go.

Do you know how hard that is? Do you even know how hard that is.I feel like I can’t breathe. Dammit, I swear on everything holy, he is every good line from every movie and every original lyric from the songs I love. He’s perfect. And it breaks my heart hearing how his ex treats him like trash when to me, he is such a treasure, I would treat him like a King, he he deserves. Damn.

Its kinda like this. Alot like this. Kinda.

My guts are turning over and over just being friends, but if he knew how I felt, it would ruin a good thing. A great friendship. It would ruin the THIS and THAT. But ‘this,’ and ‘that,’ is good for TV not so great in real life. Eh. I don’t know. Maybe it is, maybe it is not.

My heart may just forever be sad and blue. Life’s timing. One part of me says “let it be,” the other says, if I don’t say something I may never know. Saying something is a big fucking matzoh ball to put out there.


A risk in ruining what I don’t have in the first place. But I need to just pull up my big girl panties and realize that I need to work as many hours as I can and stay away from him no matter how hard it is.

We would make such a killer couple. Ah.. well. I honestly don’t think he would ever see me like that. So I stay quiet and keep on keeping on… like the old adage, “Love is Friendship on Fire.” Whew, and it is hot in here.


For now, maybe for always…my heart will love him from far, far away and a playlist will have to do:

Secretly- Jimmy Rodgers

These Arms of Mine – Otis Redding

I Could Write A Book- Frank Sinatra

Mr Blue- The Fleetwoods

Brown Eyed Handsome Man — Buddy Holly

Help Me – Joni Michell

Who Loves Your Pretty Baby– Frankie Valli

Oh What a Night– Four Season

and… then

Bye, Bye Baby…The Four Seasons

Since I Don’t Have You-The Skyliners

I am feeling so shitty, I can’t even finish the fucking playlist…maybe later.

Well, Fuck.



… and by the bizzare chance you’re reading this. Well, Fuck. there is it. LOL

Sad Songs They Say So Much, Kinda.

My computer crashed on me at least 7 or 8 times this morning before I could even get started on this blog, I was rethinking yesterdays post. Hm.  I am resolving that  I should have probably worked on research paper that I have due quite soon.

After my ridiculous time I put into my yesterday’s blog, I headed home yet at the last minute detoured into Summerlin Parkway and headed straight for the mountains, into what they call Downtown Summerlin now. A new suburban area with shops and crap.

I sat in a parking lot at Downtown Summerlin looking around wondering if I should take myself to a movie or head home. Dammit.

I opted for take out Chinese, and went home with food and a frown. I told myself I would go crazy  if I had to spend another Saturday night looking at my four walls. Yet, started feeling really ill after I ate. So of course I started Googling health issues. Bad idea.

Since I was an early teen, my step dad ( a doctor), always had DSM’s laying around. I would sit and diagnose myself with ever disease possible .  I was quite an intense young lady.  Nothing much has changed except for maturity and acceptance.

I was diagnosed with really bad panic attacks around the age 17 and they have stuck around pretty much all my life but now I can take it with a grain of salt.

Reading helped. Music helped. Yet I always find myself steering toward the equally troubled sorts of artists. Maybe not officially troubled but those with a seemingly somber sadness.

Song writers like Paul Williams, who is quite apologetic in his music. Emotional with words questioning love– love that will never be or that was, rainy days–Mondays.


He just gets me. There is so much regret and sadness enmeshed in his lyrics as he waxes poetic over his unique vocal styling. I adored him in Phantom of the Paradise. One of the songs in the film, directed by Brian De Palma is called “Faust”. The song starts out with a hauntingly,” soul-be-damned” piano intro, in which  William’s sets an immediate tone of complete regret and disparaging, gut wrenching, self flogging lyrics of utter failure and heartbreak- all before the second stanza.

On the soundtrack album which is fucking wonderful, William Finley sings it.

If you have the LP the song where William’s himself sings in a more laid back 70’s style, which plays out almost in a sense of “this situation has not only killed me but sucked the life out of my soul” gospel– and with a devilish ending guitar solo—you then realize William’s isn’t taking us to heaven….baby.

His version is so awesome it makes my vagina throb, I adore that man, his lyrics and music. (Not to mention he’s a stone 70’s singer songwriter fox!)


I was not myself last night
Couldn’t set things right with apologies or flowers
Out of place as a cryin’ clown who could only frown
And the play went on for hours

And as I lived my  role, I swore, I’d sell my soul for one love
Who would stand by me and give me back the gift of laughter
One love who would stand by me and after making love we’d

Dream a bit of style
We’d dream a bunch of friends
Dream each others smile….And dream it never ends

He gives us the excellent “Hell of It”,  ( I have never seen this footage of William’s stage performance before… wow) which brings us William’s love for ragtime piano, mixed with the “fuck you sounds of damnation”- that this soundtrack brings. It’s like Bugsy Malone meets Satan.

The lyrics alone have similar undertones of Harry Nilsson’s “Your’e Breaking My Heart”. 

Hell of It

Good for nothin’ bad in bed, nobody likes you
And you’re better off dead, goodbye
We’ve all come to say goodbye, goodbye

Born defeated died in vain
Super destructive, you were hooked on pain
And though your music lingers on
All of us are glad you’re gone

If I could live my life half as worthlessly as you
I’m convinced that I’d wind up burning too 

(partial lyrics)


But why do these sad musical pontificates of regret, sadness and loss make me feel better? I am drawn to them like magnets. Speaking of magnets- I am absolutely drawn to the talents of Magnetic Fields’ song writer; Stephin Merritt


According to his website,” House of Tomorrow”‘; Merritt has gained official recognition as one of the country’s best recent songwriters; the “Cole Porter of his generation”.

Nothing ever really works out for Merriit in his songs.

Someone always is sad, left behind, far away, only momentarily lucky, ugly, won’t dance with him, the dog’s leash is too long or just plain absolutely cuckoo.

Sounds like that sums up my typical day in my head in a very large nutshell 🙂

Many of his songs read like prose and are short, repetitive and to the point; and end thusly;

Reno Dakota

Reno Dakota there’s not an iota of kindness in you
You know you enthrall me and yet you don’t call me
It’s making me blue, Pantone 292

Reno Dakota I’m reaching my quota of tears for the year
Alas and alack you just don’t call me back
You have just disappeared
It makes me drink beer

I know you’re a recluse; you know that’s no excuse, Reno
That’s just a ruse
Do not play fast and loose with my heart

Reno Dakota I’m no Nino Rota; I don’t know the score
Have I annoyed you or is there a boy who– well he’s just a whore
I’ve had him before
It makes me drink more

But again why do these songs of sadness make me feel better, or do I just like feeling worse before feeling better. Maybe I just feel that these singer songwriter vocal and lyrical consolations help bring me a sense of  ” You are not alone”.

Still curious on why I will go for something more melancholy like  Merritt’s ” I Don’t Wanna Get Over You” than say, Van Halen’s “JUMP”?

According to , researchers say that emotive and over-romanticized sad songs evoke four distinct rewards.

First being allowed to feel sadness without any of its “real-life implications.” In other words, you can safely explore what it’s like to be a little blue without experiencing the intense grief of mourning a loved one. Even if it’s what you really may be going through, it’s someone else’s words.

Second reward was “Emotion regulation”– as apparently, experiencing sadness through music help to express and release your emotions.

Third was the reward of “imagination” letting us  feel as though we could express ourselves as richly and mournful as the music.

Last, the reward of  “empathy”, it makes us  feel good by sharing the sadness of another human being through the song.

I agree with bits and pieces of this study, I suppose.

Especially the empathy. But most of all I feel empathy for me in particular, as if I wrote the song or a living my situation through the song: like a really bad 90’s movie music montage ( example here…)

I mean if you have ever seen a group of drunk girls Karaoke the song ” Before He Cheats” you know what kind of pathetic empathy I am talking about.( Oye…) These girls may not be drunk in the video, but you get the picture.

Jerk-Off’s and Lady Assholes

People are just annoying. If I never had to deal with the public ever I would be thriled.I have to say the car accident that took me out of my life-long career of hairdressing -was a blessing in disguise. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my clients, and I love doing hair.

That’s really not the public I am talking about.

I am talking about just your regular, day-to-day jerk-off(s), that lack  any sort of social consideration.

When labeling these rude, crude and socially unacceptable people; I have come to find that some terms are deemed more effeminate and some more masculine.Usually you hear someone called a “Dick” to be male and “Bitch” to be, assuming, female.

Well I have heard many men say to other men “ Stop being a Bitch” which may or may not be degrading to females. 

I have to admit I have referred to a guy as being a “big ol’ vagina”;yet there are some terms that I use regularly that seem to have their place in their respective male/female categories.

Let me be more defining of some more commonly recognized terms:

Jerk-off (m) : A guys who publically talks way too loud in comparison to their surroundings. According to in social situations people often talk with normal voice levels at distances of 1 to 4 meters. In such cases the noise level should not exceed 55to 60 dB(A).

Talking with a normal voice approximate to a sound pressure level of70 dB, a raised voice to76 dB, a very loud voice to 82 dB and a shouting voice to 88 dB (1 ft distance). At a cafe or coffee shop, at least the one I am in, the area between me and the next table is approximately about 2-3 feet. The regular considerate person, usually is talking at a level of- oh, for fucks sake, including background music, let’s say; 72dB.

This is close enough so you can hear them, but if you have headphones or are more focused on background music you can pretty much drown them out. Now the jerk-off sitting next to me is clearly talking at a solid 82dB.  That’s freaking loud. Who does that? It’s just plain rude.

I have no desire to hear your talk in terms of a bunch of “alphabet soup” in any sort of public-based call.Not only is it annoying- but just plain obnoxious

.e.g. “.. So this weekend Joel’s internship ends and he will then transfer to BFK then onto another aspect of IDP and then to IQQ”

Or let alone they are trying to have a conversation with Siri….“Siri, find “GARBAGE COLLECTION” Garbage SIRI!!!… Stupid Siri.”I am begging you, Please stop arguing with your technology. It isn’t that advanced to care.  Yet, as I am human –I am advanced to care.

People, CEASE arguing with Siri… PLEASE! Unless you are Katie Holmes, and you are disciplining your daughter: Shaaaadup. NO ONE CARES. ( and even then no one cares…)

In addition, if you are in doubt about if you are encountering the  typical jerk-off ; some good word indicators would be the use the words: “party” “drink” “cock” “fuckin’” “dude” and “yeah”  more than once- in the same sentence. Probability= High. Unless he is a chicken farmer, a caterer, or quoting someone else. He’s a certified jerk-off.

The etymology of said terminology comes from the word “jerk” which was coined in the 1540’s as “to lash, strike or whip”. I can safely assume this then mutated into the slang “jerk off”– which means to masturbate or just plain ol’ waste time.

There is nothing I can find that brings the term to modern day into this possibly fraternity-based, derogatory adjective; except for maybe Andrew Dice Clay in the film “Ford Fairlane” 

Lo, women are not exempt here. When haters, hate-they gotta hate equally. Because on the flip side, we have the “Lady Asshole.”

Note:  I can’t believe I actually said the term” Haters  hate”- Really?

Lady Assholes (f): This is a term me and my friend Sam coined about a crazy “buck-toofed” acquaintance of ours. We use the word “lady” solely because she is a bit older and isn’t a horrible person per se; yet she is just really full of herself and thinks that her shit don’t stink. She’s an asshole – a LADY asshole.

She doesn’t return phone calls, she never gives credit where credit is due and doesn’t keep her word. Not to mention she posts insane close ups of her yellowing crooked teeth poking out of her gaping pie-hole…. it is just frightening. The only way I can describe the horror that is her mouth is Sloth from ”The Goonies” and that is insulting poor Sloth

She posts on her Social Network every-time she goes to the hairdresser, a before and after picture. Only the”after picture” has a lens-flare on it and she has squeezed her sausage-like physique into some “shmata” that is gratuitously glittery, her arms f-stopped in all their rippled “Bingo Wings”  in all their glory; and her hair LOOKS THE FUCKING SAME!

The decision for her to go get her hair done, is as good as the decision to buy a good pair of sunglasses. You may as well go to a bar, throw $80 on the table and leave. She should do the same to her hairdresser. Throw him a check, he should throw that dog a bone and send her on her way. She is just scary.

Once me and Sam get on a text thread about her, there is no stopping us. But, as with any Lady Asshole, you can usually go on tearing her apart for days. It’s comforting.


Blog Music Pairing: Jerk it Out– The Caesars


Sing Sing Sing!


Most days I go around with the first-line to a great story everywhere I go. I walk my happy-ass into Starbucks and in my head was authoring:

She opened the door too hard again today, hitting her head on this broken door for the last time. She thought, until… HE walked over; tall and cavalier and savvy enough to open the door before she had another opportunity to knock ( pronouncing the “k”) herself in the “kepie” again.”

Interrupted in thought, with droves of hot pink Lululemon tushies in line in the Las Vegas North West Summerlin Starbucks location.Me, in my jewjeans with with jewgenes.

To me, Lululemon sounds as if it is either a drink you have on a cruise, or something you squeeze into your Swee-touch-nee tea at Nana’s house.I have to say my favorite first line is usually in the form of a song. And Benny Goodman’s “SING SING SING” is a doozey especially when I feel like I am on my A-Game and going out somewhere. ( <–yes, this is really me)

When that is playing, any line is a good line and I usually get there feeling pretty dang good, swinging it hip to hip.

On arriving to whatever destination I get to, with “SING SING SING” I’m feeling a size 4 and all in glitter ready to walk into “the” bar, a plethora of men named Charlie yell “He-ya Kitten”… as I wave back knowingly with one hand donning one long red glove a velvet dress and a tiara ( It’s my scene, I have to have a tiara, you wouldn’t make fun of Rita Hayworth… OK then)

As make my way in, saying quick casual smarmy hellos to passers by, a steward lifts a round bistro style table over his head placing it at my feet as quickly as a chair is placed right behind me. White linen table covers, effortlessly drape the table followed by a candle and vase with flower.

Maurice, a slick looking waiter holding a towel and bottle of champagne on his arm whispers silently to his lackey who appears post-haste with a crystal champagne glass and a light of my cigarette…. ( the song fades)

( Fade In: Reality) 

… it seems that Sweet Tomatoes Salad bar closes at 9 p.m. on Sundays * sigh*

so me and my birkenstocks opt for Chinese take out and some SiriusXM England Dan on the way home.


The song just never really continues to all it is supposed to be.

In movies, like Annie Hall, ( Woody Allen is king of Soundtracks), Manhattan Murder Mystery, or Goodfellas, the music just goes along perfectly; the people live out exactly what the music is portraying it to be.


Songs from movies like “Moonglow” from Picnic in the scene where Kim Novak and Bill Holden dance, is just AWE-some. I do mean; jaw-droppingly, breath holdingly awesome eveytime I see it.

The romance, the peach-colored lens making everyone look dewy and ripe. Fresh faced Novak and horribly-horny looking Holden, is nothing short of a fucking-liciously perfect October evening.

Nothing, I did in October came close to anything like that; except maybe, embarrassingly enough, flirt shamelessly with someone half my age who has zero interest in me…..That doesn’t even come close to that scene.

But every-time I hear that song, I may as well have.


At the moment, “You Made Me Love You” by Harry James just popped on and I drift to the “Hannah and her Sisters” scene with Michael Caine and Barbara Hersey dancing, forbiddingly clandestine in a New York City hotel room with a bottle of Perrier-Jouet bedside.

Reality, I sit in a cafe in North West Vegas drinking a, now cold, half-caf latte in the red cup. The red cup” is the only reminder that the holidays are on their way– and it will be another season that will be the best time anyone  will have, in my head. Ugh, Really?

Another prime example: “Rhapsody in Blue” doesn’t exactly match up to the next crap ass situation:

A guy holding a baby walks up to a Jewish girl at a cafe, ( this is the beginning of a joke right there.. as this happened not five minutes ago) and asks if she remembers talking to him a few weeks ago about “all things Jewish”. She said, “ Yes I do”– as his, obviously annoyed, Meg Ryan looking wife looks on agitated, then he turns to her saying:  “Remember,  I told you, she’s the one about the Jewish stuff” “

Oh, uh-huh” she shakes her head; knowingly-unknowingly, looking like she just unexpected ate piece of gristle from a steak.( No One Expects the Spanish Inquisition)

Nice to meet you”; she says obviously not remembering, as obviously he never told her.

I look awkwardly at her, as I never introduced myself to warrant someone to say “nice to meet you” and say

Yes, Yes” and nod at her through squinted eyes red and sore from computer glare.

Trying not to be rude; I focus mostly on her, gratuitously asking about her kids, autumn activities and the weather– as I know what it was like to once play the part of the “asshole wife.”

I am too cerebral for this town….

As “I’ve Heard That Song Before” swells in my blue-tooth headphones, I clean the lenses of the ugliest glasses I have ( the backup pair) looking around as the Friday crowd piles in with their spray tanned bodies squeezed into their hooded tank tops ( That’s Vegas for you) carrying shopping bags, first-world problems and acrylic nails.

The cute guy with the long hair and green shirt is here again–always wearing an orange ballcap… which means he is bald with long hair (ouch). That is almost leaning toward mullet territory…. that can turn “attracted to a nerd” into, “Ugh you’re giving me GERD” ,quickly.

Coleman Hawkin’s “Out of Nowhere”, shuffles into my headphones, and I think to myself: Dude, Just shave it, guy you can’t wear that hat forever. Bald is beautiful Own it. ( <–hot!)

As the old timey sounds of “She’s Funny That Way” by the Erroll Garner Trio plays on,

I shake my head, and roll my eyes and hope I look better than I really do in the reflection of my computer screen. As stated, life’s situations and songs just never really match the over romanticized moments in life I lend to them…. or equate to their movie’s counterparts soundtracks.

Life: It makes music sadder- not the other way ’round.

Another Friday Night in Vegas

Hello, I Must Be Going

There’s an old joke.Two elderly women are at a Catskills mountain resort, and one of ’em says: “Boy, the food at this place is really terrible.” The other one says, “Yeah, I know, and such … small portions.” Well, that’s essentially how I feel about life. Full of loneliness and misery and suffering and unhappiness, and it’s all over much too quickly.The-the other important joke for me is one that’s, usually attributed to Groucho Marx, but I think it appears originally in Freud’s wit and its relation to the unconscious.
And it goes like this-I’m paraphrasing: “I would never wanna belong to any club that would have someone like me for a member.” That’s the key joke of my adult life in terms of my relationships with people.Lately the strangest things have been going through my mind, I guess I’m going through a phase or something, I don’t know. I tend to spend more time on my own, I guess that’s about the worst you can say about me. I think I’m gonna get better as I get older, you know? I think I’m gonna be the-lithe
vegan yoga type, you know, as opposed to say the obnoxious bitter hormonal types with bad teeth, for instance, you know? ‘Less I’m neither of those
Unless I’m one of those women who wander the casinos with red lipstick bleeding into the cracks of her lips with an oxygen tank, Las Vegas promotional gift bag screaming about socialism.*
Its been, in short, a long three months.
I have seem to have come out of a hibernation, of sorts.
That corner of the couch I’ve confined myself to in the past two years.​ Like the cats spot on a window sill. They’re home, they sniff around and find a safe spot and stay there- till they die. Pretty much, that’s it. I mean, how many times have you gone to a friend’s house that have pets and they point out:
“That’s Mildred’s favorite spot over there in the sun” or “We redecorated the bedroom and Barney has his own bed” –you look over and there is Barney; laying lavishly sprawled out. He’s going no where, that asshole dog will die in that bed ten years from now, because he doesn’t know better.
That cat will get into the same routine sitting in the sill, drinking water, standing there meaninglessly, licking her haunches with her foot in the air; look around, sit on the fucking window sill and– die.
That’s pretty much what I resolved to do when I moved into this apartment. I had come from a rough, tarred-and-feathered, seven years of pure abuse and exhaustion –and dammit… I am still fucking tired.
But I have to say, I have put myself out there to meet “people” lately– and I don’t mean date… I just mean to get out and socialize —and it’s sucked (sometimes).
Why?  People are emotional vampires. They want to suck the advice out of you until you become this emotional black hole-of-an-friend, and there is nothing left.
They all go all “NANCY ” on you. Who is Nancy?
Nancy is this Mrs Kravitz’s  demon seed daughter-of -a- neighbor I used to have;  that if I ever heard the words “How are you?” come out of her mouth, I would die of shock.
She is one of the most selfish, self-centered pathological women I have ever met.   Lately, I have run into more, “Nancy’s”…what is with the neurotic, crazy, control freaky people lately? In a world spinning out of control you would think at least you have some daily self control over your own life, intrinsically.
I have to say, I have a huge radar for these types and usually get a head start of a run before I am affected.With crazy Nancy, I wouldn’t leave my old house before doing a “Nancy Check” outside.
Coming home I’d drive the block clearing the area like the secret service.. and dammit if your timing is shit and she’s walking out while you are pulling up,nothing could help you now.
Yet, after a while I learned to walk straight by her, while she jabbered on mid-sentence about how bad her vagina smells, or how she would run ( full speed) after you with 4×6 photos of her from the 2004 porn convention ( this was in 2009…) and she lied about having cancer..WHO LIES ABOUT CANCER?So after I moved out of the “other house” into my “own place” people would ask me to come out with them and join them to do things; fun things, social things…. and I just couldn’t.I was happy being Mildred the dog or Fifi or whatever- the -hell- cat would do and sit and lick my wounds from a crap ass seven years, shitty neighbors and backstabbing people … ” friends” that just wanted their hair done or marketing advice.
I am lucky I have a handful of friends that actually care and who see that I am more than just a commodity or emotional black hole. Fuuuuuck that.Similar to Amy Linsky, the character in the film “Hello I Must Be Going.” (with actress that has the funnest name to say ever:. Melanie Lynskey-say it 10x fast)Lynskey plays a woman who just is happy in her crap-ass world of couches and 80’s sitcoms, and wallowing in social disappointment until.. Well, just see the movie.( I have, 200000 times. So sue me, its a “go to”)
Melanie Lynskey in "Hello I Must Be Going"
So, lately I took steps to move off the couch, besides for school, Max and my plethora of mandatory dr’s appointments.
I  have tried jumping off that proverbial cat’s window sill, but ya know it’s sounding pretty good to go sit  back in the sun for a while…It kinda reminds me of that old joke, you know,  this guy goes to a psychiatrist and says, “Doc,  my brother’s crazy. He thinks he’s a chicken.” And, the doctor says, “Well, why don’t you turn him in?” And the guy says, “I would, but I need the eggs.” Well, I guess that’s pretty much how how I feel about getting back out there. You know, people,  they’re totally irrational and crazy and absurd and … but,I guess we keep goin’ through it because most of us need the eggs.*

Again, in the words of, the late great Groucho Marx…

Hello I Must Be Going….

(Captain Spaulding:)
Hello, I must be going.
I cannot stay,
I came to say
I must be going.
I’m glad I came
but just the same
I must be going, La-La.

Mrs. Rittenhouse:
For my sake you must stay,
for if you go away,
you’ll spoil this party
I am throwing.

Captain Spaulding:
I’ll stay a week or two
I’ll stay the summer through,
but I am telling you,
I must be going.

Blog Song Pairing :
“Hello, I Must Be Going”  by Groucho Marx (and Margaret Dumont)
( From the film : “Animal Crackers”)

“Drink Deep” by Laura Veirs
( From the Film : “Hello I Must Be Going”)

* Thanks to Woody Allen for help with the intro….and the outro