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Sunday, April 30, 2006


My perma-pup is a keet killer.

I took it kind of hard when one of my old loves decided the new love in my life had to go.

I only had the darn parakeet three weeks, and I was starting to get all attached to him. He was just beginning to trust me enough to sit on my shoulder.

But that was all to end.

He met his demise when he decided to test flight his clipped wings and landed in ... Chihuahua Pinkie's mouth. He died in my hands.

Now I feel guilty for having taken him out of the cage when the dogs were in the room.

Poor little Purdy bird. I'm so sorry.

Woe is me.

Friday, April 28, 2006


I recently spoke with a reader who disclosed that her marriage fell apart because her husband was visiting interactive porn sites on the Internet.

She found out when she opened their computer's favorites list and one site showed up. It had been bookmarked!

Surprise, stupid, stupid man!

He claimed he was just looking. That didn't cut it, though, when their credit-card statement came in and showed just how much "looking'' really cost the couple. Not to mention the heartache it caused to dissolve their marriage.

To me, cybersex makes no sense since the monitor is a little tough to snuggle with anyway. And then ... EGAD! ... there are all those 'puter viruses! Disposable rubber gloves might be in order.

Doesn't matter. If you're in a committed relationship and trolloping around the Web with a cyber-tootsie, it's only called one thing ... cheating.

Thursday, April 27, 2006


I figure pretty soon I'll be paying more to drive to work than I make.

Then where would I be? At work, getting skinny because I wouldn't be able to afford food.

Then again, I could pull down that bicycle hanging in the garage. It has very low mileage and works on sweat. And it's only 20 miles of roadway filled with crazy drivers to work.

Or maybe I'll just stay home. No need to go anywhere anyway. Won't have any money to buy anything.

On the upside, maybe this season the Bennys will stay home too. That would leave a lot more room on the Parkway so I could feel safe riding my bike.

I knew I should have bought that rice-burner!

Wednesday, April 26, 2006


Little boxes on the hillside, little boxes made of ticky tacky ...

Taken from the theme song to the Showtime series ""Weeds,'' those lyrics got me thinking ... and that could be dangerous.

I've been trying to let my hair grow.

Now, at my age I really should just cut it off and be done with it, but there is this image in my brain that women with long hair are younger-looking and more attractive.

So where did I get such an idea?

It couldn't possibly be from all the images of beautiful supermodels walking around in clothes that look like underwear with their back-lighted hair blowing all around their heads, could it?

And the people in the boxes all look just the same.

Tuesday, April 25, 2006


Men don't close dresser drawers.

I don't know why, it's just a man thing.

I know some men who have never shut a drawer (all the way) their entire life.

Women, on the other hand, always close their drawers. They don't want anyone to see that their favorite pair of white underwear is yellowier - because of bleach, of course - than their not-so favorite pair.

Maybe men don't shut their drawers because all the stuff inside is a mess. They surmise that the drawer wouldn't close anyway, so why try?

Or maybe they like to see how many times, bruise by bruise, their significant other will walk into the open drawer before they shut it.

Nope, they can't close a drawer, but the can sure bitch if you open the cereal box and rip the insert tab so then they can't close that.

Monday, April 24, 2006


Please don't hand me the grocery receipt wrapped around my change.

I'm not going to keep it much less put it in my wallet where the dollar bills go. Having to separate them only leaves me standing there in your line, fumbling around and making other shoppers angry while their groceries go flying down the belt in front of me.

I had to set the last cashier straight who folded my bills in with the receipt. I was so quick to throw the receipt in the bag that I also threw in one of the dollar bills. Then I accused Cashier Lady of not giving me the right change.

She assured me she did and told me to look in the bag where I pitched the receipt. Sure enough, there it was.

Even though I told her I was sorry, I was steaming when I walked out the door. I wanted to go back and wad her plastic bags into a ball!

What's so hard about putting the receipt in the bag and the cash in your hand?

Friday, April 21, 2006


Their faces were turned toward the sun.

The few remaining pansies in last year's summer planter still on the deck managed to unfurl their lovely petals, emblazon with deep purples.

They had persevered through the cold winter days, sometimes sadly peeking up from beneath the snow, for this season of rebirth. Now, sprouting forth with all the bravado a tough little flower could muster, they showed the world they had made it!

I sat looking at their often taken-for-granted beauty and thought about their determination to live.

I shook off my worries and turned my head upward to bask in the sun.

Thursday, April 20, 2006


It would have been me wee weeing in a cup.

As I followed the story about the people stranded in disabled cable cars hanging above the East River in New York, I kept thinking, "I bet someone up there has to go!"

Then I thought about the East River below and, well . . . no matter.

Turns out one kid in the dangling tram couldn't wait for rescuers either and did his thing in a cup.

Not so easy for grown-up ladies.

You can bet your bottom dollar, though, I would have given it my best shot if, after 12 hours, I was told, "soon . . . hang in there."

Sometimes comfort just takes precedent over modesty.

Wednesday, April 19, 2006


Don't they get it?

I'm always amazed whenever I see nurses, orderlies or health care workers outside doctors' offices or hospitals smoking.

With all the evidence abound about the ill-effects of this nasty habit and seeing firsthand what it does to their patients, you'd think these professionals (in the business of wellness) would make an effort to quit.

I walked by one area outside a local hospital to which smokers had been exiled and thought how awful it must be to be so addicted. Especially to something that most likely will kill the smoker AND possibly their loved ones.

Because years of smoking killed my mother, I held my breath as I passed and felt extremely sad.

Much like I did when I walked by a man who was outside a cancer clinic in New York, smoking a cigarette through a hole in his neck.

Tuesday, April 18, 2006


It's what I keep telling Chihuahua Elsie when she begs for table food, and I try to give it to her with a fork so I don't have messy fingers or a greasy food spot on the floor.

OK, so I shouldn't give my three perma-pups table food, then I wouldn't have to train them to eat from a fork.

Right . . . and they should sleep in a dog bed instead of on my pillow.

It's not easy being a dog owner, trying to ignore those sad eyes as they watch you, bite after bite, put filet mignon in your mouth while they're saddled with a bowl of hard, dry kibbles.

It's not easy watching them sit up or paw at your leg while you're slurping down lobster bouillabaisse.

And because I really don't want them to have it, it's tough dodging the calculating critters when they leap into your lap as you sit down on the sofa with a glass of wine. No need for lips when that happens.

Little winos. They know, all they need then is a little tongue to lick it off the floor.