Category: awkward

Every Holiday Needs a Song

You know Clinton and Bush(s)
and ‘Bama and Reagan
Carter and Kennedy
Ford and Nixon

But dooo you recaaaaalll
The most hated President of alllll?

Andrew Johnson, the first impeached president
Was not a really wonderful dude
And if you ever saw him
You would even say he blews (as a president)

All of the other parties
Used to laugh and call him names
The National Union Party
Never managed to hold any sway

Then one foggy April night
John Wilkes Booth came to say
Lincoln with your hat so tall
Won’t you go away?

Johnson was sworn in the next day
Now he’s the guy in charge
All his wishy-washy Confederate leanings
Crashed ahead on the country like a barge!

Two years later Johnson was impeached (unsuccessfully) for the first time. The next year, 1868, Congress made it stick, so buh bye Johnson.

He may not have done much with his time as commander in Chief.

But in his short rein, he did manage to buy Alaska.

Home of Mz. Palin and Republican grief.

So his legacy lives on……

Or, one might say….

Andrew Johnson, the first impeached president,
You’ll go down in history!

Photo and facts courtesy of the Andrew Johnson Wikipedia page.

Oh My Brain…

I know I have a unique view on the world sometimes.

In fact, I kind of enjoy that.

Sometimes, it wearies the people around me.

Sometimes, it even perplexes me.

An example. A few years back, I was in a department store with a friend. We were looking for a gift for another friend’s wedding. By the escalator, there was a sign. It said:

“Elevator located in China.”

I was honestly confused.

“What the hell!?” I shouted. “What good does an elevator do me all the way over in China? And where is it? Bejing? Tiananmen Square? What the sam hell??”

My patient friend pointed out…”Uh…China…you know, like plates and cups?”

“Oh. That.”

Yeah. I’m sharp as a marble.

What got me thinking about my backwards brain today was when I passed by a local church.

The sign outside declares it to be a “Transfiguration” church.

I’ve never heard of a Transfiguration church, and I’m sure it’s something quite legitimate and spiritual.

But to me, a Harry Potter reader, I can’t help but think….

As people sit there, solemnly praying, you keep hearing that *pop* sound.

The minister says, “Let us pray.”

*pop* He’s a horse.

*pop* A rabbit.

*pop* A cat.

*pop* A goat.

*pop* A donkey.

And let’s be honest, the visual image cracks me up every time.

Every single dingle time I drive past that church.

*pop*!

Hee!

Ugh, what a brain!

Not sharp enough to know I was supposed to be humiliated

Ok, so I thought this was an odd title for an online article:

“How not to feel humiliated when dining alone”

Um. Why would I? I rather enjoy eating out alone.

Given the photo of the sad lonely brunette (she HAD to be a brunette, right?) that accompanies the article, I think reading between the lines, the title of the article is more like:

“You sad lonely dried up old maid. How terrible that you have to eat alone.”

Because *clearly* the target audience for this story isn’t guys. I don’t know that most guys would feel humiliated dining alone. They’d pull up a chair to the bar, order a beer and dive in. Isn’t all this fuss and kerfuffle a girl thing?

The story goes on to offer several suggestions for how that lonely gal can make it through such a harrowing experience as having to dine alone like reading a book or staring into her mobile device.

Please. Eating out alone is great. You don’t have to share your dessert, you can drink too many glasses of wine if you want, and you can burp at the table. What’s not to love about this experience?

And oh the people watching. So much to take in!

Plus, plenty of couples look miserable dining together. But they are not “humiliated” because they are not alone, so it’s ok? Bah!

I guess I sort of thought we were past the days when someone eating alone in a restaurant was a weird thing. So many people travel for business or just choose to spend time alone. In my book this is no longer odd.

And the conventional wisdom used to be that as a solo diner the wait staff wouldn’t serve you as well (one person means smaller tab means smaller tip) but I have found the opposite to be true. I think wait staff rather enjoy the ease of just one person at the table. No question where the entrée goes!

I’ve not ever felt slighted or mistreated when dining alone. It works just fine.

Sure, I’d rather have The Good Man there because, mainly, he makes any thing I do a lot more fun (he could make going to the dentist for a root canal a worthwhile adventure!). But if I’m away from him and I’m hungry, well, a girl’s gotta eat!

Honestly most of my girlfriends are the same way. Eating alone in a restaurant is no biggie.

Most girls half my age are twice as bold as me, so I don’t think they have issues either.

Who is this story really aimed at? As I read the comments, most of the ladies chiming in seem to agree with my point of view on this.

And seems most agree that the title of the article is just plain terrible.

I guess my message to the author is to simply quote the comment left by a reader named Melissa:

“Thanks for bashing my confidence in eating alone. I guess now when I take myself out to lunch to be awesome I have to feel HUMILIATED instead.”

So there!

So one day, you’re walking down Vegas Boulevard and…

Oh man, I can’t *believe* I forgot to blog about this… I think I Tweeted, but 140 characters does this no justice.

So picture it if you will. Las Vegas Boulevard just a week or so ago.

I’m over at the Mirage because I was hungry and wanted the fare offered at the Carnegie Deli***.

I swear, I am a New York Jewish girl, because I gotta have their chopped liver salad. Just *gotta* have it!

So after finishing my meal and losing a few bucks to the slots, I decided to walk.

I always have to take some time to walk Vegas Blvd to see how it has changed. Plus, you get a whooole different view of The Strip at street level.

There I am walking north on the strip headed toward Fashion Show Mall with a destination of the Trump Hotel nestled in behind the mall, when I see a little alcove-like thing in the wall around the Mirage.

People are lined up there and I figure, well, it’s some Vegas thing, a mostly naked show girl, an “amazing double” dressed up as Michael Jackson (only I just saw him a couple hours ago back at the Bellagio) or a Three Card Monte game, who knows.

I was not prepared for what I saw.

Not. Prepared.

I come around the bend and see this lush green inset in the wall with a railing.

Ok, you know when you go to a cathedral or a really large Catholic church and they have the Virgin Mary Grotto? With the statue and the railing and the somber tones?

Yeah. It was like that.

Only the statue people were worshiping was this (click for full size):

If the imagery isn’t immediately clear to you, that’s a golden rendition of Sigfried and Roy and a white tiger, festooned with fakey shards of crystals shooting out of the cement moorings.

Oh man, everyone was snapping photos like the red carpet. They’d put the kids in front of this thing, or the lady would get in front and the guy would take the photo then the guy would get up there and the lady would snap away, and then the whole family would crowd in there.

People were beside themselves to get photos with this statue.

In a non-ironic way.

Well, I found a break in the crowd and grabbed a couple iPhone photos so I could show The Good Man and we could look at this later and ponder just WTF.

I have no answers.

Other than that’s Vegas, I suppose…

***Not intentionally, but we ended up having an “old home” week in Las Vegas. We went to Garduños to fulfill longing for the food of my youth, then later I took The Good Man, a Brooklyn boy, back to the Carnegie for a monster Reuben (corned beef, if you please).

A matter of personal choice?

So I dropped by a favorite “blog post idea” site today and the first item that was presented for my consideration was:

“Suggest to your visitors some toilet literature”

Oh my.

I mean…I believe toidy literature is indeed essential, but isn’t that a highly personalized decision?

There is the good ol’ fashioned newspaper, but what with the drop in newspaper circulation, not as many people take a physical paper anymore.

So this material has limitations.

I have a friend who keeps a basket of catalogs by the toilet. It’s multitasking! Shopping and…er…you know.

Plus, I suppose they could come in handy in the case of a toilet tissue shortage.

Personally, I favor taking my iPhone along for the journey. That way I can do email, read the news, shop, whatever whim might strike my fancy when I’ve got a few spare minutes to spend.

The downside of this is that between the sink, tub and other water issuing devices in the restroom, it can be tricky. Best to keep the ol’ iPhone nice and dry.

Plus, The Good Man tends to get bent out of shape when he receives messages from me while indisposed.

“Did you just email me from the can?!?!” he’ll shout when his email goes ‘bing’ with a new message.

Well. Yes. Is that a problem?

I’ll admit, there have been times when I’m on a writing jag (and you have GOT to respect the streak) when I have taken my laptop in there with me so I could keep writing while doing my business.

I won’t even relay the comments I get from The Good Man when I do that.

Suffice to say, he’s horrified.

Ok, so back to the topic. I actually spent some time considering options. Novels, magazines, catalogs, short story anthologies, comic books, reading the back of the toothpaste tube and of course nothing at all.

After all this thinking, I believe I’ve arrived at the best answer.

Something that has quick readability, short segments, maybe even a laugh or two.

Ah yes, I’ve made my decision.

Bar none, the best toilet literature ever has to be:

Reader’s Digest

You’re welcome.