Sunday, April 27, 2008

That Book Store Smell

You don't have to be a reader to notice the smell of a book store the minute you cross the threshold. I can't quite put my finger on it...something clean yet musty, paper'ish AND published, expensive yet necessary. If you close your eyes, the smell conjures up favorite paragraphs and even whole chapters from the best books you've read. I just love a good book store.

Of course, my book store has the gigantic magazine rack right at the front door so I'm immediately sidetracked. Their subject categories far surpass any drug store or grocery store impulse mags, and it isn't often I can stand and read a magazine about horses or yard art or men's style. So, I spend a few minutes there before asking for help to find the books I want.

Come on! Show me someone who can go right to the appropriate section, author and title in under five minutes and I'll show you someone who needs to get out more. There are LOTS of people in book stores who need to get out more, and why would you go to a book store and sit and read if you weren't looking for another 'someone who doesn't get out much.?' They look it...pale, pasty, thin and with outdated glasses.

The people who work in book stores don't get out much either and they smell of 'book,' don't they? They're always very helpful in that hushed, book store kind of way. One mus'nt speak over a loud whisper in a book store...people, that is, except me. I guess I just want others there to know that I'm a READER when I speak in a normal-to-a-little-louder-than-normal voice, "Can you help me? I'm looking for "The Success Principles for Losers." They usually whisper in response, "Oh, yes, we have only a few copies left...right this way." Hmmmm...a few copies left which means that there have been a lot of losers looking for a book to dig out from under whatever is holding them back. Although I am far from a loser, I duck my head anyway as the pasty lady leads me to that section...I'm sniffing in as much 'book' smell as I can and stroking every book cover on the impulse tables along the way.

Although I love online places like Amazon, you can't beat a good book store. If I could ever pry myself from the self-help section, I might discover worlds beyond, but I'm one of the ones trying to dig out and they have shelves and shelves to help me. And their book markers are FREE!


PS-If you ever read another book, read "The Glass Castle" by Jeanette Walls! That the woman is still standing at all is AMAZING after a childhood like THAT.


Oooo...I love book stores too. I always head straight back for the Astrology section. I always get my Gemini /Sidney Omar book of predictions for the year. I have to get it in June for the next year because if I wait till November they are all gone. That's because Geminis love that stuff. The Gemini books are all gone by then but the Taurus, Capricorn and Libra books are still there and none have sold. Those star signs think the whole thing is ridiculous and we Geminis, Pisces and Aquarians think they are a bunch of unawakened, earthbound garden gnomes.

I buy the astrology calendars that tell where the moon is every day and have flowy, lavender and Prussian blue pictures of fairies and symbols of planets. I know where the moon is every day and what it does to me. I watch out for moon in Aquarius. On those days it's good to just go to the book store and look at cocktail books that feature pictures of gourmet foods, ocean views and naked men. (The Twenty Hottest Firemen is my favorite).

You can get the Cranium Game at the book store and that is the funnest game in the universe. Just go buy one and then get some booze and three of your best friends and play it. You will laugh so hard you will roll on the floor and your friends will call you the next day to plan for the next time to play it. This is amazing since you and they made complete fools of yourselves trying to hum 'I Did it my Way', imitating bungey jumping off a cliff, or making putty look like DNA.

They have fun 'impulse items' at the book store. Who can pass by a pen with a one-inch teddy bear on the end of it? Everybody needs a bookmark in the shape of Texas and you know you need that tiny, hardcover book called, 'Why Cats Paint.'

Go to a bookstore if you are bored. And while you are there pick me up a book on 'How Not to Embarrass Yourself', a calendar with pictures of whales, and a hard copy of 'Bookstores of Schnectady.' I hear they have some good ones.


Friday, April 25, 2008


We've had a gigantic neon-orange sign with this warning at both ends of our neighborhood block for MONTHS! I'm not kidding. First they dug up all the sewer lines under out street and put new ones in...then, they were just about to pave the street when they thought, well, why don't we just put in new water lines as well.

I think maybe there is a REALLY powerful person who lives on our block who asked the city to do all of this, because they aren't doing it in the next block...just our block. Either that or maybe there is some 'whistle blower' who reeked havoc with the city and this is his punishment (and ours for living in close proximity). We're pretty PISSED OFF about the whole thing...except for the construction workers whom we know so well now that we call each other by first names.

When I lived in New York, if you said ANYthing untoward to the construction workers (who are always omnipresent in any block in Manhattan), they would just look at you and grin while saying, Fuhgeddabutit! That's why I'm so happy being back in my home state of Texas and in the A-Town where people have manners. They've actually stopped what they were doing and helped us with our groceries because we had to park our cars at the end of the block and walk them to our door.

Manuel actually told me that if I call the city and complain about how long it's taking, they'll be able to speed up the process. That's a first. Of course, because I'm a Texan (we don't even honk in traffic unless we're in imminent danger because it's against the law!)...I told him I would make the call, but didn't because I felt badly about complaining.

My car is so caked with dust that it appears as if I've just driven 12 miles of bad dirt road in a dust storm out at the ranch and come to town for supplies! There is no WAY I'm washing it until this is over, but when I'm driving up to the Four Seasons valet parking guys, they throw glances at each other as if I don't belong. I have to go through an exhaustive explanation lest they think I'm not worthy!

They say that they'll be finished by the middle of May. I've gotten so used to that beeping sound when they put the bulldozer in reverse that I make up tunes to the beeps' beat. I can't repeat the lyrics I make up for each song, because they are unprintable!

Wish us luck!



Those guys out there on first impression look like a pack of yellow and orange Disney characters. On closer inspection you realize that they look like the crew of, 'There Will Be Blood' after a late night at the Yucca Bar in Marfa, Texas.

I guess it is logical that these hard working guys would not put dressing for work as high on their priority list. If your work consists of moving, shoveling, and crunching huge blocks of cement all day you probably don't care that your five-o'clock shadow is white from dust, there are no ashtrays except for the six foot deep hole in the street and you smell like Humphrey Bogart in 'Treasure of the Sierra Madre.'

We love these guys just like we love the doormen at The Four Seasons and we care about what they think of us. Well, I do. I sometimes feel spoiled when I watch how hard they work. I'm so lucky. I smell good, read a lot, and come inside when it gets too hot. My car doesn't beep when I'm in reverse and I get to wear purple when I'm working if I want to.

Here's to the working men and gals on the chain gang,

Wednesday, April 23, 2008

Food for Thought...

Have you ever eaten a veggie burger? There is something suspect about them from the get go. I tried to trick Sal into eating one at a hippie-dippie restaurant last night. After her second bite, she exclaimed, "This hamburger tastes sweet!" I said, "oh, pish posh...mine tastes fine." I was trying to enjoy it, but it did taste like it had honey in it...maybe it was carrots or something...ick! When I finally told her that it was a veggie burger, she spit out what she had in her mouth and looked at me as if she could cut my guts out for a nickel. She said, "When I eat a hamburger, which is a RARE event, I want MEAT and grease dripping down onto the plate with each bite. I want BACON on top and a bun that does NOT have NINE GRAINS in it. Don't EVER do that to me again, KK!"

We don't like goat cheese. I don't even like the word, GOAT CHEESE. It sounds like it's made of boogers or something. And, I've been tricked before when approached with a canape tray at a party...thinking it looked scrumptious, only to find that after I got it into my mouth, there was that bitter, boogery flavor (and don't tell me that you've never tasted a booger before either). That mouthful always winds up discreetly moving from my mouth into a cocktail napkin, then buried in the soil of the nearest potted palm.

I could write a whole chapter about cilantro, and I know that there are two wildly divergent camps on this one. You either HATE cilantro or LOVE cilantro. I belong to the tribe of cilantro haters. It tastes like soap! And, now-a-days, it's in just about EVERYthing. I have learned to be able to identify those flat green pieces with the frayed edges and my upper lip immediately curls with an un-lady-like, "eeeeeeeeuuuuuuuuwwwww!" Don't try to defend cilantro to me.

I love hot dogs. There, I said it. I like to sautee them in butter so they're kinda crispy around the edges, then make a hot dog sandwich on bread with mustard and mayo. But, when I go to the movies, I like to mix that limp, steamy dog with mustard, those soft white buns and piles of pickle relish. Those who know me are aware that I have to have the family-sized box of popcorn, and I take a tiny bite of hot dog then stuff a fistful of popcorn in my mouth and I'm in 'hog' heaven! I don't CARE what's in a hot dog...I just know that those hot dog makers mix pig parts together just perrrrrfectly.

Mmmmm, I'm so hungry. I'm going to go in the kitchen now and make myself scrambled eggs with my sauteed hot dog.

Buon appetito!



KK takes Lipitor. It lowers your cholesterol.

I completely agree that goat cheese should only be eaten by bad children and veggie burgers are for elephants, young girls with rings in their noses and throwing at the grackles in the birdbath. That veggie sucked but might have tasted better with some red chili, cilantro and a shot of Cuervo.

The popcorn/hot dog scenario is right up my alley. I also love fried calamari, pork rinds and devilled eggs. I make great devilled eggs with olives, curry and onions. I hate brussel sprouts, tripe and who in the world was the first one to eat pigs' feet? That must have been one hungry mother fucker.

Very often I look at something and think, 'I wonder who in the world was the first one to figure out that you could eat this?' sometimes I'm glad but sometimes I can't believe people fall for it. Would you really eat a duck embryo that is about to hatch...feathers and all and call it a delicacy? And yet they do that in Indonosia or some place like that. I saw it on the food channel. Who first ate caviar, an artichoke or calf brains? These were desperate people who were either stuck out on the ocean with only a dead mother sturgeon, some guy on an island with only what looked like a thistle patch or some rancher who's calf died next to him as he was pinned under a rock and couldn't get out and was starving to death.

Anyway, KK couldn't fool me with that stupid veggie burger because my paper napkin wasn't getting torn and greasy enough. That's how you can tell how good a hamburger is. If the napkin is shredded into lace, there's grease sliding down your chin and your mouth is so full you look like Louis Armstrong blowing his horn you know you're in a great hamburger joint.

Kiwis are hairy and bon appetite,

Sunday, April 20, 2008

Parties R Us!

We were asked to be part of an 'interactive' art party for a local arts group called, Women and Their Work by our friend, Christine who has a wonderful and wacky fly-fishing blog. She was on the party committee and coined the theme for the party, only with a twist...interact-out! If that doesn't sum us up, I don't know what does, so hell yeah, we said.

We were there to do interviews of the party goers and were given no limits as to what we could ask (they shoulda been kinda nervous about that). We met lots of funny, amazing people and discovered that after having a few drinks (both we and them)...people stood in line to be interviewed by us.

Our first unsuspecting prey, I mean, subject, allowed as how he had been the head of our local ACLU for twenty years and that he was married to a prosecutor. I couldn't help but wonder how THAT marriage worked, so I asked, "Well, now how does that manifest itself in the bedroom? Do you and she switch prosecuting her and then she prosecuting you between the sheets?" With a twinkle in his eye, he suggested that they always wound up with "a hung jury!" I then suggested that being the head of the ACLU back in the 80's meant that he probably smoked pot back then, to which he replied, "Hell, yeah, AND, I was out there protecting all of you people who were smoking pot too!"

Then, there was the man who told us about his tattoo which we wanted to see, but because he couldn't raise his shirt sleeve up high enough to see it, he took OFF his shirt in order to show us. It WAS a fabulous tattoo!

We interviewed women passing canapes, the bartenders and the elevator operators in the building. We also interviewed the head gals who put on the party, but only after they'd gotten liquored up and let their hairs down.

Evidently, we were quite the hit at the party and it's all on film! Here is a photo of me behind the camera. Okay, it was late in the evening and I'd had maybe one too many glasses of wine. What a party! And, the perfect way for us to insinuate The Midlife Gals' shenanigans into the teddibly, frightfully 'composed' social scene in the A-Town!


I love it when the teddibly, frightfully 'composed' social people of any town get drunk and start remembrances of when they last wore their 'fuck-me-pumps'. And that's exactly what happened. I'm sometimes even intimidated by these people until KK and I have a few too many ourselves and get them to loosen up and spill the bowl of cherries...or is it the beans...the glass of basil, lime and double shot of Cuervo mojito all over the ex-head of the American Civil Liberties Union.

I have to say I was disappointed in the pod they gave us. The woman who talked us into doing this gig in the first place and I won't mention any names (Christine) told us that there were some really cool 'niches'. To me, a 'niche' means an indentation in the wall and I picture some flowers, frescos on the walls of palm fronds and a cheap, sequined daglo 'Our Lady of Guadalupe' statue. That's cool and I could picture us in it.

We got to the party space and they showed us a white box with white padding and a chain link 'curtain'. It was like a bed that you had to climb into. Did any of you see that old movie where Tony Curtis played the 'Boston Strangler' and at the very end he was in a straight jacket in the all-white, padded room? Well, that's exactly what it was only about the size of a small walk-in closet. The chain link curtain was the kind of chain that looked like it belonged on a bicycle. It gave the effect of a beaded curtain and I thought it fit right in with the whole insane asylum theme.

It was very bright in the all-white, padded pod so we didn't need lights which was good. Once we got settled in and set up the camera I was feeling better about things but still I couldn't let go of my disappointment until the second mojito, two mint figs on skewers and a fabulous woman who when she got out of the pod her beautiful, silky dress got stuck in her ass.

Actually, Christine's creative ideas for the whole party were right on and the pod was perfect for us. As it turns out, we were stunning in the niche as we were the only things in it and we sparkled. Who knew? We interviewed everybody who mattered there and made sure they would each embarrass themselves by the end of the night. Right now KK is sending the big-wigs 'Thank you cards' and extorting them each for a check for one hundred thousand dollars or we will put their video on YouTube.

See you at the next social event? We'll be waiting...

Saturday, April 19, 2008

Just for fun because Sally and I laugh until we cry
when we watch it just WE who think we're


Friday, April 18, 2008


Could you read that? Is the print large enough? Is it a clear message? Do you know what the side effects might be? Calories?


I'm hearing all the Amens out there right now. Forget about reading a label on a medicine bottle without your glasses on, and even when you do put your glasses on, some assholes have print that is so small as to require a magnifying glass! And, where medicine is concerned, it's not like you can SKIP that portion of the directions. I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take it anymore.

Here's what I want to see on boxes of cigarettes..."These fuckers will kill you, but if they don't, something else will." (Can you tell we're still enjoying our Winstons)? And, on bottles of booze, it should say, "This product may force you to embarrass yourself and give you a headache within 12 hours." Nah...that wouldn't stop me.

And, don't we label people too? "She's a skunk-ass ho, isn't she?" Proclaiming this would signify to the person with whom you're conversing that you have a woman in your life with whom you might have 'issues.' Depending on their response, you either receive support, "And, how'bout her wardrobe...helllllllllo?" or not, "Bless her heart...she doesn't have a clue that you'd cut her guts out for a nickel." It's just dangerous either way, I think.

Do any of you have those little plastic guns where you move the wheel with letters on it, then press and've made your OWN labels! It's thrilling, isn't it? You can't imagine what I have labels on. Because I'm a left-brain OCD freak, The Ancient One is lucky that she doesn't sport one of those labels on her forehead. Since she couldn't see it but Sal and I could when looking at her face, it would simply say, "PAY NO ATTENTION TO ME."




Having had a weight problem all of my life and been on every diet known to womankind, I am very familiar with labels on food items. I know how to calculate fat grams, carbohydrates, fiber, calories, sugar, sodium and mealy bug content. I can remember my grandmother making bisquits on sunday mornings and mushing the flour through a sieve to get the bugs out so all right they don't put mealy bug content on the labels but back then they should have.

My label would list fat grams as 20% and drooping, carbs minimal and confined to Pepperidge Farm white sandwich bread with an egg on top every morning. Fiber content is barely perceptible in the form of flax seed, calories and sugar are contained in red wine throughout the body, salt cakes my blood stream and mealy bug content is now, thankfully nil.

My label would say, 'Take in small quantities as prolonged use will cause sarcasm, a skewed view of the world and tendencies toward playing cruel jokes on cats and neighborhood kids. Side effects include: Foot in mouth disease, laughter at inappropriate public moments such as at wakes, and a desire to sing show tunes at gallery openings. Take in small doses and do not sleep till after midnight. If the substance has been abused, make and force feed coffee in the morning, take 7 Ibuprofen and take my number out of your cell phone memory.

Do not take before consulting your local bartender,

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

YOUR Comments

Because we LOVE your comments and don't necessarily have time to respond, we want to show the world what you all have to say because we laugh out loud when we see them on the blog:
  • You two have got me hooked...Look if a gay male in his 30’s love’s this blog.... Women are going to be eating it up.
  • You guys are toooo much. You need to take that act on the road. My friend Melanie and I cracked up. I showed the videos to Jan last night and I thought she was going to pee her pants. Keep 'em coming!
  • I finally got the sound fixed on my computer and nearly laughed myself out of the chair watching The Twelve Days of Christmas. And, who needed sound for the Marie Antoinette bit. The bow tie lips and who knew you could actually move your mouth like that?! You are both so wonderfully nuts.
  • I laughed so hard I snorted my mug of hot chocolate out my nose when I was watching your Netflix reviews. Thanks to you two I now smell chocolate constantly which does not help with my dieting.
  • I too have "An Ancient One"....thank God I don't have to live with her but reading your blogs is like you live in one of my closets somewhere.
  • My brother was the prince. He didn't do squat when my mother was dying either! Too, too funny this daughter/caregiver time of life. And thank goodness you have each other!
  • I looked at your Jazzy Scooter Barrel Race and laughed my head off. I yelled at my son to come in and look at it..he is paralyzed and uses a scooter..he thought something was wrong and in his haste to get in here, he dropped his laptop and broke off the corner. Of course this was MY fault and he yelled at me to tell me so. Not to worry tho, crazy glue to the rescue and all is well.
  • Your story about the poor rich guy with his Joan-Rivers girlfriend made me laugh so hard that I spilled tea allover my keyboard!
  • I think as a Southerner we are raised to be polite but we love to disobey, Hell! we've been stirring the pot since the civil war and it's 2008. Don't get me wrong I am a "good southern lady" but I do like to raise some hell. So you can call it "civil disobedience" or just that we all get tired of the bullshit rules and we just don't want to play by the stupid rules anymore. Me, I just like a good drink and say FU*K IT.
  • You are us. Ex-Texan sisters now in NC taking care of 71 yr old mother, referred to as "The Mother Unit" and a missing in action brother when work needs getting done, formally known as "The Chosen One". For us, it's Margaritas and Xanax.
  • You truly had me at "We want to scream out the window, 'Fuck you Bill Cinton and all you other cheatin' assholes!' " That and the cat named Damnit, or is it Dammit?
  • I just want to say I love the photo of the "Ancient One". She must be a character too if she let you do that to her hair. I say let her write a response once in a while to defend herself.
  • I began reading blogs because I'd like to improve my English.I found your blog a few days ago.I just love it!It's interesting and so funny!
  • Don't know why but I am laughing hysterically about the hungarian woman on your blog who's using midlifegals to learn english. please please please tuck that away for soemthing funny sometime. I can see the scene in the sitcom now. you & salgal taking a hungarian woman around and teaching her to speak texan.
  • I was forced into Catholicism by my stepfather (sounds like a great novel, right?) and do remember the ashes on my forehead. Jeez. It gives me the creeps thinking about it right now. As for giving things up for Lent...the shower thingy is promising (wink) and the toenail thing is beyond gross. There's no way I'll forsake my about liver? Hmmmm?
  • My ancient one lives out of state and you never know who you're going to get when you talk with her. You see she is enjoying every minute of her dementia, the rest of us are suffering with it! I talked with her yesterday and she told me that Daddy had fixed her chicken lizzards for supper. I know my dad, and he wouldn't have anything to do with a chicken lizzard, much less a gizzard. That elicited an "oh really?" from me. Bless her heart, she doesn't really know who she's talking to, my name has changed to "the oldest one", my sister has become "that whore", but you know the baby Jesus, (our baby brother); she always remembers his name. Go figure, she's had 50 years of practice using my name, and it's the first one she forgot!

Sooooooooo, we've got a zillion of these hysterical comments..and we'll do a part 2,3, etc...every now and again. Keep 'em comin!


KK and SalGal

Saturday, April 12, 2008

The Midlife Gals BIG News!

Well, we're now off to the races with our videos! A BIG health network resource website called The Health Central Network has hired us to make some nutty videos for their site to 'liven it up a bit.' These sites are chocked full of reference information and therefore can be more boring than a school play that your kid ISN'T it's our job to provide both video and blog postings with our own brand of humor! And, bless their hearts, they're giving us pretty much free rein. We suggested they might get some feedback from people with no senses of humor who think we are 'offensive,' but that's never stopped us before, and they're here is our first skin care video for them. It will be on their site soon...maybe next week! Go to the skin care subsection on the left side of their home page. We'll update you all next week when we're 'live.'


KK and The SalGal


Friday, April 11, 2008

Our First Live Performance!

We didn't mean for it to be and we weren't expecting it, but that's usually when it's the best, right? Sal and I have some really big fans at an editing studio where I have copies of our DVD of videos reproduced. The first time I took in a DVD to have copied a few weeks ago, Donnie, my man, Donnie, kept trying to call us later that day to let us know that they were ready. We were out that afternoon so he kept getting The Ancient One on the phone. Well, you all know how much old people like to talk on the phone to strangers...not to their friends (if they're still alive) but to service people, insurance salesmen or the catalog order department. She chatted up Donnie to such a degree that he put her on speakerphone in the office where there were four people in one room!

By the time I arrived to pick up our copies, Donnie told us about talking to The Ancient One and that they looked at our videos when they made the copies and loved them so much that they found our channel on YouTube, went there and watched every video we've done! We LOVE Donnie!

So, both of us took another DVD for copying yesterday around lunchtime. When we entered his office, there were at least 7 of his coworkers in the office sitting around a couch having lunch. "WHOA, it's The MIDLIFE GALS!" said Donnie. He introduced us to his colleagues with a brief explanation of who we were...asking how many copies we needed and then said, "Here's what I'll do...I'll make you 3 copies for FREE (and they're usually $25 a pop!) IF you and SalGal give us a live performance!"

It's pretty easy to do our shtick in front of our anonymous computer's's all together another thing to do it in front of other humans, but because Sal is an actress anyway, she said, "YEAH! We'll step in the hall and decide what we're going to do and be right back." CRAP, I thought!

But, I'll do almost anything to get something free, so what the hell! We stood in front of the group and re-created the video, Lizbet and That Bitch, Mayrie (sans crowns and makeup)...and the crowd went wild! Hehehe...and it was FUN! AND, it was practice for our potential sitcom!

We laughed all the way home....with my heart still beating out of my chest!



Well, it's a good thing KK will do anything for free booty because I will do anything to get up in front of an audience. I have done lots of stand-up comedy in clubs in Hollywood, Pasadena and even the Velveeta Room right here in Austin. If KK had said no to the trade I would have dragged her in, duct taped her to the chair and forced her to perform on threat of no mexican food for lunch. Luckily those extreme measures were not necessary as in reality she is a player.

I think our performance went well even if we had no idea or preparation, make-up people or dress rehearsal. Wait a minute, we never have that anyway. We never write down what we are going to say in our videos. We just get an idea and then each of us separately thinks of a few things we want to say and then...well, we let the muse of comedy take the ball and run with it. We may be a bit profane at times (we have gotten some really tragique comments on our Edith Pilaf blog) but we don't give a shit because when you've seen the joke you've seen the truth. There's no glamour in suffering for us. We wallow in our ability to turn any angst and turmoil into a trip to the twisted, contorted Cirque de Fukthat.

I will perform anything from Chekov to Billy Crystal if requested and given an audience of two or more. I'm an actor and that's just how we are. We cant' help it. We were born to stand up on top of the dome at the State Capitol building and sing 'Don't Bring Around A Cloud to Rain On My Parade!' We were meant to entertain, make people cry and climb the rafters for for a cheap laugh.

Lighten up folks! You'll live longer and we'll get richer. Empty the pool of dread and fear and make a conscious choice to revel in the hot tub of rubber chickens, pies in the face and snot-slinging guffaws.


Tuesday, April 8, 2008

Divas LIVE!

No, I'm not talking about Sal and me, although some might think so, but it's just because they don't really know us like YOU do!

If you don't love opera, and for some it's an acquired taste to be sure...get over it and go out and rent an opera CD of just the most famous arias (that's songs for you opera haters). Now, I will confess that the only operas I really like at all are the REALLY tragic, highly dramatic ITALIAN operas...the ones where the heroine dies an eternally slow death while singing and flinging herself in her nighty all across the stage and back before she finally succumbs to death in the arms of her hero (who is really just a slob who can't commit!).

Sal and I had the opportunity to go to our newly built concert hall, The Long Center to see and hear perhaps the best soprano opera singer alive today...Kathleen Battle. Her CD would be a great one to start listening to. Talk about divas!!

This woman started out singing at the Metropolitan Opera in NY when she was in her twenties...and after a few years of her tantrums and divaness, they kicked her out for GOOD. You have to do something pretty outrageous to get kicked out of the Met because ALL of the opera singers there are divas and divos (maybe not a word...but). So, she's made her living recording CDs and doing live concerts.

Our original seats were in the mezzanine so she looked like a moving, gesticulating bug with a taffeta shawl draped around her. I could tell that even though these seats were the only ones we could afford, that they just wouldn't do. I spent more time looking around down on the main floor with my binoculars at the very few empty seats to which we would flee at intermission than I did focusing on Ms. Battle herself. Then, as she walked off the stage to people screaming, BRAVA, I grabbed Sal by the hand and said, "Come on...we're moving." You have to do this quickly because there are other devious people doing the same thing.

Well, if we didn't end up in the third row center, my name isn't KK...I mean, we were close enough to see her nose hairs, but I didn't look! We were mesmerized, gobsmacked at the voice that came from her mouth AND at the number of times that she took little mini-intermissions! She would sing about three songs and then take her piano player and dramatically stride off the set blowing kisses to the crowd. What a DIVA!

The funniest parts of the evening would come when, after finishing a beautiful song, she had to "take a moment" before she sang the next she would just stand there looking out at the audience, then down at her feet, then at the flower arrangement on the piano. Now, knowing opera divas, I knew that she was emotionally preparing herself for the next change in tempo. Sal was like, "What the fuck? What is she DOING? Do you think she forgot what she was doing or where she IS?" I had to explain to Sal that this is just what Divas DO.

Anyway, we had a blast. Life really IS a song, isn't it...and I'm just as happy listening to opera as I am to George Strait, who were he 7 inches taller, I would MARRY! Just go hear someone sing! Or walk around your own house singing at the top of your lungs and see what happens. If someone tries to stop you, put on your best DIVA!



Well, really. She was a diva of the first order. I wouldn't know how to be a diva. I stand up for very few things and generally just go with the flow and feel gratitude for the abundance in my life; my cat, The Ancient One and KK. It's very nice that they all are aware that I hate it when the toilet paper is put on the roll so that it falls from the back instead of draping from the front. They are so sweet about knowing that I must have the remote and watch my shows each night, that they must be silent during these shows and that my bourbon must have three ice cubes...not two, not four - three. KK has finally learned how to serve it properly.

I'm not high maintenance at all. I only spend about 45 minutes on my make-up, two hours on my hair and half the day dressing appropriately. I am usually out the door by noon. Discipline counts you know. I will not eat at cheap, small or 'homey' restaurants as I prefer French pate, duck confit on my salads and white truffles on my fillet Mignon steaks. Once a waiter actually served caviar with no lemon. I had to inform the management and I believe he was fired for such ignorance.

Most of the time I am agreeable and open to the wants and needs of the little people - unless they don't treat me with the proper dignity that I so brilliantly deserve. As long as they know their place I will say thank you to them, tip the requisite %10 and compliment them on their dungarees.

Ta ta for now and do write when you are gainfully employed,

Monday, April 7, 2008

The Weakness of Mortals

SalGal and I went to a fancy shmancy, artsy fartsy party the other night...ate the canapes, people watched, had a bellini and left. We got in the car, and the first thing I said was, "DANG, I wish I had a cigarette." To which she replied, "Where's the nearest store?" We gasped at our brazen confessions (since we quit smoking 5 months ago)...but like laughing zombies (or teenagers looking for trouble)...we drove to the store, bought a pack of Winstons and SMOKED!

That cigarette tasted better than the first one I had when I was 14! Lest you can't wait to write to us to warn of the hazards we face therein...please know that we know this. I quit smoking once for seven years! It's the nicotine monster and he resides within. Besides...we never had a chance. I have an old black-n-white photo of The Ancient One (when she was young and The Stunning One) in 1952...8 months pregnant with a cocktail party...cigarette in one hand and a scotch in the other.

Whether it's food, sex (well I might not try to fix that problem), gambling, whatEV...addictions are everywhere, aren't they? Mine could be worse, I suppose, but along with everything else, Sally and I share this one and always have. We've lost 3 pounds in the last 3 days and find ourselves doing the good old brainstorming in front of an ashtray with a glass of wine of an evening or coffee in the morning out on our deck...fully enjoying these moments...for now.

As a matter of fact, I'm sitting here in my jammies after having just awakened, and since I'm writing about smoking, the little monster on my shouder keeps tapping...he's waiting. Now he's saying, "For the DEVIL's SAKE, get the LEAD out...get your coffee and FEED ME!

Gotta go...Ta Ta,


I know, I know what all you guys are thinking so just shut the fuck up about it, okay? We know all the bad stuff and we will quit again now that we know the secret that it's not that hard. You see, we never had a chance. Back in the forties and fifties the pregnant women really didn't think that drinking and smoking or drug taking had any effect on the fetus. They thought of it as a separate entity. On its own.

My mother told me that for months right after I was born I cried every day at 5PM. Well, helllloooo....IT WAS THE COCKTAIL HOUR!!! And I wanted my martini and my Lucky Strike. I'd been getting them every day for 9 months and then all of a sudden I'm not warm and cuddly anymore and there's all this air around me. Where's the bar? Give me a cigarette!!!! What's this 'Rockabye Baby shit'!! I like Frank Sinatra!

We were screwed from the very beginning. And all you smokers out there? We know you want to quit and you will. We are rooting for you!


Friday, April 4, 2008

The Dating Game...

Before I get started about dating at middle age...or ANY age, if you haven't read SalGal's post under Donde Esta La Biblioteca, please pause and scroll down until you find it. I haven't laughed that hard since 6th grade!! It's one of her best!

Now then...I just want to talk about how incredibly tired I am of watching the thousands of preening, postulating birds who are using this spring season to indulge in totally public fornication at random and everywhere! They're just shameless about it. But, it is kinda fascinating to watch the male birds puffing themselves all up as they try to get the attention of the females who appear as though they could care less (hmmmmm). Then, all of a sudden, it's rape!

You can just tell that the women birds have not been satisfied. So, they slut around AGAIN and it just turns into a gang rape at times. It's so unbecoming yet they just can't be stopped, and it's at these times that you could walk right up to a male bird and lecture it without one bit of success because those males are FOCUSED...and they are not using protection either. I think there should be teeny wienie bird condoms, don't you?

If I sound bitter it may be because I was just 'REJECTED' by an unknown man named Bob (I changed his name from Philip ( to protect his privacy) who lives in another Texas town! And, I've never even MET him! I signed on with which is the group for E-Harmony rejects, and I am definitely an E-Harmony reject...thinking love awaited me online. After exchanging 'profiles' and moving to the 'short answers' level in which I was able to write a bit more about the URL of this blog, I was put in the 'waiting' box until Philip (I mean Bob) read my 'short answers' and responded in kind.

Suddenly, and without explanation, he vanished from my 'active matches' section. Hehehehe. So, oh boy is this blog ever a test for the strong to survive! I did tell Phil (Bob) that if he was still interested in me after perusing our blog then he had 'gumption' and I would be willin to meet him. Hehehehe...WHAT A COWARD!

So, it's onward through the fog I go...blumblefucking my way through the dating game and daring any comers to adore my blog/adore my sis/adore me!


PS-I DO still have my inflatable husband, Steve McQueen, anyway!


Well, I think KK has pretty much covered the birds. But what about the bees? Do bees have penises? You know there's only one queen bee in each hive and she lays all of the eggs. Does that mean all the males screw her? Poor thing!! Talk about gang rape. And I bet she is pretty sticky what with all that honey on the mens' legs.

The bees basically perform sex for the flowers through cross-pollination. I remember from elementary school that they get pollen from one flower on their legs and then when they land on another flower the pollen gets on that one and bingo! the other one is pregnant. I think it has to be a female plant though. So the bees are basically storks for the plants and maybe some of them are dominatrix. After that I don't understand what happens. Does the pollen get on the stamen thingy that sticks out like a plant penis? But then how does the pollen turn into a baby/fetus plant? Do the cells multiply and if you did an ultra sound of the plant could you see little buds curling up? And would you be able to tell if the baby seed was a girl or boy? Pink or blue that is the question.

I don't date. It's too distracting. Dating is like owning a horse. You start off having fun but then the ride gets bumpy, you find out the horse is too expensive to feed and then he urinates on the geraniums.

I would rather write or do our videos or go out with my sweet KK. I would rather eat Brussel sprouts than date and I really hate Brussel sprouts. But that's just me.
You go right on...

Wednesday, April 2, 2008

Donde Esta La Biblioteca?

Learning a language at this age is impossible. All of us near the Mexican border studied spanish in high school and this is the only thing I remember of it. It means, 'Where is the library.' This would be so useful if I were ever in Mexico looking for a library. Since then, there have been many, many moments where I wish I had paid more attention in my high school spanish class because there are opportunities everyday to speak spanish in Texas. For example, if you don't understand an instructional manual in english, just keep reading and eventually the text turns into spanish. It will either encourage immediate cursing or some spanish word might make more sense to you than the english word. Let me know how that works for you.

I studied Italian for six years, but that was many years ago when I lived in New York. Believe it or not, there were occasions to use it on the streets of Manhattan, but I learned Italian because I went to Italy. A trip that not only changed my life but made me ANGRY that I wasn't BORN Italian. I must have been an Italian in a former life or something because the connection was staggering. So, whenever I go to Italy, I can understand what the lovely Italians are saying now. They are rarely able to understand what I'm saying however, because I've forgotten most of what I learned. Does that stop me? Pish posh!

So, I attend an Italian language meetup group twice a month here in the A-Town. We meet at an Italian restaurant and just sit around a table and eat, drink wine and speak Italian. It's more fun than a barrel of monkeys (Italian monkeys of course). If I had a hidden camera at these gatherings, it would horrify me, I'm watch myself struggling for a simple word in Italian like 'them' or 'house' or 'food.'

Luckily, we are all pretty much in the same leaky boat as we stutter and struggle and finally give up and whip out our mini dictionary. It's fun! Nevermind that the mistakes people make can be the time someone asked me in Italian, "What makes you and your friend so close?" With my best Italian accent (which is really good), I thought I answered with, "Because we understand each other," when instead what I said was, "Because we piss on each other." the reaction was immediate with mouths agape, an awkward 2 or 3 seconds of stunned silence, then hysterical guffaws at my expense. Evidently, the verb 'to understand' and the verb 'to piss' sound eerily similar. It was an innocent mistake.

That won't stop me, oh no. I'll continue to embarrass myself until I'm living happily in my villa in Siena asking my housekeeper in Italian to please bring me biscotti and some Vin Santo!!



My favorite phrase in spanish is 'Que lastima!'. I don't know why I never forgot that. It means 'what a shame' or 'too bad!'. And KK turned me on to her favorite word in Spanish which is 'rascacielo' That means 'skyscraper'. Somebody at the dry cleaners called me a puta loca once when I was in a hurry and accidentally cut in front of her. I thought she was leaving. So I think puta loca must mean 'hurried lady' or maybe 'crazy whore'. I'm not sure.

I had four years of French in high school. It sucked because the teacher was my sister's husband's aunt and she was somewhat of a puritan. Actually, she may have been a chartreuse or is it chanteuse (in high school it's hard to imagine your french teacher having sex). But also you just don't want to discuss the french word for Budwieser with someone who knows your mother's telephone number.

I don't understand why there are so many different languages. Didn't everybody speak Latin at one time? Or maybe African? So then if they migrated to America and France and Sweden...why didn't they keep speaking the same language? That way, we'd all speak only one language and you wouldn't have to translate stuff like 'where is the bathroom?', 'whatever' or 'dude, s'up?'. No matter where you went you would be able to understand everybody. But no, some dickhead had to speak up and say, 'Hey, now that we are in a new place I vote we start speaking a different language! Who's with me!' And everybody did and now look at the fix we're in. Now you have to know the word for asshole in six languages just to make it alive from
Brooklyn to Madison Square Garden on the subway.

So sayanora for today. Areevadairchi, hasta la vista, aloha, chiao, see ya, voulez vous couchet avec moi su soir, buenos snow shoes, owf veederzane, chinga tu madre and have a nice day...