I read another blogger's post yesterday where she said something to the effect that her friends were rolling their eyes about her current boyfriend. That got me to thinking that it wouldn't be a bad idea to repost the following, from last July. At the time, I was living in Linda Land and Mike and I were "on a break," and yes, and that was only a year ago. I have a lot of new reader since then--and a lot of them are men--so I'd love for you to weigh in.
The other day one of my best friends (who doesn't read this blog)
emailed me and asked if I was back with Mike yet. "You don't have a
good history of ridding yourself of problematic men," she wrote. "As a
matter of observation, I would say you are magnetized to them."
Um, just how am I supposed to react to that?
I suppose I could start by asking, who the fuck isn't
problematic? By the time we're 50, most of us have a shitload of
baggage and personal idiosyncrasies that would drive anyone up the
wall. It's not like when we were in college and were pretty much a lump
of clay yet to be molded.
We all sit somewhere on the "problematic" scale and granted, some of us
weigh in a lot more heavily than others. Bastard Husband was/still is a
drinker and that was definitely a problem in our marriage. In
comparison, Mike's a lightweight. He's a certifiable genius, but that
brilliance can be a freakin' curse when it comes to day-to-day life
skills. Add young children into the mix, plus the fact that I'm a
self-diagnosed "Highly Sensitive Person" (a.k.a. "Pain in the Fucking Ass") and we have a perfect storm.
Those of us in our 40s, 50s, and beyond have decades of experiences
under our belts that form the basis of who we are and how we look at
life. As a result, the older we get, the more we're set in our ways. We
know what works for us and what doesn't. In effect, and especially for a
picky-ass person like me, the window of relationship opportunity is
open just a crack. It gets harder to find someone who has the winning
combination of personal characteristics, professional accomplishments,
logistics (such as availability and geographic location), and chemistry
that we look for in a partner.
So when I find someone I really dig and fall in love with, yes, I will leave no stone unturned to see if somehow
we can make this work. If you read my book you know I would have done
anything to save my marriage to B.H.; I call it a love story for a
reason. And I can't tell you how many times I've hit the wall of
frustration with Mike only to go back with him, believing there has to be some way to keep this together.
I don't often get defensive, mostly because I don't give a crap what
people think, but I find my friend's remarks insulting. I continue to
be amazed at what people, I'm gonna say married people, will say to us single folks. I swear, someday my eyeballs will need to be surgically removed from my cerebellum.
So single folks, tell me about the crazy shit you hear. And for those of
you living in wedded bliss, here's the link to a post I wrote a while
back on what you should never say to single people. Please, I beg of you, read this!
And for the record, Bastard Husband is a professor with a Ph.D. and
Mike's a computer wiz and successful businessman who was able to retire
at 38. That's the caliber of men I'm magnetized to.
Thursday, August 9, 2012
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
If you thought I was done talking about Billy Jack, you're mistaken
Awesome comment on my last post from lightning36 answering the question, "What would Billy Jack do?" about the increasing demands employers are making on job candidates:
So Mike and I have been all Billy Jacked-up since our trip to Prescott last weekend, right? Well, last night we were at our Henderson Writers' Group meeting and somebody brought in a bunch of books to give away. And look what I just happened to pick up:
Yes, that would be the screenplay by Frank and Teresa Christina of the greatest youth culture movie of its time, published in 1973. (lightning36, your quote is on p.40.) Although it endured years of red tape to get to the theater, the movie cost $800,000 to make and grossed over $65 million. So I guess that little independent film was pretty successful.
Its hard to believe, but Tom Laughlin, the good looking guy who wrote, directed and produced the movie, is almost 82 years old now. I've done a little research--he's very interesting!
But isn't it weird that I probably went close to 35 years without the thought of Billy Jack crossing my mind and the day after we get home from Prescott, where filming for the movie began, we come across this book? I mean seriously, before you read about him lately in this blog, when's the last time you thought of Billy Jack?
What would Billy Jack do? He'd start by rubbing his face with his hand, saying, "I want you to know... that I try. When Jean and the kids at the school tell me that I'm supposed to control my violent temper, and be passive and nonviolent like they are, I try. I really try."That just made my day!
So Mike and I have been all Billy Jacked-up since our trip to Prescott last weekend, right? Well, last night we were at our Henderson Writers' Group meeting and somebody brought in a bunch of books to give away. And look what I just happened to pick up:
Yes, that would be the screenplay by Frank and Teresa Christina of the greatest youth culture movie of its time, published in 1973. (lightning36, your quote is on p.40.) Although it endured years of red tape to get to the theater, the movie cost $800,000 to make and grossed over $65 million. So I guess that little independent film was pretty successful.
Its hard to believe, but Tom Laughlin, the good looking guy who wrote, directed and produced the movie, is almost 82 years old now. I've done a little research--he's very interesting!
- He began acting in the 1950s, but in the early 60s, he temporarily left his film career behind to start what would become the largest Montessori preschool of its kind in the U.S. Once of its students was Christian Brando, son of Laughlin's friend, Marlon Brando.
- He's done extensive research and written several books on Jungian psychology and alternative cancer therapy treatments.
- He once beat up actor Gene Wilder when they were in Washington High School in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.
- After working on a film with Laughlin, Robert Altman once called him "an unbelievable pain in the ass."
- In real life he's been married to Dolores Taylor, who played Jean in the movie, since 1954. That year he wrote the original screenplay for Billy Jack after witnessing the treatment of Native Americans in Taylor's hometown on Winner, South Dakota.
- He ran for President of the United States three times (1992, 2004 and 2008).
- He once said that the day OJ Simpson was found guilty was "one of the sickest, sorriest days in our culture."
- Since 2001, he has had a serious of health issues including cancer of the tongue, an auto-immune disorder, and a series of strokes.
- If you go to his website, you'll see videos that show he's still speaking out--even saying that John Travolta is being blackmailed.
But isn't it weird that I probably went close to 35 years without the thought of Billy Jack crossing my mind and the day after we get home from Prescott, where filming for the movie began, we come across this book? I mean seriously, before you read about him lately in this blog, when's the last time you thought of Billy Jack?
Sunday, August 5, 2012
Home from a nice weekend away, and more thoughts on the job search
Aaaah! Mike and I just got back from a glorious weekend in Prescott, Arizona. As I've written before, I love Prescott--it's artsy and laid back and full of my type of people. And there's tons of live music.
Mike had never been, and I think the highlight for him was seeing the courthouse square in downtown Prescott where the famous scene in the 1971 cult movie Billy Jack was filmed. This clip shows you exactly where we were.
We watched Billy Jack on Netflix a few months ago. What a cool movie; a great reminder of our youth. That's the beauty of being with someone the same age as you--you have the same pop culture reference points.
Man, Billy Jack is cool...
Anyway, thanks for all your support on the job search front. I appreciate hearing your comments and knowing I'm not alone in my frustration. Misery loves company, no? In case you missed it, I want to share what my buddy Vegas Flea had to say. I know Vegas Flea in real life, and believe me, he's a no bullshit kind of guy.
A couple of days later the recruiter called back and said their client was really interested in me and that I didn't have to do the test.
"Not interested," I said. "Any employer who would expect a candidate to complete a test like that is going to be a real pain in the ass to work for. Nope, not interested."
Of course, it was easy for me to say that because at that time I still had a job (that I hated) and was pretty much testing the waters. So I could be picky. Would I do the same now? Yep. Let them know they're missing out on a great candidate--and someone's who's a friggin' blast to work with.
Bahs-terds. Hmmm... gotta wonder, what would Billy Jack do?
Mike had never been, and I think the highlight for him was seeing the courthouse square in downtown Prescott where the famous scene in the 1971 cult movie Billy Jack was filmed. This clip shows you exactly where we were.
We watched Billy Jack on Netflix a few months ago. What a cool movie; a great reminder of our youth. That's the beauty of being with someone the same age as you--you have the same pop culture reference points.
Man, Billy Jack is cool...
Anyway, thanks for all your support on the job search front. I appreciate hearing your comments and knowing I'm not alone in my frustration. Misery loves company, no? In case you missed it, I want to share what my buddy Vegas Flea had to say. I know Vegas Flea in real life, and believe me, he's a no bullshit kind of guy.
I've experienced the same kind of thing. I once went for an interview for an IT position and was handed a ten page test. Basically, a college exam. I made it through about 2 questions and went back into the manager's office and asked,I had a similar experience a few years ago. I passed the screening interview for a six-month instructional designer position. Then I got an email with an attachment that was essentially a final exam for Instructional Design 101. I called the recruiter and said, "I'm not filling this out. I'm sorry your client can't assess my qualifications from the experience listed on my resume."
"What's the salary for this position?"
I put the exam on his desk and left.
I've since tried to nip this bullshit in the butt, by forcing someone from the company to answer some questions before the interview process even starts.
A couple of days later the recruiter called back and said their client was really interested in me and that I didn't have to do the test.
"Not interested," I said. "Any employer who would expect a candidate to complete a test like that is going to be a real pain in the ass to work for. Nope, not interested."
Of course, it was easy for me to say that because at that time I still had a job (that I hated) and was pretty much testing the waters. So I could be picky. Would I do the same now? Yep. Let them know they're missing out on a great candidate--and someone's who's a friggin' blast to work with.
Bahs-terds. Hmmm... gotta wonder, what would Billy Jack do?
Having an adventure
Sorry for no post yesterday--I'm having an adventure (again). Be back as soon as I can! Life is good...
Thursday, August 2, 2012
Job search 2012 -- what a pain in the ass!
I'm pretty sure I've mentioned before that as far as my day job experience goes, in the past 20 years since I got out of grad school I've worked primarily as a contractor, doing either technical writing or corporate training. I love contract jobs--you work for a specified length of time, and when it's over, it's over and you do the unemployment thing for a while until you find the next job. As a result, I'm pretty much constantly conducting a job search, looking for the next opportunity. No complaints.
Until now. My last gig ended in early May, which means I've now been trying to line something else up for three months now. And I'm telling you, looking for a job has never been more of a pain in the ass.
First, let's talk about online applications. I'm getting mighty sick of having to cut and paste every position and bit of education into each field--after I just uploaded my resume. Recently I found a posting for a technical trainer with "Company A" that I thought looked interesting--and therefore worthy of the 20 minutes I spent cutting and pasting and looking up street addresses of former employers. But I did it.
Then I saw another position with the same company and guess what? There was no way to access all the crap I just entered; there was no way to apply for more than one opening without going through the whole goddamn process again. So you know what I did? I sent an email directly to the sales department, with my resume attached. And guess what? Two days later a recruiter called me to come in for an interview. I have yet to hear anything about the first position, which only confirms my suspicion that online applications go into a friggin' black hole, never to surface again.
Unfortunately, I'm not quite a match for the job I interviewed for. I could say, Why the hell did I get all dolled up for nothing then? but I loved the guys who interviewed me and at least I know that Company A is a place I'd actually like to work in case they have something better suited to my background. Everyone I interacted with seemed happy. Good sign.
Okay, so the bottom line with the online applications is, I'm getting to the point now where unless the job looks super appealing, I'm not even bothering. Oh, one of the major casinos here expects you to enter your social security number. AS IF!
Here's another thorn in my side. I apply for a job with Company B and get a reply saying they're interested in my background and that I should go to this website to take an assessment test. And I should put aside 2-2 1/2 hours of uninterrupted time to complete it. F-U!!! I don't even know what the job pays! Nexxxxxxt!
Let me tell you two more things. (You don't have to keep reading; it just feels good to let this rip.) I responded to Company C's posting on Craig's List for a trainer--no online application, just a return email. The next day, I hear from the hiring manager; the job is with a major casino. Yay--I bypassed the online app bullshit! As part of the selection process, I'd have to conduct a mock training session so they could get a sense of my style. Fair enough--I've done that many times before where I just had to present 10 minutes of content on any topic I wanted. No problem; I have plenty of stuff in my archives to choose from.
But noooooo. Company C sends me an email saying they want me to conduct a 45-minute session using their curriculum. FML, it takes a lot of work to internalize someone else's curriculum to the point where you can present it well. But I did it... and never heard anything. Weeks later, I got a rejection form letter.
It gets worse. Yesterday I did a 45-minute mock training session for Company D. The topic was "How to sell an iPad." And guess what? In addition to presenting the content, I had to design the curriculum! And the job is not even an instructional designer job--it's strictly training presentation. So I spent friggin' hours writing up an agenda, identifying training objectives, preparing a competitive analysis and a features/benefits matrix... in addition to creating a couple of exercises to measure training effectiveness. Believe me, it was much more involved than simply demo-ing an iPad.
I think I did an okay job, especially considering the topic is HUGE, but whatever--it's pissing me off the way these goddamn employers are making candidates jump through hoops. I came home and told Mike, "Never again." Period.
I have a feeling it's mostly companies here in Las Vegas that are expecting this bullshit. When I was in Albany two summers ago, a half hour after my phone interview they called back with a solid offer--they never even saw me in real life! (Though they would have been quite pleased, if I do say so myself--ha!) Then last week, I had another fantastic phone interview for a different job in Albany, but as it turned out, the gig is for a year. I would love to be around my kids and grandchildren, but a year would be too long to be away from Mike and the step kids. (Plus we'd be getting into the winter months in NY--yikes.) My point is, they have a simple hiring process.
I figure I either need to work for a small company that doesn't have layers of bullshit or work for myself. I'm the only one I can stand, anyway.
But I am good at what I do. That I know. Employers are going to miss out on experienced people who are just not going to be bothered. Their loss.
Are you conducting a job search? What's your experience with the selection process?
Until now. My last gig ended in early May, which means I've now been trying to line something else up for three months now. And I'm telling you, looking for a job has never been more of a pain in the ass.
First, let's talk about online applications. I'm getting mighty sick of having to cut and paste every position and bit of education into each field--after I just uploaded my resume. Recently I found a posting for a technical trainer with "Company A" that I thought looked interesting--and therefore worthy of the 20 minutes I spent cutting and pasting and looking up street addresses of former employers. But I did it.
Then I saw another position with the same company and guess what? There was no way to access all the crap I just entered; there was no way to apply for more than one opening without going through the whole goddamn process again. So you know what I did? I sent an email directly to the sales department, with my resume attached. And guess what? Two days later a recruiter called me to come in for an interview. I have yet to hear anything about the first position, which only confirms my suspicion that online applications go into a friggin' black hole, never to surface again.
Unfortunately, I'm not quite a match for the job I interviewed for. I could say, Why the hell did I get all dolled up for nothing then? but I loved the guys who interviewed me and at least I know that Company A is a place I'd actually like to work in case they have something better suited to my background. Everyone I interacted with seemed happy. Good sign.
Okay, so the bottom line with the online applications is, I'm getting to the point now where unless the job looks super appealing, I'm not even bothering. Oh, one of the major casinos here expects you to enter your social security number. AS IF!
Here's another thorn in my side. I apply for a job with Company B and get a reply saying they're interested in my background and that I should go to this website to take an assessment test. And I should put aside 2-2 1/2 hours of uninterrupted time to complete it. F-U!!! I don't even know what the job pays! Nexxxxxxt!
Let me tell you two more things. (You don't have to keep reading; it just feels good to let this rip.) I responded to Company C's posting on Craig's List for a trainer--no online application, just a return email. The next day, I hear from the hiring manager; the job is with a major casino. Yay--I bypassed the online app bullshit! As part of the selection process, I'd have to conduct a mock training session so they could get a sense of my style. Fair enough--I've done that many times before where I just had to present 10 minutes of content on any topic I wanted. No problem; I have plenty of stuff in my archives to choose from.
But noooooo. Company C sends me an email saying they want me to conduct a 45-minute session using their curriculum. FML, it takes a lot of work to internalize someone else's curriculum to the point where you can present it well. But I did it... and never heard anything. Weeks later, I got a rejection form letter.
It gets worse. Yesterday I did a 45-minute mock training session for Company D. The topic was "How to sell an iPad." And guess what? In addition to presenting the content, I had to design the curriculum! And the job is not even an instructional designer job--it's strictly training presentation. So I spent friggin' hours writing up an agenda, identifying training objectives, preparing a competitive analysis and a features/benefits matrix... in addition to creating a couple of exercises to measure training effectiveness. Believe me, it was much more involved than simply demo-ing an iPad.
I think I did an okay job, especially considering the topic is HUGE, but whatever--it's pissing me off the way these goddamn employers are making candidates jump through hoops. I came home and told Mike, "Never again." Period.
I have a feeling it's mostly companies here in Las Vegas that are expecting this bullshit. When I was in Albany two summers ago, a half hour after my phone interview they called back with a solid offer--they never even saw me in real life! (Though they would have been quite pleased, if I do say so myself--ha!) Then last week, I had another fantastic phone interview for a different job in Albany, but as it turned out, the gig is for a year. I would love to be around my kids and grandchildren, but a year would be too long to be away from Mike and the step kids. (Plus we'd be getting into the winter months in NY--yikes.) My point is, they have a simple hiring process.
I figure I either need to work for a small company that doesn't have layers of bullshit or work for myself. I'm the only one I can stand, anyway.
But I am good at what I do. That I know. Employers are going to miss out on experienced people who are just not going to be bothered. Their loss.
Are you conducting a job search? What's your experience with the selection process?
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Special day today!
Spring, 1968. One of my little friends is playing at my house after school. She rushes into the living room with a smile that tells me she's clearly thrilled.
"Your mother just told your father to go shit in his hat!" she gushes.
Everybody thinks their mother is special, but how many people can pinpoint the moment they came to that realization? Yep, I'm one of the lucky ones.
Well, today Mom is 78 years old, so in her honor, I thought we'd have a little "Best of Dee Dee Idaho." She's such a good sport! (Thank God, without her I'd have no comedy act.)
And now a few excerpts from old blog posts:
*************
Mom: (at breakfast) You want a glass of tomato juice?
Me: No, thanks.
Mom: It's good for you. It's full of antioxidants.
Me: No, I don't like tomato juice.
Mom: Well, how about V-8?
Me: That's the same as tomato juice.
Mom: But it's good for you. It's full of antioxidants.
Me: The only way I can drink tomato juice is if it has vodka in it.
Mom: You want vodka? I have vodka.
*************
What my mother once wrote in a sympathy card:
“I’m so sorry to hear that Jeffrey has gone to a better place.”
*************
Mom (explaining how she keeps her credit cards straight): "I put a swastika on this one."
Me: "WHAT???"
Mom: "Not swastika. Asterisk."
*************
Remember back in 2009 when the two female journalists were released from North Korea? This is how it would have gone down if those girls had my mother…
Me: "Mom, guess what? I just got a journalism assignment in Korea. Isn’t that great?"If I had half a brain, I’d stop there. Or I could press the issue.
Mom: "Korea? Jesus Christ, are you out of your goddamn mind? What the hell is wrong with you? No, you’re not going to goddamn Korea."
Me: "But my friend’s mother is letting her go."And then if I really pushed, I'd get her favorite "this conversation is over" line:
Mom: "I don’t give a good goddamn about your friend’s mother. If she let your friend jump off the goddamn bridge, would you do that too?"
“Fine. Do what you want, you will anyway.”I swear, I’d rather do the 12 years of hard labor in a North Korean prison than face her wrath upon release. While my friend’s mother would welcome her home with hugs and flowers, the photos of my reunion at the airport would be of Mom pulling me by the collar with one hand and swatting my head with the other.
“Don’t you think [slap] Bill Clinton has better things to do than bail your ass out of prison? Jesus Christ, [slap] do you know how much goddamn money you cost the taxpayers of this country? [slap] Huh?”
*************
I love this classic Facebook post.
*************
And don't forget this classic video! (Stay till the end.)
Happy Birthday, Mom!
Saturday, July 28, 2012
How did I not know about Dino's Lounge???
Last Thursday night I got a text from my dear friend Kri asking if I wanted to meet her at Dino's at 9:00. Given my piss-poor mood lately, my answer was a resounding "YES!" even though I had no idea what Dino's was. Barbecue joint? Gay bar? Didn't matter. Okay, I have to admit, there was a tiny voice in the back of my head that said, "But Linda, Louie is on tonight..."
Wow, am I glad I went. As it turns out, Dino's Lounge, on the corner of Wyoming and Las Vegas Boulevard (just north of the Stratosphere) is the gold standard of dive bars. You know me, I love a good dive bar, especially one with a motto "Getting Vegas drunk since 1962."
The place was still pretty empty when I got there, but started to fill up before the karaoke started at 10:00. I'm not super into karaoke--my voice sounds like an ironing board opening--but there was some interesting stuff going on. The host was awesome and most all of the singers were good. Some, like Kri's gorgeous friend Trey, were really good.
The music, though, was secondary to the people watching. Dino's has a reputation for attracting all walks of life, and there was every type you could imagine: a normal looking businessman in a suit, a woman with a mullet and a dress wedgie, a guy in a poncho and a beret, a girl in a super sexy micro-mini celebrating her birthday, a man with a handlebar mustache, and this here diva (who most definitely does not shop at Ross).
I swear, the place was like a human museum.
As with all dive bars, it's a bit smoky in there. I'm sure that within six months one particular raspy-voiced singer will be holding the microphone to a hole in her throat. But what a blast. There's something extremely joyful about being in the middle of folks from every point on the spectrum, and to hear people sing! It's a beautiful expression.
Yep, one minute I'm putting a pork roast on the table with the husb, his kids, and his ex-wife gathered around, and a couple of hours later I'm high-fiving a friend while an Asian Rat Packer sings Sinatra.
What else am I missing? What other Vegas treasures I should know about?
Wow, am I glad I went. As it turns out, Dino's Lounge, on the corner of Wyoming and Las Vegas Boulevard (just north of the Stratosphere) is the gold standard of dive bars. You know me, I love a good dive bar, especially one with a motto "Getting Vegas drunk since 1962."
The place was still pretty empty when I got there, but started to fill up before the karaoke started at 10:00. I'm not super into karaoke--my voice sounds like an ironing board opening--but there was some interesting stuff going on. The host was awesome and most all of the singers were good. Some, like Kri's gorgeous friend Trey, were really good.
The music, though, was secondary to the people watching. Dino's has a reputation for attracting all walks of life, and there was every type you could imagine: a normal looking businessman in a suit, a woman with a mullet and a dress wedgie, a guy in a poncho and a beret, a girl in a super sexy micro-mini celebrating her birthday, a man with a handlebar mustache, and this here diva (who most definitely does not shop at Ross).
I swear, the place was like a human museum.
As with all dive bars, it's a bit smoky in there. I'm sure that within six months one particular raspy-voiced singer will be holding the microphone to a hole in her throat. But what a blast. There's something extremely joyful about being in the middle of folks from every point on the spectrum, and to hear people sing! It's a beautiful expression.
Yep, one minute I'm putting a pork roast on the table with the husb, his kids, and his ex-wife gathered around, and a couple of hours later I'm high-fiving a friend while an Asian Rat Packer sings Sinatra.
What else am I missing? What other Vegas treasures I should know about?
Friday, July 27, 2012
Helicopter parents cartoon -- couldn't resist!
Saw this on Facebook and had to share. You know how I love to rant about helicopter parents!
Thursday, July 26, 2012
Mood swing
So Sunday was a great day, and yesterday totally sucked. I'm being a little dramatic--it could have been a million times worse. Like nobody died or anything; I was just in a piss-poor mood that even a half a bottle of wine while watching Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story couldn't shake.
In case you couldn't tell from my Why don't kids today leave the goddamn house? post, being out of work while the kids are off from school is definitely fraying my nerves. And my tolerance for friggin' Black Ops is at an all-time low after the tragedy in Colorado last week. For a thoughtful commentary that's much better than what I could ever put into words, I'm going to send you to author Nathan Bransford's post on Violence in American Culture, in which he reports the rise of very violent young adult literature. Gee, what a shock.
I hate violence. Ironic, I know, since at any given moment I'm ready to kill somebody. Whatever. I don't find violence entertaining, and I sure as hell don't think it's appropriate for a 7-year-old to be cutting her grown-up teeth on Black Ops. It makes me sick. What equally makes me sick is that the man I love seems to think there's nothing wrong with this picture. Yes, I understand that one of the frustrations of step-parenting is having to witness a polar opposite parenting style. Got it. I'm just sick of that shit from morning till night.
So yesterday morning Mike had to take the kids to a dental appointment, which meant I'd have the house to myself for a while, which I really needed considering my fragile state. When they left, I was lounging poolside with my coffee, breakfast--three pieces of bacon on a plate--and Time and Entertainment magazines. Glorious! Then when I'd had enough sun, I picked up my crap and... was locked out of the house. AGAIN! This was the third time that Mike locked the door behind him when I was outside.
Unfortunately, by that time I had nothing left to drink and my iPhone was sitting inside on the kitchen counter. I called to the one woman who was biking on the path behind our house, and she didn't have her cell phone. No one else was on the path for at least a half hour.
I decided I'd scale the wall with a locked (of course) iron gate to the front of the house and see if maybe he accidentally left one of the front doors open. I pulled a chair over and was able to climb on top of the gate, but looking down at the length of the jump before me, I felt it was a little too risky. I was already making up brand new swear words; if I'd sprained or broken one or both ankles, I would have been a mental patient. So using my body strength, I climbed off the gate, thankful for all the yoga I've been doing lately, and then carefully dropped a cooler to the other side, hoping I'd be able to land on that.
Again, I climb up to the top of the gate and with a deep breath jumped a couple of feet to the cooler. I should mention how thankful I was that 1) I wasn't in bare feet, and 2) I had a little sundress over my bathing suit. The situation would have been much worse otherwise.
Okay, so now I'm in front of the house and try both the front and side doors. Locked, as they should be. I see a neighbor, whom I've never met, a few houses away get into his truck and head my way. I flag him down and ask if I can use his cell phone. I'm filthy, sweaty, fucking pissed, and ready to cry. Lovely introduction.
I call Mike and tell him I'm locked out again and don't take an hour and a half to get home like last time. My neighbor was nice as hell and even went back in his house to get me a bottle of water while I waited for my beloved. He mentioned that his wife goes to yoga classes and I wondered if I might have seen her, not knowing she's my neighbor. Vegas is like that--you can live in a house for a year and not know your neighbors. Kind of sad.
Anyway, Mike and the kids got home and I was in total "Nobody-say-a-word-to-me-I-can't-handle-it" mode. I showered, put on a cute little dress and planted myself in the nearest Race and Sports book, where I played some exactas in the last four races at Saratoga. My new, manly readers are probably surprised to hear that I frequent a sports book--it's true, but only during the Saratoga meet. I do some writing between races and make friends with the old guys.
Of course, none of my horses came in, and there wasn't a cocktail waitress in sight. Fortunately, I got a text from a reader who's also a stepmother and she, too, was in FML mode, so we had fun with some good old back-and-forth bitching via SMS. Bad moods are so much better when you have someone to share them with. After the races, I got lunch in the casino, which was a scoop of gelato.
I still wasn't ready to go home, so I went to the movies and saw Bernie with Jack Black and Shirley MacLaine. Jack Black gave a very impressive performance, but the movie was only so-so. Thankfully, there were were only three of us in the theater, so I didn't have to put up with anyone talking or breathing too loud--one of my many pet peeves.
On the way home, I stopped at Starbucks for dessert--iced tea and banana walnut bread. By the time I pulled in our driveway, I was almost human again. But as a precaution, I sequestered myself in the master suite for the rest of the night with Mr. Cox, thinking, "Yes, Scarlett, tomorrow is another day." Hopefully I'll eat better, too.
In case you couldn't tell from my Why don't kids today leave the goddamn house? post, being out of work while the kids are off from school is definitely fraying my nerves. And my tolerance for friggin' Black Ops is at an all-time low after the tragedy in Colorado last week. For a thoughtful commentary that's much better than what I could ever put into words, I'm going to send you to author Nathan Bransford's post on Violence in American Culture, in which he reports the rise of very violent young adult literature. Gee, what a shock.
I hate violence. Ironic, I know, since at any given moment I'm ready to kill somebody. Whatever. I don't find violence entertaining, and I sure as hell don't think it's appropriate for a 7-year-old to be cutting her grown-up teeth on Black Ops. It makes me sick. What equally makes me sick is that the man I love seems to think there's nothing wrong with this picture. Yes, I understand that one of the frustrations of step-parenting is having to witness a polar opposite parenting style. Got it. I'm just sick of that shit from morning till night.
So yesterday morning Mike had to take the kids to a dental appointment, which meant I'd have the house to myself for a while, which I really needed considering my fragile state. When they left, I was lounging poolside with my coffee, breakfast--three pieces of bacon on a plate--and Time and Entertainment magazines. Glorious! Then when I'd had enough sun, I picked up my crap and... was locked out of the house. AGAIN! This was the third time that Mike locked the door behind him when I was outside.
Unfortunately, by that time I had nothing left to drink and my iPhone was sitting inside on the kitchen counter. I called to the one woman who was biking on the path behind our house, and she didn't have her cell phone. No one else was on the path for at least a half hour.
I decided I'd scale the wall with a locked (of course) iron gate to the front of the house and see if maybe he accidentally left one of the front doors open. I pulled a chair over and was able to climb on top of the gate, but looking down at the length of the jump before me, I felt it was a little too risky. I was already making up brand new swear words; if I'd sprained or broken one or both ankles, I would have been a mental patient. So using my body strength, I climbed off the gate, thankful for all the yoga I've been doing lately, and then carefully dropped a cooler to the other side, hoping I'd be able to land on that.
Again, I climb up to the top of the gate and with a deep breath jumped a couple of feet to the cooler. I should mention how thankful I was that 1) I wasn't in bare feet, and 2) I had a little sundress over my bathing suit. The situation would have been much worse otherwise.
Okay, so now I'm in front of the house and try both the front and side doors. Locked, as they should be. I see a neighbor, whom I've never met, a few houses away get into his truck and head my way. I flag him down and ask if I can use his cell phone. I'm filthy, sweaty, fucking pissed, and ready to cry. Lovely introduction.
I call Mike and tell him I'm locked out again and don't take an hour and a half to get home like last time. My neighbor was nice as hell and even went back in his house to get me a bottle of water while I waited for my beloved. He mentioned that his wife goes to yoga classes and I wondered if I might have seen her, not knowing she's my neighbor. Vegas is like that--you can live in a house for a year and not know your neighbors. Kind of sad.
Anyway, Mike and the kids got home and I was in total "Nobody-say-a-word-to-me-I-can't-handle-it" mode. I showered, put on a cute little dress and planted myself in the nearest Race and Sports book, where I played some exactas in the last four races at Saratoga. My new, manly readers are probably surprised to hear that I frequent a sports book--it's true, but only during the Saratoga meet. I do some writing between races and make friends with the old guys.
Of course, none of my horses came in, and there wasn't a cocktail waitress in sight. Fortunately, I got a text from a reader who's also a stepmother and she, too, was in FML mode, so we had fun with some good old back-and-forth bitching via SMS. Bad moods are so much better when you have someone to share them with. After the races, I got lunch in the casino, which was a scoop of gelato.
I still wasn't ready to go home, so I went to the movies and saw Bernie with Jack Black and Shirley MacLaine. Jack Black gave a very impressive performance, but the movie was only so-so. Thankfully, there were were only three of us in the theater, so I didn't have to put up with anyone talking or breathing too loud--one of my many pet peeves.
On the way home, I stopped at Starbucks for dessert--iced tea and banana walnut bread. By the time I pulled in our driveway, I was almost human again. But as a precaution, I sequestered myself in the master suite for the rest of the night with Mr. Cox, thinking, "Yes, Scarlett, tomorrow is another day." Hopefully I'll eat better, too.
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
A birthday celebration for a Las Vegas comedy icon
Who knew a birthday party for an 80-year-old could be so much fun? When it's a comedy roast/book release party/fundraiser and the man of the hour is Las Vegas stand-up comedy icon Cork Proctor, well... how could it be anything but fun?
The showroom at the Southpoint Casino was place to be on Sunday afternoon, with every "Vegas Who's Who" in attendance.
Comedy roasts are always so much fun, and in this case the average age of the roasters was, well, let's just say their AARP cards weren't exactly newly minted. One thing I realize--the older you get, the stronger your comedy muscle gets. That was proven by the quality of the material--and ad libbing--we were treated to. Hilarious.
After the show I got a chance to talk with roaster Sammy Shore, who co-founded the legendary Comedy Store in Hollywood back in the 70s.
Sammy was pleased to hear that I'm primarily a writer--comics need to write well--and offered me some words of wisdom about aging. "It's all about attitude," he told me. "It doesn't matter how old you are or [motioning to his body] what's going on down here. It's all about what you've got from the neck up."
That may be true when it comes to comedy, but for some gals, their ability to make a living depends primarily on what they offer from the neck down. Wow, you wouldn't believe the bodies on these broads! (I say "broads" cuz I talk Old Vegas-y now.) Seriously! My BFF and fellow blogger Lisa Gioia Acres saved me the best seat in the house right in front of the podium and I can tell you, these dames (dames!) are walking perfection.
God-damn, I would love to be a showgirl! I wouldn't have to worry about my crappy hair and it would be much more fun than becoming a nun or turning Muslim just to wear the scarf.
Speaking of hair, I have to go on a tangent for a second. [Begin tangent] The other night I was worrying about what I would do with my hair if I were a black woman. I know I should probably worry about other things since the chances of my waking up some morning as a black woman are probably not that good (though I would LOVE to see the expression on Mike's face), but anyway I was thinking I would forget the weaves and wigs and just go with a cut closer to my head. Then who sits across from me at the roast but this striking woman with MY haircut!
Well, that just sealed the deal. See? Everything has a way of working itself out. Now I have one less thing to worry about. [End tangent]
Anyway, if my new career as a showgirl falls through, I have a plan B. At the bar after the show, Lisa introduced me to a new friend who with a totally straight face said I should be a foot model. I am blessed with a Cinderella size 6, you know, and it does sound more interesting than that blah-blah technical writing I do.
Oh, I can't tell you how much fun I had! The event, which benefited Opportunity Village, was produced by my friend Carolyn Hamilton, who was Carolyn Proctor back when I met her years ago through the Henderson Writers Group. That's right; she's Cork's (much younger) ex-wife. Not every woman gets to roast her ex in public (though some write books about them.) Several months ago Carolyn moved to Ecuador (!?), and interestingly, it looks like Cork will be joining her soon. So this was also a sort of going away party as well.
I love to hear about exes who get along post-divorce! Hell, I'll be sharing a stage next month with my first ex. I love both of my ex-husbands, and yes, my book about ex #2 really is a love story. I love all my ex-boyfriends, too. How can I not? They're wonderful men!
One last thing--I have to mention Cork's book, My Mind Is an Open Mouth: A Life Behind the Mic. I just started it last night and I am digging it. If you're interested in a first-person account of old Las Vegas--Cork worked as a lifeguard at the Sahara as a teenager--then you'll love this book, too.
Oh, I just thought of one more thing. Looking at Cork Proctor, you'd NEVER believe he's 80. I swear, he could easily pass for 15 years younger. Years of laughing, people. That's the conclusion I'm drawing.
Aaaah, Las Vegas. There's no place like it!
The showroom at the Southpoint Casino was place to be on Sunday afternoon, with every "Vegas Who's Who" in attendance.
 |
| "Cork roast" |
Comedy roasts are always so much fun, and in this case the average age of the roasters was, well, let's just say their AARP cards weren't exactly newly minted. One thing I realize--the older you get, the stronger your comedy muscle gets. That was proven by the quality of the material--and ad libbing--we were treated to. Hilarious.
After the show I got a chance to talk with roaster Sammy Shore, who co-founded the legendary Comedy Store in Hollywood back in the 70s.
 |
| Me and Sammy Shore |
Sammy was pleased to hear that I'm primarily a writer--comics need to write well--and offered me some words of wisdom about aging. "It's all about attitude," he told me. "It doesn't matter how old you are or [motioning to his body] what's going on down here. It's all about what you've got from the neck up."
That may be true when it comes to comedy, but for some gals, their ability to make a living depends primarily on what they offer from the neck down. Wow, you wouldn't believe the bodies on these broads! (I say "broads" cuz I talk Old Vegas-y now.) Seriously! My BFF and fellow blogger Lisa Gioia Acres saved me the best seat in the house right in front of the podium and I can tell you, these dames (dames!) are walking perfection.
 |
| "One of these things is not like the other..." |
God-damn, I would love to be a showgirl! I wouldn't have to worry about my crappy hair and it would be much more fun than becoming a nun or turning Muslim just to wear the scarf.
Speaking of hair, I have to go on a tangent for a second. [Begin tangent] The other night I was worrying about what I would do with my hair if I were a black woman. I know I should probably worry about other things since the chances of my waking up some morning as a black woman are probably not that good (though I would LOVE to see the expression on Mike's face), but anyway I was thinking I would forget the weaves and wigs and just go with a cut closer to my head. Then who sits across from me at the roast but this striking woman with MY haircut!
 |
| She's a hundred times more beautiful in real life! |
Well, that just sealed the deal. See? Everything has a way of working itself out. Now I have one less thing to worry about. [End tangent]
Anyway, if my new career as a showgirl falls through, I have a plan B. At the bar after the show, Lisa introduced me to a new friend who with a totally straight face said I should be a foot model. I am blessed with a Cinderella size 6, you know, and it does sound more interesting than that blah-blah technical writing I do.
Oh, I can't tell you how much fun I had! The event, which benefited Opportunity Village, was produced by my friend Carolyn Hamilton, who was Carolyn Proctor back when I met her years ago through the Henderson Writers Group. That's right; she's Cork's (much younger) ex-wife. Not every woman gets to roast her ex in public (though some write books about them.) Several months ago Carolyn moved to Ecuador (!?), and interestingly, it looks like Cork will be joining her soon. So this was also a sort of going away party as well.
I love to hear about exes who get along post-divorce! Hell, I'll be sharing a stage next month with my first ex. I love both of my ex-husbands, and yes, my book about ex #2 really is a love story. I love all my ex-boyfriends, too. How can I not? They're wonderful men!
One last thing--I have to mention Cork's book, My Mind Is an Open Mouth: A Life Behind the Mic. I just started it last night and I am digging it. If you're interested in a first-person account of old Las Vegas--Cork worked as a lifeguard at the Sahara as a teenager--then you'll love this book, too.
Oh, I just thought of one more thing. Looking at Cork Proctor, you'd NEVER believe he's 80. I swear, he could easily pass for 15 years younger. Years of laughing, people. That's the conclusion I'm drawing.
 |
| Look at that freakin' hair! |
Aaaah, Las Vegas. There's no place like it!
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