NEED A GREAT COVER ARTIST?

NEED A GREAT COVER ARTIST?
NEED A GREAT COVER ARTIST?

Tuesday, May 31, 2011

My Trip to NYC: Wicked the Musical

Immediately, I give this show Shelly’s twenty stars. OMG. I loved it. If you’re in NYC, it’s a must to see. It will appeal to any cynical mind. I know, because I’ve got one.

The moral of the story goes, trust no one in authority. Those higher than ourselves can twist whatever around about any individual for the public to believe, even about innocent witches.

So, beware of politicians and their creepy promises. Beware of CNN, Fox News, The Morning, and Today Show. Beware of Jiffy Peanut Butter commercials and Oscar Meyer Bologna, too. Beware of all propaganda.

 

This last clip brings tears to my eyes. Loved it!

Everyone have a happy day blogging, reading, and writing!

Shelly

PS Sir Poops-A-Lot will be back Saturday. He’s writing a book review. I’m so proud of him.

PSS Remember to save a local library today!

Monday, May 30, 2011

Happy Memorial Day

I wanted to wish everyone A Happy Memorial Day. Also, I wanted to say my heart goes to those families whose sons and daughters have died in service to this country. My eyes can’t stay dry while I write this. Thank you.

Shelly

PS My biggest wish is for peace and for people to share. This is what we learned in Kindergarten, after all.

Saturday, May 28, 2011

Saturdays with Sir Poops-A-Lot: Fine Dinnerware and Beth Muscat’s, Remember the Eyes and Nothing Without You

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SPAL: Blogo-schmogo-schmucko-roo!

HB: Huh? Why are you repeating what mummsy’s been mumbling all week.

SPAL: There’s still something wrong with Blogspot.

HB: Oh!

SPAL: Wish I could hypnotize it like I can mummsy.

HB: You can’t hypnotize mummsy.

SPAL: Can, too.

HB: Can not!

SPAL: Too!

HB: Show me then, Pansy!

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SPAL: You stand and stare. Concentrate on what you want. I don’t even have to touch her like Riley does in Beth Muscat’s book, Remember the Eyes and Nothing Without You.

HB: Ooooo….you’ve been playing with mummsy’s Kindle.

SPAL: Not! I’ve been reading. I’m learning a lot from Riley. Hypnotizing someone takes a lot of concentration. If it weren’t for my reading skills and these two great books by Beth Muscat we wouldn’t be getting dinner on mummusy’s good dinner plates. We’d still be eating out of what they call the DOG BOWLS.

HB: So.

SPAL: Didn’t you know DOG is really a bad word?

HB: Nah-uh.

SPAL: Well, it is. And, I refuse to do anything a DOG might do.

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

My Blogger Issues

Bogger is pissing me off. Anger is not something I'm accustomed to, but I'm still unable to post comments to most fellow bloggers sites. How in the world will they know I've actually visited them.

Yesterday and today, I've not been able to get to the blogger with their address: www.blogspot.com. A message page pops up, saying 'Sorry Page Not Found'. While I'm able to get here by my address, I'm not able to sign in properly. What's the deal?

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

My Trip to NYC: The Metropolitan Museum

Schwoo…I made it to my most favorite museum in the world. The Metropolitan. Two hours later.

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Last year when we came, I didn’t get the pleasure of coming by myself. Sweetman rushes me through things he doesn’t like to do, but takes forever to shop, inspecting seams, button holes, zippers, pockets and God knows what else. Oooo, I think I married my mother. Now that’s scary. My mother in my husband’s body. Creepy-deepy. Ooky-spooky.

Okay. Enough blabber…

When I walked into the crowded mouth of the museum, I had to let security go through my purse. Question. How come it is security checks are done inside buildings, not six feet away? Outside? Really? Welcome to America. Right? The land of no common sense.

Okay. I know. I’m yakking again.

After, security checked my bag, I went to the get-your-ticket-area. A nice red-curly-headed girl asked, “Is it okay to pay twenty-dollars?”

I loved this question. OMG. The spirit of Robb Logger moved on me, again(anyone know what happened to him…is he at unreachable celebrity status now…did Gertrude murder him?). Special thoughts were forming in my mind. The temptation to take her picture gnawed at me.

Is it okay to pay twenty-dollars, I thought. Hmm. What would Robb Logger do? He’d take her picture to post on his web before giving her an answer. After, he’d probably ask why or tell her it wasn’t okay because he’s homeless or he didn’t speak-a-da Eng-a-lish. Take another picture and off he’d go..

But, I ignored his spirit, paid the twenty-dollars, and in I went.

OMG. “I’m in heaven. I’m in heaven,” I sang to myself once I stepped foot into the first exhibition.

Egypt

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The Egyptians know how to go out in style.0319111030-00

 

Next stop: The Byzantine Era.

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Religious nuts, you know. They existed back then, too.

Knights

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These are a few of my favorite exhibits. There’s so much more, but I’m running out of time this morning. Besides, I’ve got a show to catch at two-thirty. Wicked. Well, not in real time. Instead, I’ve got an appointment with my massage therapist.

That’s all for now folks!!!

Have a great day blogging, reading, and writing!!!

Shelly

PS Save a local library!

Monday, May 23, 2011

My Trip to NYC Continued: I Got Lost in Central Park

The morning after our arrival into the Big Apple, Sweetman’s shopping spree, the dinner with God/Goddess, and a romp around in the wonderful bed, I decided my day would be spent walking through Central Park. My plan was to eventually end up at the Metropolitan Museum.

Before I departed the safety of the Intercontinental Barclay, I stopped by the concierge’s desk.

“How do I get from here to Central Park? And from there, how do I get to the Metropolitan Museum?” I asked.

“When you go out of the building, take a left onto Lexington. Follow to Sixth Avenue. Take a right. Follow to Fifty-sixth. You should see the park from there.”

Well, something like that. I wrote: L, R, L. Easy-peasy. Right? Well, it was until I got inside the park.

0319110918-00I asked one of the horse-buggie drivers where to go from there in order to get to the museum.

“Follow the runners,” He said.

I did.

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Great!  Where the hell am I?

I stopped and asked runner number one. “Am I going the right way to the Metropolitan Museum?

“Yes,” she said, pointing East. “Find Eighty-Second. Keep following the trail.”

I did, but my intuition told me differently. Ignoring it, I continued on my path toward Eighty-Second East.

My stomach gnawed at me, again so I asked runner number two. “Is this the way to the Metropolitan Museum.”

“Yes,” he said, giving no further instructions.

Still, my intuition told me something different, but I followed the same trek anyway. Why would a New Yorker tell me to go the wrong way. They do know where the Metropolitan Museum is? Right? They live here, after all.

During my lost adventure in the park, I took these awesome pics.

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Getting lost wasn’t such a bad deal. Central Park might be brown and the grass may crunch beneath your feet, but it’s beautiful in a nostalgic way.

In case you want to know, the Metropolitan is on Fifth Ave, not Eighty-Second.

I’ll be back tomorrow with what I found at the Metropolitan.

Have great day blogging, reading, and writing!

Shelly

P.S. Remember to save a library!

Saturday, May 21, 2011

Saturdays with Sir Poops-A-Lot: Writer’s Block and Irritable Bowel Syndrome

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HB: What’re we going to talk about today?

SPAL: Don’t know. Blogger’s mishaps last week screwed up my writing rhythm. I think mummsy calls it brain constipation.

HB: Are you sick?

SPAL: No. Mummsy says it’s when the words won’t come out.

HB: Like when you can make poops and you need to eat grass?

SPAL: Yup. Something like that.

HB: Okay… I think. But, how is making words like making a poop?

SPAL: Sometimes you know they’re there…you know, like the poops, but they refuse to come out. And, sometimes…like mummsy says they can explode out of your head onto paper like poops can explode out of your bum. Mummsy calls that IBS writing or brains. It’s when she can’t keep the words from coming out.

HB: Is IBS writing good?

SPAL: Yeah. It’s better than having the other problem. It’s good to have IBS brains.

HB: Oh….only at the other end it’s not good. Right? ‘Cause I don’t like IBS poops. It makes my tummy hurt.

SPAL: Right.

HB: How are we going to get IBS brains? Eat more grass?

SPAL: Do what mummsy does. Go for a walk. Eat treats. Read a book. Read some blogs. Listen to Beethoven.

                                       

SPAL: Hoped this helped anyone having brain constipation today. My you have IBS brains, instead.

Very truly yours,

Sir Poops-A-Lot

and

Hair Ball

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

My Trip to NYC: Gotham and Max Brenner’s

After Sweetman and I escaped Satan (shopping), we went back to our room for some respite. Ahhhh…the bed at the Intercontinental Barclay is be best described as heaven. Mmmmm….

Okay. Sweetman made dinner plans for the Gotham, located at 12 East 12th Street. One must make reservations. Their phone number is: 212-620-4020. One must also dress up for this special occasion. Hopefully, you come with the knowledge of which fork to use. It’s one of those restaurants that serves a seven courser if it’s your heart’s desire to have an all nighter, eating.

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The menu.

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                        The table. Needed to pack this in my suitcase, too.

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                                                The d├ęcor.

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         The bar.

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                                  My dinner. Cod in Miso sauce. It literally melted in my mouth. I swear God or the Goddess is the chef here. And the servers are the angels and their minions. We had a bread boy, water boy, silverware boy, plate boy, and the head angel who took our order. I tried with all earnest efforts to talk them into coming home with me. Thought maybe they could teach my daughters a thing or two about waiting on their mom hand and foot. The only comment I got were some giggles.

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Sweetman’s dinner. Lobster something, something. It looks more like tiny tropical Christmas tree.

 

 

 

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Desert. Tiny. Tiny. A good, guiltless splurge.

Shelly gives the Gotham twenty stars. Everything’s way above excellent..

Our next outing was to Max Brenner’s. Well, that was the idea until we stepped into a cab. Nope. Not the Cash Cab, either. The Unknowing Cabbie, instead.

“We want to go to Max Brenner’s on second avenue,” Sweetman said.

No response.

“Second Avenue,” Sweetman repeated.

“Where you want go?” The cabbie asked.

I rolled my eyes and giggled.

“Max Brenner’s.”

“Where that?”

Sweetman muttered some Yiddish(probably some bad words) and said, “Second Avenue. You know where that is, right?”

“Yeah.”

We had to chisel his name out of him, too. Mohamed. I think he made it up, though.

Twenty minutes later we were somewhere in Chinatown. We’d passed Canal street and Soho.

“I think he’s lost,” I said. “Maybe he knows you’re Jewish and he’s working for the bad guys. We’ve been kidnapped.”

Sweetman went into Yiddish spasms.

“Just saying.”

Finally we made it.

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As you can see, it’s rather dark in there. The ambience is great. The music is hip and loud. Young people pour into this place. Where can you go for chicken and chocolate. There’s no place like it.

Sweetman and I had fruit and cookies served with three different kinds fondues. Dark chocolate. Milk chocolate. And, caramel. Total yum. For the two of us it cost twenty-three dollars. I think I was more impressed than Sweetman. I give it at least ten stars. He gave it a thumbs down. What does he know anyway. He’s a man, and chocolate’s for girls, anyway.

You can find Max Brenner’s at, 141 2nd Avenue. Just make sure you don’t get into any cabs manned by Mohammed.

That’s all for now folks!!!! Sir Poops-A-Lot will be here on Saturday with God-knows-what, and I’ll be back next Monday. Got a crappy work schedule the rest of the week.

Happy blogging, writing, and reading!!!!

Shelly

PS Help save your local library today!

Monday, May 16, 2011

My Trip to NYC: Brooks Brothers

After our trip to H. Sterns Jewelers, Sweetman wanted to make avisit to Brooks Brothers, located on 666 5th Ave, #6. It’s one of his favorite clothing stores. Not mine. They’re a little too pricey. Give me a Ross, Kohl’s, or a Marshall’s any day. Okay. On with the story.

“I want o see if they have---“

Okay. My mind glazed over when we entered the store. I didn’t catch what he wanted to look for. Happens all the time. As soon as I walk into the store, we’re bombarded by a salesperson and millions of displays. Dress shirts. Polos. Pants. Neck ties. Mannequins. OMG. I’m overwhelmed. Heart palpitations are taking over and my hands are clammy.

Sweetman holds up a price tag on something that resembles a coat---seven hundred something dollars. Italian silk. His mouth is watering over the thing. “Look at this. Isn’t it beautiful.” He runs his hands along the funky, blue material.

“It’s ugly,” I said. “It’s shaped like a triangle.”

“It’s designer fashion.”

“That explains it. It’s not what everyday people would wear.” I turn my nose up at him and walk away, looking for the door we came into.

“Look at this,” he said, from behind.

I look over my shoulder. He’s holding up the brightest, red neck tie I’ve ever seen in my life.

“What do you think?” He presses the tie against himself.

“It looks like a very bright red neck tie a circus clown would wear, honey.” I made my way to the door and opened it.

Fresh, polluted New York air tainted with food smells hit me. Hotdogs and warm chestnuts, wafting to my nose. AHHH… I breathed it all in and gave a sigh of relief. Freedom.

 

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Tomorrow, I’ll be posting about my favorite food experiences. Gotham and Max Brenners.

Happy blogging, writing, and reading!

Shelly

PS Remember to help save your local library!

Sunday, May 15, 2011

A Chocolate Rewiew: Kaitlin and Kylie’s

 

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The Monday before Mother’s Day, I ordered a box of samplers. They arrived Saturday, the day before the big day unmelted. I wished I’d taken a picture of the box, a purple ribbon and flower had been wrapped around it along with a personal message in fancy writing (Christina Lucas did this…thanks Christina) from me to my sisters with scissors.

Also, I should’ve taken pictures of my friends. Their eyes were rolling back in their heads. I know they were in ecstasy because when I bit into a peanut butter cup….AHH…OOO… It’s not like any other chocolate you’ve ever tasted. OMG! Total chocolate orgasm.

It didn’t even taste like chemicals or like it came from a factory. Really guys! This chocolate’s great. Believe me, I know. I’ve eaten every chocolate there is. It’s better than Dove.

Treat yourselves.

You can find the little chocolate shop @:http://www.etsy.com/shop/KaitlinandKylies

Bye for now!

Shelly

A Book Review: Christi the Coupon Coach: Couponing Made Simple

I know its late for me to post, but I had to work today, of course. Hair loppings had to be done. And, when I arrive home, I have to feed Sweetman and his pet, Fluffy, and Sir Poops-A-Lot and Honey Beard a/k/a Hair Ball.

Book Review:

Christi the Coupon Coach: Couponing Made Simple51kSu7YuMOL__SL160_PIsitb-sticker-arrow-dp,TopRight,12,-18_SH30_OU01_AA160_

 

Product Description

Learn to save 80% today and for the rest of your life. Couponing Made Simple can help make sense of the new world of couponing wtih a step-by-step plan. Imagine providing for your family in these tough economic times for pennies on the dollar! This is not "extreme" but real couponing for real people. The sooner you get started couponing, the more you will save. You will wish you had started earlier, but the plan, organization system, tips and tools can jump start you into a new way of shopping. Join Christi the Coupon Coach as she shows you the way to Super Savings

Christi did a great job breaking down her coupon system for me because I get overwhelmed with stuff like this. First of all, I hate clipping coupons. Second, being organized with a file system that works…well, I don’t do that well either. Out of sight. Out of mind. If it gets filed away, I’ll forget about it.

Also, her excitement about couponing is contagious. It shines through each chapter.

My favorite chapters:

Chapter Three, The Language of Couponing

Here you’ll learn about Blinkies, Bogo, Clipping Services, Coupon Inserts, Coupon Kiosk, Customer Loyalty Card, O.O.P., Peelies, Rebates, Receipts, Rock Bottom Pricing, Stacking, Stockpiling, and Store Loyalty Rewards.

Chapter Four, Organization System

In this chapter, she’ll teach you how to organize for your coupon adventure, making it easy-peasy. It was for me, and that was a miracle in itself.

Chapter Five, Step-by-Step Process

This chapter explains which newspapers to buy, how to sort them, and find deals, match coupons.

I know ya’ll want to know if you can really save big. The answer is yes, but this takes time and patience. If you’re a working mom, take baby steps towards your savings. That’s what I’ve been doing.

My first trip to store with coupons I bought three Yoplait yogurts for ten cents and two tubes of Tylenol Muscle rub for three dollars. Reason being: I had six stackable coupons for the yogurt, two for each yogurt, and four stackable coupons for the muscle rub.

If you want to know more. Buy the book so you can start saving on your groceries, too.

You can find her on Amazon.com @ http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=Christi+the+Coupon+Coach%3A+Couponing+Made+Simple&x=16&y=25

Later

Later this evening, sometime after dinner, I'll be posting two reviews. One, on chocolate...my favorite food and one of my staples in life. This chocolate-maker who runs her own biz made a lasting impression on me. Two, I'll post a short book review on couponing. If anything, its organized me.

Not having Blogger on Friday messed up my equalibrium so to speak. Right now, I've got to ready myself for a day of hair loppings.

Have a great day, all!!

Happy blogging, writing, and reading!

Shelly

PS Help save your local library!

Thursday, May 12, 2011

My Trip to NYC: Shopping with Sweetman at H Sterns Jewelers

After we checked in, and I convinced Sweetman I was in the mood for pizza not the wild nasty, we headed out to Fifth Ave. Shopping central. This is Sweetman’s heaven, and my pure drudgery. I followed behind, eyes glazed over. Shopping sucks. I blame it on my mother(that’s another blog).

He drags me up and down the city sidewalk while I dodge being trampled on. New Yorker’s walk defensively and have no patience. They’re always in a hurry. What’s up with that? I’m a Florida girl, we do things a little slower. Besides, I’m on vacation. They should be happy I’m there spending my money in their city to help their economy, which by the way looked to be doing fine.

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Anyway, he dragged me into H Stern Jewelers. He looked for a piece of jewelry for me. Sweet. Right? That’s why I named him Sweetman. He’d like to buy me tennis bracelet. Something dainty. So we looked. Quite frankly, I’m overwhelmed by all the cases of bling-bling. Hot flashes run through me and my heart palpitates.

An Asian man approached us. “Can I help you with anything?”

Really, I’d like to leave, I thought.

Sweetman follows the the guy around the glass-boxed jewelry maze. “Of course. I’m looking for a tennis bracelet for my wife.”

Another Asian man bumps into me on the way to where ever Sweetman is leading me.

“Oh. My. God. I’m so sorry, miss.” The man brushes me off. “Are you all right? I didn’t mean to---“

“It’s all good. No problem,” I said. What? So he bumped into me. Really? He treated me like a piece of expensive China. In Florida, we apologize and move on. No big deal.

The man ranted his apology over and over again as I passed. I’m not even a famous writer, yet.

I looked over my shoulder at him. “Really. It’s all good.”

Sweetman pulled me toward the destination of inspection. A table and chair surrounded by more boxes of bling-bling. OMG. My heart rattled more in my chest, and my hands got clammy.

“My name is Scott,” he said. “Can I get you anything to drink? Wine?” His eyes pace back from me to Sweetman.

“Water would be nice,” I said.

Sweetman grunted something.

The clerk disappeared for about three minutes and returned with two glasses of water.

We took the glasses. I tried to sip mine but I gulped it instead, tuning out the conversation between my husband and the clerk.

Before I knew it, boxes of bracelets were being shoved into my face. It overwhelmed me.

“What do you think?” Sweetman asked, removing a strand of diamond chunks from the box.

“They’re big. Really big.” My eyes urged to fall onto the floor. “Too big.”

Sweetman held up the strand, looking at Scott. “How much is this one?”

“Seven thousand dollars.”

I think I swallowed my eyes, chugging down more water.

“No. I don’t want to spend that much,” Sweetman said. “Do you have anything else? Smaller perhaps?”

“Unfortunately, no.” The salesman frowned.

Good, I thought. It’s not like I want to be robber-bate. It’s bad enough I’m wearing fancy black undies and a bra through New York City. Dressed, of course.

To be continued next week….

Brooks Brothers. Gotham. And, Max Brenner.

Happy blogging, writing, and reading!

Shelly

PS Save a library!

PSS Read some blogs this morning on my Google Reader. It’s faster but I don’t believe you can read the comments. Still trying to figure that thing out.

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

My Trip to NYC: The Barclay Intercontinental

Schwoo! We made it in one piece to our hotel, The Barclay Intercontinental. We’ve stayed here each visit. It’s absolutely beautiful. Fit for a queen and king.

And, let me tell you, the people at this hotel make you feel as if you were royalty. You’re greeted at your cab door by a bell hop. They even retrieve your luggage from the trunk and readied with a cart to move it inside.

Sweetman always checks us in because I’m too busy watching people or staring at things. My breath is always taken from me when I walk inside this place. Nostalgic beauty.

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They’ve got an inside restaurant and bar. And, a wonderful Greek waiter, named Michael. He waits on us every year.

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Every morning we ate from the wonderful buffet. Lots of organic and healthy fare. Tasty, too.

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Anyway, when we arrived in our room we were greeted by a plate of assorted cheeses and fruits along with two bottles of sparkling water. Yum! But, I had pizza on my mind and Sweetman had other things on his.

 

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Sweetman’s mind is always in the gutter. But,hey! Who wouldn’t want to roll around naked in this piece of luxury. Feather down pillows, Crisp sheets. A duvet cover. Fluffy, fluffy, and more fluffy. It makes the wild nasty more fun. If I could figure out how to cram it into my suitcase, I would.

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Shelly gives this place twenty stars. Five stars doesn’t do it. Like I say, why give only five stars when you can give more.

Also, you can find them on-line or if you’re around Forty-eighth and Lexington stop by for a bite to eat. Ask for Michael the Greek. Their address is 1111 E. 48th Street.

That’s all for now folks! No, I’m not going to write a lovemaking scene between me and the Sweetman. I’m not in the mood, and I have a headache.

Happy blogging, reading, and writing!!!!

Shelly

PS Save a library!

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

My Trip to NYC: Cran-Apple Juice, Animal Cookies, Snores, and Taxis

March 19, 2011

We made it onto the plane. No one noticed Sweetman foaming at the mouth. Schwoo! Talk about a lot of work.

The plane took off with no problems. The hum and the rythmic shudder of the jet made my eyes heavy. Sometime after take off, I'd entered dreamland. I usually do. Whenever soemone else is driving a vehicle, plane or car, I fall asleep. Just put me in a car seat and plug me into a bottle. If not, strange and scary noises arise out of me. Really.

My neck tilted back enough so the top of my head touched the back of my seat. Drool ran out the corner of my mouth. I remember swiping at it in my semi-comatos state. The back of my throat went dry from sucking in air. I know my mouth must've been wide open because I snorted myself awake.

Sweetman giggled next to me. "Can't take you anywhere without you falling asleep. You're like a little kid."

Five minutes later the flight attendants made thier rounds, inquiring about drinks and snacks.

Sweetman still in his monster form looked at the poor girl, eyebrows raised, and said,"Two Cran-Apples. Two Animal Crackers." He held up two fingers, too, and didn't even say please.

"You could've said please," I said.

He responded with a grunt.

I always say please and thank you. My vocabulary is naked without them. It's like not putting on your panties and bra before you get dressed.

After we got out snacks, Sweetman all but inhaled the bags and containers his goodies came in. It took him less than one minute to do so.The foam at the corners of his mouth dissipated. "OOOs" and "Ahs" bellowed from him. His dimples returned. Thank God.

About three hours later we landed and raced off the plane to catch a cab. My God, they're everywhere like seniors in Florida. It gets worse the closer you get to the city, too.


And speaking of these docile creatures called taxis, they're not friendly at all. If you've got bladder issues make sure you're equipped with a Depend. If you've got stomach issues, having tendencies to vomit, bring a bag or bucket.

My best advice is to take a sleeping pill, possibly a valium, before entering one of these things. Make sure you're strapped in and you brace yourself. I also suggest you find a deity to pray to during your ride. It's as bad as riding the Twister at Bush Gardens.

Me. I usually strap myself in, hang on, and close my eyes. Taxis like to flirt with other taxis. They get real close to each other. YIKES!

To Be Continued....

Monday, May 9, 2011

My Trip to NYC: At the Tampa Airport,Sweetman's Completley Morphed, Ta-Tas, and Quizno

This morning, I'm dragging myself around. I know I usually have my stuff posted by seven but I didn't barrel out of bed until seven-thirty. I'm looking forward to when I can cut back on hair lopping days. Hope all the mommies out there had a great day yesterday, too. Now onward with my story.

March 19, 2011

Eventually, we'll make it to New York City but I have to get through the morphing process of Sweetman turning into foaming-at-the-mouth-monster.

He sped the car toward the airport terminal. In his deluded mind we're late. He's moaning, growling, and mumbling some not nice words. Me, I'm keeping my mouth shut. It's something I must practice daily because it's not something I do well.

He stops the car at a parking ticket booth for the cars longterm stay, still complaining. Right about now I believe my eyes have spun, not rolled, around in my sockets about a million times. My silence is broken with an outburst of giggles.

"What's so funny?" He asked.

"You," I said. "I can hardly wait to write about this. Sweetman turns Jeckyl and Hyde on me. You do this every trip."

He grunted something inaudible and jerked the car out of the booth area. He raced around a round-d-round, up and up we went to find a parking spot. There must've been a hundred cars. He spilled out a few more naughty words until he found the perfect parking spot.

"Did you remember your driver's license?" He shoved the automatic forward.

"Of course, I did." Discreetly, I fumbled around in my purse because I could't remember. But, yup, it's there.

"Where's your plane ticket?" His face is beet red now and his cute little dimples have disappeared. I think I see foam etching out from the corners of his mouth.

"You never gave me one,' I said. "Don't they give us one when we check in the bags?"

"I did this on-line. And, we're carrying our luggage on."

"Oh. So you must still have my ticket."

"No. I gave it to you." He feels at his shirt pockets and then his pants. "I know I gave it to you."

"I know, you didn't. I remember everything."

"No. You remember nothing. I swear, you've got the onslaught of Alzheimer's."

We both get out of the car and walk toward the trunk. He pulls out both suitcases and searhes his. Wa-la my ticket magically appears. Yup. He had the ticket.

I smile to myself. I'm right. He's wrong.


Immediatley, once inside the airport we go to security check and stand in the long line.

"You didn't bring any big bottles of liquid with you?" he asks. His pupils have now taken over his eyes. "Anything in your purse?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Did you wear anything that's going to set the machine off?" he asked. The last several times my underwire in my bra set it off. It seemed to be the traveling ritual. I swear it was done on purpose because I always got the pat down. Whoever ran the machine had a thing for ta-tas. Espacially, mine.

Thankfully, we made it through with no bleeps. I found it strange. I think my feelings were hurt. No one liked my ta-tas this time.

Our stomachs growled at us when we slipped out of security.

"I'm hungry," I said.

"Me, too."

We walk toward a food court. Starbucks and Quiznos. We picked Quiznos.
"What are you doing now?" he asked, leading us toward the Quiznos.

"Taking a picture," I said.

"Of what?"

"Where we're going to eat and security." I followed him to the Quiznos counter.

"You don't take pictures of security."

"Why not?"

He said something that couldn't be compared to the English language and drummed his fingers on the counter. Three workers, two women and one man, stood with their backs to us, chattering away in Spanish. My husband cleared his throat. It didn't change their stance. They looked more intersted in the phone. The man had picked it up and hung it up several times.

My husband cleared his throat again. I do believe drool dribbled onto is chin now. He looked rabid-like.

"Excuse me," I said. "We'd like to order."

A short woman walked over to the register and took our orders. We got our food and found a seat. We had the perfect view of a foggy tarmac, of course.

Sweetman unwrapped his breakfast sandwhich. Wheat bread. "I told her white." He pulled off a piece of ham. Something he abhores. He's Jewish. "With cheddar cheese. Not meat!"

I pulled mine open. I got his white bread and his cheddar cheese. Not what I ordered. Oh, well. This trip is starting off in the toilet and Sweetman may need a rabies shot before we board.

To Be Continued...

Saturday, May 7, 2011

Saturdays with Sir Poops-A-Lot: The Tragic Story of No-No and the Sausage

Hair Ball

Sir Poops-A-Lot



SPAL: What did you do with the camera?!

HB: Didn't touch it.

SPAL: Did,too.

HB: Not!

SPAL: Too! You mess everything up. You know that?

HB: You're a pansy! Pansy! Pansy!

SPAL: Hmm...(he sticks his nose in the air). Guess I'll have to tell the story without the pictures.

HB: What story?

SPAL: The No-No and Sausage story.

HB: Oh, that one.

SPAL: Yeah. No-No's heart's been broken. Daddy-o's real mad, too. Says No-No is dumb for leaving everything behind.

HB: Us?

SPAL: Not us, but yes, us. Her job. She never transferred her job to New York. Mummsy said she could've. And, she told mummsy and daddy-o she wasn't going to take the finals to her classes this semester. It made mummsy cry because she spent more money on college classes that went down the drain.

HB: Oh.

SPAL: And, now No-No's in a pickle jar. The Sausage left her all by herself. She has no job and wants to come back home.

HB: Hooray! No-No's coming back home! We can lay in her dirty socks and clothes and her bed all day long.

SPAL: Nope. Mummsy wants to keep it her office. And, daddy-o says no way she's coming back. She needs to learn a lesson.

HB: Like timeout?

SPAL: Timeout, forever.

HB: No, No-No forever?

SPAL: Something like that.

HB: Why did the Sausage leave her?

SPAL: Well, mummsy says you don't run off with people from Facebook.

HB: What's that?

SPAL: Where people meet each other but not face to face. Anyway, daddy-o said the Sausage was from some cult. He was raised that way and went back to it, leaving No-No with nothing. No-No thought he loved her and he promised to marry her but his parents said they'd never accept her.

HB: Poor, No-No. I want to take a bite out of the Sausage(He gives a firece little dog growl). Where's that Pansy?

SPAL: He's somewhere in New York.

HB: Why can't she come back here and live with us?

SPAL: Daddy-o and mummsy gave an edict. Maybe its because she's done this before. Remember Canada?

HB: Hmmm...

SPAL: Besides, my heart broke when she left. I think she broke yours, too. You cried and cried for days. Remember?

HB: Yeah.

SPAL: This makes it two times now. Maybe its a good idea she doesn't come back because she'll do it again.

HB: Are we breaking up with her, too?

SPAL: I think so.

HB: But, breaking up is so hard to do.

SPAL: We have to. Because she'll only leave us for another Sausage, or a Hot Dog, or a piece of Chopped Liver.