Category Archives: Childhood Traumas

May 18, 2012 · 0:00

Another “Day”

My life is shitty.

No, no, no.  I can’t say that, they’ll think I’m suicidal.

My life is in the toilet.

Ditto.

Saturday, May 19th is World IBD Day.  World Irritable Bowel Disease Day.

That’s it!

Recently I learned about this, umm, holiday.  It is a very personal one for me.  Way more personal than I want to admit.  But of course it’s not my fault.   I blame my sister, Judy.

You see, some time in the late sixties Judy pasted a picture on the front of the medicine cabinet above the toilet in our one bathroom.

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Little did I know at whatever tender age I was that that picture would illustrate my life.  Because in 1972, not long after it went up, I found out that I had ulcerative colitis.  An inflammatory bowel disease.  The bloody flux.  I was in and out of the bathroom and the hospital for much of my teens and early 20s.  What a blast!

Long story short, it ended up that I didn’t have colitis!  But we only found that out when a bunch of men (led by Dr. Herbert Hoover) came at me with knives, removed my large intestine and reorganized my plumbing.  That was when they found out that I really had Crohn’s Disease.

Crohn’s Disease, is, well, worse.  Partly because I can’t for the life of me spell it.  But also because it means I still spend way too much time in the bathroom (although I am very well read).  Oh, and it can affect the entire rest of your body.  Trust me when I say it’s nasty, and that there is no cure.  I would be delighted if that were to change in my lifetime.

That’s why I’m divugling my secret to tell you that Saturday is World Inflammatory Bowl Disease Day.

As far as I can tell there are no festivities planned here in the U.S., although there are some in other countries (the ones that have universal health care, no doubt).

So, I thought up some IBD-related activities myself:

A toilet paper squeezing contest!

What a perv

A wet tee-shirt contest:

Contestants try to stay dry in a stall inhabited by a toilet with an automatic flushing mechanism!

No umbrellas allowed!

Lastly, a relay race around a circle comprised of 50 porta-poties set up on a public green!

(The winner of this last one gets to use a non-self-flushing toilet inside a nearby building when they feel the need, which, of course, they will. Repeatedly.)

I’m quite sure the organizers will contact me to help think up activities for next year’s festivities.

This  year, folks are asked to be aware of World IBD Day and to wear purple.  I understand the awareness part of it – and I would really like to  celebrate World IBD Day.

So let’s

  • Do more research to find a cure!
  • Stop running to the bathroom!
  • Take the “ooh” out of “POOH”!

So yeah, I get the raising awareness part.  But purple?  Wouldn’t brown be a better color?

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For a less snarky take on Crohn’s and World IBD Day, see LifeFromTheSmallestRoom‘s piece on living with the disease.

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May 14, 2012 · 0:00

Fashion Maverick

Did you know that I am a fashion maverick?  It’s true.  I have been for years.  Or am I a fashion maven?  I forget.  But I’m one of the two.

Actually, I was truly a young fashion trailblazer.  In 6th grade, I became the very first 10-year-old girl to wear nylons to school.  Yup.  I did.  I was very grown up.  And I wore them with a garter belt the boys found irresistible.  No, I was a good girl.  I didn’t try to show it to them.  But it was the sixties, the mini-skirt era.  And I was, at that time, really good in math.  The teacher, clearly a perv, often had me write the correct answers to homework problems on the blackboard.  High up on the blackboard.  There certainly was a lot of noise when I had my back turned.  Boys were so stupid.

I’m pretty sure I first wore nylons on one of those days when my mother went to work early and didn’t see me.  But still, I did it first.  The popular girls just couldn’t believe it was me – that I got there before they did.

Now you guys reading this are nodding off.  Stop it.  Just wait.  Skim.

Throughout junior high and high school, my fashion firsts continued.  I was also the first person to wear torn up blue jeans to school, and to go braless.  (See guys, I told you it would improve.)

Anyway, now that I am an adult, I am a wee bit more self-conscious in my fashion trail-blazing.  So I need some advice.

I’ve just gotten this new pair of jeans and, well, I just can’t decide where to wear them first.  I was so excited when I first saw these pants.   They’re just so me.

A special pocket for my concealed weapon!

They’re made by a Texas textile company, American Tactical Apparel.   The idea belongs to Brian Hoffner, a long-time Houston police officer who describes himself as “kind of a renaissance man,” according to this article.  Interestingly, the idea to make special pants to conceal his gun, came to him (ahem) while he was visiting a prostitute with a gun strapped to his thigh.  (I don’t know why, but I have few commercially successful ideas when I am visiting hookers.  And even fewer when I am afraid that I might shoot myself.)

Anyway, these jeans, along with a line of khakis and other apparel, are designed for the fashion-conscious gun-toter.  And it’s none too soon if you ask me.  It has been such an inconvenience sticking my handgun in my bra.

What do you think?  Where should I wear these jeans – and should I wear my Susan G. Komen Pink Hope 22 or go semi-automatic?

Who could forget Susan G. Komen's "Shooting for the Cure"Please, help me out here.

The only problem is there is only one holder.  And it is pretty small.  Where can I put my M-16?

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Filed under Childhood Traumas, Elections, Fashion, Gun control, Humor, Hypocrisy, Law, Stupidity

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March 16, 2012 · 0:00

Speaker7, I Hear You!

I am not exaggerating when I tell you that I am slow.  So it has been many weeks since Ramblings and Rumblings’ Speaker7 “tagged” me, during which time several other folks she tagged answered her questions.  Now that no one is paying attention any more, and all the funny answers have been, well, answered, I’m going to play.  Don’t hate me just because everyone else has gone home.

First off, I need to tell you about Speaker7 who is right more often than my husband (he is always right — my advice?  Don’t marry a lawyer.)  She understands politics, politicians and turds.  What more does anyone really need to understand?  Thanks for including me on your list, Speaker7.

OK, so here are her questions to me:

1.) Which member of the Backstreet Boys are you most like?

I like the gay one:

2.) What did Bruce Jenner do to his face?

Upon realizing that he had traded in a career doing something cool to staring with the Kardashians in wasted TV airspace, Bruce Jenner’s face cracked wide open.  This crack was large enough for what remained of his brain to escape and take up residence in a less compromised skull:  Matt Lauer’s.

3.) Please explain what a Kim Kardashian is and why anyone would know what a Kim Kardashian is?

A severe lack of talented writers in Hollywood led to the current crop of celebrities who have even less talent than the writers writing about them.  The antidote is to hire us, clever bloggers who understand comedy, real life, and how nobody with a lick of sense gives a shit about reality TV.

4.) How doomed are we?

Not at all.  Because we survived and there is a T-Shirt to prove it.  All we need is $9.95 and we are invincible.

5.) Is Ryan Seacrest a robot or is he something less artificial?

A robot.

6.) Why isn’t Rush Limbaugh kicked in the nuts daily?

Because he is a coward and has no nuts.  No vagina either.  He is an alien.  A zombie.  A plague on humanity.  A soon to be four-times divorced roll [sic] model with a drug problem and vanishing sponsors.

7.) Which religion is correct?

Mine.  And I’ll kill you to prove it.  Or maybe I’ll just revoke all your rights.  And mess around in your girlie/boyie parts.

8.) Can you think of someone who is worse than the current slate of Republican presidential candidates?

Sarah Palin would be even worse.  Funnier, but way worse.

9.) Why do people enjoy the book Twilight?

People who did not grow up on Dark Shadows enjoy Twilight. They enjoy seeing the movie because they want to see Cedric Diggory come back to life so Voldemort will lose.  Oh, yeah, he does.

10.) What’s up?

Playing tag again.  What’s up with you?

11.) How many Academy Awards will Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance win?

Why, oh why, do they keep making such stupid movies?  And why does Nick Cage keep doing stupid shit?  I know he needs money, but perhaps we can pay him to stop.

My questions:

  1. It’s been a busy week.  You have 155 blogs to read and comment on tonight.  Do you:
    1. Read the new ones first
    2. Read the old ones first
    3. Pick out your favs
    4. Delete them all and hope you do a better job next week
  2. Beatles or the Stones?
  3. Favorite vacation ever.
  4. When you hit the “Like” button on a blog post, which posts does Word Press say are your ‘great posts worth seeing?  Do you agree that those are your best?
  5. All-time favorite commercial
  6. Favorite stupid comment about contraceptives
  7. Things you’d rather do than watch college basketball.
  8. Most embarrassing experience
  9. THE word you simply cannot spell correctly and why we should change to your version.
  10. Your special punishment for the lame-ass individual who came up with “REALITY TV.”
  11. If you could change one thing in the world, what would it be?

Now, I’m not going to tag anyone, but I am going to list some folks here for you all to check out if you don’t already know them.  These are mostly old blogging buddies.  I’ll do another list of newer ones, too.

A Frank Angle

Articles of Absurdity

Ashley Jillian

Aurora Morealis

Becoming Cliche

Before Morning Breaks

Being Arindam

Best Bathroom Books

Big Sheep Communications

Childhood Relived

DiatribesAndOvations

El Guapo

Emjayandthem

Georgette Sullins’s Blog

Good Humored

Higher and Higher

How The Hell Did I End Up Here

If I Were Brave

I’m a Blind Dog

I’ve become my parents

Jumping in Mud Puddles

life is a bowl of kibble

Lorna’s Voice

Magsx2’s Blog

Miss Demure Restraint

MJ Monaghan

Momshieb

Mostly Bright Ideas

notquiteold

Otto von Munchow

Peg-O-Leg’s Ramblings

Positive Parental Participation

Post it Notes from my Idiot Boss

Prairie Wisdom

psychodynamom

QBG_Tilted Tiara

Ramblngs and Rumblings

Sandy like a Beach

She’s a Maineiac

Sleep deprived and insane

Stuph Blog

Sunny Side Up

Susan Writes Precise

The Big Sheep Blog

The Bryonic Man

The Bucket

The Good Greatsby

This man’s journey

Totsymae.com

Truth About Mornings

Undercover Surfer

Unlikely Explanations

Word Play

Winsomebella

Wrapcloth Writings

Writingfeemail’s Blog

Write from the Heart

Year-Struck

You guys go ahead and play without me.  I’m pooped.

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Filed under Awards, Childhood Traumas, Climate Change, Humor, Music, Stupidity

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March 9, 2012 · 0:00

Cooper

A couple of years ago, I was corresponding with a high school classmate of mine about a reunion.  Hugh had left the east and was living in New Mexico.

“What I really miss is the green,” he said to me in an email.  “I’m thirsty for it.”

Well, it was spring, and that evening I was walking my dog Cooper by the river.  It was hazy, but very green and bluebells were blossoming.  Thinking of my friend Hugh, I snapped a cell-phone picture and sent it off to him.

 

Bluebells with a BonusIt was actually a nice picture, somewhere between a color and a black and white, because the light was diffused.  I liked the picture, and made it my computer’s background photo.  About two weeks later, while talking with a client, I realized that there was a bonus to this picture.  There on the right, was Cooper.   Pooping.

Today is Cooper’s 14th birthday.   We didn’t think he would make it this long, as he has been in poor health for the last couple of years.  He’s always made me laugh, usually at myself.

Happy Birthday, Coops!  And many more.

 

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Filed under Childhood Traumas, Conspicuous consumption, Family, Humor, Stupidity, Uncategorized

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February 23, 2012 · 0:00

A Slippery Slope

When I was a kid, I was just like the Coppertone Girl.

 

Only red.  Very red.  My Irish heritage produced day-glow skin that never  tans.  As a kid, it turned fire-engine red in record time.  Regardless, I stayed out all day at the beach, in my bathing suit.  Burning.

Like the Coppertone girl, there was one part of my body that did not burn, and I’ve always been glad.  Well, until I read this article:

Heated seats burn bums of 2 women

I am sad to say, that I, too, suffer from Butt Burn.

I came about it innocently enough.  When we returned from living in Switzerland, we bought a car that had heated seats.  I was delighted, since I am always cold.  I pushed the button, and happiness reigned.  For ten years, I’ve had a toasty tush.  I would never think of buying a car without this luxury feature.  A seat warmer and satellite radio is all I really require in a car.  An engine is helpful, but not essential.

My path to Butt Burn, though, was down a slippery slope.

Two years ago, I started having a sore butt, so I applied Vaseline.  Often out of those tiny tubes of Vaseline Lip Therapy that led me towards the pathway to lip balm addiction.  I prefer the cherry flavored, although it hardly mattered down there.

When Vaseline fell short of my needs, I tried lidocaine ointment to soothe.  Lastly, I tried what every mother knows works to soothe sore bums – Butt Paste.

With Only Natural Ingredients

These products have not helped.  In fact, they made it worse.  Now, I’m not a chemist, but I think I need to Google the temperature at which Butt Paste burns.  Because I’m pretty sure I got very close over the weekend.  My seat was smokin’.

I shudder to think:  what if I had spontaneously combusted?

The whole issue gives new meaning to some of my favorite phrases:

“Liar, liar, pants on fire”

“Hot Pants”

“Cool Your Jets”

*****

No butts were actually burned in the creation of this post.  So butt-burn sympathy is not necessary.  Flowers are always welcome, however.

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Filed under Childhood Traumas, Climate Change, Global Warming, Humor, Stupidity

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