Monthly Archives: October 2011

Separate Bedrooms: The New Retro-Modern

I wrote this blog back in April…

A couple of years ago my husband and I had a huge fight (probably over something stupid) and he moved into the spare bedroom.

To this day he drifts in and out of our boudoir for various reasons:  sex, sleep, intimacy, his bed is not made….  Frankly, I am so used to sleeping alone (well not alone – with 1, 2 or 3 cats) that when he decides to invade my personal space (Isn’t that what marriage is?) without warning, I get absolutely NO SLEEP.

By the time I get acclimated to a warm, non-furry body next to me, he’s gone again because of his crazy work schedule.

Back to the lack of sound sleep….

Girls… you know what I’m talking about.  The burping, farting, snoring and general restlessness of a man is difficult  to look forward to.

My friend tries to convince me that it’s part of marriage and she’ll never go to sleep  without her husband next to her.  I agree – but once you get used to the less smelly, less noisy version of sleep, it’s hard to go back.  I already have to deal with the cats and my own ADHD.  Damn!  I take to 2 Benadryl every night so so I can fall asleep at a decent hour.

I am not a cuddler.  I am always warm and can’t stand the idea of someone snuggled up against me.  Maybe I’m a guy in a chick’s body?  Who knows!

It definitely got me thinking about the past and the practice of separatebedrooms.  My parents always slept in the same bed, but I think the kings and queens of Europe had the right idea.

Are separate bedrooms the new retro modern?

I think so.  Right or wrong.  Good or bad.  I think if it works for you, go for it.  What do you think?  I’d love to hear from you.

By the way, he’s back in the bed….  It was nice while it lasted.

© 2011 J. H-M and CultureChoc2010.

Image: photostock /

Related Articles

Bed Blogging – Revisited

Author: Duy Le UCLA made stripper pole

Image via Wikipedia

Last night I just couldn’t get myself to fall asleep.  Why?

Not because of my job.  Not because of my bills.  Not because of my fat ass – but because I was bed blogging.

I wanted to say sleep blogging – but technically I wasn’t asleep.  I was lying in bed writing my blog in my head.  Thinking of a ton of ideas, and stories, and witty repartee.

Of course, tonight I have forgotten every single thing that I wanted to write about – but that’s par for the course.  After the day I had at work my brain is a pile of mushy Jello with no vodka.

I always need vodka.

En tout cas, I write my best pieces when I’m emotional and I think of my best stories when I’m bed blogging.  I lie in bed staring at the stripper pole that my husband so sweetly bolted into the ceiling (after I had a pole accident – of course) and my mind races 240 with “information”.

Does anyone else blog in their sleep?  Do you compose letters, write books or try-out meaningful conversation?  What else do you do?

Please tell me I’m not the only one.

All I can say is I should have bought stock in Benadryl because that seems to be the only way I can get to sleep lately.  Sweet dreams.  Or should I say sweet blogs?

© 2011 J. H-M and CultureChoc2010.

Send Me Your Money So I Don’t Have to Start Hooking!

The economy is so bad right now that we are all feeling it.  It doesn’t matter if you make $200,000 a year or $20,000 a year – everyone is affected.

The past 2 years have been a struggle.  If I ask my dad for any more money I’m going to revert back to my childhood or I’ll have to become his personal indentured servant.  Thank God for Daddy!

I have never had any bill paying issues in my life but recent circumstances have made me join the ranks of the common folk.  I live paycheck to paycheck (like everyone else) and actually have to watch what I spend.  I’m doing fine but at the same time, it’s so not in my makeup to budget.  What’s that?  A struggle is an understatement – it’s more like a battle.

So I’ve changed my lifestyle.  No more extravagant dinners out and about – frankly no more dinners at all.  No more clothes or shoe shopping unless it’s a necessity – but I highly doubt I will need another pair of shoes since I have so many already.

American Express

Image via Wikipedia

It’s tough and not pleasant at all.  The stress is high and the morale is low.

I recently read an article about the economy and credit cards.  Analysts said that the economy is improving because there has been more use of credit cards recently.  Bullshit!  Did they even take into consideration that people are using their cards for food and gas because they have no cash?

That’s my scenario.  Gas and food on credit cards.  Internet and any other car tragedies are added too.  But add at your own risk!  The damn banks have lowered all your limits, increased interest rates and minimum payments.  That leaves the consumer in a hole and the hole gets deeper every day.

Christ!  I haven’t taken my cats to vets as regularly as I used to – no $$$$$!

We’re all in the same sinking boat!  And as it gets harder and harder to live (in NJ) and prosper, so we pray that we stay afloat.

How are you dealing with the bad economy?  What changes have YOU made?

I hope and pray that it turns around and soon because all we do is work and work and have nothing to show for it.  At least I have a roof over my head and I am in much better shape than some.

Please donate to my cause… ME… so I don’t have to start hooking!

I’d love to hear your thoughts.

© 2011 J. H-M and CultureChoc2010.

Where the Hell have I been?

I know, I know, I’ve been bad.  My blogging has fallen by the wayside because of my other, more pressing endeavors… Jacq’s Rox & Jersey Shore Gourmet – but let’s not forget my real job – career in fact – a magnanimous & entertaining French & Spanish teacher.

Oh – and let’s not forget ebullient.  Tee hee.

In any case, I have a lot on mind – some good, some bad – and my brain is often fried or vodkafied when I return to my quiet (only if my husband is out), cozy home – cat meowing and all.

My husband’s Uncle Joe just passed away.  He was such a nice man.  I’ll miss him.  Death puts me into my own reflective and pensive world – too introspective for my own good.  I start thinking about my mom, her death, her illness and how I could have been a better daughter.

Ok – the tears are here now.

I’ve written about my mom so many times because it comes from the heart and seems to be genuinely cathartic for me.  AND if I can help someone along the way who is going through the same loss, I’m thrilled about it.

Mommy will be gone 7 years in February.

I can’t believe it’s been that long.  It seems like yesterday yet sometimes so far away.  There is not a day I don’t think about her, talk to her, cry to her and ask her for her strength.  She was so strong.  I’m not sure I can ever be the woman that she was – but I try to be the best woman that I can be.  I think she’d be proud.

I want to share so many things with her every day but all I can hope for is that she’s listening to me from wherever she is and is channeling all her strength and fortitude my way.  I still find myself picking up the phone to call her.  Then I catch myself.

When you lose a parent it all makes sense.  Not their death.  Not their suffering.  Your own life, as crazy as it may seem, starts to make sense.  It’s like someone opened a window into your soul and you finally think about what’s important in life, in death and inside.

I will never stop missing my mother.  I will never stop hoping that she is pain-free,  at peace and watching over me (and my Dad too) as much as she can.

I think she’s watching like a hawk and still trying to guide me to make the right decisions.

If you knew Phyllis, I think you’d agree.  
My mommy is still here with me.  
From Heaven or from right above.
She never stops giving me love.
Mommy I miss you so.
I find it so hard to let go.
As I cry and write this poem.
I wish you were with us at home.

© 2011 J. H-M and CultureChoc2010.

It’s All About The Boobs – In Honor of Breast Cancer Awareness Month

Boobs, jugs, peaches, ninnies, tits, rack, eyes, knockers, cans, sweater meat, knobs, boobies, breasts, titties, mammaries, pins, bazooms, bazongas, headlights, hooters, lungs, fun bags, tatas, maracas, girls, twins and the list goes on.

What is the obsession with boobs?  Especially men’s obsession – straight or gay, single or married, bi-sexual or A-sexual.  When I lived in Paris, my “happy” flat mate Vivaldo loved my boobs.  He used to hover outside the frosted glass window of the bathroom door waiting to catch a glimpse.

When I was in graduate school I did an action-based project on boobs.  It was titled, “Do Big Boobs Really Make A Difference?”  My professor at Montclair State loved it and I got an A.  It was an interesting project.  In a nutshell:  I went to several places one of which was a supermarket.  The first time I walked in with no cleavage but looking nice.  I couldn’t find a soul to help me and left the store unsatisfied.  The next time I went, I was sporting full boobage and the young men at Shop Rite couldn’t wait to come to my rescue.  They actually followed me around the aisle and made me feel really uncomfortable.

What I found on my quest for truth was exactly what I thought I would find.  They DO make a difference in how people treat you.  Really how men treat you.  You/They are objectified.  You/They are ogled.  Christ!  Even Mike Tyson leered at my boobies, paused to smile and say a personal hello.  Men are notoriously easy when it comes to visual stimulation.  You have to be a confident woman to walk around with perky boobies.

A female friend of mine asked me if they were real and touched them for verification.   Another friend, on my birthday, reached over into my shirt at the Avenue in Long Branch and felt me up!  I looked at my husband and laughed.  They’re real people.  It’s all in the bra.  Lift and push up.

The size of your breasts and the way you present them is everything.  When I’m in a bad mood the last thing I want people to do is to leer at me and the twins, so I cover them up (this does not always help – it may be my posture).  I always felt sorry for the girls in grammar school that had beautiful breasts and were completely objectified by immaturity.

My mom survived breast cancer and had to go through a double mastectomy.  I had 2 tumors removed from each breast before I hit 30.  Just waiting for the pathology report was one of the longest weeks of my life.  Thank God they were benign but I know a lot of women, my age, younger and older who have battled with breast cancer.  They are courageous women from whom we should take a lesson.

If it’s all about the boobs when you look at them, it should be all about the boobs when you take care of them.  Self exams, mammograms, doctor visits.  Just do it.  Big or small, our breasts are important – we are important.  In this day and age when we hear of so many incidents of breast cancer in both women and men (yes men), we need to take action quickly as early detection is the beginning of the battle.

So as a favor to me and as a service to yourselves, everyone grab your boobs on three.  One, two, three….  It may save your life.

© 2011 J. H-M and CultureChoc2010.   Republished.