Tag Archives: lessons learned

Twenties vs. Forties – A Reblog

After having one of those days where I just should have stayed in bed, I pondered my life both then and now and decided to make a side-by-side comparison of what I wanted from life or did in my twenties and what I want from life or do now that I’m 43.

Things change and priorities shift as you get older.  When you have kids they change even more.  As a responsible adult sometimes fun gets put on the back-burner and a once clear-head become non-existent.  I miss that clear-head.

When I was 20 I was living it up in Paris on my parents’ dime, footloose and fancy free.  My only concern was where the next best soirée would be held and who was going to be on the guest list of my next party.  At 43 I worry about paying my bills, money in general, the health and well-being of my family, my health, taking care of my cats, going to work and the list continues.

So let’s take this point by point so we examine the age gap and maybe now understand what our parents went through with us as cranky teenagers and crankier twenty somethings.

  1. 20:  I wanted a hot guy with a hot car.  Hondas need not apply.
    40:  I want my hot guy with his hot car.
  2. 20:  I drove a fast 1978 Camaro LT, 350 4-barrel with louvers, air shocks, fat tires and a spoiler.  I had a lead-foot.
    40:  I drive a fast BMW convertible  with fat tires and I still have a lead-foot.
  3. 20:  I worked at TSV Video (when I was in the US), watched movies all day, drank wine, flirted with the customers, watched and recommended porno, loved my boss Stan and used to arrange Gumby-like toys in sexual positions on his desk every night.  I rarely had to deal with any bullsh**.  My biggest responsibility was making change and setting the alarm.
    40:  I work as a teacher, enlighten impressionable minds all day, drown in paperwork, drink water or Crystal Light, recommend places to visit in Paris and I’m not commenting on the boss.  I constantly have to deal with bullsh**  from EVERYONE.  My BIG responsibility is other people’s children.
  4. 20:  I had a dog.  My parents took care of her and I played with her.
    40:  I have 2 cats and I take care of them:  butt wiping, baths, litter box scooping, trips to the vet, cuddling partner, Mommy, playmate.
  5. 20:  I pounded shots.  Many shots.  Body shots.
    40:  I sip good wine.  A lot of wine.  All kinds of wine.
  6. 20:  I tried to figured out new ways to get away from my parents.
    40:  I wish I still had both my mom and dad and now love spending time with my Daddy.
  7. 20:  I had a Mandee Charge Card and no debt.
    40:  I have too many credit cards to count and debt up the wazoo.
  8. 20:  I weighed 120 pounds and ate anything I wanted.
    40:  I’m always on a diet!
  9. 20:  I would stay out all night and party.
    40:  I will stay out all night and party but try to get home by 4 so I don’t piss off the husband.
  10. 20:  I wanted to be a translator for the U.N. or a big-wig in the international business world.
    40:  I want to keep my teaching job and hope my pension will still be there.
  11. 20:  I slathered on baby oil so I could get that deep, dark tan.
    40:  I slather on sun block and skin repairing cream to try to undo the sun damage of yesteryear.
  12. 20:  I had big, whorey hair.
    40:  I have big, whorey hair.
  13. 20:  Fifty dollars was a lot to spend on shoes.
    40:  Now I try not to spend over $500.
  14. 20:  I had no kids.
    40:  I still have no kids (by choice).
  15. 20:  I never wanted to go home.
    40:  I can’t wait to get home.
  16. 20:  I lived in France and loved it.
    40:  I want to live in France and I still love it.
  17. 20:  I had a boyfriend who wanted me to look like a Barbie doll.
    40:  I have a husband who wants me to look like a Barbie doll.
  18. 20:  Dressing like a whore was always an option.
    40:  Dressing like a whore is a weekend only option.
  19. 20:  I went to the gym almost every day.
    40:  I stare at all the gym equipment in my house and dust it off once and a while.
  20. 20:  I stared at myself in the mirror and thought about how hot I looked.
    40:  I stare at myself in the mirror and notice fine lines and aging and think about when I can get my first facelift.

Some things have changed and some things have stayed the same.  I believe age is only a number (even though it keeps creeping around like a bad case of crabs) but with age come wisdom and knowledge.  I’ve heard before that youth is wasted on the young.  I believe it now.  If we only knew then what we know now, we could have ruled the world.

I don’t know about you but I’m not done yet and I still plan on ruling the world.

© 2010 J. H-M and CultureChoc2010.


Stupid Things I Did In My Twenties…

When I was 25 I moved out of my parents’ house and moved into an illegal basement apartment in Nutley.  I lived below my 2 friends Pete & Gizz.  There are so many tales to tell:  having parties & peeing in garbage cans, drinking way too much, singing Janis Joplin at the top of my lungs at 1 am, the sewage flood that filled my apartment with skunky sewer water, the lewd and lascivious neighbor who kept sniffing around me and the cave cricket invasion.

But one story always stands out.

Mom & Me: Ready for clubbing - back in the day

Angel and Suzanne came over around 9 pm on Thursday night.  I already cut up some imported provolone, fresh mozzerella and hot sopressata, but no one was hungry.  Gizz and Pete evidently smelled women in my apartment, so they sped down the stairs to take a better look.  Gizz had a thing for Angel and swore that she felt the same way.

Angel brought over 2 magnums of Champagne, Suzanne brought a bottle of White Zin and Gizz and Pete marched down with a bottle of Anisette, a bottle of Peach Schnapps and a bottle of Root Beer Schnapps.  A lethal combination.

Angel and Sue sat comfortably on my small couch that Maria’s friend gave me, while the rest of us curled up on the floor with bottles and glasses scattered all over the rug waiting for us to indulge.  We polished off both bottles of Champagne, the Zin, a few shots each of all the liquors and were still determined to go to Ashley’s and party some more.

Ashley’s was a club in Clifton behind Rowe Manse Emporium.  It became a second home to me when my dad locked me out at 2:30 am and I had to find a place to stay.  Even though I was living in my own apartment, it was still my favorite hang-out until 6 am.

We were all getting ready to go when Angel’s beeper went off.  It was her boyfriend who wanted her to come home because he had just lost his job.  Angel raced home to comfort him and abandoned us “tout a coup”.  Suzanne left us too because she was tired and needed some sleep.  Pete went to bed, so the only die-hards left were Gizz and I.

Being the socially irresponsible people that we were, we took off in his white Corvette and headed over to Ashley’s.  I think we were so lit that we didn’t even remember walking in.  Gizz and I approached the main bar and stationed ourselves in front of Tony.  Tony, the bartender, made some fierce drinks, so we always hung around his quadron.

I sucked down 5 Red Devils, 2 shots of Silk Panties and a shot of Sambuca, but still had back-up drinks in front of me.  Gizz and I decided to head over to the dance floor.  We made our way through a thick crowd and found ourselves a spot with a little elbow room right in the center.  We danced like crazed lunatics (or so I was told the next day) ready to perform a voodoo ritual.  We fell into each other and everyone else and simultaneously felt a rush of booze invade our bodies and brains.  By this time we were both plastered and I remember thinking at the time, that I was the only one who was drunk, but we were both hammered.

Back at the bar I was still in the mood to groove, so I held on to the big, brass rail along the edge of the bar and started to bump and grind all by myself.  Gizz gulped down another shot and I was complaining to Tony that I couldn’t finish all my drinks that were lined up on the bar like soldiers.  Tony told me to take the glasses home with me for next time, so I stuffed a couple in my black, skin-tight mini skirt and proceeded to leave and make our way back to the car.

The Vette seemed lower to the ground than usual.  We took off up the hill and made our way onto Centre Street.  We were moving fast!  In perfect synchronicity, Gizz missed the turn, jumped the curb in front of the funeral parlor, drove up the sidewalk and made a perfect “U ey” in the middle of the road.  We made it home safely (someone had to be watching over us) and stumbled out of the vehicle.

I followed him up his steps and entered my apartment from inside his.  There was no way that I could get in the door alone.  We said goodnight and I went downstairs to crash.  The rest was a blur.  The next thing I remember was laying in bed overwhelmed by bed spins.  I jolted up and ran to the bathroom to yak but ran into a closed bathroom door.  I couldn’t figure out why it was closed.  I lived alone.  I knocked on the door like a maniac and my boyfriend John, now my husband, was on the other side.  Needless to say, I was SICK.

When I felt better I asked John how he got into my apartment.  He told me that he rang the doorbell at least 20 times and I answered the door in nothing but a silk, green g-string.

The next morning, hungover and all, I voyaged into the city to go to work.  Gizz wimped out and stayed home in bed all day.  I was worthless!

To this day I do not remember ever having opened the door.  It could have been my shady neighbor!  Thank God it ended well.

I think about all the stupid things I did when I was younger and I am so grateful for having survived them.  Today I think I am a better woman because I learned from them.  And now I know that my mother was just trying to protect me from myself!

© 2010 J. H-M and CultureChoc2010.

Enlightened By Life: A List Of “Stuff” I Need To Get Off My Chest

Today so much was made clear to me.  As my shitty month progresses, I keep getting more and more pissed off.  Do you know how that say “It’s better to be pissed off than pissed on”?  Not in this case however.  I’ll take a little urine if I could give up these chest pain riddled, anxiety laden weeks of late.

I need to vent, preach or otherwise – so here we go:

  1. If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.
  2. No matter how much good work you do at your job, you will keep getting screwed over year after year.
  3. Teenagers are horny bodies of hormones bursting at the seams.
  4. A man will always be a man, whether he’s 60 or 6.
  5. Male cats are men too, who skid mark just as much as their human counter parts do.
  6. I am a World Language teacher, not a special ed teacher – I am not that nice of a person..
  7. People sent to install appliances in your home don’t necessarily know what the F they are doing!  I now have a flood.
  8. I hate procrastination but practice it myself.
  9. My mother was always right.  I hate admitting it.
  10. I think I would make an excellent Dominatrix – pain infliction is premium.
  11. I hate phony people.  I wouldn’t want them to kiss my butt with their 2 faces.
  12. Food makes me feel better than alcohol.  Shocking but true.
  13. My intense ambition is often thwarted by people around me with shitty attitudes.
  14. I hate having my bubble burst.
  15. Closure for me would be beating the crap out of certain sub-humans.
  16. I want somebody to take care of ME for a change.  100%.
  17. I don’t mind peeing in a cup.  I just hate bringing the cup up to the nurse.
  18. I actually DO hold back.
  19. It’s better to take a mental health day than to snap like a twig and lose your job.
  20. Summer vacation can’t come fast enough.

So there you have it.  The same raving lunatic’s rants for yesterday, today and tomorrow.

Be well.  I hope my luck gets better!

© J. H-M. and CultureChoc2010, 2010.

Stupid Things I Did In My Twenties – Learn from my mistakes!

When I was 25 I moved out of my parents’ house and moved into an illegal basement apartment in Nutley.  I lived below my 2 friends Pete & Gizz.  There are so many tales to tell:  having parties & peeing in garbage cans, drinking way too much, singing Janis Joplin at the top of my lungs at 1 am, the sewage flood that filled my apartment with skunky sewer water, the lewd and lascivious neighbor who kept sniffing around me and the cave cricket invasion.

But one story always stands out.

Angel and Suzanne came over around 9 pm on Thursday night.  I already cut up some imported provolone, fresh mozzerella and hot sopressata, but no one was hungry.  Gizz and Pete evidently smelled women in my apartment, so they sped down the stairs to take a better look.  Gizz had a thing for Angel and swore that she felt the same way.

Angel brought over 2 magnums of Champagne, Suzanne brought a bottle of White Zin and Gizz and Pete marched down with a bottle of Anisette, a bottle of Peach Schnapps and a bottle of Root Beer Schnapps.  A lethal combination.

Angel and Sue sat comfortably on my small couch that Maria’s friend gave me, while the rest of us curled up on the floor with bottles and glasses scattered all over the rug waiting for us to indulge.  We polished off both bottles of Champagne, the Zin, a few shots each of all the liquors and were still determined to go to Ashley’s and party some more.

Ashley’s was a club in Clifton behind Rowe Manse Emporium.  It became a second home to me when my dad locked me out at 2:30 am and I had to find a place to stay.  Even though I was living in my own apartment, it was still my favorite hang-out until 6 am.

We were all getting ready to go when Angel’s beeper went off.  It was her boyfriend who wanted her to come home because he had just lost his job.  Angel raced home to comfort him and abandoned us “tout a coup”.  Suzanne left us too because she was tired and needed some sleep.  Pete went to bed, so the only die-hards left were Gizz and I.

Being the socially irresponsible people that we were, we took off in his white Corvette and headed over to Ashley’s.  I think we were so lit that we didn’t even remember walking in.  Gizz and I approached the main bar and stationed ourselves in front of Tony.  Tony, the bartender, made some fierce drinks, so we always hung around his quadron.

I sucked down 5 Red Devils, 2 shots of Silk Panties and a shot of Sambuca, but still had back-up drinks in front of me.  Gizz and I decided to head over to the dance floor.  We made our way through a thick crowd and found ourselves a spot with a little elbow room right in the center.  We danced like crazed lunatics (or so I was told the next day) ready to perform a voodoo ritual.  We fell into each other and everyone else and simultaneously felt a rush of booze invade our bodies and brains.  By this time we were both plastered and I remember thinking at the time, that I was the only one who was drunk, but we were both hammered.

Back at the bar I was still in the mood to groove, so I held on to the big, brass rail along the edge of the bar and started to bump and grind all by myself.  Gizz gulped down another shot and I was complaining to Tony that I couldn’t finish all my drinks that were lined up on the bar like soldiers.  Tony told me to take the glasses home with me for next time, so I stuffed a couple in my black, skin-tight mini skirt and proceeded to leave and make our way back to the car.

The Vette seemed lower to the ground than usual.  We took off up the hill and made our way onto Centre Street.  We were moving fast!  In perfect synchronicity, Gizz missed the turn, jumped the curb in front of the funeral parlor, drove up the sidewalk and made a perfect “U ey” in the middle of the road.  We made it home safely (someone had to be watching over us) and stumbled out of the vehicle.

I followed him up his steps and entered my apartment from inside his.  There was no way that I could get in the door alone.  We said goodnight and I went downstairs to crash.  The rest was a blur.  The next thing I remember was laying in bed overwhelmed by bed spins.  I jolted up and ran to the bathroom to yak but ran into a closed bathroom door.  I couldn’t figure out why it was closed.  I lived alone.  I knocked on the door like a maniac and my boyfriend John, now my husband, was on the other side.  Needless to say, I was SICK.

When I felt better I asked John how he got into my apartment.  He told me that he rang the doorbell at least 20 times and I answered the door in nothing but a silk, green g-string.

The next morning, hungover and all, I voyaged into the city to go to work.  Gizz wimped out and stayed home in bed all day.  I was worthless!

To this day I do not remember ever having opened the door.  It could have been my shady neighbor!  Thank God it ended well.

I think about all the stupid things I did when I was younger and I am so grateful for having survived them.  Today I think I am a better woman because I learned from them.  And now I know that my mother was just trying to protect me from myself!