Tag Archives: rants

Drive-By

Yesterday I had a dentist appointment.

Said sarcastically:  I’ve only been living at the Jersey Shore for 12 years (cough, cough) and my dentist, eye doctor and lady parts doctor are still an hour away.  I could never bring myself to leave them.

So I kill several birds with one stone.  I get my teeth cleaned, visit my mom in the cemetery, visit my dad and feed him hamburgers, subs, ribs and other artery clogging fare and sometimes I even get to see a friend or two.

After an hour trip up the parkway I popped in on Daddy with subs from Jersey Mike’s.  Did I say I was definitely cheating on my diet?  We chatted, caught up and I fixed his TV.

Aside:  My father and his TV issues are massive.  He wasn’t able to watch TV for an entire day because the remote wouldn’t work – and God forbid he called me to ask for help.  No.  He waited until I went up yesterday.  On Monday when I called him, he explained the dilemma and I schooled him in the art of using the DTV box to change channels – voilà TV!

So back to the TV repair daughter… I looked at the remote and realized the 9 was depressed.  I unjammed the number and snap!  The TV turned on and the remote worked!  He thanked me a thousand times, like I cured cancer (I wish).  I love my Dad!

At 2:30 I headed over to the dentist’s, and by 3:30 I was back in my car, top down, music blasting.

Should I ride by my old house?  Maybe I’ll see Skippy or Aunt Dolly?

2012

I gave in to my inner voice and swung by the old homestead.  Wow!  Does it look different!  They built a driveway (we had none) and a carport and an addition.  It looked nice.  It brought back so many memories!

When I returned to my dad’s house, I showed him the pictures.  I’ve been dreaming about that house a lot lately and those pictures made my father dream about it last night too.

He was telling me this morning that he was thinking about how many different people lived in that house.  Originally the house was three rooms (pre-addition) and a small upstairs.  My dad told me there was a host of boarders and tenants that lived with them.

Daddy was a cry-baby (his words, not mine), so he slept with his mother (my Nanoo) in the back bedroom where my Aunt Tootsie and Aunt Mimi also slept.  My Uncle Joe and my grandfather slept in the front room (I always knew it as the parlor) and the tenant d’année lived upstairs.

Imagine all those people in 3 rooms?  Crazy.  The Depression.

In between tenants, when my dad and his siblings got older, he and my Uncle Joe slept upstairs.

Over time tenants came and went, the family grew, moved out and then moved back in with and without their spouses and or children.  My Aunt Tootsie was the first of the family tenants.  Uncle Joe came next.  Then my mom and dad moved in and I came along 4 years later.

After we moved out when I was 4, my Aunt Mimi who was widowed by her 26-year-old husband (he died of testicular cancer) moved in.  I’m not sure of the timeline, but the next person that moved in was my Aunt Tootsie after my Uncle Teddy died.  Mimi moved downstairs with Nanoo and Aunt Tootsie stayed there until she fell ill and moved in with her daughter.

Now it was time for me to move in.  This was my third apartment after leaving my parents’ house.  I quit my job and went back to school for my Master’s Degree and teaching certification.  My parents offered to pay my rent for me but I wasn’t going to make them do that.

My Aunt Mimi asked me if I wanted to live upstairs in my old house, rent free.  Nanoo had already died a while ago and she was very lonely.  So I moved in with all my shit – furniture, clothes – everything!  My dad painted for me and my mom decorated the kitchen with black and white checked contact paper to give the room a little pizzaz.

I showered downstairs and was allowed any overnight guests.  LOL!  That didn’t work.  I had been dating my boyfriend John (now husband) for a while and he used to stay over and I would pretend he showed up at 6 am to see me.  I would go as far as to walk down the stairs, answer the door and walk on all fours back up so it would sound like 2 people coming in.

I was nuts!

Everyday when I came home, Mimi had to hear ALL the events of the day – no matter how mundane.  She and my mom were like the FBI!

I lived in that house for almost 3 years before I got married and moved in with my husband – right up the street.

All my apartments were in the same few block radius.  I went from Evergreen to Entwistle and then down to the end of Entwistle and back up to Passaic Ave – and now I live at the Jersey Shore – but that’s another story.

I loved living in my grandmother’s home.  It was so familiar and brought back so many memories.  I wish that we would have kept the house in the family – but I guess we all have to move on.

Move on but never forget all the good things.

© 2012 J. H-M and CultureChoc2010.

Does Life Begin At 40?

My mom used to say, “I’d like to meet the asshole who said life begins at forty and punch him in his face!”

I always got a kick out of that.  My poor mom’s life went downhill health-wise at forty:  cancer, diabetes, you name it.  So I always “understood” why she said it.

After she passed away, I was going through her “stuff” and found a button in her drawer that said, “Life is like a shit sandwich and every day I take another bite.”  Again – I understood.

Botox

Botox (Photo credit: AJC1)

When I hit 40 five years ago, I flipped out and was amidst my own mid-life crisis.  I was afraid I was going to end up sick like my mother.  I was in total fear.

I went on a diet, lost 50 pounds in 5 months and booked a trip to Paris for a month in the summer.  It was a blast!

At 41 I finally got my convertible BMW but all the birthdays have been lackluster since then.

Am I afraid of getting old?  Yes.
Am I afraid of looking old?  Yes.
Will I age gracefully?  I’m NOT sure.

All these things drive me crazy!

My husband cannot believe my maddening obsession with age.  I’m worried about MY age – no one else’s.   As soon as a movies comes on TV, I’m checking out the cast’s ages and compare myself to possibly botox-laden starlets who have more “plastic” injected into them than a Barbie mold.

There are pros and cons to getting older.  I once blogged about my twenties vs. my forties – read it HERE.  The differences are amazing.

So, what are my pros and cons?

PROS

  • I know what I want (usually) and can probably can get it.
  • Many younger men love older women – especially in Europe.  This is not really one of my pros because I’m married but flattered.
  • Being married and sharing my life with someone.

CONS

  • The sagging boobs.  At 40 they dropped ever so slightly.  At 45… I can’t even talk about it!
  • Wrinkles & lines.  Noticeable or invisible.  I am my worst critic.
  • Being married.  Did I already mention that?
  • Losing people you love.  There are more of us in the ground than on the ground now.

I think my con list is going to be longer so I’ll stop now rather than risk an onset depression from life-examination.  

Will I Botox up and filler out?  Will I face lift and boob-job and God knows what else?

Yes.  No.  Maybe.

The truth is that I don’t know.  I think about it then I dismiss it.  I have noticed that I do think about it more now than I did 5 years ago.  Do you?

So my question is… Do you think life begins at forty?

My answer… I guess it depends where you are, how you feel and what you have to look forward to.  I feel strong and confident at 45.  I felt it at 40 too.  Of course there are always way to improve oneself – something I’m constantly striving for.

Has life begun at 40 for me?  It didn’t for my mother.

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What about you?

© 2012 J. H-M and CultureChoc2010.

Is Monday a dirty word?

Now that I’m off for the summer, my days blur into nights, weekends into the weeks and times and dates are virtually non-existent.

Today, I even forgot to feed my cats dinner.  They ate this morning and have dry food out all day, but for some reason I completely spaced.  Maybe because Bailey, my male cat whose stomach can be used as an alarm clock, was snoozing at the top of the stairs all night long and didn’t bug me to feed him.

Anyhoo… besides vacuuming 2 times today, I did absolutely nothing except make 2 cocktails, drink them and pass out.

Yeah – that about sums it up.  My Sunday in a nutshell.

So now it’s 10:30 pm on Sunday night (I know it’s Sunday because Sookie is on and I know it’s 10:30 because I’m on my laptop) and I’m sitting here watching Newsroom, while Peaches snuggles next to me, trying to figure out what to write for my blog tomorrow and I’m coming up with nothing.

Partially because I have a raging sinus headache and partially because I don’t seem to give shit about anything for some reason.

I have nothing to reflect on tonight because my week has been filled with NOTHING.  Say it with me… NOTHING!

N-O-T-H-I-N-G!

Did I learn anything this week?

  • I learned that I have to shave ALL my areas daily.  I mean – who ever heard of 5:00 shadow on their legs?  Spending your summer in a bikini brings out the beast in my ability to grow hair.
  • I learned that like senior citizens, I now keep track of when I poop.  Furthermore I am jealous of people who poop everyday.
  • I learned – rather re-affirmed – that my cats may be the neediest pets on the Earth.  They don’t leave my side for a sec.  Why can’t they be normal cats who hide and hiss?  Not beg and cuddle and cry constantly.  I love them – who am I kidding?
  • I learned that I know nothing that goes on in my neighborhood.
  • I’ve also learned that I don’t care what goes on in my neighborhood as long as it doesn’t directly involve MOI.
  • I learned that with idle time all I can think about is sex and food – and don’t seem to be getting either.  Damn diet!  Damn husband.

But alas… enough of my rantings.  As you can see it’s a short list.

So tomorrow is Monday and I think I’ll go visit my dad and bring him food and pop over to the cemetery to visit my mom.

Monday WAS a dirty word.  It will be one again in September when I head back to work.  I relish my weekends then.

Is Monday a dirty word for you?

Boy!   I hope my next post is back on target…..

© 2012 J. H-M and CultureChoc2010.

WORDPRESS! Stop Screwing with A Good Thing!

Every time I fall into a blogging vacation, WordPress changes something when I come back.

THIS is what I want to see!

I don’t know about you but I HATE that they took away the TAG tab on freshly Pressed.  It’s now located in READER and is so freakin’ cumbersome to use.

Previously you would just click on a topic and get a collage of blogs, easy to read, easy to click on and easy to see many different posts at the same time.  The featured posts were bigger on top and it was totally user-friendly.

Now Dear WordPress, When you click on a tag or a topic you are brought to an annoying and completely awkward, inconvenient list of blogs where you must

And this!

scroll and scroll and scroll and scroll down to find something of interest.  What happened to the pictures?  I don’t want this list!

Many other bloggers and readers don’t like this new, unmanageable system as I was reading in your forums last night.  AND for that matter, no one has given a viable answer to the problem because they don’t understand the problem?  I’m not sure.

The problem is that it doesn’t exist anymore!  It’s not the browser.  It’s not the

This too!

cache or cookies.  It’s none of that.

To tell you the truth, I read a lot less on WP since the change.  I can’t seem to find anything and whatever I find takes way too long to locate.

So please do your loyal patrons a favor…  bring back the GOOD!  Throw away the bad!

I beg of you WORDPRESS.  Listen to us.  Bring back what you see in these photos!!!!!!

Bring it back!

I want my tabs back!  Pleeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaasssssssssseeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Pales in comparison!

© 2012 J. H-M and CultureChoc2010.

Summer 2012 – Let The Vacation Begin!

Warning…  I swear a lot in this one….

Well, it’s 2012 and I’m off for the summer, soon to be broke and bored yet again.

This is the third day of my vacation and I’ve been pretty damn industrious.  I started DAY ONE on Tuesday with these Facebook posts:

  • Vacation Day One: Woke up with a headache +. Fed the cats, birds, squirrels and chipmunks. Coffee, breakfast, Facebook, Pinterest, Scramble. A little TV. Vacuumed downstairs and steps. Cleaned downstairs bathroom. Making a pot of gravy. Head better. Time 12:26 pm.
  • Vacation Day One Continued: Laundry. Lunch. Scooped kitty boxes. Washed dishes and cleaned kitchen. Brought pile of shoes upstairs. Admired the sun – maybe I’ll go out on the deck…. Made a batch of meatballs. It’s 1:57 pm.
  • Less industrious this afternoon: tasted a meatball. More laundry. Folded towels. TV, FB, Scramble. Downloaded a book. Thinking about a cocktail.

Not bad for a first day off!

DAY TWO on Wednesday went something like this:

  • It’s going to be 96 today!  I’m going to lay out all day (after I vacuum) and read my book, Not Taco Bell Material.  Let me get my Crystal Light lemonade, my phone, my Blackberry and…. oh shit… I need a beach towel.
  • Damn!  It’s hot out here!  Whew!  I’m sweating my ass off.  Maybe I’ll go inside and have lunch.  Maybe a meatball.  Mmmm.  These are good.  Wait.  I need more lemonade.  Hmmmm… maybe a cocktail.  A Vootbeer – yeah, that’s what I want.  Vanilla Vodka & diet rootbeer.  Yum!
  • Maybe I should lay on my stomach.  My back is so white.  No.  The friggin’ squirrels ate my beanbag lounge – what can I lay on?
  • Boy, this metal deck is hot.  The pool still looks like shit – I guess I’ll hose myself down.
  • Ouch!  That fuckin’ water is hot!  What is it boiling?  Lemme wait until it cools off.  I smell musty now.
  • I have mosquito bites all over me!  WTF!  It’s the middle of the day!  GD Jersey Shore!
  • Fuck this shit!  I’m going inside.  It’s too hot out here anyway.
  • JC!  What’s the temperature in here?  It’s too warm.  JCPL probably cut back on the electricity.  Fuckers.
  • Maybe I should get the mail.
  • Screw this.  I’m not cooking.  We’ll have leftovers.

DAY THREE – Thursday:

  • I can’t believe I was dreaming about Scramble all night.  Seriously.  I need coffee.  Maybe I’ll have some cantaloupe.
  • Oh how cute!  The squirrelies want to eat.  Should we throw them some peanuts kitties?
  • I don’t feel like vacuuming.  I’ll do it later.  I’m going outside.
  • Wow!  It’s hotter than yesterday!  Let’s see how long I’ll last.  I’m laying on my stomach today.  This towel should work.  Holy shit!  I think I burnt my boob!  This damn deck is like a frying pan.
  • I think I’m losing a cup-size.  I’m going inside.  This is ridiculous.
  • What day is it?  When’s the last time I showered?  I smell.  I’ll shower later.
  • Oooo… anyone on Scramble?

As you can see my week is deteriorating quickly.  I spent most of the day taking pictures of my pussies and backyard wildlife and posting them on Facebook,  fucking around on Pinterest and looking up recipes for Jello Shots!

It’s too humid to lay out without a swimable pool, work around the house, cook, bake or think!  

I know.  I shouldn’t bitch.  I have the summer off.  How many more days of this?

I really need a summer job!

Can anyone relate?   Teachers perhaps?

I’ll tell you one thing – if it’s only day three and I can’t remember the last time I bathed, I’m already in trouble.  At least I’m not double-fisting Champagne by the pool yet…  just give me a few more days.

© 2012 J. H-M and CultureChoc2010.

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 / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

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ANTM… What Are You Thinking?

America's Next Top Model logo

Image via Wikipedia

Last night I followed my usual Wednesday night routine by plopping myself down in front of the TV and watching America’s Next Top Model.

The show was progressing d’habitude and then a commercial break.  A man and a woman were watching top model TOGETHER, joking about Allison’s “booty tooch”

Not only was I disturbed by this but I was thoroughly disgusted.  Gross!

I have to practically tie my husband to the chair and force feed him vodka to get him to watch ANTM – and he only succumbs for reruns!  I found myself sneering at the screen and then of course, expressing my disgust as if someone could actually hear me!

I have no idea what they were thinking!  Men watch football.  Women watch Project Runway.  Men watch the History Channel.  Women watch ANTM.

Maybe I’m just old-fashioned… tough!  Get a grip channel 11.  My disgust runs deep.

© 2011 J. H-M and CultureChoc2010.

More ROOTS than Alex Haley?

When my husband tells me that I have more ROOTS than Alex Haley, I know it’s time to have my hair done.  Yes, it’s true, I’m long overdue, but sitting in the salon for hours and hours is not my idea of fun.

Losing a few hours in the chair is only part of it.  It will cost me +$200 + tip to get a cut, color and highlights and then have to wait a week for my hair to recover from hair-shock before I actually start liking it.  And the color?  The color is NEVER the same.  It’s either too blonde or too red or too ashy or too “not what I wanted”.

My hairdresser is great with color so it must be me.  I never seem to be satisfied with my “do”.  Maybe that’s why I wait so long to go back.  After 3 weeks my roots grow in but I tend to wait months.  Don’t forget about the cost of shampoo, conditioner, Keratin Mist, hair shine, silk infusion, root lift and hairspray.

As women we also have to worry about our nails.  I need to get them done at least once a month (not bad) and that’s not including warm-weather pedicures.  Our eyebrows, among other things,  need to be waxed.  We have to take care of our “stache” and buy a load of face creams, serums, collagen, $24 face wash, tightening lotions and makeup.  Don’t forget about teeth-whitening products and $45 body lotions.  All so we can look good and feel good.

What do men do?  Maybe some moisturizer?  Gel for their hair?  Men are usually not even concerned with changing their skid-marked underwear for a pair of new ones.  Most could care less if they wear brown, blue, black and beige all at the same time.  Yet even though the studies say, women dress for women and not men, we still want to look good for our spouses whether we’re 200 pounds or 100.

If I go out in sweats and no makeup, my husband says, “You’re going out like that?”  Make me feel good why don’t you.  So why don’t they think the same way?  Duh!  Because they’re men.  So ladies, raise your hands if you agree.  Try not to fault them no matter how much they piss you off.   Just love them for who they are…  farting, burping, loving husbands.

Image: photostock / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

© 2010 J. H-M and CultureChoc2010.  Republished 2011.

Discourteous Richards: Always Alive & Well in NJ

I love to drive.  I own a BMW for Pete’s Sake.  They say it’s the Ultimate Driving Machine – and it is.  I love to maneuver up the Garden State Parkway sans traffic, put the petal to the metal and enjoy the ride.

With the top down, my IPOD at full blast I am unstoppable until I am hindered by none other than the Left Lane Dick.

The discourteous Richard:

  1. has no idea he or she is an idiot retarding your progress.
  2. has no clue that it is the law in NJ to keep right and pass left.
  3. is from New York or Pennsylvania – notorious Left Lane Dicks.
  4. is hanging in the left lane on purpose because he or she really is a douchebag.

Nothing makes me road rage more than a taste of a left lane lagger.

I have a 20 minute drive to work door to door and I find myself losing my mind as I try to fly up the highway.  I tailgate.  I scream.  I swear excessively.  I hand gesture and flip the bird.  I drive with my knee.  I pull up next to people and actually yell at them.  I cut them off.  I lose my mind!

When one of my road adversaries gets cocky and thinks he can scare me by tailgating my pristine automobile, I look in the rear view mirror, gesture to him to come closer, swear a few times, then slam on my brakes.  He usually backs off.

I’m tired of being strong-armed by stupid men and women on the road.  I drive like Mario Andretti – not a typical chick – no offense to my gender or any other but STAY OUT OF THE LEFT LANE!

Even if I’m passing on the left doing 95 mph and someone wants to go faster, I move it on over because that’s the way it should be.  Bottlenecking every single lane of the Parkway does nothing but create traffic and cause road rage.

Don’t we have enough of distractions on the road?  We need eyes up our butts and are distracted by screaming kids (not me), loud music, rubber-necking, LLDs and now the GPS.  It’s always so confusing.  It should stand for Go Ahead And Piss Me Off System.  It finds new ways to screw me up while I’m driving but I have found a new use for it.

I Spy.  Remember that game?  You tell me.  What do you see in my picture?  At least it’s good for amusement purposes.

So with all we have to worry about while driving, I wish we could get rid of the Left Lane Dick and push him into extinction because no one should be held back by a jerk off.

You can use that advice in life too.  Good luck.

© 2010 J. H-M and CultureChoc2010. Re-published 2011.

My Early Morning Rant… And It’s Only Tuesday!

Last night I had terrible insomnia.  Without the use of much-needed Benadryl, I watched TV until I miraculously drifted off to sleep.

At 3 am like clockwork, my bladder beckons me and I roll out of bed, eyes half-closed, dragging my feet, but managing to step on my poor, little kitty Tia pretty damn hard.  Why the hell was she sleeping on the bathroom rug?

As usual 4 am comes early when you have a noisy husband who hates that his wife is home on vacation for 2 months in the summer.  Bang, bang, clack, crash, grrrrind, slam…. and he’s off… and I’m getting up to pee.

I rolled back into bed and Peaches joined me – she must have been looking out the front window.  I called for Tia – the poor kitty I crushed this morning – but she didn’t come.  I heard noise so I naturally assumed she was locked in somewhere.

Sure enough I open the guest room and smack her with door as she was eager to escape.  Poor Tia!

Now I’m really up.  Bailey is not even up yet!

I turn on Clean House: The Messiest Home in America – because frankly, there’s nothing else on at that time of the morning.  Maybe I’ll get motivated.

Oh yeah – let me text John and let him know that he locked the cat in the spare bedroom!

I thought I heard the phone, so I send another text and sure enough… he forgot his phone.  Great way to ignore me for the day!

Well, I might as well get the hell out of bed and make coffee.

As I reached the top of the stairs I noticed that the front door was left ajar once again.  I swear someone is going to come and kill me some day!

I also saw my tennis bag thrown on the floor of the foyer but no tennis racket (I guess that’s still in the car) – he must have taken MY car!

Yep.  The car’s gone and I can’t play tennis without my racket!

Oh well. I’m over it… until I open the fridge and realize that his lunch is still there but my marinating tortellini salad, that I made last night for company today, is gone.  I hid it in the fruit bin too!  So I guess I have to cancel my plans.  So annoyed.

MX@@#r F@@@XX!!!!!!!  XXXOOO@@XV!!!!!!

It’s only 7 am and I’m already pissed off!

So after all that ranting, here’s my recipe for Tortellini Salad.

Jacqui’s Tortellini Salad

1 lb tortellini, cooked and cooled
1 can corn, drained
1 can black beans, drained and rinsed
1 small garden pepper, chopped
a sprinkle each of gray salt, pepper, garlic powder, cumin, ground coriander and salsa seasoning 
extra virgin olive oil

Mix all ingredients in a bowl.  Stir well.  Serve immediately or refrigerate overnight to allow the flavors to meld.

Serves 4-6

It’s easy and tasty, so enjoy!

© 2011 J. H-M and CultureChoc2010.