Tag Archives: venting

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.

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

Related Articles

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.

Baths vs. Showers: The Best Way To Get Wet

When I was little I always wanted to take a big-girl shower.  My mom made me take baths for a long time but I endlessly longed for a that spray of water on top of my head while I opened my mouth to get a taste.

As a teenager, I thought baths were gross.  Sitting there in your own filthy water while an errant hair floats by – YUK!  I could not bear it and I had to have the cleanest OCD tub in NJ.

Adulthood has brought me to the realization that I love baths again.  A bubble bath, an oil bath, a foam bath or a salt bath.  I’ll take them all.  I lower the lights in my bathroom, light some scented candles, pour a glass of Old Vine Zin and try to coax my other half to join me (he never does – I think we need a bigger tub).

I dream about a giant tub for two.  A bathtub where I can stretch out, covered in water from neck to toe (with no parts sticking out).  A soaking tub – with heated jets and aromatherapy – and maybe a sauna or steam to boot.

I’m glad that I haven’t forgotten – or rather can re-appreciate a good old bath and its therapeutic qualities.

What do you prefer?  A bath or a shower?  I still can’t decide the best way to get wet…. well I can, but that has nothing to do with bathing – but that’s another blog.

Image: Filomena Scalise / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

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

Twenties vs. Forties: A Top 20 REVISITED

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

Mom & Me in my twenties

what I wanted from life or did in my twenties and what I want from life or do now that I’m almost 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.

Me in my forties

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. Re-published 2011.

Memories From July… Because I Need To Think About Warmth

A Codeine-Induced Slumber or A Lack Of Sleep?

After waking up at 11 am from a codeine induced slumber, I stumbled down the stairs with Bailey walking in between my legs and Peaches already sprawled out in the middle of the hallway downstairs.  I still sound like sh** from all the congestion but can’t seem to shake this sinus thing.

Ah!  Hairball.  That’s nice.  I’m so happy to be cleaning up after the cats as soon as I staggered downstairs.

Ah!  Dirty dishes in the sink.  That’s nice.  I’m so happy to be cleaning up after my husband as well.

I fed the cats and checked the outside temp.  Wow!  Way too hot again.  Looks like I’ll be staying in all day again today. I hope my AC cools off the house – yesterday it didn’t do such a hot job.  I made coffee though I think that’s it’s too hot, but I don’t want a caffeine withdrawal headache.  I flipped on “The View” – why do I torture myself?  I hate that loud-mouthed loser Joy Behar.

Damn!  It’s already noon.  Peaches!  Stop eating the flowers! I guess she found the bouquet.  I’m so sleepy.  Wait a minute!  Why?  Was it the codeine infused cough syrup or….?  Dammit!  I just remembered what happened last night.

It was around a quarter to one in the morning and I was just dozing off hoping for some cough free shut-eye.  I heard John come in.  It took him a few minutes to come upstairs and start his nightly routine.  All of a sudden I heard him screaming, “Bailey!” and then the banging and bitching started.  Evidently the cat couldn’t make it to his litter box downstairs and deposited a small amount of diarrhea in the bathroom sink.  Better the sink than the floor.

I got up (now fully awake) and started cleaning up the mess.  It took me 2 minutes to clean and disinfect the soiled area.  Wow.  Big deal.  Now I was awake, the cats were scared and HE was still complaining.  I tried to unsuccessfully resume my sleep.  No luck.  I went downstairs and swallowed another teaspoon of cough medicine and hoped for a miracle.  Did I mention that I was coughing now from all the commotion?

I headed upstairs into my room and crawled in bed.  Peaches was already snuggled up waiting for me to spoon with her.  I laid down, coughed, took a throat lozenge and coughed some more.  Two ‘o clock rolled around.  Then 3:45.  I must have conked out by 4 am.  I had to wake him up at 5:30 – so much for a good night’s sleep.  I rang the intercom as a wake-up-call, snoozed the alarm and waited to see if he got up.  Seven minutes later I rang again, greeted by a screaming “WHAT?”.  So nice.

By the time I actually stirred (shockingly the cats didn’t bug me) it was after 11 am.  Did the codeine give me an opposite reaction or did the late-night chaos impede my snooze?  I may never know until the repeat performance tonight.  Hopefully the cat won’t sh** in the sink.  Maybe I will.  Just kidding.

Image: Filomena Scalise / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

© 2010 J. H-M and CultureChoc2010.

It’s The Weekend…

It’s the weekend, so check out some of my posts or pages that you haven’t seen!

Cooking In Stilettos; The Page, Not The Blog

Dinner At The Bar

Journal of A Dieting Diva

Shake It Like A Polaroid

Shoe Shock

Enjoy your weekend!

© 2010 J. H-M and CultureChoc2010.

A Codeine-Induced Slumber Or A Lack Of Sleep?

After waking up at 11 am from a codeine induced slumber, I stumbled down the stairs with Bailey walking in between my legs and Peaches already sprawled out in the middle of the hallway downstairs.  I still sound like sh** from all the congestion but can’t seem to shake this sinus thing.

Ah!  Hairball.  That’s nice.  I’m so happy to be cleaning up after the cats as soon as I staggered downstairs.

Ah!  Dirty dishes in the sink.  That’s nice.  I’m so happy to be cleaning up after my husband as well.

I fed the cats and checked the outside temp.  Wow!  Way too hot again.  Looks like I’ll be staying in all day again today. I hope my AC cools off the house – yesterday it didn’t do such a hot job.  I made coffee though I think that’s it’s too hot, but I don’t want a caffeine withdrawal headache.  I flipped on “The View” – why do I torture myself?  I hate that loud-mouthed loser Joy Behar.

Damn!  It’s already noon.  Peaches!  Stop eating the flowers! I guess she found the bouquet.  I’m so sleepy.  Wait a minute!  Why?  Was it the codeine infused cough syrup or….?  Dammit!  I just remembered what happened last night.

It was around a quarter to one in the morning and I was just dozing off hoping for some cough free shut-eye.  I heard John come in.  It took him a few minutes to come upstairs and start his nightly routine.  All of a sudden I heard him screaming, “Bailey!” and then the banging and bitching started.  Evidently the cat couldn’t make it to his litter box downstairs and deposited a small amount of diarrhea in the bathroom sink.  Better the sink than the floor.

I got up (now fully awake) and started cleaning up the mess.  It took me 2 minutes to clean and disinfect the soiled area.  Wow.  Big deal.  Now I was awake, the cats were scared and HE was still complaining.  I tried to unsuccessfully resume my sleep.  No luck.  I went downstairs and swallowed another teaspoon of cough medicine and hoped for a miracle.  Did I mention that I was coughing now from all the commotion?

I headed upstairs into my room and crawled in bed.  Peaches was already snuggled up waiting for me to spoon with her.  I laid down, coughed, took a throat lozenge and coughed some more.  Two ‘o clock rolled around.  Then 3:45.  I must have conked out by 4 am.  I had to wake him up at 5:30 – so much for a good night’s sleep.  I rang the intercom as a wake-up-call, snoozed the alarm and waited to see if he got up.  Seven minutes later I rang again, greeted by a screaming “WHAT?”.  So nice.

By the time I actually stirred (shockingly the cats didn’t bug me) it was after 11 am.  Did the codeine give me an opposite reaction or did the late-night chaos impede my snooze?  I may never know until the repeat performance tonight.  Hopefully the cat won’t sh** in the sink.  Maybe I will.  Just kidding.

Image: Filomena Scalise / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

© 2010 J. H-M and CultureChoc2010.