Christmas Gift Ideas
What we need are practical gifts people actually will use.
I have invented some.
Bitchometer: worn as a bracelet, the Bitchometer beeps when you've raised your own blood pressure by being too much of a bitch or bastard.
Gut Watcher Pro: this belt detects a too full belly and emits a high pitched, hog squealing sound when the wearer has pigged out too much.
Mama Clapper: When mother starts to talk or complain too much, the Mama Clapper starts clapping until she quiets down.
PMS Alert Bracelet or Necklace: When your favorite gal is fixin' to start, the simulated gems on the PMS Alert jewelry turn from a placid, sky blue to bright red.
ScreenFix: With just a touch of a key, the solitaire game, blog, private e-mail, pornsite or other unauthorized PC activity switches to any letterhead, form or spreadsheet you use at work.
KittyBuns Litter: Finally, a cat litter that smells like fresh baked cinnamon buns. The more it's soiled, the stronger the fresh baked cinnamon bun scent becomes.
Saturday, November 30, 2002
Friday, November 29, 2002
Survivor Rehash
Did anyone catch the Wednesday night Survivor midseason special?
Well, I did, and I was happy to be watching it with none other than Cris, the behavioral psychologist who offered some very interesting asides on some of the tribe members.
Ghandia.
Could you fucking believe her RuPaul Super Model of the World Vogue faux photo shoot posing? I mean, come on, she's not hideous but she's got an ego to match all that wobbling junk in her trunk.
Beware anyone who says, "I know I'm hot" to a camera that will feed that message out to millions. What gall.
All she had to do was cut her eyes to the rest of the tribe while she was vamping to see her sashay/chante´act was making them cringe. Diva, my ass.
Poor dumb, horny Ted. He took the bait and she charmed his man cobra like Schehera-fuckin-zade. All I can say is, prick teasing is bad. Bitching about it later is bad, too. Soliciting an apology and accepting it, then turning on the apologee is worse than bad. It's treacherous. And so it was.
Adios, diva, and don't let the door hit that bodacious ass on the way out.
Ted.
Dude, you've had maybe 400 calories in the last 18 weeks, why do you look like you're still Mac'n?
Robb.
Antisocial personality disorder, according to the shrink. Anger management problems. Intense immaturity. Another one whose assessment of himself exceeded his actual assets. Skateboard to the head. Repeat until patient is sedated. Sent him home. Good.
Clay.
Clay the ASSMAN. The toady little ferret also turned out to be a leering ass watcher. He likes Erin's ass. He likes Brian's ass. He likes elephant ass. Hell, Jan better be careful or he'll glom on to her saggy ass.
Jake.
Poor guy. All that rubbin' fox pee and deer spoor on his boots to draw a bead on a 20 point buck apparently clogged up his brain's ability to sense when he's grossing people out. His fellow tribespeople aren't the huntin' fer meat types. Jan likes her squirrel already shot and Clay is a crawdaddy man hisself.
Helen's just gotta win. Please.
Did anyone catch the Wednesday night Survivor midseason special?
Well, I did, and I was happy to be watching it with none other than Cris, the behavioral psychologist who offered some very interesting asides on some of the tribe members.
Ghandia.
Could you fucking believe her RuPaul Super Model of the World Vogue faux photo shoot posing? I mean, come on, she's not hideous but she's got an ego to match all that wobbling junk in her trunk.
Beware anyone who says, "I know I'm hot" to a camera that will feed that message out to millions. What gall.
All she had to do was cut her eyes to the rest of the tribe while she was vamping to see her sashay/chante´act was making them cringe. Diva, my ass.
Poor dumb, horny Ted. He took the bait and she charmed his man cobra like Schehera-fuckin-zade. All I can say is, prick teasing is bad. Bitching about it later is bad, too. Soliciting an apology and accepting it, then turning on the apologee is worse than bad. It's treacherous. And so it was.
Adios, diva, and don't let the door hit that bodacious ass on the way out.
Ted.
Dude, you've had maybe 400 calories in the last 18 weeks, why do you look like you're still Mac'n?
Robb.
Antisocial personality disorder, according to the shrink. Anger management problems. Intense immaturity. Another one whose assessment of himself exceeded his actual assets. Skateboard to the head. Repeat until patient is sedated. Sent him home. Good.
Clay.
Clay the ASSMAN. The toady little ferret also turned out to be a leering ass watcher. He likes Erin's ass. He likes Brian's ass. He likes elephant ass. Hell, Jan better be careful or he'll glom on to her saggy ass.
Jake.
Poor guy. All that rubbin' fox pee and deer spoor on his boots to draw a bead on a 20 point buck apparently clogged up his brain's ability to sense when he's grossing people out. His fellow tribespeople aren't the huntin' fer meat types. Jan likes her squirrel already shot and Clay is a crawdaddy man hisself.
Helen's just gotta win. Please.
Gimmickry
Why do I buy into Christmas?
I think Jesus Christ is okay, I think he was a conduit to God, just like I think other historical religious leaders were/are.
To me, God is God, and any religious entity who founded a religion based on God has at least some spiritual credibility.
Well, I am wondering about Allah, but that's another blog.
Thing is, I don't identify strictly as a Christian.
I am a God believer, but not just through the life and teachings of Jesus.
I am a Jew. I am a Buddhist. I am a Hindu. I am a white witch. I am even still a bit Catholic, at least as far as the cool saints, icons and other religious gear go.
I guess that makes me a pan-denominationalist, although Islam/Muslim dogma has yet to offer me anything I think I can apply to my life as a lesbian, feminist woman.
Anyway, Christmas is coming and I decided I am not going to do anything traditional to celebrate it this year.
Aviva the Jew will be with me, and I am thinking instead of the traditional Christmas thing, if the weather holds, we may just drive down to South Padre Island and take a few days to walk on the beach.
I think God lives at the beach. I think it's a great place to reflect on the God that lives within all of us.
I fail to see how getting to Walmart at 5 a.m. to get the jump on holiday shopping today has anything to do with Christ. I fail to see how a new DVD or a down comforter will show anyone I know that I love God. My family is very fortunate in the prosperity department and they don't really lack for anything material.
So that's it.
I'll donate some money to the needy this season, and take my lover to the beach.
Ho ho ho!
Why do I buy into Christmas?
I think Jesus Christ is okay, I think he was a conduit to God, just like I think other historical religious leaders were/are.
To me, God is God, and any religious entity who founded a religion based on God has at least some spiritual credibility.
Well, I am wondering about Allah, but that's another blog.
Thing is, I don't identify strictly as a Christian.
I am a God believer, but not just through the life and teachings of Jesus.
I am a Jew. I am a Buddhist. I am a Hindu. I am a white witch. I am even still a bit Catholic, at least as far as the cool saints, icons and other religious gear go.
I guess that makes me a pan-denominationalist, although Islam/Muslim dogma has yet to offer me anything I think I can apply to my life as a lesbian, feminist woman.
Anyway, Christmas is coming and I decided I am not going to do anything traditional to celebrate it this year.
Aviva the Jew will be with me, and I am thinking instead of the traditional Christmas thing, if the weather holds, we may just drive down to South Padre Island and take a few days to walk on the beach.
I think God lives at the beach. I think it's a great place to reflect on the God that lives within all of us.
I fail to see how getting to Walmart at 5 a.m. to get the jump on holiday shopping today has anything to do with Christ. I fail to see how a new DVD or a down comforter will show anyone I know that I love God. My family is very fortunate in the prosperity department and they don't really lack for anything material.
So that's it.
I'll donate some money to the needy this season, and take my lover to the beach.
Ho ho ho!
Big Big Shopping Day
I'm not going shopping today.
The $4 I'd save on some gift or doodad isn't worth the emotional angst I'd suffer from traffic, parking woes, crowds and inundated shop clerks.
Yesterday we had a great time. Good company, good food and a great movie afterwards.
Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets was simply fantastic. It was better than the first one, which I loved, because it was darker, more complex and scarier.
I still have a crush on Professor Snape. Go figure.
We took my best friend Anna's little son Andrei, who was actually rather attentive for several hours. I only wanted to smack him a few times.
Anna's husband, the one immersed in the work of Byron Katie, was really very nice to see again. We talked about his obsession briefly, but he seemed relaxed with it and listened to what few things I did have to say.
He's a doctor and a distance runner and Anna's parents are fitness and diet freaks, so we were all able to discuss glucose and carbos and all this nutrition crap that's been obsessing me.
Anna's mom brought a sugarless cherry pie that was so good I nearly swooned. Splenda is good! I had a small slice, but still my evening glucose level was in the low 200's, so I rode 15 miles on my bike last night to try to repair the damage.
My glucose level this morning was a mere 126, so that proves to me that exercise really helps in controlling diabetes. Best of all, it has an almost immediate impact on glucose levels, so there's the instant gratification I love.
So, how was your Thanksgiving?
Will you go shopping today?
I'm not going shopping today.
The $4 I'd save on some gift or doodad isn't worth the emotional angst I'd suffer from traffic, parking woes, crowds and inundated shop clerks.
Yesterday we had a great time. Good company, good food and a great movie afterwards.
Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets was simply fantastic. It was better than the first one, which I loved, because it was darker, more complex and scarier.
I still have a crush on Professor Snape. Go figure.
We took my best friend Anna's little son Andrei, who was actually rather attentive for several hours. I only wanted to smack him a few times.
Anna's husband, the one immersed in the work of Byron Katie, was really very nice to see again. We talked about his obsession briefly, but he seemed relaxed with it and listened to what few things I did have to say.
He's a doctor and a distance runner and Anna's parents are fitness and diet freaks, so we were all able to discuss glucose and carbos and all this nutrition crap that's been obsessing me.
Anna's mom brought a sugarless cherry pie that was so good I nearly swooned. Splenda is good! I had a small slice, but still my evening glucose level was in the low 200's, so I rode 15 miles on my bike last night to try to repair the damage.
My glucose level this morning was a mere 126, so that proves to me that exercise really helps in controlling diabetes. Best of all, it has an almost immediate impact on glucose levels, so there's the instant gratification I love.
So, how was your Thanksgiving?
Will you go shopping today?
Thursday, November 28, 2002
Gratitude
On this day of thanks, I am grateful for friends who consider me family and family I can *often* consider friends.
And I am grateful for resilience in my life, in health, in work and in love.
So, I leave you with this inspirational lyric I think encapsulates my life, and perhaps your own. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.
Tub Thumping
We'll be singing
When we're winning we'll be singing
I get knocked down
But I get up again
You're never going to keep me down
I get knocked down
But I get up again
You're never going to keep me down
I get knocked down
But I get up again
You're never going to keep me down
I get knocked down
But I get up again
You're never going to keep me down
Pissing the night away
Pissing the night away
He drinks a whisky drink
He drinks a vodka drink
He drinks a lager drink
He drinks a cider drink
He sings the songs that remind him
Of the good times
He sings the songs that remind him
Of the better times
Oh Danny Boy
Danny Boy
Danny Boy
I get knocked down
But I get up again
You're never going to keep me down
I get knocked down
But I get up again
You're never going to keep me down
I get knocked down
But I get up again
You're never going to keep me down
I get knocked down
But I get up again
You're never going to keep me down
(Repeat 100 more times)
On this day of thanks, I am grateful for friends who consider me family and family I can *often* consider friends.
And I am grateful for resilience in my life, in health, in work and in love.
So, I leave you with this inspirational lyric I think encapsulates my life, and perhaps your own. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.
Tub Thumping
We'll be singing
When we're winning we'll be singing
I get knocked down
But I get up again
You're never going to keep me down
I get knocked down
But I get up again
You're never going to keep me down
I get knocked down
But I get up again
You're never going to keep me down
I get knocked down
But I get up again
You're never going to keep me down
Pissing the night away
Pissing the night away
He drinks a whisky drink
He drinks a vodka drink
He drinks a lager drink
He drinks a cider drink
He sings the songs that remind him
Of the good times
He sings the songs that remind him
Of the better times
Oh Danny Boy
Danny Boy
Danny Boy
I get knocked down
But I get up again
You're never going to keep me down
I get knocked down
But I get up again
You're never going to keep me down
I get knocked down
But I get up again
You're never going to keep me down
I get knocked down
But I get up again
You're never going to keep me down
(Repeat 100 more times)
Wednesday, November 27, 2002
General Holiday Haiku
All this turkey talk
Makes me wanna eat a lot
Four ounces, white meat
I'll have pumpkin pie
Minus the crust and filling
No whipped cream, either
Eggnog with some rum
Consumed with great pleasure in
ER waiting room
High glucose Thursday
Maybe some ketones thrown in
Hey, where'd my feet go?
So sad this season
Nick Cage dumping Lisa P.
Wonder what happened?
No wine tomorrow
Good I'll not be with fam'ly
Driving me to drink
What's left to do Thurs.?
No big dinner, booze or sex
And I hate football
My cats look happy
Wonder if their food tastes good
I may try some soon
Aviva, damn her
Up there in cold Canada
And not here with me
All this turkey talk
Makes me wanna eat a lot
Four ounces, white meat
I'll have pumpkin pie
Minus the crust and filling
No whipped cream, either
Eggnog with some rum
Consumed with great pleasure in
ER waiting room
High glucose Thursday
Maybe some ketones thrown in
Hey, where'd my feet go?
So sad this season
Nick Cage dumping Lisa P.
Wonder what happened?
No wine tomorrow
Good I'll not be with fam'ly
Driving me to drink
What's left to do Thurs.?
No big dinner, booze or sex
And I hate football
My cats look happy
Wonder if their food tastes good
I may try some soon
Aviva, damn her
Up there in cold Canada
And not here with me
Twas the Day Before Thanksgiving...
Hoo boy. My day before Turkey Day will be a fun one.
Almost a month after diagnosis, I finally have my appointments to see the diabetes nutrition nazi and the diabetes educator.
Today's the day I'll no doubt hear about the need for a kitchen scale so I can weigh my diminutive fish filets and spinach leaves.
I've already come up with some shtick to disrupt the class. Let me try some out on you:
"Hey, those whey protein power shakes mixed with skim milk are a helluva lot better when you add a big scoop of Haagen Dasz."
"I know liquor is bad for us, so I switched to Everclear so I don't need as much to cop a buzz."
"How many carbohydrates are there in a joint?"
"To save fat grams, in my bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwiches, I only use half the mayo, and I stopped toasting the bread in a pan full of butter."
"Pork chops is white meat, ain't it?"
"When my glucose is high, I find a shot or two of tequila brings the numbers right down."
"I can't give up chocolate, so if I eat some now I just make myself puke it up afterwards."
"I switched to WOW potato chips, and they taste real good with sour cream onion dip."
Between comments, I'm going to hum "Ain't Nothin Gonna Break My Stride."
Hoo boy. My day before Turkey Day will be a fun one.
Almost a month after diagnosis, I finally have my appointments to see the diabetes nutrition nazi and the diabetes educator.
Today's the day I'll no doubt hear about the need for a kitchen scale so I can weigh my diminutive fish filets and spinach leaves.
I've already come up with some shtick to disrupt the class. Let me try some out on you:
"Hey, those whey protein power shakes mixed with skim milk are a helluva lot better when you add a big scoop of Haagen Dasz."
"I know liquor is bad for us, so I switched to Everclear so I don't need as much to cop a buzz."
"How many carbohydrates are there in a joint?"
"To save fat grams, in my bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwiches, I only use half the mayo, and I stopped toasting the bread in a pan full of butter."
"Pork chops is white meat, ain't it?"
"When my glucose is high, I find a shot or two of tequila brings the numbers right down."
"I can't give up chocolate, so if I eat some now I just make myself puke it up afterwards."
"I switched to WOW potato chips, and they taste real good with sour cream onion dip."
Between comments, I'm going to hum "Ain't Nothin Gonna Break My Stride."
Tuesday, November 26, 2002
A friend from Paris sent this to me...
LONDON (Reuters)
Britons have sex more often than Americans and Spaniards,
but are outdone between the sheets by the French, Dutch, Danes and
Canadians, according to a new survey.
The Durex Global Sex survey revealed that Britons make love an average of
149 times a year, pipped only by couples in France (167), the Netherlands
(158), Denmark (152) and Canada (150).
Those taking their love-making at a more relaxed pace included Americans
(138 times a year), New Zealanders, (135) and the Spanish, who limped in at
an annual love rate of just 121.
Some 3,500 people from the UK took part in an online survey organised by
condom manufacturer Durex which polled 50,000 people worldwide.
LONDON (Reuters)
Britons have sex more often than Americans and Spaniards,
but are outdone between the sheets by the French, Dutch, Danes and
Canadians, according to a new survey.
The Durex Global Sex survey revealed that Britons make love an average of
149 times a year, pipped only by couples in France (167), the Netherlands
(158), Denmark (152) and Canada (150).
Those taking their love-making at a more relaxed pace included Americans
(138 times a year), New Zealanders, (135) and the Spanish, who limped in at
an annual love rate of just 121.
Some 3,500 people from the UK took part in an online survey organised by
condom manufacturer Durex which polled 50,000 people worldwide.
Sunday, November 24, 2002
What Do You Want For Christmas?
I have no idea what I want and I don't know what to get Aviva.
I need ideas.
Here's what I don't want:
Chia anything
Software
Knickknacks
Pajamas
Figurines
Fruitcakes
Clothes
Liquor
Cigars
Afghans
Beanie Babies
Teddy bears
Anything by Ronco
Inspirational books
...and much more.
Now, what do I buy a nice Jewish girl for Christmas?
I have no idea what I want and I don't know what to get Aviva.
I need ideas.
Here's what I don't want:
Chia anything
Software
Knickknacks
Pajamas
Figurines
Fruitcakes
Clothes
Liquor
Cigars
Afghans
Beanie Babies
Teddy bears
Anything by Ronco
Inspirational books
...and much more.
Now, what do I buy a nice Jewish girl for Christmas?
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