“Selfie”: TV Review

MV5BMTc0MzgwMjc1MV5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTgwNjExMTE5MjE@._V1_SX214_AL_“Having haters online means that you made it!”

“But having haters in real life means people hate you.”

“Selfie”.

How could I NOT be intrigued?

I’m not a professional reviewer. I’m not on staff of a newspaper (do they even exist anymore?) —  I don’t write for a trade publication like Variety, I don’t have a horse in the race, so to speak.

Simply put, I watch a little television from time to time.

I’m a VIEWER, not a REviewer. 

Some of my all time favorite shows are outside my demographics; for instance, I LOVE LOVE LOVED Gossip Girl and mourned the day the series ended.

Oh Blair! Oh, Chuck! Oh, Serena! Oh, Dan!

And I like(d) New Girl, but now I’m almost — but not quite– over it. Except for Schmidt. LOVE him!!

Love Sherlock; watch Downton Abbey but sometimes it’s a snoozefest.

I’m not enamored of the “vampire” genre, nor do I enjoy crime or hospital dramaz. Too much blood and guts, not enough sex and snark.

The only reason my opinions are made public is that I’m a BLOGGER.

Bloggers are inherently self-absorbed and narcissistic, don’t you agree?

Here we are, as a whole, writing down our thoughts and observations and sharing various parts of our lives and putting it all OUT THERE for the world to see and appreciate —  IF we’re doing it right.

See how it always circles back to being about me? See what I’m saying?

I’ve strayed a bit off-topic…

The teasers for Selfie were so adorable, I hoped the show would live up to the preview, and for me, it has.

Created and executive produced by Emily Kapnek for Warner Bros. Television stars Karen Gillan as Eliza Dooley and John Cho as Henry Higgs. P.S. Karen Gillan is AMAZING.

From the website: 

“Social Media superstar Eliza Dooley (Karen Gillan) has 263,000 followers who hang on to her every post, tweet and selfie. But after a workplace mishap goes viral, she quickly realizes that being “instafamous” isn’t all it’s cracked up to be and being friended is not the same as having actual friends.

She enlists co-worker and marketing guru, Henry (John Cho), to ‘rebrand’ her self-obsessed reputation and teach her how to connect with people in the real world.

At first, Henry wants nothing to do with Eliza, who is the epitome of all he deems wrong with the app-addicted world.

But soon, Henry takes pity on her.

What Henry doesn’t anticipate, however, is how much he’ll learn.  As a workaholic who rarely makes time for socializing,  Henry eventually begins to realize that his little “project” just might have something to teach him. After all, keeping life at arm’s length is great for taking a selfie, but not so much if you want someone in the picture next to you.”

I’m hooked on the snappy wit and often seriously funny dialogue.

It’s so refreshing to discover a TV show that is NOT a retread of an old idea — CSI ad nauseum. Not a fan, soz.

The situational humor is for the most part believable, not clichéd nor contrived nor forced.

Might Selfie be ahead of its time?

It’s possible that some of us aren’t quite ready to hold that mirror up to ourselves and examine certain behaviors, but I’m a fan.

Selfie: As a society, we have become so connected to our technological devices that we’ve become DISconnected to human interaction and communication.

This is true.

Hey here’s me — a blogger — using several social media platforms to share my opinion about a TV show that conveys an important message in a gently mocking way.

 DO YOU GET IT?

Yeah, it’s a fairly overt reference to Pygmalion  and My Fair Lady — with the proper guidance, anyone can be a lady, only in this case, Henry is determined to teach Eliza how to interact as a human, not as a hashtag.

It’s truly a twist with a modern POV.

In fact, it happens to me IRL (in real life) on a daily basis.

  • In the line at the gym waiting for the next class to start, whether it’s Yoga, Pilates, PiYo, Boot Camp, or Shadowboxing – no one TALKS any more. NO ONE. Everyone stands there, cocooned in their own little world, and doing what? Scrolling through FB push notifications? Texting whom? About what?
  • And here on my flight to SF, sitting next to me is a woman about my age, (with a really superb specimen of a large carryon Louis Vuitton travel bag btw) head down, no eye contact, scrolling away on her smart phone
  • Across from me is another woman playing Solitaire on her phone, and next to her is a guy watching a movie.

All around me is dead silence except for the tap-tap-tap of the keyboard.

Wait, that’s me, haha. I’m isolated too, observing and writing it all down.

It’s eerily quiet. No chit chat, no verbal communication but for an occasional “excuse me” to go to the bathroom.

Selfie is a cautionary tale told with humor and insight.

I give Selfie five Louboutins out of five. LOVE it!louboutin

 

 

Another Beach, Another Bitch

THIS IS GETTING RIDICULOUS

“Yoo hoo!”

“Hey!”

“Hey, you!”

“I’m talking to YOU!”

Single girls, PLEASE stay away from married men.

Specifically, MY man.

‘k?

Do you unnerstand?

There are OTHER fish in the sea.

Those are YOURS.

This tugboat man is MINE.

Got it?


It happened AGAIN.

However, THIS time hub demonstrated that he’d learned his lesson from the previous incident and didn’t even TRY to tell me I was overreacting.

Remember when we were in Mexico?

Bitch, Stay Away From My Husband

 Part Two: “Bitch, Stay Away From My Husband

 And that’s why he’s still breathing and walking around with all his teeth.

Here’s how it happened:

Ya know how I posted My Husband Suffers From Performance Anxiety?

Well, that wasn’t the WHOLE story.

Yes, there were big waves which eluded hub’s expertise  – his timing was off, whatev.

I waited ’til he came in for a break so I could walk up to the bathroom.

I didn’t want to leave my camera bag and and all on our blanket, but a girl’s gotta pee, ya know?

I was only gone less than 10 minutes; honest.

Y’all don’t know what my tugboat man looks like, and although he’s beautiful to ME, he’s NO Brad Pitt or Chace Crawford or Ed Westwick (obscure Gossip Girl references). Or even Laird Hamilton, his nemesis. He’s getting better looking as he ages, I must say — like he came with me to a doctor’s appointment and the ladies in the office whispered to me, “He’s gorgeous” — I dunno, it’s hateful the way some guys look BETTER as they get a few wrinkles and gray hair — and we women don’t get similar responses. Oh well, another topic, another post, another day.

Back to the beach…

He’s not even sending off vibes –  trust me — he and I are TIGHT.

We’ve been a team for more than twenty years – and no one could tear us apart (INXS reference.)

So, as I’m walking back from the bathroom, I notice that — wait, let me back up and explain that the beach in this particular area is for surfing only and it’s not crowded with families — in fact it wasn’t crowded at all at 10:00 a.m.– there weren’t all that many people there, so it’s not like there was no other place to be…and I see this stupid girl with stupid blonde hair in a stupid teeny weeny bikini plunk her chair down RIGHT next to him – I mean only about two feet away from where my tugboat man was sitting.

And there was no reason at all for it.

And then she swished her stupid blonde hair back and forth just to make sure everyone (and by everyone, I mean tugboat man) noticed her arrival.

She adjusted her stupid bikini top and bottom a few times — unnecessarily, I might add — again OBVIOUSLY to garner the attention of my tugboat man.

For fuck’s sake, girl, could you be a little LESS obvious?

My ire was up.

As I made my way down the steps and across the burning hot sands of the Sahara, I assessed the situation.

Beneift of the doubt?

I DON’T F****ING THINK SO.

I announced my approach by throwing my sandals in her general direction  — wanting with all my heart to hit her in her vacant, vapid, empty head — but I curbed that violent impulse and tossed them THIS close (hold up thumb and finger to approximately three inches apart and that’s how close) to hitting her in her left leg, which was a classy move ‘cos it kinda sorta made sand  fly, which caused her to look up and see ME.

You should have seen the look on her face.

She had NO idea my tugboat man was not alone.

She was BUSTED.

Big time.

Stupid girl; she had failed to observe the signals that he was not alone (like his wedding ring) or the girly-type chair.

I picked up my towel and proceeded to shake the sand off of it (yes, in her direction) and sat back down squeezing myself between my tugboat man and this clueless female (hub is looking at me with glee and admiration and even a bit of lust in his eyes — if I may say).

We chatted a bit about his surfing debacle and what he’d like for dinner (always a topic hub loves to engage in) and then, guess what?

Stupid bikini girl picked up her towel and chair and flounced OFF.

Not just to another spot on the beach but up the steps and away!

BYEEEE!

I looked at him. He looked at me.

I said, “Did that REALLY just happen?”

Hub gave me a high five for my restraint in not hitting her in the head.

He gets it now, he really does…what I mean to say is that he understands now, he comprehends what I’ve been telling him about the predatory female and that I possess the ability to perceive them — to sniff them out, you might say.

I don’t know what it is about my husband that draws females to him.

In general, he doesn’t really even like women  — he’s like those people that don’t really like cats but they’re the ones cats jump on and gravitate towards.

Maybe that’s the secret to his appeal; a little disdain. What.Ever.

That’s the story; it made us snicker, ‘cos one of the secrets to our successful marriage is our feeling that we’re a team and we share a passion about absolute and total honesty coupled with the ability to laugh at ourselves.

P.S. And also because Princess Rosebud can go batshit crazy at any moment and her tugboat man knows it.

Hee hee.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Them Beeyotches Be Cray”

“Them beeyotches be cray.”

That’s what Jeana Keough‘s daughter, Kara, said about Bravo’s Real Housewives of Orange County during the grueling two-hour test of RHOOC endurance celebrating their 100th episode.

Some of the original beeyotches

Some of the original beeyotches and their breasts.

I’ve been watching RHOOC since the beginning. I really hate myself sometimes for how much I love this real/fake/scripted show. Almost as much as I loved The Hills and Gossip Girl. (Yup, my real age is about thirteen. I admit it.) My tugboat man REEAALLLY hates it; in fact, it’s a deal breaker with us when he’s home. He REFUSES to be in the same room when it’s on — so I watch it when he’s out to sea or when he’s surfing.

I’ve seen all the different franchises; New York, Miami, Beverly Hills, New Jersey — I was totes obeshed with the original New York —  crazy Kelly and Bethany with her “satchels of gold”, but then I lost interest ‘cos it seemed like they were trying too hard for the camera and lost focus. Gia Guidice

At any rate, they lost me as a viewer. New Jersey kind of disgusts me; mostly I feel bad for all the children. My overall impression of NJ is that they all seem to be involved in some sort of criminal activity.

I don’t feel a connection to any of the cities except for OC, maybe ‘cos it’s just up the road from Casa de Enchanted Seashells.

I feel like SUCH the dirty voyeur peeking through the drapes when I watch the  drama and bad behavior. Even tho I know most of it’s not real, I’m drawn into it anyway.  When I see a row of Chanels in every color of the rainbow, I am so jel, I drool. Really. The pink Chanel. Drool.

heather-dubrow-picYa know how sometimes you meet someone and totes have the hate on for them immediately? That’s how I feel about Heather Dubrow, one of the newer cast members. OMG, I just Googled her name and it’s like Google can read minds with their predictive text. How did they know that I was thinking Heather Dubrow crazy eyes? Her eyes ARE weird; they look fully dilated ALL the time, very strange, very off-putting. Don’t get me wrong, I can throw down with the best of any mouthy Jewish girl, but she seems so mean spirited and supercilious — and she ain’t all that. I think she’d contrive to be a bit more humble – her weirdly Joker-like pointy scary face isn’t the best advertisement for her plastic surgeon hubs, if ya know what I mean. SUH-NAP…

I found these comments about her on Google, so it’s obvs I’m not alone in my opinion:

“Heather Dubrow has black zombie eyes with a face stretched like the Joker. Horrible underbite too. All that money, nosejobs, botox, etc etc and they can’t undo some genetics like her junkyard dog neanderthal underbite…”

“I think she is a plasticized, botoxed, wide-eyed frozen face horror movie doll.  This crazy needs to keep her big mouth shut.”

“She comes across as very overbearing and manic. She doesn’t look like she ever relaxes or is mellow. Almost as if she were on amphetamines. I don’t like her personality. It’s like she’s always studying others and her mind is never at ease. You get the feeling she’s never kind and gentle and has a Type A personality.”Jesus jugs

You know who I have sympathy for? Jesus Jugs, aka Alexis Bellino. I agree with her that the other beeyotches pick on her — I don’t know why she continues to allow the bullying, but everyone has their price, I guess.

I know what my price is; as much as I would love to be on a show called The Real Housewives of SoCal Tugboat Captains, I have a feeling it would be non-negotiable with Mister-Don’t-You-Ever-Tell-Anybody-My-Name-or-Post-a-Pic and that’s just for this blog. I can only imagine his response to being attached to a microphone and filmed.

Not. Gonna. Happen.

Lots of divorces are the intentional or unintentional fallout for exposing your life and secrets on a reality show. I’m not sure I’d want to sacrifice mine — but you never know…the lure of those Chanels is a powerful game changer. I could film it while my tugboat man is out to sea and he’d never know, right?

Do you watch any of the Real Housewife shows? Which one(s) resonate with you?(Just another way of asking which one is YOUR dirty little pleasure?)

Hot Boy Toy Eye Candy Crushes (In Retaliation)

EMAIL

Hello? Generic? Too busy to call me, huh? I guess the honeymoon’s over. Geez.

I’ve obviously become a NON-priority to the tugboat man.

In that case, I’ll devote the remainder of this post to my hot boy toy eye candy crushes and wait for my tugboat man to remember he has a wife and call me.

Is that too much to ask? Yes, I know he isn’t just vacationing out there on the high seas and that the work he’s doing, towing a four hundred foot barge loaded with heavy equipment from here to there, might be a TAD distracting…but still, a princess expects certain things from her tugboat man. “Too busy to call?” NOT good, Captain, not good at all.

This is Day 30: These kind of ocean-going assignments have no particular end date. There’s only an approximate date by which he should be relieved by another captain. It’s not like some mariners who are on a fixed rotation of two weeks on and two weeks off. Whether he’s voyaging across the Atlantic (not fun in the winter) or over to Korea, Guam, or even Russia– or south to the Gulf of Mexico, Peru, Uruguay, Brazil, and through the Panama Canal — Africa even — I’m left twisting in the wind, eternally waiting for the return of my tugboat man.

High winds on the high seas — that’s a major cause of a slow down. A tugboat “in tow” (a maritime term) is the definition of danger. There are other factors that contribute to a delayed return like this; crewing issues, additional requests by the contracted company — but it’s all the same to me –no ride to the airport to pick up my  BFF.

Done with that rant..time to move on to something positive:

BOY TOY EYE CANDY CRUSHES

ct-ent-beck-bennett-1.jpg-20130130I gotta be honest with y’all. I don’t normally notice other men on the street or on the beach   — not in the “oh he’s so hot way” — cos really, my captain’s ALL THAT,  if you know what I mean, but I have the mostest majorest crush on the ATT guy, you know, the guy in the “It’s Not Complicated” storyline.

His name’s Beck Bennett (is that his real name?)
Click here to read all about him. He’s so funny and slightly snarky at the same time. Just my type…The ad campaign is so delightful and fresh — I wish I had thought of it.

And then there’s Gossip Girl‘s Chace Crawford as Nate Archibald and Ed Westwick, Chuck Bass. I am fully aware these two babies are younger than my son — SO WHAT!
Just look at Chace…he’s looking RIGHT AT ME. I’m so excited, I can hardly stand it!
Ed’s thinking about something I said late last night.

Ed-Westwick-Previews-GQ-Fall-Fashion-ed-westwick-6721315-944-1222chacecrawford300


I’d still crush on Johnny Depp if he still looked like this  – YUMMY

Johnny-Depp-johnny-depp-23328477-441-600

…but his bad teeth and poor dental hygiene gross me out. Floss, Johnny, FLOSS!
johnny-depp-teeth-3I used to totes luv Brad Pitt, but the way he discarded Jennifer got him crossed off my list. Plus, I heard he doesn’t bathe on a regular basis, so there’s that whole hygiene thing again… well, maybe I’d make an exception if he walked toward me looking like this, right?brad_pitt_sexyor this…brad-pitt-vs-aiswarya-rai-

My last crush is Max Greenfield — SCHMIDT! — of New Girl.
Best smile, best Jewish boy body on TV. We luvs us some Schmidt!
max greenfield

HEY TUGBOAT MAN, BETTER COME HOME SOON, YA KNOW WHAT I MEAN?

P.S. At one time, my tugboat man looked just a little bit like this, I mean if I squinted, in the dark, with the right lighting. Yup, there’s a definite for real slight resembance of my captain about twenty-five years ago when we met.
GregNelson

THIS IS AN UPDATE: I forgot to add that I THINK I saw Chace Crawford hiking in Laguna Hills about a year ago, but I was too freaked out to say anything — ME, the big mouth!  I don’t have any confirmation it was, but I had a FEELING. I was all like…

“Hey tugboat man, don’t you think that guy with the other guy that just walked by us was that guy I LUV from Gossip Girl?” “Rosebud, I’m not looking.” “No, just look for me, ‘cos I’m not sure but I’m pretty sure.”
“There is no way I’m doing that. YOU go and ask him if you think it is.” “Well, I don’t want to be wrong and if it’s not, I’ll feel like an idiot. Make that an OLD idiot!” Anyway, I really think it was and that’s the end of THAT story. Whoever it was — he was BEAUTIFUL. Sigh.

Holla! to Pinterest

Of late, I’ve been shamefully neglectful of my Pinterest boards. I know you’re all out there, organizing and pinning and repinning and following and liking.

He's soo dreamy!

He’s soo dreamy!

I even know what you like best about my own Pinterest site (click to visit) and that would be  my NUMBER ONE pin: Ed Westwick, who so briliiantly portrayed Chuck Bass on Gossip Girl — and Owls.

Saw-whet owls

Yes, owls are a fave amongst my pinning pals! And animals in general, which makes me happy, ‘cos I’m a huge animal lover.

Pinterest now has created Group Boards that one can be invited to join and pin to, but what kind of freaks me out in a slightly squinchy way are my MALE pinners. I just don’t get the appeal for a guy. I’m not at all sexist, but the two males I asked — my tugboat man and my son —  said they would never in a zillion years have any interest in Pinterest. Sorry for all you guys that do, but in my own little world, the answer is NO WAY. All I got was a “let me see those In the Tube surfingsurfing pics” and then they walked away, shaking their heads.

Although…I got a little snarky comment under his breath from my tugboat man, something along the lines of…”must be nice to have so much time to waste on crap” but when I demanded that he repeat what he said, he changed it to, “That was a delicious dinner, my love” but don’t you worry, I heard it. Yes, it’s a waste of time. I agree. But it’s also very addictive.

Click on my Chanel board. Very aspirational, don’t you agree?

Chanel surfboards

OMG, this is an amazeballs seashell wedding cake, isn’t it?

Unique-Beach-Wedding-Cake-IdeasDoesn’t it make you want to get married all over again? Hmmm. Ya know, I’ve been thinking about planning a vow renewal for our big #20 wedding anniversary next February. Pinterest is the perfect place to organize themes and ideas.

Now if I could only PIN my tugboat man down to actually being at the same latitude/longitude as me, maybe it’ll happen!

This isn’t my mariner nor his tug, but it’s a good example of the kind of work he does. 

Tug and barge

Confessions of a Shopaholic

By way of my beautiful-as-a-movie star BFF Cowboys and Crossbones, I got tagged for Confessions of a Shopaholic which is totally and absolutely cool!

Who doesn’t know that I LOVE to shop? Anyone?

It doesn’t matter if it’s a thrift store, consignment shop, TJ Maxx, Ross Dress for Less, Target, or ChanelI love the process of shopping.

I love the colors;  I love to run my fingers through the racks and feel the texture of the fabrics. I can eyeball silk and cashmere from across the room.

Ahh yes, it’s time for another session of retail therapy.

Do you consider yourself a shopaholic?
No. Ha ha. Of course the answer is YES! I will shout it from the rooftops–I’m proud to be a shopaholic!

How would you classify your style?
Sparkles to sweat pants. It depends on what mood I’m in. For example, the launch of my little boat Princess Rosebud called for a nautical theme.Nautical attire

Cozy bedtime attire for sweet Hello Kitty dreams.

hello kitty pajamas and slippers

Or a sexy evening in vintage Valentino at home with the Captain…

vintage Valentino dress

What store can you not leave without buying something from?
I can’t leave Target without buying something. Marshalls and TJ Maxx too. Uh, and then there’s Anthropologie, and H&M. Ummm, the sale rack at Barneys. J. Crew. Geez, I guess I don’t leave many stores empty handed. Sorry, tugboat man!

Where do you find your best deals?
The Barneys outlet, sales racks everywhere, my secret consignment shop.

What designer are you willing to splurge on?
CHANEL CHANEL CHANEL. Chanel GST Black box

Can you hear the angels singing? Isn't it brills?

Can you hear the angels singing? Isn’t it brills?

Do you have a go-to shopping outfit?
It’s usually an all day event; sometimes I dress in skinny jeans and flat boots, and sometimes I dress like I came from the gym which I most likely did. As long as I have my Chanel, I’m a happy girl.

What is your guilty pleasure?
Shoes. Boots. Designer vintage. Jewelry. Diamonds. Opals. All jewelry. Everything is my guilty pleasure. That’s why I feel guilty! Seashells, too.

Via Spiga and Steve Madden (and ChaCha)
Black Boots

Lanvin and Jimmy Choo

Jimmy Choo and Lanvin

What is the one piece of clothing you can’t live without?
Besides my Chanel, I’d choose my skinny jeans from Anthropologie. Well, all of them if I’m being perfectly honest. I love all my clothes! Especially this Missoni sweater with those skinny jeans from Anthro.
missoni

Who is your style icon?
Don’t judge me, but it’s Blair from Gossip Girl and Hepburn and Erica from All My Children. I said not to judge me! Oh, and I love Stacey London.

These are my tugboat captain wife’s confessions.
Now it’s your turn.
TAG–YOU’RE IT!
These are the questions for you to copy and paste.

TheFurFiles
Rarasaur
Simply Stacia
Chewylicious
CalliesMariner 

Do you consider yourself a shopaholic?

How would you classify your style?

What store can you not leave without buying something from?

Where do you find your best deals?

What designer are you willing to splurge on?

Do you have a go-to shopping outfit?

What is your guilty pleasure?!

What is the one piece of clothing you can’t live without?

Who is your style icon?

Why are old men such assholes?

Old men, you are hereby put on notice: STOP PICKING ON ME BECAUSE I LOOK LIKE AN EASY TARGET ‘COS I’M ONLY FIVE FEET TALL! STOP BEING BITTER, RESENTFUL, SMELLY, DRIED UP OLD ASSHOLES!

old manThat grumpy neighbor, we all have one in our ‘hood, “Get off my lawn, you whippersnapper!”

There seems to be an epidemic of grumpy old men in beige shirts with beige windbreakers and stained beige slacks–you know the kind that are pulled up high and belted–so you get that burn-the-eyeballs, never-to-be-forgotten view of either 1. their Depends, or 2. a nasty old Vienna sausage (if you know what I’m sayin’)

They all seem to be farty and perpetually frowning; what happened to chivalry?

Ramming their damn shopping cart into me at Trader Joe’s, giving me the evil eye like I stepped in front of them just so they’d have to run me down. Like, really. “HELLO OLD DEAF THING, THE MOTHER F-ING SHOPPING CART IS EQUIPPED WITH WHEELS AND A HANDLE SO YOU ARE ABLE TO STOP BEFORE YOU TAKE OUT MY ANKLES.”

Can you hear me NOW?

I’m on a roll. I’m ranting and rolling. Old men are horrible drivers. Old women are pretty awful too, but they seem to be less hostile.

In my town old men drive with the rage of a thousand Clint Eastwoods.

They tailgate, and pedal to the metal with lead feet left over from the big war, WW2, when cars were cars and men were men. Or something.

They cut you off, they obey ZERO traffic laws, and blast the horn with the same sort of zeal as if they’re masturbating it. HONK HONK HONKHONKHONK HONNNNNKKKKKK.

For the most part when I have these encounters, it’s invariably  when my tugboat man is out to sea and I must deal with it myself, either by ignoring their bad behavior or by being assertive, or by majorly unleashing my previously leashed INNER BEEYOTCH.

If their impulse control clearly functions when I’m accompanied by a “man”, why does it fail when I’m by myself? 

This last time, hubs was there to defend his woman. when men stop being asholes

sceneclapperLet’s pretend this is Episode #24 of my TV sitcom, That Crazy Wife of a Tugboat Captain–a little bit Lucy, a little bit That Girl, a little bit Gossip Girl, and a little any Real Housewife of Anywhere, sprinkled with the best of Erica on All My Children.

Your basic fantasyland, that’s where I live.

Okie dokie.

FADE IN:

EXT. FITNESS CENTER – MORNING

Scantily clad gym members line the dingy hall. They’re waiting for the Spin class to be over and BootCamp to commence. All ages mingle, chat about the cold morning, aches and pains, boyfriend problems. At the front of the line is PRINCESS ROSEBUD–exuberant, this ageless chick sweats charm like an old-time movie star.

[Backstory: The line forms because there’s a sign on the doors to the group class room admonishing members to wait until previous class is over before entering.]

An older, late sixty-ish, flaccid muscled man in an unwashed sleeveless t-shirt (also called a wife beater) with a few dry hairs trying but failing to cover his liver spotted scalp, bumps into Princess Rosebud and pushes his way into the room.

Under the aggressive gaze of twenty PMS-y, peri- and post-menopausal women plus a few actually normal men, he places his water bottle and towel on the floor directly in the spot Princess Rosebud has always claimed for her own. While the spin class is STILL in session, he proceeds to set up steps and risers for himself and another.

PRINCESS ROSEBUD
OH NO HE DINT.

Outrage erupts up and down the line.

PRINCESS ROSEBUD
OMG, Did you see that? Did you see what he did?

RANDOM GIRL WITH SHOES THAT ARE TOES
I can’t believe he pushed you. He can’t do that. I’m going to say something to him.

RANDOM OLDER LADY WITH GRAY HAIR
There’s a sign! We’re all standing here to be respectful of the other class!
We follow the rules, he should too! Does anyone know him?

PRINCESS ROSEBUD
What an asshole. That’s MY spot. Everyone knows I’m in line first ‘cos I take that right upper quadrant. It’s the spot of most mirrors and least germs.

ANOTHER RANDOM OLDER LADY WITH GRAY HAIR
What happened, what did I miss?

PRINCESS ROSEBUD
Remember last week? That’s the same guy who pushed me out of the way at the jelly weight bins and tried to grab the eight pound weight (the yellow ones) out of my hand.

Scene of the first hostile encounter jelly weight bins

FLASHBACK TO THE PREVIOUS WEEK’S ENCOUNTER WITH NASTY OLD MAN
I tightened my hold on the weight, stood my ground, and gave him my best squinty look like, It’s on, old man. High noon behind the gym. Bring it. You’ll get that weight when you pry it from my cold, dead hand. He backed off then, but I sensed further trouble down the road and here it was.     END FLASHBACK


TUGBOAT MAN WALKS UP, HAVING CHANGED INTO WORKOUT GEAR

What’s going on? Why’re you looking at me that way?

PRINCESS ROSEBUD
Where have you been? Didn’t you see? it was that old man, you know, the one I told you about, the one that tried to grab the weights out of my hand last week!

TUGBOAT MAN
What did he do?

PRINCESS ROSEBUD
LOOK
! She points inside the room, which by now has erupted into chaos, a gaggle of women surrounding the old man, pointing to the signs clearly stating the gym policy.

He pushed me and took our spot! I’m out of here, he ruined my bliss.,
I’m gonna go upstairs to work out on the Stairmaster and weight machines.

TUGBOAT MAN
No, don’t go. Wait here. I’ll say something to him. That’s just not right.
What is it with old men, anyway?

My knight in shining armor came to my rescue!my knight in shining armor

VOICE OVER NARRATION
What is it? Is there a switch that turns a (probably) normal guy into a crabby, belligerant unpleasant person?  is it the slipperly slope of the effects of lowered testosterone levels? Too many episodes of  erectile dysfunction? Ran out of Cialis? Pipes clogged?

PuppetMcCain-scale

Maybe there IS a reason why aging men are so unpleasant to be around. According to Innovative Men’s Health…for MEN, there is something similar that happens as we age called andropause. Andropause is the male version of menopause but is much more insidious (happens slowly over time) and it can happen slowly enough that you only notice it after several years or someone else points out there you seem different. Some guys seem to hit a breaking point where their low testosterone level seems to catch up with them and they all of a sudden start having symptoms, such as erectile dysfunction.

The grumpy old man syndrome is an example of how important adequate testosterone is for brain function. It is like PMS for men but it is ALL the time! Testosterone has an affect on brain function and low testosterone increases your risk of getting Alzheimer’s disease.
END  VO

BACK TO EPISODE #24

TUGBOAT MAN
Walks over to the old man.
Look, man. You can’t go around pushing women out of your way.
That’s not the right way to treat women.
That was my wife you pushed and I don’t appreciate it.

OLD MAN
Throws hands up in the air in a supplicating gesture.
Okay, Okay, I get it. I get it. I heard it from everyone already.
{sarcastically} What am I supposed to do, apologize to her?

TUGBOAT MAN
Nah, that’s not necessary, dude. Just be more of a gentleman to the ladies.
You don’t need to be an asshole.

TUGBOAT MAN reaches out a hand to shake the hand of the nasty old man. The old man accepts the gesture, shakes,  and…class begins.

FADE OUT.

indoor-fitness-boot-camp-classes-now-forming

Call me maybe

February 20, 1994weddingpicwithed

Today’s our 19th wedding anniversary!

Here’s a picture from our wedding. That’s not my tugboat man; it’s Ed Westwick, Gossip Girl‘s Chuck Bass. Handsome guy, huh? Dreamy…sigh.

Nineteen years ago –WOW– it seems like it was only yesterday.  I remember looking everywhere for a wedding gown and I found that one at a thrift store–what a treasure! It was ten dollars. I couldn’t believe my luck. It looked like it had never been worn. It was exactly what I had envisioned; romantic, lacy, old-fashioned.

My girlfriend worked for a floral warehouse and her gift to me was that magnificent bouquet and all the wedding flowers.

It was a really lovely day.

Our house landline rang at 7:00 a.m. this morning. It was the princess phonecaptain calling from his sat phone to wish me a happy anniversary!

I haven’t heard his voice since he left and it was a special treat to have a real conversation.

With all the technology we take for granted in our day-to-day lives, it’s amazing to think that there are still places that don’t have full access to incessant communication.

I’m kinda used to delayed celebrations and I know we’ll make up for it when he returns so I’m not too sad.  I’ll just keep the champs on ice a bit longer, that’s all!

I always try to put a positive spin on situations like this–to think about it as something to look forward to, not something I’m missing or deprived of. Glass half full and all that.

funny-pictures-auto-thug-life-tug-469509

A daughter-in-law dedication

My Saturday in SoCal has not been nearly as eventful as this. My son sent these pics from New Haven where he went cross country skiing in thirty-eight inches of snow. I hope everyone is OK and hasn’t lost power or anything!

This is my 200th post–what a milestone! It seems only right that I dedicate this to S, my DIL. She badgered encouraged me to blog, to share my thoughts and snarky commentary (and not bug her and my son so much??) and it was my son who set up the WP account. (I’ll save those accolades for his March birthday post-plenty of time to get your hankies washed, ironed, and perfumed–they’ll be drenched with tears. A mommy’s love is fierce, y’all. Just a warning.) 

miljokeI hope I’m not a bad MIL. I had two of the worst mothers-in-law you could imagine-three if you count my tugboat man’s evil stepmother. The first one wasn’t really that bad; she suffered from a lot of medical problems so I’ll give her a pass for that reason-but she was just a precursor, a forerunner to a doozy of a bitch. Hub’s mom; a laconic thrower of backhanded one-liners–a future post’ll share some of my most memorable experiences.

MIL noteHopefully, that’s taught me not to be SO terrible, but as mom of an only child who happens to be a son whose nickname is Angel Boy and on whom the sun rises and sets, you can bet there needs to be a bit of benevolence, compassion, understanding, and sensitivity on both sides. There’s a def learning curve.

(I’m sure she fondly remembers our house rule of “no cohabitation without documentation” before they were married.)

S has a great sense of humor and a highly developed wit–a great way to deal with a MIL! Right, S?

Although she did recommend I watch “Monster-in-Law”…do you think she was subtly trying to tell me something?

Is my DIL trying to tell me something?

Is my DIL trying to tell me something?

S is London-born with a Ph.D. in Neuroscience from Brown. She’s opened up my world to lots of cool things like Absolutely Fabulous, Gossip Girl, and Downton Abbey. She’s a girly girl in addition to all that brain power. We’ve had a lot of fun together: shopping, getting manis, and making candles. I never had a girl child so it’s been a lot of fun doing things that my mom and I did. As a family, we’ve all gone hiking and camping together–it was DIL who taught me how to “pop a squat”–a skill that’s come in handy more times than I care to mention!

I can’t share what she does-YET-but as soon as I can, you can be sure I’ll shout it to the heavens with PRIDE!

DIL earned a special title.

Isn't she totes adorbs?

Isn’t she totes adorbs?

When she calls (which she should do more often), I’m alerted by the screen telling me it’s Angel Girl.

Thank you, DIL!

Yes, I really AM that annoying.

And every once in a while, it’s really black and white.

While I’m absorbed in the embracing and releasing of my inner beeyotch, there’s an overriding theme that’s emerging around Casa de Enchanted Seashells.

It seems that I am annoying in different ways to different people. Some might find that to be a negative character trait and should be “worked on.”

Not me.

I consider my annoying self to be a value-added option or a gift with purchase–to the liberation of my beeyotchiness.

There are some aspects of parenting and marriages that don’t reveal themselves right away. Sometimes it takes a child moving out to give him/her perspective and a spouse can also evoke a similar epiphany.

Last night my shining bright star boy child called and I was APPARENTLY nagging (his word) him about his eating habits and not eating enough. A great multi-tasker, he was chewing while chatting and told me he was eating a Subway sandwich. Always a caring and concerned and nurturing mom, I told him it didn’t have enough calories for a skinny boy like him and he needed to take bcare of himself and eat higher quality protein and more frequently, blah blah blah.

I said, ‘Maybe I should come back there and cook for you.” “No, that’s OK.”  “Why not? I would have loved it if my mom cooked for me.” “No, I can cook for myself” “But DO you?”

“Were you always this annoying?”

That about sums it all up for me, and anyway, the answer is yes, I have always been this annoying.

In fact, the captain asked me the same exact question yesterday. I was bugging him while he was hiding from me working on a project–and he said, “Do you have any idea how annoying you are?”

To which I answered, “Yes, I am very well aware of how annoying I am. This is not new information to you. I did not suddenly emerge from my chrysalis and become an annoying person. I didn’t misrepresent myself. You knew full well what you were getting yourself into more than twenty years ago. So stop complaining. Your complaining IS annoying.”

“Once in a while, you should try to not be so annoying.”

Like really, like does he not know by now with whom he’s dealing? I was gonna say, does he not know who he’s dealing with, but that’s not proper English, so if it sounds strange, whatever. Deal with it. Oopsie, just let a bit of my beeyotchiness out, like a silent but deadly you know.

I felt picked on and since I’m only sixty inches tall, I feel a good old Napoleon Complex simmering just below the surface, ready to boil over real fast, rear its ugly head, and take no prisoners.

I added that snide remark to his Frico/Freaky sharp-witted comment of the other day. Like an elephant, we women don’t forget. We just tally up the misdeeds in one of our brain’s compartments, and when it fills up, watch out.

Thar she blows!

Here’s a little confession. Pissing me off is expensive. He paid dearly and with much pain. He was forced under duress to accompany me to South Coast Plaza in Orange County. I’ve  spoken of this place before, I know, but it really is a shrine, a shopping mecca, a retail temple of the beautiful–and Chanel, or as my new friend calls it, ChaCha. (Check out her blog, reversecommuter–she’s awesome.) I love Hermes and Valentino and Versace and Gucci, but Chanel holds my heart.

It’s a beautiful drive to SCP and takes about fifty minutes or so. We could see the surf at Trestles on one side and snow-covered mountains to the east. We parked at Bloomingdales. I wanted to check out their Chanel department and compare it to the actual Chanel shop’s designs. I know I just got my Grand Tote Shopper in November, but she was a bit lonely and I thought a little sister (in other words, a matching wallet) would make her happy.

I pulled out all the stops on this one.

My crazy came out in spectacular form. Here’s what I said to the captain. “My mom called and she said that I really need a matching wallet.”

Hold on. Stay with me. Don’t stop reading now! You might be thinking to yourself, “That doesn’t sound too crazy.”

Well…when I tell you that my mom died in 1989, you might think differently, huh?

So…treading lightly here–very lightly, the captain said, “Tell your mom that saying things like that is not very helpful and you also can tell her from me that she raised a very spoiled daughter.”

I walked away and came back a few minutes later.

“My mom said you’re annoying.”

(We chat with my mom all the time as if she were still here, so it’s not that unusual to bring her into a convo.)

Back to SCP. Focus! Bloomies didn’t have a huge selection and the sales staff was EXTREMELY unpleasant and didn’t seem to really want us invading their space, so we left.

We took the escalator down to the first floor. As we were descending, I looked behind me…and there it was in all of its black and white magnificence. I swear the place was glowing, beckoning me in.

I almost forgot hubs was with me.

Marie greeted us as we walked in and made a grand tour of the salon. She commented on the beauty of my GST. I asked to see the black caviar wallet that would complement my bag. She escorted us to the proper glass case, and then beckoned me to go behind the counter where she OPENED ALL THE DRAWERS AND INVITED ME TO TAKE ALL THE TIME I WANTED TO LOOK AT THE DOZENS OF WALLETS IN EVERY COLOR AND PATTERN. My face turned  bright red, I almost broke out in tears. The captain parked his ass somewhere–at this point I had no idea he existed.  I WAS IN HEAVEN. Pink and blue and green and red and quilted and patent leather and imprinted with Coco’s signature camellias.

I touched and stroked and smelled them all.

With a nod from my tugboat captain–KING OF ALL MEN- best husband in the whole world–I chose my prize. When Marie asked if this was for a special occasion, my wonderful hubs shrugged and said it was “Just because.” He’s really a very special guy, my tugboat man.

P.S. In case you’re wondering, I was a very appreciative and grateful recipient.

Chanel south coast plaza

Hubs isn’t a very good photographer and he would only take one pic

On the way home from SCP

On the way home from SCP

So beautifully packaged, I didn't want to open it!

So beautifully packaged, I didn’t want to open it!

Chanel ribbon too!

Chanel ribbon too!

Can you hear the angels singing? Isn't it brills?

Can you hear the angels singing? Isn’t it brills?

chanelwallet2