41... and Done!

I was just reading over last year's birthday post... and, wow! I really sucked at turning 40!

What is it about that milestone that does so much damage to a woman's psyche?

As I ring in 41 this week, let's look back at the kind:cruel ratio that was my Year of Forty.

• The Quickest Mid-Life Crisis in History: I whined, complained and threw cyber-tantrums as I crested the middle-aged slope and fell directly off its cliff. It was a quick freefall and then I was like, "Oh, sorry about that world!" and went back about my regularly-scheduled business. I like to think that what it lacked in longevity it made up for explosiveness. Was it fair to the world? No. But the world survived it, so I'm over it too. 

• Finally Found a Home: The last thing on my "40" bucket list was to purchase real estate and be living in said real estate by the end of the year. Due to my stubbornness over price and location, it took me an entire year of house-hunting to achieve this final tick mark. (Not to mention, four different mailing addresses in the same amount of time. Believe me when I say that my year of homelessness is still confusing the local post office!) So, does signing the deed at the age of 40.8 still make the cut? It counts in my book! And, being stubborn paid off. I'm in exactly the location I had my heart set on and actually came in under budget, too!

• My Boobs are Playing Tricks on Me: It seems like much more than a year ago that I had my first breast cancer scare, but it was just last summer. Tacky as it may have seemed to some when I decided to share that journey; the conversations it started among friends and family really proved to be worth the embarrassing exchange. (Click link for a recap. To those who missed the follow-up, it was just a cyst in the end!) It seems most women at this age have had their "scares" and for someone who once favored male friendships over female, it really proved to me the necessity of the female-sisterhood. (Love you, ladies!) In other boob news, is there a once-a-decade law of physics that is keeping the bra industry in business?! It happened at thirty when the elasticity of the dermis began to betray me. New bra size! Must go shopping! And, here it is again at forty. Holy tit! As if gravity weren't enough of a foe, they've now decided to go running off in opposite directions! It's like each side is in a race to see who can reach my back first by the age of fifty!* And, of course, hello! New bra size again! This is getting old business is expensive business.

Somehow, this is the only Before/After depiction I could
find on my laptop!

• Lost Weight: I have always been cursed in the weight department. (By "American fashion" standards, at least.) I was a tall gangly child, who got called "String Bean", "Carpenter's Dream"** and the like, more often than necessary. (It's really not necessary to comment on children's body types. Ever. Or, anyone's, for that matter. Will the world never learn?!) Once puberty hit, I was hippy and bootylicious during the entire Kate Moss waif trend. Then, totally missing the boat on both ends, my body chose to revert back to waify twelve-year old proportions in middle-age, just in time to usher in the decade of the butt. I literally cried*** when that Meghan Trainor song was released because it was so catchy that I wanted to sing along, but in order to do so I had to call out "Skinny bitches"**** and lyrically agree that "Boys like a little more booty to hold at night.♫" Which leads me to publicly present a challenge to today's pop stars. It's great to celebrate all body types! But, please realize that you can celebrate yours without shaming others in return. Hear that, Meghan? Nicki? Other girls whose names I forgot because I'm not entirely up to date on pop music?

• Lost My Filter: My filter has slowly been slipping away from me since my twenties. The decline has only increased in rapidity at 40. I probably cuss more than I should. I definitely give more unsolicited advice than I should. I fast-tracked from age 39 to 80 in my comfort level of thinking I'm old enough to not have to censor myself. Which is not necessarily a good thing, I do realize. On the upside, it's caused me take better care of my self-worth. If somebody wrongs me, I suddenly have no problem calling them out on it. Which is something I could have never dreamed of doing half-a-lifetime ago. Has it made me popular? Of course not! But, it's sharpened my true friendships and pinched off the ones that were sapping my reserves. Forty had no time for drama. And, forty-one's schedule is looking pretty booked as well. 

• Lost My Grandma: Forty was a terrible year of loss for my family. Both sides lost their last matriarchs. Not just that, but personally my biggest cheerleaders as well. Through all the sadness, I had the privilege of sitting with my Grandma in hospice during her last weeks on this earth. I received from her the best compliments of my entire lifetime and advice that I will cherish forever and ever. Though, it was exhausting, I still miss her every day and have never fully finished grieving over that loss. As my birthday draws near, I will miss that yearly card from her where she would underline in ink pen every word in the lame Hallmark poem that reminded her of me. And, I will forever regret every year that I was too lazy to call and thank her for thinking of me.

• Lost My Way: This year, I decided to be good. Again. Like, daily. Constantly renewing that pledge. Every morning, asking God for a clean slate and yet another do-over. I'm learning to not only speak more kindly, act more kindly and (most importantly) react more kindly. (Powder Keg Mecham, at your service!) I'm really focusing on thinking more kindly, so there are no judgmental or unfriendly comments rooted anywhere to have any chance of slipping out. This used to come so naturally for me, which means my heart must have slipped into an ungrateful place somewhere along the way. I have decades-old walls I'm breaking down. Bear with me! They were there for good reason, but I've grown too old and tired to keep holding them up. I've heard unkind things about myself this year. I don't want to produce that same kind of hurt in others. If I love you, I'll show it. If I give you a compliment, I really mean it. There's no sugar-coating. I'm too lazy to waste my breath like that. 

• Gave in to the Stereotype and Became a Fur Mama: Forty and single equals cat mama... Der! I absolutely adore this girl. And, she seems to tolerate me in exchange. (Although, she's currently glaring at me for having the light on this late at night and impeding upon her 22nd hour of sleep for the day.) Is it cheesy to say she completes me? No, just creepy? Well, thanks for keepin' it real. 

So, last year's post... What did I know? I was just a young 39.99 year-old when I wrote it. Little did I know 40 was bringing with it the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. If this trend keeps up, 41 may possibly leave me with whiplash!*****

But, seeing that I won't see another milestone for nine years is quite a relief. What's on my "50" bucket list, you ask? Let's just start with "Not Dying" and take it from there.******

No pressure this decade.

*Okay, maybe slight exaggeration on my part. They're still pretty cute for their age. Supported or not. And, healthy, most importantly!

**ie. Flat as a board.

***Disclaimer: Hormone surges may also be partly at fault for tears.

****Don't argue that the following, "...Just playin' , I know you think you're fat.♫" lyric makes up for this. No, we don't think we're fat. We're now just doubting our desirability thanks to your insensitive lyrics. Big or small, booties are soft to the touch... and that's what really matters. Trust me, I'm older and wiser. There's no need to cut others down to build yourself up. Lecture over!

*****Whiplash. Best movie of my fortieth year. Go see it!

******And, less footnotes. :)

Give Me a Little Credit. No, Wait. Don't!

Today, I experienced a crowning achievement in my lifetime: 

I paid off  my last credit card!!!

For the first time in twenty years I have a cumulative credit card balance of zilch and what a feeling of relief that has washed over me!

That feeling is something I've never experienced in my entire adulthood, seeing that my first shiny Visa card was delivered via snail mail at the same age that my adulthood began, eighteen. 

It arrived with a limit much higher than my then annual salary. From that day, it only took a few years for that limit to be gradually raised to an amount which nearly equals of my current annual salary.  Even though I was still making near minimum wage at that time.

Brilliant move, creditors.  Well played.

So, what have I been paying off for twenty years?  I dunno...  *shrug*

But here's my best guess:

• Gasoline.  Yes, my "responsible" first credit card purchase was gasoline for the graduation beater.  My wise financial plan at the time was to open one credit card and use it to fill my gas tank.  I would use my allotted gas money to pay off the card balance every month; thus, responsibly building a credit history to eventually finance a car purchase before the graduation beater's engine had coughed its last breath. Then came shoes...
• When the need came for a new pair of church shoes, or work slacks, or the favorite pair of jeans whose hem became thready, I reasoned that well... it was probably okay to charge that one thing and then pay off my balance in two months.  One month of interest can't cost that much.  Right?  And, think of how that would boost my credit history even quicker.  (Eighteen-year-old logic.)  But, then I got hungry...
• My generation, in our late teens and twenties, ate out constantly. We didn't have kitchens and ovens of our own.  So, we met up over dinner, over weekend lunches, over midnight snacks.  It was social!  Growing up, my family only ate out once a week.  On Friday paydays.  And, "eating out" meant Wendy's or McDonald's, not table service.  (Paid for in cash, no less.)  On a special Sunday night, we might do Big Boy's after church.  Socializing, back then, consisted of inviting family friends over for a home-cooked meal, or being invited over family friends' house for an exchange of the same.  I don't know how Gen X decided we were entitled enough to be waited on and rich enough to dine out five days a week.  But, my guess is probably around the time we all got credit cards! (We were very generous tippers though.  I know this because I just finished paying off that waiter's tip who graduated college and got his first grown-up job fifteen years ago.  Too back he couldn't collect the interest on that tip, it might have helped with his student loans.) And, then I finally got that new car loan...
• Once I made my first new car purchase, money got tight!  Five years of car payments?  Whew, good thing I have that credit card for incidentals!  Then I got another crush...
• Having a crush on a guy would always require an "investment" of a couple new outfits.  I mean, getting this guy's attention could be the first step to an eventual proposal.  Then we could pay off each other's debts together as chirping bluebirds fly circling our heads.  Then you get dumped...
• A slap of reality can effect many facets of life.  With stars removed from one's eyes, the grass is less green, the sky is less blue, and the bills are all yours.  Long-term.  Your minimum payment is creeping up beyond your comfort zone.  You tap like crazy on the calculator, you look at calendars three years in advance, you freak out with your friends who are in similar credit debt situations.  Then came the helpful blank credit card "checks"...
• BIG ploy in the nineties!  Each credit card bill came with a sheet of blank checks you could write out to pay your bills, to make purchases, to transfer balances or even make out to yourself.  The draw was that purchases made specifically with these checks would be charged a separate lower interest rate.  Usually in the single digits.  Sometime 0%.  I'd put these checks aside just in case.  If the budget got too tight one month, I'd write one to myself for a cushion or to pay my largest bill.  (Hey, I'll pay that amount off later, but at lower interest!  Yep, twenty-something logic.)  I remember once being on sick leave for two months from a job that didn't offer sick pay.  I actually paid two different credit card bills with 0% checks from the other's account.  Yes, I swapped a portion of the balance of two credit cards just because I couldn't make the minimum payment on either.  I dodged two payments with one fell swoop and it saved my credit score from taking a non-payment hit.  It also made me oddly prideful that I managed to eke out the bills once again without ever asking my parent's for a loan.  Then, I knew it was time to buckle down...

Yes, my spending spiral only lasted about half the length of time that my debt did.  I spent the next decade paying off bills for clothes that had already been donated to Goodwill, meals that had been digested and flushed away ages ago, investments in men that were no longer around and gasoline that was now vapors.  The consumerism frenzy that is my generation's produced not one lasting result.

Well, except, lessons for the next generation.  I can now warn of my biggest traps:

• Thriftiness.  Yes, thriftiness!  I love clothes, but I love a good bargain too.  I've always prided myself on never paying full price for anything.  I used to love when people thought I was wearing $50 jeans, but I secretly knew they were $12.99 knock-offs from the clearance rack.  I wasn't opposed to name-brands, but would find mine with red tags, at the designer's outlet store or, best yet, with a red tag at the outlet store!  This is smart shopping.  But, not if you don't have the money in the bank to make the purchase.  Outlet stores accept those store charge cards too.  Don't fall for the trap!  You only need seven outfits to get through the week and to laundry day.  Not thirty to get through the month, if you can't afford it.  A good deal's not a good deal if you're shopping with credit, period. (And, just think, what were $50-grade jeans back then are now $150 jeans these days!)
• Store charge discounts.  "You can save 25% off your purchase if you sign up for an account with us today!"  But, with usually double the interest rate of your standard Visa or Mastercard, stores will make back that 25% back and more in no time.  
• "Investments".  Don't make investments in anything with a credit card.  The guys aren't even noticing your new threads.  That job interview you "need" the new outfit for, won't know the difference if your pantsuit was bought second hand.  Skip the investment and shop instead with that first paycheck once you get the job.
• Socializing.  There's no law that states that socializing has to be done under the watchful eye of a hostess, waiter and bus-boy.  Bonding has been known to take place over a cup of Ramen Noodles  just as effectively.  I swear!  It's been done.
• Technology.  I was never a technology sucker... but, I'll throw this in because everyone else seems to be.  You don't need the latest and greatest. Two year old technology works just as well.  I am devoted to Amazon and Ebay for used gadget purchasing.  My most recent purchase was my first Ipod. (Yep, in 2013.  Told ya.  Not much of a technology sucker...)  I researched online which model best-suited my simple needs, but wasn't too outmoded to be used realistically.  Online research protects you from sales pressure and up-selling you'll get if you walk into a store without a clue.  I needed something that played music; no games, internet, movie-watching, etc.  I've got enough gadgets that already do all of that!  I chose a fifth generation Nano purchased on Ebay for about 2/3 of the price of a new 7th generation one.  Free shipping.  Oh yeah... and it's paid for.  Not charged!
• Panic purchasing.  Once you realize you're in deep, don't freak out and shop to comfort yourself.  You'd be surprised how many people do this!  Myself included.  "I'm never going to pay this off, so I may as well buy this too."  It seems like a weird concept on paper, but makes perfect sense in the moment somehow.  Stop!  It's never too late to stop the cycle.  A great motivator for me was discovering Dave Ramsey's talk show.  It came on the radio every night during my evening commute.  Listening to his forceful yet somehow simultaneously caring voice chastise callers with, "You can't afford it!  Why would you buy it?" and "Why do you need a new car?" and "Why are you eating out instead of paying down your debt with that money?" was a great motivator. (http://www.daveramsey.com/home/)  Hearing others struggle, helped the problem not seem mine alone. And, hearing practical advice from a financial expert, for free, was priceless!
• Feeling "grown up".  Yep, I was eighteen years old when this cycle began.  You don't need a credit card to be an adult.  About 76% of college students have at least one credit card and the average college student already carries $3,173 in credit card debt.  College students.  Those are 18-21 year olds!  Most not even earning that amount in wages from their part-time jobs around campus.  They then graduate, hopefully get a full-time job, just to become full-fledged adults with an average of $15,204 in credit card debt now.  Their slice of the American credit card debt pie of $848 billion.  (Not to mention the average $33,005 in student loans they get to lug around too.)

I don't know the solution to the problem.  

I guess the first step is educating the young ones around you about fiscal responsibility starting early.  Everytime I've taken my nephews and niece on vacation, I've allotted them a certain amount of spending money for them to choose their own souvenirs with.  Some are broke by Day 2, some return home with pocket change.  It's not only a good lesson, but a good gauge for who to keep my eye on through the years.  Little things like this, I'm hoping will add up to good spending habits.

Most of all, I think our honesty is the biggest lesson.  I haven't been the best consumer but learn from my mistakes, young ones!  

I know there may be some in the more responsible generation that are shocked I even chose share this news so publicly. It's not proper. Finances are supposed to be a private thing. 

But, if my generation isn't the most fiscally responsible, there is one area we do excel in: Sharing and supporting.  

It's a long tunnel that alot of us have been trapped in, but it's not an endless one.  And, believe me!  That breath of fresh air at the end is definitely worth moving forward for.

Statistics by:
http://www.statisticbrain.com/credit-card-debt-statistics/  and www.nerdwallet.com

2013: Resolute

New Year's resolutions... Who's made them this year?

I don't make a habit of the annual tradition.  Every now and then I'll take the oath.  Life was in a bit of a tailspin last year, so I did it.

This year is starting much more on track, however.  So, rather than vowing any vows myself, I thought I'd assign a few resolutions to others instead.

Facebook friends:  I resolve, on your behalf, to give me one day's newsfeed free of gun control debate.  Pro, con... doesn't matter.  I'm simply asking for one day that my newsfeed remains entirely amusement only. 

Rihanna: Disable your Twitter account.  There's this thing called "oversharing" and it will haunt you twenty years from now.

Lindsay Lohan: Take what's left of your money and go to college.  Night school, not university.  No dorms, no parties.  Surround yourself with books and learning.  Converse only with the sober.  Avoid the camera lens with the determination of the Amish and the strength of an aborigine.  Shun your family.  Take one year to look at others without forcing them to look at you.

Psy:  Remember William Hung?  Us neither.  Count your money while following his footsteps.

Young Hollywood:  Film-makers and stars: You're funny without the "shock".  You can be provacative without the vulgar.  And, newsflash!  The f-word is not an adjective, it is a verb.  Using it 50 times per film in its unintended tense does not a comic make.  Be smart.  On your behalf, I resolve one PG film from Judd Apatow, Seth MacFarlane, Paul Rudd, Jonah Hill and Seth Rogan apiece.  Consider yourself challenged.  It will be the best work of your life!

Claire Danes: Just for kicks... a comedy.  I dare you!

Boo Boo Family (That's Honey's last name, right?): She's getting taller, older, less cute-little-princessy... Come up with a game plan. Stat!

Taylor Swift: For you, I resolve a one year dating fast.  There's a world of music beyond break-up songs.  And, I'm beginning to think a secret society's been created by the young men who've served as muse.  (Joe Jonas to Jon Mayer, "Only one song, John! Pfft.  I was inspiration enough for three!")  You're young,  talented, rich and beautiful. Best yet... for a star of your age, your reputation is still pretty much intact.  (For now.)  Be free!  Be otherwise inspired!

Glee: Spin off the New York storyline as was originally intended.  It's good, but it's different and needs its own vehicle.  The college scenes are draining the color, vibrancy and spunk out of the high school ones.  And, when did Glee suddenly become a small screen version of Center Stage?  More singing less dance class, please!

Bakers:  Find a new trend.  We already had cake, cupcakes, mini cupcakes, ice cream cake, cake with fruit, cake with filling and cakes unnaturally shellacked in fondant.  There was never really a need for cake pops, was there?

Zombies:  Die already!  Again.

.

Mother Nature: A little tenderness this year?

Things the World Can Shut Up About Any Time Now

Here is a list of things I'm officially tired of hearing about at the moment:

Gabby Douglas's hair:  Gabby Douglas is a beautiful, extraordinarily talented girl.  So why the fuss over her hair?  I'm tired of hearing mothers, who pay exorbitant amounts of moolah to have chemicals drenched and a weave sewn into their  own young daughters' hair, criticizing the care and keeping given by our national hero's mama.  Her hair is, yes, relaxed and then pulled into a bun when working... like every other gymnasts' on earth.  Then, off duty, she wears the exact same hairstyle as my own teen-aged niece.  So the real question is, You got a problem with my niece's hair?   

 

Miley's hair: I absolutely love Miley Cyrus's new hairdo!  It suits her face, it suits her personality and it definitely suits her age.  So why do I keep reading headlines of shock and awe about whether there are deeper issues involved in this celebrity's haircut?  The world has no control over any one person's personal style choices and the sooner the world realizes this, the happier I'll be.  She is not really Hannah Montana!  And, besides, *secret to be spilt* Hannah Montana wore a wig.  I tried a very short hair cut myself in my twenties, the best time to experiment with extreme fashion.  I even tried to frost it to this shade of platinum, but mine turned out yellow instead.  Shocked?  Nope.  Jealous?  Absolutely.

Lindsay Lohan. Period.: Once upon a time, I watched Freaky Friday, Confessions of Teenage Drama Queen and Mean Girls so many times with my niece that I couldn't even venture a guess at the tally.  She was such a promising young actress at the time and then something went slightly off kilter.  The world took notice, then something went drastically wrong.  The world, then, never stopped paying attention, perpetuating a spiral that apparently was never to be recovered from.  World: Please, stop looking at her.  It's the only cure.  (Remember Speidi?  No?  Good.  See, my theory is now proven.)

Passive/aggressive Facebook posts featuring unsolicited parental advice: We get it, we get it... you're a good mom or dad.  No one doubted you. No one needed proof.  And, certainly no one wanted advice that didn't ask for it.  You see, being a good parent isn't a rarity.  Most parents I know are pretty great at it.  So, quit assuming you're way is best when most other parenting styles are working just as effectively.  Don't expect the world to praise you for refusing to vaccinate.  Don't expect a trophy for forcing your child to go vegan.  And, the world will absolutely not be throwing a banquet in your honor because you chose to breastfeed until the age of five.  The sooner you realize this, the sooner friends will start "liking" your statuses again. 

 

The chemicals I may be ingesting, at my own will, as a grown human being: Going along with the previous category; I myself don't need advice about my own diet either.  I have been eating meat, dairy, processed foods, carbs, preservatives and additives my entire life.  And, guess what?  I have my doctor's seal of approval!  If a number skews ever-so-slightly in a worrisome direction upon any visit, we make the appropriate dietary adjustments to correct and move on.  So, while I salute your self-control and your acquired taste for foods that taste like yard grass, while I tolerate your tolerance to ingest a product with the word "germ" in its title... I am uninterested in participating.  I eat, not for political or social agenda, but to stay fueled and living.  Seeing that I'm upright at the moment, breathing and typing... it appears that my way works too.  (Remember: It's your b.m.'s that are unusual in color and texture, not mine.)

Your political convictions: Newsflash! Your offensive critiques, exhausting Facebook rants and "clever" memes have yet to sway a single soul.  Yes, you're passionate.  You have your convictions.  But, guess what? We all do!  And, they're rarely identical.  That's why we show up at those polling stations with the little walled off booths that make one's vote private and sacred.  The way they were meant to be.

The designer names of your attire: When you're talking about your shoes, they're not your "Jimmy Choos", they're your shoes.  When your putting on your jacket, your not putting on your "Burberry", it's simply your jacket to rest of the world.  When you're digging through your purse, you're not digging through your "Louis Vuitton", it's just a bag, for the love of Pete!  If you feel the need to turn every label into a noun, think long and hard about why you feel the need to do that and then be very sad with yourself.  If you, then, still feel the need to pronounce your "Gucci"s, I'll give you a head start while zip up my Gaps and lace up my Targets.

Christmas Shopping: On your mark!

I have been in a continual nervous sweat ever since Halloween because it was then that I'd realized that I hadn't started my Christmas shopping yet! 

Call me paranoid, over-prepared, or just plain crazy, but I usually have the bulk of it done by now.  I'm just a poor secretary, you see, so buying a couple things here, a couple things there, starting in October is the best way for me to avoid using that credit card that I'm so close to having paid off after nearly twenty years of trying.

Last night I jumped in feet first after receiving a 20% off coupon for Kohl's in the mail.  Kohl's is a great store and very conveniently located to where I live.  But, Kohl's is also the king of brainwashing.  If you've ever paid full price for something at Kohl's,  you're a sucker (sorry, was trying to be delicate there!)  Every single item in the store is overpriced by a whopping percentage.  That way they can have amazing sales every single week offering you 40-50% off.  You're not going to pay the $40 on the tag for a pair of pajamas.  But, you might pay $20 when you see the huge "50% off!" sign on the rack above it.  (P.S. those jammies are probably actually worth $10.) 

Most of the clothes and housewares at Kohl's are their own signature brands, so they can play the whole mark-up game (I love many of the Kohl's signature brands, however, so if you can find a good sale + coupon combo or wait it out until the clearance rack, you can still get a decent price.) Brand names is where you can really score big at this store.  If you venture into the toy aisle, you'll see that the toys, books and games are all brand name, so the discounts there are sincere (Albeit smaller.  More like 10-20%.)  The selection is smaller than your average department or store toy, only a couple meager aisles, but they have a diverse selection, so if you see what you need you can usually do pretty well.  I got a toy with a retail price of $39.99 yesterday that was on sale for $23.99.  My coupon brought the price down to $19.19.  It's hard to find a more than 50% discount at an actual toy store, so "Go me!"  (Another cheap place you may have never thought of for toys is Big Lots.  So long as you're not looking for key lighting and snooty ambiance in your shopping experience, Big Lots is worth a gander.)

Where Kohl's shopping rules is where the coupons are involved.  Now, the only way to get on the coupon wagon is to sign up for a Kohl's charge, so only those with self-control read ahead.  The coupons they'll mail you can only be used on Kohl's charge card purchases (ie. You can not use the coupon and then pay with cash or debit.)  The idea on their end being that you'll impulsively shove more into your over-sized cart and then pay the bill off in increments, earning them interest on your purchase as well.  Coupons can range between 15-30% off and involve a lottery like thrill of peeling off a secret sticker to reveal what your random discount will be this time around.  (Upset I didn't get 30% off this season, but relieved it was more than 15%.  They've got me suckered too, I guess...)

Set a budget, put that money aside and pay that bill the moment it arrives in the mail.  Or, you can be like a savvy relative of mine who, immediately after using a coupon, will toss her shopping bags into the car turn right back around, march to the service desk, and pay the bill that same day.  No one's getting any interest charges out of this family!

So, with coupon in hand (or purse) I took Kohl's by storm last night.  Holiday music being piped in from above as my soundtrack, I scored gifts for four and somehow rewarded myself with four gifts for myself as well.  This is a Christmas shopping problem with me.  I always feel such pride in checking names off of my list, that I feel I've earned some sort of trophy prize.  Sure, I did need a couple pairs of pants and sweaters for work.  But, if I peeked into my over-stuffed closet with honest eyes, I'd probably realize that "need" may just be another four-letter word in my vocabulary.  (What I really "needed" was some newer pants and sweaters.)

So, today was Target's turn.  No holiday music at Target, just the out-of-tune symphony of toddlers wailing away in their shopping carts. No coupons at Target either, but their sales are pretty reasonable and their clearance even better! 

I got stumped in the toy aisle after seeing this cushy cuddly Joker doll. (?!)  There were two of them lying in a display box together, like a dual-sized coffin, staring up at the ceiling with that evil-making grin frozen in place.  Blech!  Nightmares anyone?

After I recovered from the Joker-as-a-cuddly-bedmate-for-children shock, I was able to check four more people off of my list and I even put my "reward" pair of black boots back on the shelf, if you can believe it!  (I can't.  Although I already own three pairs of tall black boots, and two pairs or short ones.  These ones were medium-height and clearanced out to only $17.98.  Okay, Kim, you did the right thing, don't dwell...)  I did somehow end up with a new hat though.  But, it was only because it was clearanced out to a mere $2.48.  I didn't need a new hat either, but that's just Taco Bell change, and it's ever so slightly cuter than the dozen I already own, so no lectures!

Reaching the almost half-way point in my shopping before Thanksgiving is thrilling!  And, so long as I can keep my own "needs" and trophies out of the picture, the rest of this shopping season should be a breeze. 

Foods I HATE!

I always knew Anderson Cooper and I were soul mates. But, now he's officially confirmed it by admitting on his new talk show that he doesn't like to eat greens or drink hot beverages. 

I thought I was the only person who managed to reach middle-age without slurping down a cup of coffee every morning and choking down those salads that restaurants try to convince us are a required course of every meal.

In fact, I'll do Anderson one better and raise the ante by one pork chop, meatloaf and strawberry.

These are the foods that I despise:

• Pork chops - The grossest of all meats.  I prefer my pork by way of bacon, ham or hot dog.  I don't know which part of the pig is the chop, and from the tastes of it... I don't wanna!
• Meatloaf - Who ever thought to smush so much hamburger meat together and pretend that ketchup is its gravy?  Who requires meat by the loaf, when a patty topped with cheese and placed between two buns tastes so much better? (Or between toast with Parmesan grilled to the outside. Yum!)
• Strawberries - Their color is disturbingly radioactive.  But, it's their texture that remains totally unnecessary!  No food should feel like a cross between corduroy, Velcro and tree moss dragging across your taste buds.  If a strawberry sits on my plate, I can feel hives form just by looking at it.
• Hot beverages of any kind - I drink to quench my thirst.  Novel idea, I know.  I never understood what good could come from pouring hot, dirty, burnt-tasting water down your gullet and I probably never will.  (And, tea tastes just as unsanitary.) When I was a kid, I would resign to accepting the hot chocolate my mom would make for us when we'd come in from playing in the snow.  But, the secret is, I'd just scoop out the warm marshmellows while they were still somewhat crunchy.  Where'd the hot chocolate go?  Only the sewer system knows... and it ain't talking!
• Wet things on meat - Chicken tastes best when it's a plump, juicy, skinless breast baked at 400 degrees and maybe lightly salted.  Or, when battered and fried and clogging my arteries.  (I should go ahead and mention that I'll also accept my chicken in McNugget form.)  I do not like wet stuff on my chicken.  Don't try to gravy it, sauce it, or glop it up in any other such way and then charge me extra while I'm left with the inconvenience of having to wipe it all back off.  Chicken is good and delicious on its own.  Why try to mask that beautiful flavor?  Don't ketchup my hamburger or mustard my hot dog while we're at it either.  P.S. Hold the barbecue sauce as well.
• Any solid food mixed in mashed potatoes - If you mix your peas in your mashed potatoes you were probably dropped on your head as an infant.  This goes as well for the mastermind at KFC that decided we might also like our corn and meat mixed in them.  You are a grown-up.  You have moved past Gerber Graduates.
• Pickles - There's something pickle-lovers just don't understand.  When a non-pickle-lover finds that a pickle has been accidentally (or evilly and with full intention) placed in their sandwich they cannot "just pick it off!"  Once a pickle has touched bread or bun, it has tainted it.  Permanently.  There is no going back.  Tomato, this goes for you too.

So, I didn't see the full Anderson episode, but from what I previewed it seemed to be some sort of intervention looking for psychological reasons that Anderson is a picky eater. 

Awww, lay off him!  From one picky eater to another, we were forced to eat enough disgusting stuff as kids. We buy our own groceries, we make our own meals... now is the time to eat what we want.  If something is offensive to your palate, there's no reason to pretend.  Teasing your gag reflex is a habit you can leave behind at your childhood dinner table. 

Take a multi-vitamin and repeat after me:

"I will not eat peas, you can't make me eat peas, I will never be forced to eat peas again!"

Why?

THAT Appointment

I've been poked in so many places today I've lost count!  At the doctor's office.  Yes.  It's that day.  The day all women count down to every year with dread and anxiety.  (Men, if you're squeamish you may take today's blog off.)  I'll be trying to navigate today's entry with prudish cautiousness as not to come across as vulgar but, if you haven't figured out what today is, you obviously have the wrong body parts and didn't stop reading two sentences ago as requested.

With all the advances in medical science you'd think there'd be a less barbaric way to get a look in there. But, I'm assured that there is not.  Maybe because I have a doctor who has an evil habit of laying the tools out one by one it front of me like torture devices. I don't know if she does this on purpose or not, but it seems this is a ceremony that could probably be performed before calling me in from the waiting room. Today after she clunked down each metal apparatus, she looked at me sideways and cheekily tossed a paper cloth over them as we had this exchange. Me, "Yep. Cover them up!" She, "Well, there's no reason to stare at them while we're talking." Me, "And, I will if they're not covered up."   (Then again, I'm also the patient who feels the need to watch as my blood is being drawn, shots are being administered and stitches being stitched... So, maybe I'm the sicko.)  Luckily, I also have a doctor that shares the same sense of humor as me, so it's easier to relax through the pokes and tugs while you're chuckling.

I like to keep my doctor's visits to a minimum, so I multitask with them.  Today I went whole hog.  I'm already there for the worst part, so I always toss in a physical, all my blood work for the year (fasting blood work.  Upon being asked, "Did you fast for 12 hours?" I rudely replied, "YES! And, I'm STARVING!" Low blood sugar much?), x-rays, dietary and digestive concerns and, today, I also got talked into a flu shot as the frosting on this bitter pill.  (May as well stuff as much into one copay as possible!)  I went through my mental checklist while staring at the mobile hanging from the examining room ceiling and realized I'd forgotten one thing.  I was literally still in the stirrups when I decided, "Oh yeah, let's talk about my swollen knee!"  Keep her prisoner while she's yours ladies!  (Or him.  But, if you're seeing a him, try to find a her.  It makes all the difference in the world.  I promise.)

In the end (no pun intended), I came home with new diet restrictions to add to my already enforced cholesterol and blood sugar friendly ones.  A pamphlet of knee exercises. ("Didn't I give you these to do last year?"  "Ummm.... I think I lost the paper...")  And, two fresh stab wounds to my left arm. 

Every year as this day draws near I question myself as to why I'm going through with it again.  Then I remember that the good doc also withholds all pills once your year's supply runs out.  So, to make the best of it, I always take the day off of work as a reward to myself for following through and not canceling. Sometimes I'll go shopping afterward, sometimes a trip to the zoo... whatever the reward, it is certainly well-earned and the rest of you women should "treat" yourself as well.  Seeing that my fresh stab wounds feel like a dump truck has run over my bicep, today's reward was diminished to lounging in the backyard reading old fashion magazines. Still beats a day at work!

Just remember, there once was a time when we didn't have these advances and women's "female problems" went undiagnosed and untreated.  If the technology is there, how can we not take advantage of it?  It's worth the few moments of discomfort (and if you have a female doctor; she's been there, she knows and she'll go quick!)  As, my doctor finished up today with the "worst part" today she announced, "Done!"  To which I sighed, "Yay! The most dreaded moment of my year is over!"  She replied, 'Hey. If that's the worst part of your year... then you're having a pretty good year!"

I think she may be onto something.

Situation Gets His Clock Cleaned?!

All season long MTV's been hyping that a huge knock down, drag-out fight was impending between Ronnie and Situation on the Jersey Shore.

Yeah, so it just aired and I guess I must have missed it.  I didn't leave the room or anything, so I don't know when I missed it.  I saw screaming, forehead veins throbbing, Ronnie throwing furniture around (like usual), Sitch foaming at the mouth, then I saw Mike knock his own self out by banging his head against a concrete wall.  He writhed on the ground a bit, then seemed to have blacked out.  Suddenly, he creepily arose from the floor like a horror movie villain that refuses to die.  The two then lunge at one another again, but the show's security team broke them apart before any punches were thrown.

During Sitch's "confession" scene he insults Ron's fighting abilities and proudly states that he didn't get a scratch on him.  Totally ignorant to the fact that this is a TV show and there were cameras filming the whole thing.  Yes, we saw you knock yourself out.  Yes, we saw security intervene.  Mike lives in his own reality.  Fortunately for us, the editors are in on the joke.  When he constantly denies having said things, then they'll play the denied quote on a loop three times straight. 

Through the whole "fight" he acted like a man who knows he has no chance of winning, so his only defense is to act crazy enough to scare his opponent away.  It's an obvious strategy that been used throughout the ages.  Yet, when he admits this actually was his planned defense, Ronnie acts stunned. "Why would you do that? Ha ha ha!"  Because that's how weak men have fought for centuries now.

I don't even know why I'm still watching this show.  I hate drama, it gives me a headache.  I hate sleazy behavior and think the show's a terrible influence on young teens.  Maybe I watch it so I can be "in on" it and discuss it with my friends the next day.  Maybe, because it's been more comic this year (seeing that since they've been filming in Italy and the guys are having a much harder time finding one night stands. Nanner nanner.)  Maybe, because I desperately want to "fix" all of them so they can be normal functioning members of society.

Maybe if I can fix them, I won't have to watch them anymore.  Worth a shot!

Here's my advice for fixing the cast of Jersey Shore:

Sammi: Shush.  Yes, just shush your mouth.  Don't nag.  Don't whine.  If you break up with somebody, you're officially giving up your right to nag them, control who they talk to and bring up the sins of their past.  Once you're broken up, you don't need to remind that person of every wrongdoing from the past three years.  Don't even look at him anymore.  Don't get drunk and tell him you still love him.  And, you probably shouldn't put yourself in situations where you're still required to live in the same house with him EVER again.

Ronnie:  Steroids are bad.  Stop using them and pretending it's mere Xenodrine.  Stop after one drink.  Two if it's your birthday. Stop throwing furniture, it's not a productive release of frustration.  Once you're broken up with somebody, stop paying them any mind.  Don't watch everyone she talks to and dream up what those conversations are about.  You don't need to remind that person of every wrongdoing from the past three years. Don't even look at her anymore. Don't get drunk and tell her you still love her.  And, you probably shouldn't put yourself in situations where you're still required to live in the same house with her EVER again.

J-Woww:  You've actually become the "big girl" in the house.  Good job on the monogamy.  Good job with defusing fights and giving good advice.  Good job on restraining from writing anymore anonymous letters.  Just try not to go back to stirring the pot again. (And, thank you for letting us just call you "Jenny" now.)

Vinnie: Stop being a man-whore.  You were so sweet the first season.  Don't sleep with your roommates and confuse their emotions.  They're women. No matter what they tell you, they care. It matters. It's always a big deal.

Paulie: Stop being a man-whore.  You were so sweet the first season... Oh wait.  Just keep up the comic relief.  (P.S. This can be done without SHOUTING too, y'know?)  And, maybe change up the "T" of your GTL routine to maybe an every other day type of thing.  Orange forehead creases aren't this season's look.

Snooki: Stop drinking. 

Deena: Stop trying to prove yourself as a cast member.  You made it to your second season, you're in.  You don't have to try to be what you think MTV wants you to be (ie. one of the guys, wing woman, bi-curious, sleazy drunk.)  Unless this is just who you really are. In which case, CHANGE!

Mike (Situation):  Quit expecting everyone to call you that ridiculous nickname.  Your momma named you Mike, so you're just Mike.  Quit trying to make drama with every single person who tries to be your friend.  If this is truly entertaining to yourself, realize it is to no one else.  Not your friends, not your viewing audience.  Get a hobby.  Don't wait to tell "secrets" to people until a camera is in the room.  You know it's not a secret when you're televising it to an entire viewing audience.  Quit telling lies.  Quit trying to ruin everyone else's relationships/reputations with your little girl gossip.  Quit hitting on your roommates.  Quit calling yourself "The Leader" of the house ('cause you're not.)  Quit trying to convince us you're cool ('cause you're not.)  Quit trying to convince us you're hot.  Quit trying to invent catchphrases.  Quit trying to have any contact with women.  You're sleazy.  You're pathetic.  Stop being... um... you.  Pick someone else... anyone else.  Be them instead.

Foot-losers

The more I see or read about the new Footloose movie, the angrier I get!

What is it with the need to remake every good movie and t.v. show that I grew up with?  Is Hollywood really getting that lazy? The thing that kills me about the new version of Footloose is that it seems that they didn't even bother rewriting the script! Taking Hollywood laziness to a whole new low.

In the trailer I saw at the movie theater, the characters all have the same names, Ren is still cruising around in the same old VW Bug, there's the same angry gymnastic dance scene, the same closeups of the dancing Chuck Taylors, the same menacing boyfriend, the same "teaching Willard to dance" montage, the same "needy Ariel screaming in front of a train" and the same exact soundtrack (only rerecorded by younger artists!) They even showed the exact same scene of the cop flipping the driver's license underneath Ren's chin, "Watch that attitude son!" 

The only things they seemed to update is that Ariel's hair is now a darker shade of blond, Willard is half as manly, Ren's hairdresser is trying to intentionally do to Kenny Wormald's hair what Kevin Bacon's hair does on its own and Sarah Jessica Parker's character is now of a different race.  I may have seen a little bit of hip-hop dancing too. Whoopee!

Why does Hollywood regard the sacredness of certain movies like Breakfast at Tiffany's, Some Like it Hot, The Godfather... but, sees the need to remake every thing else?

Here are my rules for what you're allowed to remake:

1. Anything we didn't bother watching the first time around.
2. Anything first made in a language not of my own dialect.
3. Anything that originally earned a less than two-star review.
4. Anything dated enough to now be considered cheesy or camp.
5. Anything you're going to modernize so much that it doesn't bear any resemblance to the original.
6. If you're going "spoof", that's always okay.  (Think Austin Powers, Airplane, Naked Gun...) It may not always be good (Spy Hard) but it is allowed.
7. Any horror movie, because everybody does it and I'm not going to watch either version anyway.

Who did the remake right?

• Charlie's Angels who followed rules #4 and #5. I would usually say you should wait at least 40 years to remake something that was so popular the first time around.  But anything made in the 1970s (or by Aaron Spelling, for that matter) gets an immediate free pass. The cheese factor on this decade automatically grants you a 25 year head start.  The story lines, fight scenes, special effects and art direction of tweaking the three female lead concept to be appropriately one blond,  one brunette and one redhead all worked for me.  I even loved all the sequels.
• Gone in 60 Seconds - I never even knew there was an original (made in 1974), so I'm guessing this follows rule #1 and most probably rule #3.  I don't know what it is about this movie, but they did everything right if they were specifically seeking me as an audience member. I can't even tell you how many times I watched it.  Great soundtrack too!
• Mr. Deeds - I'm LOLing at myself right now for making this choice. But it worked! It was well over the 40-year mark from the original Frank Capra Mr. Deeds Goes to Town (1936). I would even argue rules #5 and #6. I guess adding Adam Sandler as the lead in any project updates the humor to an immediately recognizable modern level and it's goofiness we can swap for spoofiness.  I was actually surprised to go back and watch the original after the remake's release and recognize a few of the original scenes that they kept around (like playing the "echo echo echo" game in the foyer. Was Gary Cooper actually his generation's Sandler?)
• Ocean's Eleven - Adhering to rules #1, #3 and #5. I went through a major Rat Pack phase in the the 1990's, but never did bother seeing the original Ocean's Eleven that was made in 1960. I don't think it was even available on VHS until after the 21st century remake. But, IMDB gave the 1960 version a score of 6.4 out of 10 which, according to my high school report card key, is a D grade (barely passing).   Safe to remake. Even Sinatra would approve!
• Scent of a Woman (orig. Profumo di donna)  See rule #2. See Al Pacino's Oscar.
• You've Got Mail - Made 58 years after the original (1940's The Shop Around the Corner), rule #5 is in place and you all now see how this game is played.

I wanted to also throw a bone to the 2005 film Bewitched which starred Nicole Kidman and Will Ferrell, but I was worried I'd be flogged.  Although I'd still argue it followed rules #5 and #6 in such a clever way of being a movie about a television studio that is trying to remake the hit series. In it, they accidentally cast an actual witch (Nicole Kidman) and hilarity ensues.  People stayed away from the theaters in droves because of the sanctity in their minds of the original. But, I'd beg you to give it a try because I think alot got lost in the concept of what this remake's intention was. The supporting cast alone is worth the 102 minutes of your time. Shirley MacLaine, Michael Caine, Jason Schwartzman, Kristin Chenoweth and Steve Carrell, they all got it and came on board! Maybe I'm just a sucker for colorful set decorating and fun wardrobes. (Also explaining my wearing out my copies of Clueless and Legally Blonde.) I think I just convinced myself to watch this one again tonight.

Anyhoo... That is how it's done.  Not like Parent Trap, which wasn't outdated enough for a remake and was wonderful the first time around. (Freaky Friday, however, gets my pass. Rules #4 and #5 intact.) I wasn't pleased with the remake of Hairspray either. The original was a critical darling and there was no reason for it to be redone other than to include the new songs from the Broadway show (and there was no reason whatsoever for me to ever lay my eyes on John Travolta in drag!)  I believe Tim Burton had intentions of using rule #4 as his explanation of 2005's Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. But, instead of removing the campiness/creepiness of the 1971 original he somehow managed to multiply that quotient by 103 percent.

So those are the rules.  If it was perfect the first time, don't remake it.  If you can't follow rules #1-7, don't remake it.  If it once starred Audrey Hepburn, don't remake it.  If it was originally directed by Alfred Hitchcock, hands off.  If was originally directed by John Hughes, don't you dare!

And, if I find out on October 14 that the new Footloose's closing scene begins with Ren running into the prom screaming, "I thought this was a party?  LET'S DANCE!!!" while being showered in glitter, I'll be inviting all the executives from Spyglass Entertainment, MTV Films and Paramount Pictures to line up before me to be consecutively smacked across the face.

South Detroit?

I love the band Journey.  Let me state that loud and clear before I even launch into anything here. "Open Arms" is a wonderful song as is my personal favorite "Lovin', Touchin', Squeezin'."  I love the effortlessness of Steve Perry's vocal range.  I grew up loving them and still enjoy listening to their music to this very day.

That said, I have one wee little pet peeve that has driven me mad for decades now.  I feel that, if I publicly address this, maybe I can free myself from the instinctual cringing that happens every time I hear the famous little tune, "Don't Stop Believing."  You know, the one about the small town girl who's living in a lonely world?  And, the city boy born and raised in South Detroit?

Now I totally buy that the girl is very much from small town America and very well may be lonesome. But, there's no way I'm sold on the city boy coming from South Detroit. Why not?  Well, because as any SE Michigander can tell you, there is no such place.  Granted, I grew up just outside the city in what would be considered Detroit's metropolis. And, even though I wasn't allowed to venture into the city without a male companion growing up, even then I could tell you that driving south through Detroit only brings you to the Downtown area.  Drive further south and find yourself in the Detroit River.  If you venture even more southerly, (which you can only do by bridge, tunnel or proper scuba gear) you will be asked to present your passport or enhanced driver's license because you are now entering Windsor, Ontario. Yes, Canada. (Bonus trivia fact: You can only enter Canada driving south from two places in the U.S. Alaska and Detroit, MI.)

I'm sure the band chose this phony locale strictly for poetic reasons or simple rhyming's sake. But, I've seen the video and it would have seemed more plausible if this character was raised in Staten Island, Hoboken or Southie Boston.

Detroit's People Mover

I've also always assumed that both parties must have relocated to New York City. Because if the midnight train was in the small town, it would be an Amtrak and it wouldn't actually be located in the small town, but the nearest large city.  If the midnight train was located in "South Detroit", which for argument's sake we'll say is Downtown Detroit (where no one really grew up either,) it would be the Detroit People Mover, which didn't even open until six years after the song's release. (And, the People Mover actually closes operation at midnight Sundays through Thursdays. You can, however, ride until 2 am Friday and Saturday nights.) So, we'll just settle on the fact that the midnight train is in NYC and it is a subway car as the chorus leads into it's mighty swell.

This little fact used to simply be a small annoyance when the song would come on the radio every now and then.  Then came this scene on the MTV show Laguna Beach: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9nWG7go1LS0&feature=related 

The song has been revived and the youth are being brainwashed!  Then this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rnT7nYbCSvM 

And then, of course, this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5WxPyUzWSPA&feature=related 

That's where I put my foot down in protest, because now I'm hearing these lyrics over and over and over again, with not a care for proper geography.  Poor innocent Rachel Berry, convincing the world that this magical place exists. Smiling as if she's even seen it with her own two eyes.

So, I'm simply asking Journey to replace this one phrase with perhaps the words "Staten Island" or "Brooklyn Heights".  Get the Glee kids to perform it several times using these new lyrics and it will catch on like wildfire.  No one will even remember the faux pas ever existed and I could then rest easy at night. 

Now, I would never expect you stop believing... that would be selfish of me. But I would request that, when writing future lyrics about places you're unfamiliar with, you start using Mapquest or, at the very least, Wikipedia.