Monday, October 10, 2016


then when you throw-up at the sight of Donald Trump, you're near the toilet!

We dwindled down to three then there was only me, my two other friends declining; one decided to clean the laundry room, the other to sort through kitchen cabinets instead. This is how bad it is. In this sense, Donald Trump inspires one to CLEAN since he is such a narcissistic filthy pig of a human being. It was no wonder my girlfriends opted to clean...

The sight of him this time caused actual physical nausea in me, listening to his sociopathic jabber, looking at his ugly petulant baby-face whenever there is any suggestion he show contrition--his  face scrunches up, his lips pop out, and his eyes shrink into slits. Did I feel like throwing up not only because he is so disgusting but also over the idea that my country, this troubled yet great nation of ours, offers up such a megalomaniac, really, to be our PRESIDENT?

How much more evidence do those of you in power--say of our "national debates"-- want that we must abandon the two party system in this country?  In a country as diverse as America, to have, STILL, only two choices is enough to want to make you throw up in and of itself.

WE NEED FUNDAMENTAL CHANGES IN OUR ELECTION SYSTEM TO EASILY ALLOW MORE THAN TWO CANDIDATES. After watching so many elections throughout my life, maybe it was also this that was making me sick.

Of course, I am voting for Hillary who I now hold in even higher esteem after watching the PBS Frontline special. The woman has been through hell and back and still hangs on with her teeth. No, she is not perfect and yes, she does odd things (but when you learn about her childhood, you are able to put it in some perspective). She will represent our country as the states-WOMAN she is. We will not be HUMILIATED by her, embarrassed and ashamed--TERRIFIED.

And to the Repugnitan Party, you are pathetic. Truly. Every staunch Republican woman I know is voting for Hillary because (the mostly white males of) your party nominated a whore to represent you, then you whored yourselves out to him. You are just as disgusting as the man himself.

Saturday, June 20, 2015


But FIRST, a pre-blog to my blog or what used to be called the "preface". I am going to call it


A few weeks ago, I was at a restaurant, of course by myself.  I wanted to read so I asked if I
could sit in the quiet (empty) section of the restaurant, a pretty little sun room with plants. The perfect place to sip a Mimosa and leisurely read my magazine, one of many that have stacked up over the months. I was completely content. Then a semi-handsome single man walked in and had the audacity to sit down a few tables away.

"Shit," I said to myself, looking up from my magazine, then back down at it again. Asshole.

I was fine until he walked in.

Of course, I tried to ignore him and OF COURSE, if he was even semi-handsome (not bad), he had to be waiting for someone--his woman OR his man. I don't know anymore and who cares. None of my business.

I glanced up at him. He was looking at me. WTF? These things never happen to me.I am not a walking Hollywood script. I am the opposite of a Hollywood script, the very NIGHTMARE of a Hollywood script. In fact, I am such a nightmare-not-a-Hollywood-script that in MY MOVIE, the semi-handsome guy would walk in then proceed to puke on me. This is how bad it is.

Used to having NOTHING work out for me in this realm, I looked back down at my magazine, now INCREDIBLY interesting, more interesting than ever before. I was determined to ignore this mother fucker asshole ruining my Tuesday morning of relaxed bliss; but not before I noted when I glanced up that he smiled at me. C'MON!

He ordered water, lunch then finally, finally, started playing with his device (no, no, no, I mean his DEVICE--droid, I-phone-19, whatever, stop it). I don't have one and never will. I am blissfully device free aside from a cell phone I keep with me like some people keep a hand gun--for my protection only.

Looking down at the same paragraph I had now read five times, I thought "surely his woman (or man) was going to show up soon."

Ten minutes in and nobody showed up. I looked up and he was looking at me again. Rude. Finally, of course, I said something, more because SOMEBODY had to do it and once I did it, I could get back to my, MY time.

"I like the misters," I said in all my brilliance. What a great line!

"Yea," he answered.


"It's just so nice to be somewhere peaceful," he then said to me.

OH MY GOD, REALLY? Yea, until you showed and fucked it up.

And off we went, the two of us, chatting--about nothing. He wasn't waiting for anyone. He had the day off and was just enjoying himself. There was something about dropping off his son at a friend's house. He didn't have a ring on. He was chatty, friendly, nice. Funny.

It was lovely and it resulted in absolutely nothing. It was a waste of my precious time. Truly, my precious time reading my magazine and sipping my Mimosa. I should have been rude, even a bitch because he ruined my day. Because I was waiting for SOMETHING. ANYTHING but the deal is, modern men, for whatever reason, cannot operate in the 3rd dimension. If it's not on a screen, it doesn't exist. I didn't exist. We are losing the ability to interact in the real world.

What this means is it is far more likely we would hook up if in that same period of time, I showed up ON A SCREEN versus as a real person. While he was sitting there confusing some other woman, he would be emailing/texting ME...this appears to be the only way to meet anymore.
NOT in the third dimension. Not in the real world.

But I still live in the third dimension so I was waiting for him to get on with it, be a gentleman--ask if it was ok if he joined me. Ask what I was drinking and if he could buy me a drink. ("Sure, I'll have another Mimosa and would you like to have one too and join me?"). But he was an ass. Men are asses now. It was so obvious we liked one another, had a rapport, could talk/laugh easily so I waited, like in the old days--for him to act like a man. Take the reins. But he didn't and I refused to. I won't anymore. If a man is so pathetic and stupid that he can't even get a clue about wooing a woman even just a little bit, and I have to do it, I am not interested. I won't do it. If a man cannot function in the third dimension, I have to be on a screen in order to exist, then I don't want him.

This didn't stop me from pretending, fantasizing after he finished his lunch and beer and left. I decided to pretend..."Imaginary Lovers, Never Let You Down..."

"Do you mind if I join you? I'm alone too," he says. His name is Dan.
"No, no. How nice. Feel free!" I say. (Meaning: I'm lonely and horney as hell too. PLEASE!)
"What are you drinking? Can I buy you a drink?" he asks, smiling.
"Mimosa. You too?" I answer.
"Well, I started out with a beer but ok. Mimosa it is." he answers.

Later we go for a walk by the phone numbers. Make plans to meet again.

But no. No, because men are inept now. Stupid even. This is not the first time (read my older posts).
Meeting the nice, interesting, semi-handsome man who has to leave to check his responses on  I should know by now but hope springs stupid...Maybe this ONE can exist in the third dimension?

BUT this blog started out saying I met the perfect man!  If that wasn't him, who was it? DO TELL!

It was a homeless guy in San Francisco who sat next to me at the Bart station. He said I was "sexy" and "hot". He said, "um UHmmmm, MAMMA!"  He said, "you are a sexxxxxy MAMMA! Baby you are HOT."

Then he left.

Friday, March 20, 2015

Current Culture: Narcissism Unmasked

Read my past posts and you know I hate Facebook. All Facebook is doing is cultivating even more narcissism in our culture--and Zuckerberg is a genius for tapping into it. He understands the primitive nature of the human species and now he is a bazillionaire. Too bad all his creation does is make it worse but he doesn't care because he is part of the whole primitive element. He got into it for himself to begin with.

But this post is about generational narcissism that pre-dated Facebook, maybe even led to its creation. This post is about if Boomer generation people can be real friends.

Per past posts, I also hold the Boomer generation in disdain.  I am not a Boomer, barely missing it by a few years, but my siblings are Boomers. They tend to be very self-absorbed and self-centered. As soon as any topic has its nerve to sway off them, they are done with the conversation. I should be used to them by now but I am not. Now my way of dealing with them is simple avoidance.

But can you avoid your friends that are narcissistic and yes, you are saying, "hell, you just said you avoid your narcissistic siblings. Of course you can avoid your narcissistic friends!"

Exactly. It's not as simple and I don't know why.

Through no fault of my own, most of my friends are Boomer age and I am now coming to very painful terms that NONE of them will ever be the kind of friends I need and deserve, because like a vein of some kind of element running through rock, the vein of narcissism runs through the entire Baby Boomer generation. It is just who they are and criticizing, demanding, withholding...however you want to deal with them, is not going to work. You either accept them for who/what they are or end your relationship with them. The past year, I have opted for the later. I just nixed my third friendship or not, with another narcissistic "friend".  I may be a bit physically lonelier, because at least there is another body next to you at a movie even if they are closed off to you emotionally, but overall, I am doing better. But how long can this go on? How many more friends will I nix out of my life because they don't meet my needs? Is this narcissistic on my part?

No because my needs are simple. All I have ever wanted from one of these former friends is for one of them to ask, genuinely, "how was your day today?"  "What's happening in your life?"  "How are you?"  But none of them ever do, did. I realized I could have been dead in my house for weeks and none of them would have cared, called. They got in touch with me on their terms, based on their needs. I filled a void for them. Validated their existence. Listened to them prattle on with nary a concern for me.

And now I am done.

The last "friendship" I nixed a few days ago, unexpectedly. Maybe because I was tired. Maybe because I was jealous.

Her husband died and left her a bunch of money. She is now rich and I am definitely NOT.

Per narcissistic behavior, her glee over all the money Michael left her overpowered her grief but who am I to judge if someone is "really" grieving or not? All I know is about a month after his death, she regaled me with her plans to travel around the world, blathered on about her new "spiritual awakening" that included a $2500 "spiritual retreat", and mentioned a bunch of new things she bought off the web. At one point she even said, "Thank You Michael!" leaving me in an abyss of confusion--"you just thanked your dead husband for dying?"  What?  Lordy, lordy but losing a husband sounds like a great time! 

In the middle of our conversation while she was awash in her postmortem bliss, I blurted out, "you know, my dog got away this morning and almost got hit by a car."  Silence.  "Glad you got him back," was her reply.  "What if I didn't get him back. How do you know if I got him back?"  "Well, I just assumed you did."  Silence. Then she picked up right where she left off---about some god damned new pillow.  Really?

I hung up on her.  She didn't call back. If she does, I will hang up on her again. I will do whatever it takes.

Then again, she is a Boomer and a narcissist and the thing about narcissists is they just don't get it. They never will. This is what makes dealing with them so exasperating. This is why you just have to nix them out of your life. You can't wait for them to come to some epiphany, apologize, be contrite. It's not in them. Why can't I get this? But now I am.

But wait--it gets worse!

Right after this, I watched a program on television--National Geographic--Brain Games. It was a show about the cultivation of compassion. If the human species is to survive, and really why should it if it continues to be as narcissistic and stupid as it currently is, it will come down to if the human species can cultivate more compassion.  What was so depressing is they did a research study and what they found, I guess not surprisingly, is if people do not feel like they can get something out of you to benefit THEM, they are not inclined to build a relationship, say with you, or me. In other words, apparently we are all a bunch of selfish fucks.

And I am idiot I guess for thinking if I wait long enough, look long enough, am deliberate long enough, I WILL find the one person left on the planet who may actually like me for me. The one person left on the planet who isn't in it for themselves, at least not 100%.  A true friend.

In the meantime, I do have true friends I love so much and they love me back unconditionally---my dogs.

Monday, December 15, 2014

All My Friends Are Crazy

I love my friends. I hate my friends. My friends are all bundles of psychological disorders, the penalty for living this long.

Too many Sex and the City reruns. Show should be banned.

The result was I had this idea all my girlfriends and I would spend Christmas together, go out to dinner, go for a hike, drink champagne by the ocean, act self-righteous and judgmental about everyone else we know and don't know. Feel fabulous.

Where are the days when you would ask someone if they want to do something
and they would reply, "ok, sounds like FUN!!"

Where in the fuck are those days?

Again, take Sex and the City off the air. Burn your video collection.

Let's parse this out:

Three replied and I am not allowed to use anyone's real name and they all hate me because of this blog anyway which is stupid since I do not use their real names.

Let's just say their names are Charlotte, Miranda, and Samantha. Yea, yea, so this makes me Carrie.  Let's compare and contrast:

S&theCity response:  "Sure, we would LOVE to go to the coast for Christmas, go hiking, and go out to dinner! Sounds fun!"


MyLife's "Miranda":  "Sure, I guess. I mean, it sounds kind of fun but, I don't know. Let me see how I'm feeling that day."

MyLife:  "That day? You mean Christmas Eve Day?"

MyLife's Miranda: "Yea, no. I mean, I don't know. I might want to spend Christmas like that but, I don't know. I'm kind of feeling depressed. Maybe. Can I let you know?"

MyLife: "It's just a few days away. I need to make dinner reservations for Christmas Eve. How long do you want me to wait?"

MyLife'sMiranda: "Don't wait. Go without me. I mean, I may go."

MyLife: "The whole point is I don't really have a lot of family left and I really don't want to be alone; I mean, I get depressed too? I also need to make reservations?"

MyLife'sMiranda:  "If I don't go, you feel free to go without me. This is all I'm saying."


MyLife's "Samantha":  "I'l get back to you."

MyLife's Charlotte:  "Yes but do you know if it's going to be cold or rainy? What's the weather going to be? I may not want to go if it's rainy. Also, do you know, like where we will eat because I am trying to be gluten-free? Do they serve gluten-free? I also think I have an allergy to peanuts but I can't see the doctor for awhile. Are you going to bring your dogs because I like your dogs but....etc., etc."

Christmas Eve night: S&theCity:  the four women walk arm and arm as the snow lightly lands on their delicate yet feminine eye-lashes. They are all dressed more than appropriately if not colorfully. They are slightly buzzed from drinking champagne over Christmas Eve dinner overlooking Central Park. They exchanged gifts, small, thoughtful little things, and now tuck into one another--one love-filled unit, moving, no gliding, through the perfect winter night, dear friends,
fabulous women.


MyLife's CEve:

"And how many are dining tonite ma'am? You probably should have made a


"One? On Christmas Eve night?"

"You heard me (asshole)."

"Oh, well for ONE, we have plenty of room. Do you mind sitting in the bar?"

                                                              Merry Christmas.

Thursday, August 28, 2014

Categories of Men--HOLDING--Another New One--Are You My Mother?

Ok, so I had to recover from my friend's disconcerting 'encounter' (dare I put it this way...near encounter?) with, well, read about it but it freaked me out and frankly, depressed me. Maybe every generation gets to that "when I was YOUR age" stage of life but the idea that a young man would expose himself to my middle aged friend (and she didn't do anything about it, like call the police) and this might be the new "normal" among the millennial or whatever generation the 20-somethings are, well, it only validates my feeling that the world is going to shit. It also validates that kids these days apparently had/have no parents and are one notch above being something akin to wild dogs. We are in decline and it's hard to watch. If I can find a rock to crawl under, believe me, I will.

BUT, in the meantime, I have a little something to report that diverted me from being depressed then made me depressed again--two men entered my life about a month ago--or tried. One of them was a past attempt and the other was a new contact from a dating site I have not looked at for awhile--the email  came out of the blue. Here is the report:

Guy 1 who I called "Cryptic Man" years ago got in touch with me after many years, like five.
There was always something off about this guy and he was still off. After two attempted dates, I figured out he was a borderline personality--as in maybe more than one or two of them. After personality "Mean" demonstrated stunning levels of vitriol based entirely on his own perceptions and trip about me, I bailed out as quickly as I could all the while advising him to see a shrink. What sucked me back in and probably sucks all of us back in was the "potential" he/we had...if only...
You have to let that go. Men don't suddenly de-asshole themselves without counseling and intervention. Once an asshole to you, always an asshole to you. Get a clue. Move on.

The second experience was so stereotypical, I almost could not believe it. Man, 54, river runner his whole adult life. While this is interesting, the red flag went shooting up the damn pole when he
told me he was pursuing a degree in mechanical engineering 30 years before but left the degree program to be a river guide and he was still guiding... He was still an adolescent in other words and this continued to bear itself out. First of all, every time we tried to make plans to get together, he would always send me an email that he would not be available because he had this river trip and that river trip and then he was going to a concert...this man is a child. It was sealed when he
emailed me a link to campfire songs he recorded of himself singing songs like "Puff the Magic Dragon" and "The Circle Game"...his singing and playing was terrible. I thought it was a joke; then he emailed me links for Flicker of photos of himself. He did not show a lot of interest in me except some clawing need to get some kind of acknowledgement/approval out of me.

Thus, I have a new category of man:  the man who has, how do they put it, unresolved "mommy" issues and until he resolves these issues transforms every women he gets involved with into his mother from whom he is constantly striving for approval. "Lookie' at me Mommy playing my guitar and singing songs!" "Lookie' Mommy at all the photos of me doing things!" "Mommy? Mommy? Tell me that you love me Mommy!"

It was nauseating. He's nixed.

In the meantime, I am getting a new dog from the pound and looking forward to true love, understanding, and companionship.

Depressed because you can't find a decent man? Give it up and go to your nearest shelter and adopt an animal that will love you in a way no man ever could--unconditionally and with gratitude. There are hundreds, thousands of them waiting...If you're holding back your love for the right guy, screw that!! (Or not). Go save a life--your own.

Love ya,


Wednesday, July 2, 2014

Hey Baby, Isn't This What You Middle-aged Ladies Want?

This post is going to be so hard to write yet I write a blog about being a middle aged (white) woman and what happened to my friend is so appalling yet so fitting that I have to post this. I have to.

Here it is. Try to stay with me.

My 50's something friend who has been mentioned in past blogs and this is all you need to know since she is paranoid even when I use a fake name, was visiting her younger sister in another state and to make a long story short or a long story longer, ended up alone in her sister's house with one of her nephew's friends--I am not sure why--she said he was about 25 (her nephew is 23) when "nephew's friend" emerged out of a bedroom, I guess her nephew's bedroom where he was hanging out, literally, and proceeded to hang out in front of her, as in offering her "some"... He walked out of the bedroom sans pants with Mr. Happy all good to go. She was, of course, horrified and appalled and asked him to return to the bedroom and put some pants on. His reply was "but isn't this what you middle-aged ladies want?"



"Nephew's friend" is engaged.

I am rarely rendered speechless or wordless in this case, but,

My friend, who now needs some kind of fake name to keep you from getting thoroughly confused so I will call her Fannie (bad choice, sorry)...Fannie has not told anyone about this because she is so flummoxed by the whole damn thing.  Nephew's friend did indeed retreat into her nephew's den to put on his pants but by the time he did, Fannie had left the house not sure where to go in her rental car she rented for the week at her sister's house. After some disoriented driving around, she got a room in a local hotel.  She did not go back to her sister's house but met her sister and her nephew
wherever they wanted to go. Her explanation was that she thought it better for THEM if she stayed in a hotel. All went fine. She flew home here and told me what happened and I am still wondering just what in the hell? What in THE HELL?

Is this the Millineal Generation acting this way? Are they using creeps like Anthony Wiener, well, Anthony Wiener's wiener as a role model?  Is this normal behavior in their world, to assault a polite and nice middle-aged woman in this way? Should we be worried about this generation (too late) and not for them, as they appear to be sufficiently narcissistic that they will be just fine--but for us

She still has not told her sister...anyone in her family...and thinks it best to keep it quiet though she has told her nephew she did not like his friend, not at all, and he should get a new one, especially before her next visit.

I have absolutely nothing to say.  Nothing.

Saturday, May 31, 2014

Tammy is Seeking Amends--from her i-Phone

Howdy all,

We are heading into summer and I am ready. Hope the summer is looking nifty for you too.

I checked my stats for this blog and was blabberfasted' to find out, like, 3,000+ people have read my blog. Lord have mercy. I am tempted to tell you all to get outside and go for a it is with honor I face what appears to be a few fans?  Wow. Thank you.

In a previous post, I outlined my married female friends, or not. I don't know what the hell they are. They don't know what the hell I am so we're even; but I did get a rather weird email from my friend Tammy.

Tammy is the middle-aged housewife that is/was addicted to everything under the sun. Prescription drugs, maybe a few prescription drugs, did I mention prescription drugs? After trying to go out together to do things--out to eat, walking our dogs, cooking dinner together, I had to end it when she showed up at a movie stoned out of her mind including some wailing right before the movie started--something like "Dennis (her husband and none of these names are real to protect their identities and my sanity)...where was I. Oh yes, 

"Dennis is going to killlllll meeeeee!" 

We were seated in the front row (only seats left). She stood up and wailed this in front of everyone in the theater. I had no idea what in the hell was going on only that she was babbling and looked like hell. 

People snickered.

"Tammy, what in the hell are you talking about? Are you alright?" 
"Oh God. Oh my God."
"What?" I asked, now getting frantic. My God. She was having a stroke.
"You're having a stroke, Tammy. Please. Sit down. Let me call Dennis, someone."
"Noooooo, Dennis is...I gotta go."
"I'm not...I gotta go."

And with this she stumbled out of the theater. I followed her outside to her car and
after imploring she not get in it, she flung her hand around like she was going to smack me.

(The movie, by the way was Osage County in which Meryl Streep plays a, hmmm,  drug/alcohol-adled woman living alone in a big empty house. I stayed and watched it).  

Tammy made it home fine because the next day, I got an email from her that when she got home, she tripped and hurt her ankle. Could someone take her to the doctor? Then an email a few minutes later reported  "it was covered." By who, I have no idea.

Calling only produced the answering machine and I have a life. I had to get to it.

Two days after this, I got an email from her that she put her dear little dog, Milo, down. She loved this dog like life itself. The dog was old. It may have been time but it seemed sudden. I was shocked. Knowing she would be torn up as hell, I went and bought some flowers that reminded me of  Milo, little white campion flowers, with the idea I would plant them for her in her front yard. I put them in my yard in the meantime.

The next day, she called me, her speech slurred, begging me to come and get a dog she was taking care of. Yes, this woman pet sits and when her client found out she put Milo down, they brought their little dog over to keep her company.

"They can't see me like this."
"Like what?"
"I don't feel good."

Yes, I am a little slow on the uptake but who would think a 63 year old white woman living in rural suburbia would be addicted to drugs. 

Now I realized she was drunk or stoned, something. Being the daughter of an alcoholic, I know all about enabling.

"Are you drunk? On drugs?"

"They can't see me like this."

 "And neither can I."

I then emailed her links to AA and Narcotics Anonymous.

This was the last time we talked. This was three months ago.

Last week, I got an email from her, of course off her iPhone because she is addicted to texting (surprise, surprise) and it said, "step 9 is making amends. I am writing to make amends. I fell off the wagon of sobriety and I want to apologize to you. I know you have other things going on in your life but if you can forgive me, I would appreciate it."

From her iPhone.  Do we make amends now from our iPhones?

She was always sending me emails from her iPhone. When we would go out to dinner, she would rather be looking at her iPhone than at me. Once I remember I took it from her and put it in my purse. "I can keep in touch with the kids this way," she always said except her kids are in their 30's.

The woman has an addictive personality.  The woman lives alone in a big house. The woman has a husband who has given up on her apparently. (While I used to have disdain for Dennis, I understand). The woman is a sad person. The woman is my neighbor. Is the woman my friend?

I have not responded to her email...or on her end, one of the many texts she punches out every minute. Does she really want to make amends or does she just miss the attention I gave her in her lonely life? She loves the attention.

Some people are empowered. I am one of them. I take charge of my life. I let things and people out of it, and I let things and people in it but I am in charge of it (keeping in mind we live in a random universe).  I'm not really a net caster. I don't cast nets to see what I catch because I am empty inside. Sure, I seek out company sometimes, but not with any expectation because people will let you down.

They WILL let you down. (Am I letting her down?)

So, Tammy...poor Tammy. Tammy who goes around, casting nets all over the place.

"You didn't know she was a drug addict?"  A neighbor on her street asks me, incredulous.

"No, not at first."

"And now Milo is gone."

While the flowers that reminded me of Milo still sit in my yard.