Sistalker?

Ever get a piece of vital information about a family member via social media?  Of course you have!  Such is the world in which we live. Imagine my surprise when my aunt tagged me in a Facebook post

mentioning that my sister was planning on meeting some girl she met online. At first, I figured  she was kidding. When I thought about it, however, I realized it sounded just like something my sister would do. My brother set the example last year when he met a stranger at a gas station to buy a copy of P90X. He said it was safe because the he found the item on Craigslist. Anyone remember the craigslist killer?  Neither did my brother. With this example in front of her, Allie set out to do something even dumber. 

Hi Allie!  I'm a 25 year-old girl!

I'm up with insomnia, check my Facebook and there it is. Message from aunt asking me what in the hell Allie is doing. Is she really going to meet some "chick" she met online?  I know nothing about this so I do some investigating which consists of looking at Allie's interaction with said aunt. There it is!  Allie is apparently going to Atlanta to meet someone she met online. At this point, it's 3:30am and I have more immediate problems to handle (Gordon has decided to bark at the haunted, bleeding wall in my den).  I send Allie a cursory text message that goes something like this; "please tell me you aren't planning to meet someone you met online in Atlanta."  Then I get the items needed to calm Gordon & whatever the hell is in my wall as well.

I get up in the morning, hopeful that reason has asserted itself and Allie is NOT going to meet some stranger. I loathe talking on the phone but I figure this requires an actual conversation. 

ALLIE:  Hello (groggy)

ME:  what the fuck are you thinking meeting someone you don't know in Atlanta?  You know this "girl" is really a fat, sweaty, bald 50 year old man with a violent criminal record!  Did you wake up this morning and decide you were going to offer yourself up to a serial killer?  You are going to end up in some creepy old man's trunk hog tied with a couple pairs of pantyhose and duct tape over your mouth!  Normal people don't do this!

ALLIE: She's legit!  I promise!  

ME:  how do you know?

ALLIE:  we FaceTimed!

ME:  you are dead...

Further probing revealed that my sister met this sweaty, fat, bald 50 year old man claiming to be a girl on you tube. A few you tube comments later, their friendship moved along to twitter.  They tweeted a bit and became Facebook friends. After that, the friendship really got rolling.  Yep, you guessed it, texting.  The final step, the face to face meet. 

One of the first things kids are told is don't talk to strangers. This is a hot topic from pre kindergarten on up. One would think that even the dumbest of  children cannot fail to grasp this concept:  STRANGER DANGER!  Has social media blurred the lines?  Definitely. Is meeting some stranger in person that you know from you tube and being chopped to pieces natural selection?  Absofuckinglutely!

Whoever said it takes a village was right. I am thankful that Allie chose not to meet her Internet stalker alone. At least when they met AT FREAKING DUSK IN A DESERTED PARK she brought an extra victim. What are the odds that both Allie and her friend could be dispatched quickly?  In all likely hood, one of them would get away to be taken down, civilization almost in reach.

The meet is going down as we speak. Allie's friend is sending me updates via text. So far, I know that the stalker really is a girl in her early 20s. That established they are heading out to hit up the bars. 

incompetency, thy name is...me!

Cranberry Cosmo!

Today, Delores sends me to Big Lots for ONE MEASLY THING!  I think she does this because she knows: a) I can't be trusted to bring back more than one thing and/or b) she thinks it's funny to give me a task that I can't possibly complete while laughing at my ineptitude.  Anyway, for those of you who don't know, Big Lots is a big warehouse with inexpensive items.  You can get anything from holiday decorations to automotive stuff to (and yes this does exist) premixed drinks in a container shaped like a shoe!  On the plus side, they have cleaning supplies at reasonable prices.

I was at work when I realized I had neglected to get the stuff on the list Delores gave me last week.  I stop at the store to pick them up, hoping against hope, that I can get in the door, put the supplies away, then lie my ass off and say they were there all the time.  Instead, I get busted obviously trying to hide stuff.  I think this is what precipitated the trip to Big Lots.

Delores coldly appraises me.  She looks at the cleaning supplies that are half sticking out of my "hiding" place, smirks, and asks me if I have time to run pick up some kind of duster.  She says it's on sale at Big Lots and she can tell me exactly where it is.  

Delores and I have a long history of this.  She will give me a detailed description of whatever it is she needs.  I write it down, take it with me and return an hour later with either nothing or the wrong item.  These days, she gets the stuff herself and I reimburse her.  She only sends me on an errand if I screw up and say, forget to have things in place so she can do her job.

I'm wandering aimlessly around Big Lots looking for what I'm sure is a fictional product created by Delores to make me feel like a dumbass.  I finally manage to locate the cleaning supplies but have no idea what I'm looking for.  I call my sister for help.  She's not much in the brains department but she has TONS of experience talking me down from situations like this.  Here is a sample of our conversation:

Allie:  What are you looking for?
Me:  something long with a thing on it to get cobwebs off the ceiling.
Allie:  You mean a Swiffer duster with an extender?
Me:  huh?
Allie:  What do you see right now?
Me:  Godiva dark chocolate bar with raspberry, Toblerone & Lindt dark chocolate with sea salt.
Allie:  Goddammit!  Get out of the candy section and go to the cleaning section.

****5 minutes of silence punctuated by Allie's exasperated sighs as I try to find the cleaning supplies.

Me:  OK, I think I found them.
Allie:  You think?  Do you see stuff you can actually clean with?
Me:  kind of...
Allie:  I'm hanging up!
Me:  OK, OK, I'm in the cleaning supplies.
Allie:  Too late!  I just texted you a picture of a Swiffer Duster with an extender.  You can use it or ask an employee to help you. Bye!

I put down the really cool glow in the dark 6ft Halloween skeleton (I was nowhere near the cleaning supplies) and hightail it to the cleaning section.  I STILL can't find the fucking thing!

I do what anyone thrust into that position would do; leave!  I did grab a dark chocolate Godiva bar on the way out...

Humpetitive

That's right!  She's all mine!

Gordon, sofa & his occasional 3rd, the cow

I've had my hound, Gordon, for about 4 years now.  He's your standard boy dog.  He humps everything that's not nailed down.  Who am I kidding?  He even humps stuff that is.  Over the years, he has shown a taste for overstuffed upholstery aka fat chicks.  Yeah, my hound is a chubby chaser.  My living room sofa is safe.  It's too skinny.  The red sofa in our den?  Look out!  Gordy humps the shit out of it several times a week.  If he's feeling extra frisky (about 1/2 the time) he brings in a 3rd.  He loves his phallic cow.  Add a little Barry White and it's on like a pot of neck bones!

I'm not saying Gordon doesn't occasionally stray.  He's been known to hump the ottoman (remember overstuffed = fat chick) just to get a little strange.  Once or twice, he's nailed one of my Baker armchairs (Baker would be mortified).

get out!

As time goes by, I notice that Gordon doesn't hold the same ardor for the sofa.  Did she get old?  Fat?  Well, fat wouldn't be an issue.  Boring?  maybe.  For whatever reason, Gordon doesn't seem into her anymore.  He's spiraled into a depression.  He will still sleep on her, of course, but they just don't have the physical connection they once shared.  He doesn't have the same gleam in his eye when he "accidentally" pees on the floor.  He doesn't take pleasure in sneaking into the living room to take a dump on my favorite Oriental rug.  His zest for life seems to have faded.  What to do?

After careful consideration, which consisted of two bottles of wine and a very one-sided conversation with my understandably disgusted husband; I decided it was time to take action.  We need to find Gordon a new piece...of furniture.  This brings up another issue.  How do we chose?  We want to pick out something he will like.  Something he can use for years to come.  Unfortunately, he's not allowed in furniture stores.  Even if he were, They wouldn't let him "try out" the merchandise.  I don't want to rush anything, so I start slowly.  I bring home a flyer with a chair on it every so often.  Maybe once a month, I leave out a fabric swatch.  I casually leave furniture catalogs scattered about the house.  Gordon either is too dumb to notice or too trapped in the depths of his despair to care.  I continue to try.  Finally, just last week, as I'm looking at a circular from Pier One; Gordon takes interest in a chocolate velvet club chair.  He whispers, "I'd tap that."

No more illegal driving for Liz!

 This is a letter I wrote to my friends who forced me to replace my social security card and driver's license after they (along with my lovely Yves St. Laurent bag) were stolen.  Enjoy!

Me, my handbag & my brother

A wise person (or a raging smartass) once said, "the longest journey begins with one step."  While this quote is generally used by the self-righteous. In this case, I feel it is germane. I have successfully succeeded in obtaining a social security card which is but one step towards obtaining a valid driver's license.

While I am proud of this accomplishment, in no way did I do this alone. I was assisted along the way by many caring friends and family members. I would like to single out a few who went the extra mile by putting their collective feet to my ass and pushing me kicking and screaming (literally) into the Social Security office. The first person to take on this monumental mission was Dayna. With her no nonsense engineering background she thought she was up to the task. She also has 10+ years of marriage under her belt so she figured she could bring nagging to bear if needed. She did not anticipate, however, the lengths to which I will go in order to avoid bureaucracy.  About the time Dayna gave up in disgust, Kelley decided to throw her hat into the ring.  She decided that I just needed someone to give me a little "push" in the form of actually getting a copy of my marriage license so I would have proof of identity.  Kelley even went into debt in order to achieve this goal!  A lesser person would have paid Kelley back and run to the nearest Social Security office!  Thankfully, I'm NOT a lesser person.  After stiffing Kelley $4 bucks, I let said license languish in my kitchen for two weeks.  Kelley, being the mother of a teenage boy, still didn't give up!  She continued to "encourage" me to obtain a "legal" form of identification.  Her encouragement might, by others, be seen as a threat but I knew she would never call the police and tell them I was driving without a license.  It was her version of tough love.  Unfortunately, Kelley is in school and working a full time job.  She didn't have the time to physically grab me off the street and force me into the Social Security office to start the process. Exit Kelley, although she is always just a text away (if she's still taking my crazy text messages).  Throughout all of this, my brother was available to lend encouragement.  He often would call and tell me to get off my fat, lazy butt and go to the Social Security office.  He well knows my aversion to government bureaucracy.  He is also aware of my disdain for the smellier denizens of the general public.  He knew my aversion to these two things would be very difficult to overcome.  He took various tacks over the months but almost succeeded on Sunday afternoon.  While browsing in Target after church, I saw a seasonal pumpkin beer that I wanted to try.  Not being the possessor of a license, I was unable to buy the beer.  I asked him to buy it for me and he refused.  This caused me pause.  I could see a definite advantage to having a license.  I guess you could say that I had an epiphany in the beer and wine section of Target.  I realized that a valid picture i.d. could make my life easier (and isn't that what life's all about?).  I guess that's when I started to realize that six months was long enough to drive illegally and probably too long to continue to sit outside liquor stores and pay bums to buy alcohol for me.  I was going to wait the extra few months until Allie turned 21 and then just take her license and pay for her to get a new one (her time is less important than mine).  Thank you Tommy for unwittingly helping me understand the NEED to resolve this issue.  Of course, need, while impetus for some often should be accompanied by another motivator.  In my case, that motivator was greed.  Enter my wonderful husband, Bo!  Last but definitely not least!!!  Of course he has been gently encouraging me since April to replace the items stolen.  He even offered to buy a new handbag if I did so.  While this was appreciated, it was not the stimulus I needed to leap into action.  Even his loving words could not help me break out of the sludge of torpor into which I had fallen.  He would often tell me he worried for me if he had to be away for any length of time.  I cannot even deposit a check without valid identification.  While I understood this in a vague way, I also realized the odds were in my favor so I continued along my identificationless path.  Bo finally broke through my haze two nights ago!  He mentioned that he wants to go to New York City for Thanksgiving.  It cut through my lethargic haze immediately!   While the final credit goes to Bo, I have to admit that all of you played a part.  In the end, I was as worn down as a cucumber in a convent.  I had to admit that all of you were right so I took that important first step...

Taboonies

Yesterday, I was on a quest to find a new Crossfit gym. They are in a temporary location in a town adjacent to mine. I don't live in a bustling Metropolis but we have a few hundred thousand people. The place I'm going is in bumfuck. Thanks to my gps, I find the gym with no problems. Trouble is, the gym moved. I walk across the street to get directions. People are not kidding when they talk about country directions. These people were so nice to help me out but there are no street names. It's more; turn left at the big rock, go aways (sic) until you see farmer Ted fucking his goat, then turn left. How I wish I were kidding...

Bright side:  I did eventually find the gym!

Locosmetic

I went to a birthday dinner last night and found myself seated next to this chick who reeked of neediness.  It literally came out of her pores. Or would have, had her pores not been completely clogged by the make-up slathered on her face. As I looked at her thick, black eyeliner, I had an epiphany regarding a new cosmetic line. Starting with the black eyeliner (she actually may have used a sharpie), I began to develop this product line. It's all in the names: Black kohl eyeliner called Desperation; bright red lipstick called Unstable; hot pink liquid blush called Insecure; finally, a four pack of eye shadow in various blue hues called low self esteem.

Of course, I think it's brilliant, so I consult a friend with actual marketing experience. She says it's funny as shit but make-up is supposed to make a person feel better rather than proclaim their inadeqacies. She makes an excellent point.

Imagine the awesome ad campaign.  We go with a celebrity. Obvious choices would be Kristin Stewart or Britney Spears. With K Stew, you have pics of her getting oral from the creepy old guy who directed her in Snow White & the Hutsman.  Her eyeliner, Desperation.  For Britney, you have to go back a few years to the head shaving incident. I'm pretty sure the lipstick she is wearing is Unstable.  I think the poster girl for my cosmetics line is Jennifer Love Hewitt. She is the whole package!  Not only does she have an engagement ring on standby at Tiffany, she also asks guys out via talk shows. I think the clip from the Ellen tv show with JLH asking a freshly dumped Adam Levine out would be perfect. Jennifer wears all my products.  Bitch is crazy!