Do You Know Me?

It's shockingly surprising to me that people don't mob me on the street wanting my autograph. I've been in some widely seen TV shows and news telecasts, and published in print, yet no one seems to recognize me. It's hard to fathom.  

Prior to my spectacular television career, I had a stint in print. I was featured in two local newspapers; one while I was in elementary school…doing charity work; and the other while I was in college, protesting for the local workers. One in New York, one in Ohio, marking my path to national success.

But my real rise to stardom started back when I was a contestant on the highly touted game show...the Liars Club. It had to be the worst game show to ever have aired on national television. There were 3 celebrities and 4 contestants. The celebrities were shown an object they had to tell a story about, and the contestants had to guess who was telling the truth. I was one of those contestants. There were 4 rounds, the last being the bonus round for the most points. I won the first 3 rounds, but because I lost the bonus round...I lost the whole game. And I'm pretty happy I did. The grand prize...a trip to Acapulco...AIRFARE NOT INCLUDED. Huh?? What? I'm sorry...what was that? Airfare NOT included? What kind of prize is THAT? So they pay for the hotel? And I pay for the airfare? Yeah...I don't think so.

Second place...again...they really went all out on the gifts. $25 worth of Hawaiian Tropic tanning oil, $25 worth of Eskimo Pies (ok...that was one gift I did absolutely enjoy), and $25 of the ugliest, gaudiest, worst fitting polyester apparel I had ever seen in my entire life. And just so you know how cheap the clothing was…there were approximately 15 items that totaled the $25! Even the Salvation Army said "no thanks" when I tried to donate them.

My next foray into the entertainment world was a bit on the local news in New York. WABC was thrilled to have me recite 'Twas the Night before Christmas' on a segment of the 6 o'clock news. They gave me one whole line to say..."that shook when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly." I was fabulous!  

My next big starring role was on the Richard Simmons Show back in the 70’s. I’ve already shared that with many of you so I won’t be redundant. However…that was probably my real breakout role.

I did try out for Wheel of Fortune and the Newlywed Game, but was turned down. I’m assuming it was because I was already well on my way to becoming a huge celebrity, and they didn’t want me to detract from the other ‘regular’ people who would be appearing on the shows with me. Oh well, their loss.

I’m sure by now you understand why I’m so puzzled that I’m not surrounded by paparazzi. I can leave my house and people don’t stop me to take pictures with them. I can shop, eat at restaurants, see a movie…and nothing. It’s mind boggling. I suppose I should appreciate my privacy…but sometimes I just miss the adoration.

Oh…the price of not being famous. I suppose I should take advantage of it while I can.

Terror in the Dark

It was a dark and stormy night...there I was, sleeping peacefully, no one else home, when suddenly...

Ok...not really. But do you ever hear strange sounds at night and your imagination just goes wild? Usually it's nothing, but unfortunately, sometimes, they turn out to be worse than you may have ever thought.

One night when my girls were sleeping at friends' houses and I was all alone in the house, my dog started barking uncontrollably. My dog never barks, so when she does, it's not a good sign. Of course, if there actually was someone in my house, she would immediately go prancing up to them and start jumping up and licking them, welcoming them into our home. Great watch dog. So the only help she is, is as a "noise alert" dog. Anyway...she woke me up barking and my heart jumped out of my throat. I didn't hear anything at first, so I grabbed the billy club under my bed, that I inherited from my ex, and stealthily crept out the bedroom door, crouching down so no one could see me. Really? Does crouching down 3 inches really make you less obvious to someone breaking in? I was just shorter, that's all. Maybe crawling on the floor would make me less visible, but that wasn't happening. I couldn't hold the baton and navigate the floor at the same time, nor did I want to pick up any dust bunnies that may be lurking and dirty my pj's. (Not that my house isn't spotless.)

I slowly made my way down the hallway listening for any signs and looking for any shadows, while holding the club in a batting position. As I entered each room, I started swinging uncontrollably, just in case the perpetrator was going to jump out at me in the dark. The problem is, even if I did happen upon someone, what could I do? Not sure if this 110 lb. body could hold up to some 200+ lb. monster. I guess if I didn't panic, which I can't imagine not doing, the billy club COULD come in handy, smacking him where it hurts and running for my life. But I really never want that opportunity to find out.

So...no one upstairs. I then made my way downstairs, still in batting position, looking in every room down there, swinging like a crazy person. Nothing. Whew! Went to the family room and looked out the back door, turning on the outside light. Nada. Again...Whew!

I felt a little better and went back to bed. I laid there for the next hour or so in panic mode. Every noise I heard was someone trying to get in. I did the whole house check again, and again, nothing. But I suddenly did hear some scratching. I thought maybe now it was my imagination, and it was nothing, so I tried to go to sleep. But there it was again. By now, Brutie had stopped barking, realizing whatever that noise was caused no imminent danger, so she was sleeping soundly. Bitch. But I figured if she wasn't alarmed, why should I be.

I finally fell asleep, and slept the rest of the night, no sounds to be heard. I woke up safely in my own bed, no scars from the night before. I went downstairs to get a cup of coffee, then out back to clean the pool. As I'm walking to get the net to skim the leaves off the water, something catches my eye. I did a double take and there it was! At the bottom of the pool...........A dead rat! I almost puked! I ran running into the house, gagging back my vomit...and called my ex to immediately come over and remove the varmint from the bottom of the pool. So there WAS an intruder. I wasn't nuts. And it was larger than life. And I am so happy I had no idea what it was the night before. I'm not sure what I would've done had I known there was a rat scratching but I do know I wouldn't have taken on THAT by myself. That's almost worse than a burgler. Ewwwwww. I had never been more grossed out in my life.

The moral of the story is....well...there is no frickin' moral. It's just a disgusting ending to a scary beginning that has left a number of questions in my head. For instance...why did she choose MY house? My very clean, spotless, immaculate house. And more importantly...did she leave any family behind? Needless to say, the next week or so I spooned the baton at night, getting very little sleep. I also had an exterminator crawl through the vents to be sure no little babies were building a planned community in my ventilation system. I will never again dismiss any noise as nothing. I will just move out.

This little piggy

I don’t know about other parents who have late teen/early 20 something girls, but I have raised two of the biggest slobs I have ever known.  Please understand, their dad and I are kind of what you would call…clean freaks, so I’m not quite sure where they got their obsessive, compulsive piglet behavior from…but it's a total 180 of what we are.

They are extremely clean when it comes to their own personal grooming and hygiene, thank god, but I wouldn’t take one step into their bedrooms or bathroom.  Their bathroom counter is disguised as Cousin Itt. I have never seen so much hair covering an inanimate object as is, in and around, their sinks. And they could care less.  Yet…they won’t clean the hair out of their brushes because it grosses them out. HUH?  Please explain that one to me?

Sometimes I will walk into one of their rooms to open a window and it’s like walking over hot coals or broken glass, hoping I will make it to the window and back, without stepping on something that will slice open the bottom of my feet. And that’s another thing, they sleep with their windows closed and the door closed, with no ventilation in the room. Every so often, I’ll go in, in the middle of the night, and put my finger under their noses to be sure they are breathing since there’s no chance of oxygen intake. Why they haven’t suffocated yet is beyond me.

I believe they are delusional, thinking there is a “catch-all” in every spot of the house where all their crap is supposed to land, because that’s where I find all their things.  They walk in the front door, off come the shoes in the middle of the floor, and as they advance from point A to point B, off come more and more things landing and remaining wherever they’re dropped.  I’ll come home and every item they’ve had on their person is strewn everywhere.  After years of picking up after them, I decided that if it’s left anywhere but their rooms…it’s thrown into the garage. You want it…search for it. And since they seem to have never learned the art of the search and seek, their stuff pretty much sits in the garage for weeks. “Mom, have you seen my _____?”  “Nope…sure haven’t “ [‘you little slob’, she says silently to herself]

I must say, they do put dirty dishes in the dishwasher, most of the time. But if it doesn’t belong in the dishwasher, it stays in the sink until it grows mold. God forbid they actually wash a dish by hand. So I now bring any dirty dish, glass or pan up to their rooms and strategically place them around their beds. Kitchen accessories do wonders for the bedroom décor. And you know what? They do not seem to be bothered at all…which incenses me even more! I then put it on their bed so they have to notice it, and the next day, it’s back on the floor. Seriously? Walking around their rooms is reminiscent of tire drills at boot camp. You have to jump up and over things.

I decided that at this stage in the game, since they are near the point of moving into their own places, I will bite my tongue and know that there will be an end to the chaos. My greatest revenge will be visiting their homes, and letting them wait on me.  And NEVER cleaning up after myself. The problem is, once they move out and my house is picture perfect…I’ll miss those little pigpens more than I’ll want to admit.

WARNING: Cupid Bashing

Gimme a bow and arrow. I'm gonna learn archery if it kills me...just so I can lunge that arrow into every stinkin' happy heart on Valentine’s Day. Who made up Valentine’s Day anyway? Obviously someone who was in a very happy, healthy relationship. But what about the miserable, lonely, single people. All Valentine’s Day does is make the misery magnified that much more one day a year. We are surrounded by happy, happy people making their plans for that happy, happy night. Isn't that just so wonderful?

How about making a happy single's day? Then all of you blissfully happy people will get to feel like we do on Valentine’s Day. You can sit home with your other half and wonder what we are doing to celebrate being single, which would probably be the same thing we were doing on Valentine’s Day because we're single. So that would be nothing, again, and we would realize we are miserable on a second holiday of the year. Ok...strike that plan.

Someone once told me Valentine’s Day was a Hallmark holiday. Just a way for them to make tons of money. I said "Who cares...make sure you get me gifts and take me out really nicely". That was when I was in a relationship. Now I have to say I think he was right. I think they should STOP the Hallmark holiday right now. I mean...everyone has a birthday, right? But not everyone has a sweetheart. How fair is that?

Don't get me wrong. I’ve had some incredible Valentine's Days. I got engaged on one, I conceived on another (yes...I know for a fact I did...don't ask), I have gotten beautiful jewelry, and have many other happy memories. But, as of late, I don't really like that day. I do like when it falls on a weekday so that when I'm sitting at home by myself...it's not so different than any other night. I can sit in front of the TV with my tub of ice cream and fall into that mindless, reality TV chasm that I do so many other nights when it's not Valentine’s Day.

So screw cupid. Screw the happy, little couples. And let's put a ban on Valentine's Day. At least until I'm back in a relationship.

*please note...any resemblance to psycho, angry person is for blogging purposes only