Oh my god seriously ...

SERIOUSLY!!!! Oh my god.
I've got too many things to write about.
Here's the thing ... (by the way - Alec Baldwin totally stole that from me. I say it all the time - write it ALL THE TIME - it is MINE and it should be the name of MY show not his. I will begin legal action Monday morning -  head's up Alec!)
Meanwhile - HERE'S the thing(s). Random things that bother me. Willy Nilly. Such as ... 
~ Ladies? When did we give permission to the sleepwear industry to stop making pajamas and nightgowns out of crisp "flattering on everybody" and totally comfortable (woven) cotton and to start making them out of crappy "not really that flattering on anybody" and not really that comfortable (knit) cotton jersey?
I did not give such permission. And neither did you. They just started doing it - slowly - then not so slowly. And now it's done. I used to be able to reliably go into TJ Maxx - Belks (in NC) - Filene's (RIP) - lots of places - and RELIABLY find some very cute little pajamas - crisp cotton - ankle length pants with a little ruffle and a baby-dollish (but not in a stupid way) sort of top - for around $30. Now it's all T-shirts and T-shirt material. Pilling-prone, sag-prone jersey bullshit. Sorry for the cursing. But that's what it is. Jersey. Bullshit. Cheaper to make I guess. Well fine. No! Not fine! That's not what I want to buy! Aren't they interested in making something I may want to buy?? Doesn't anyone else miss the crisp cotton??? The jersey holds heat!!! IT HOLDS HEAT!!! And it looks terrible without a bra if you're over a C cup. And believe me - it's been a loooooong time since I've seen my old friend the C cup. So screw you sleepwear industry. Get the flu and die. (except the workers who make the stuff - it's not your fault - don't get the flu, or die.)
~ Moving on. For Christ's sake grocery stores - high end - low end - middle end - ALL OF YOU. Stop freezing your smoked salmon then putting it out thawed thinking I won't know that you froze it!!! Stop it!!! I KNOW OK?? You're not fooling anybody!!! You are ruining the texture AND the flavor - but mostly the TEXTURE. You're making it mushy and too salty - not buttery and rich - MUSHY!!! SALTY!!!! And gross. You are RUINING your product!!! Then selling it to me - who is totally unaware that you've ruined it! If I knew then I WOULDN'T BUY IT. And I WON'T be buying it again!!!! Not from you - that's for sure! If you want to sell ruined smoked salmon then say so, "Ruined Smoked Salmon" $2 a pound - right on the package. So everybody who loves Ruined Smoked Salmon can keep buying it (for a more appropriate price) and people who prefer un-ruined smoked salmon can make an informed decision. Have you ever tasted it?? - to see if freezing it makes a difference?? WELL TASTE IT!!!! See???? It tastes like crap. Just stop it.
~ And - cooks in restaurants from all over America - PLEASE stop putting weird stuff in your collard greens. STOP PUTTING WEIRD STUFF IN YOUR COLLARD GREENS!!! Fresh collard greens, properly cooked, don't need buckets of balsamic vinegar - Worcestershire - Liquid Smoke - chipotles - anchovies - ketchup - sugar - maple syrup - MAPLE SYRUP???? - agave - sultanas - verjus - 112 cloves of garlic - cacao or curry paste. They really don't. THEY DON'T!!!.
Sure - Put a little garlic or make a simple broth with a smoked turkey leg or a ham hock - and an onion - JUST AN ONION and simmer the greens in that - or just put an onion on top before you slow cook them with a piece of smoked ham, or without - or saute them with a little garlic and a little chili - and fine - put a little A LITTLE vinegar. lemon or hot sauce at the end - or better yet - let the diner do that themselves. Because they taste good like they are - all you have to do is get out of the way. Get out of the way - and put down that fish sauce, pickle relish and vanilla extract!
~ And in closing - step into the freakin' car on the subway - STEP IN!!! And get out of the freakin' door and close your legs, move over and take your bags off of the SEAT!!! And stop shambling down the street 3 abreast,  talking on your cell phone at the top of your lungs and look where you're going and take those ear phones out of your ears so you can hear me asking you to GET OUT OF MY WAY you dopey blank-eyed "knit cap even in the summer wearing" id-i-ot!!!!! YES YOU - with the horn implants - and also you - wearing that "JUICY BITCH" T-shirt giving your toddler Cheetos and blue juice - and you too Hedge Fund Harrison, you perma-smirk poo-headed economy destroying pock mark. All of you. I am watching you. And will continue to watch you until I decide to turn away. At which point you will cease to matter. As if you already haven't. Ceased to. Matter.  So there.

Remembering Gene

I don't remember exactly how I met him. I don't remember the day, the words, the circumstances. I mean I kind of know, I know we were in Wilmington NC, during the mid-80's; a magical time in downtown Wilmington that was, like all truly good things, too good to last.
I have other friends who's "first moments" I remember, but not many. I remember my friend Marlisa walked up to me on the church playground (we were 15 years old, and I'd never seen her before in my life) and declared that my skin was "... so peachy! Your skin's like a peach!!" I liked her immediately. (I'm a Leo - we like compliments).

But Gene - or Eugene, as he called himself back then. I just don't remember. 

I wish I did. Because on Wednesday, January 16th 2013, he died. Passed away. Succumbed.
Whichever phrase you choose, it's all the same really. He's no longer here. No longer in his body. No longer available for those giant bear hugs, raucous laughs, cutting insults (to others, thank God - strangers who cut him off in traffic or people who's politics appalled him) or the excessively excessive meals - parties - perfectly prepared cocktails - expertly made beds, gorgeously designed gardens, paintings, rooms, quips, stories, general hilarity, and the lesser known, quiet, thoughtful, generous, frankly heartfelt moments of conversation. Not just "talking", but a genuine exchange of ideas. He was interested in what you had to say and trusted you were interested in what he had to say. He wanted to know about your family, friends, history, passions and trusted that you wanted to know about his. He was right. I did. So that guy - that man - that friend. He's gone.
And of course (CLICHE ALERT - because it is so undeniably true that there is nothing original to say about it) - We are all going to die.
We know this. Not as kids so much, or teenagers, I mean we get the basic idea, its just so abstract. Even if a child loses a parent or sibling, it's still hard for that child to grasp the concept as it applies to self.
It's more like "... yes yes ... I'm going to die. I get it. Now what's for lunch."
And I believe that "yes ... yes I get it" attitude continues until one is around 40.
By then - give or take 5 years - you've lost some people. Parents. A close friend or two - or three - maybe more. Maybe a sibling, taken too soon. It's always too soon if someone is under 80 (and people over 80 would probably bump that up). But yes. You're over 40 and people are starting to go at what seems like quite a clip. So you can't ignore it anymore. You try. But you can't. And that's where I am now, five days out from my friend Gene's death. And ... I don't care for it. That's about all I can say about it. Without cursing.
I knew him for about 30 years. And though I can't remember the moment I met him. I remember a lot of other moments. I remember cracking up - and cracking him up. I remember he and I being hired to cook for two nights for KoKo Taylor "Queen of the Blues", who was performing in a club downtown. We made fried chicken, collards, black-eyed peas, pork chops and so on in a generous friend's kitchen. She was a vegetarian, and says that to this day, that was the only time she'd allowed meat to be cooked in her home. I remember his "white trash/frozen food party" where he and his friend and roommate Steve served huge martinis in iced tea glasses and swept around their nearly furniture-less - painfully cool -  historic district apartment passing silver trays of Gino's Pizza rolls as if they were fois gras en croute. I remember having dinner at his parent's palatial southern home - trying desperately to keep up as they poured me cocktail after cocktail, and throwing up later before stumbling to bed "drunk as Cootie Brown" - as Gene would say - did say - often. I remember his mother, Marion, an elegant woman in her 60's by then, washing the car out in the yard in shorts and her bra - something he said no other woman in the neighborhood would have done, but that she did all the time. Meanwhile - his father, Robert, also elegant, with a very "country club" demeanor - was in the house, polishing the chandelier.
Later, long after we'd both moved, me to NYC, him to Charlotte NC, I'd spend the night at his house whenever I got a chance. He would make me a lovely dinner - or we'd go out somewhere fun and fabulous.  Then we'd stay up late-ish with a nightcap or two - or three - talking, not laughing so much then, as late-night was the time for those quieter conversations. Finally, I'd slip into a bed, beautifully  made with sheets and a comforter with Oprah-worthy thread counts. In the morning he'd pad into my room around 8:30am (he'd been up for two hours, at least) with a full silver tea set - perfectly brewed Earl Grey, cream and sugar and announce that he'd be serving eggs, livermush (it's a southern thing) and fresh biscuits shortly.
He taught me about Yma Sumac, Peggy Lee, and "cocktail jazz" - and reminded me that I loved old country, gospel, James Brown, Beethoven and Mozart, and that they could, and should, all be played at some point during any given day, preferably all mixed up together.
Having these memories helps. And just because I don't remember "the first time we met" ... well, it shouldn't really matter. But see - I didn't know he'd be gone so soon. And - well I just think I should have realized.

I should have known he would die. I should know that everyone, including me is going to die, and thus should make a point of remembering every single blessed thing - from first thing to last thing to all the things in the middle. And I should catch and hold all those things as if in amber, so I can lay them all out and look at them whenever I want to. We all should. Except we can't - because if we tried that's all we'd be doing. Like constantly taking a picture with your cell phone instead of just "being" there. So ... what should we do? Both I guess. Take a few more pictures than you think you need. Jot down a few specific memories in a journal. Then put it all down and just enjoy the real thing. Don't be so quick to let go - but don't keep trying to hold on either. It's that blasted moderation again. Something Gene would have none of. Ah well. Cheers old friend. You were the kind of person who makes one dearly wish for an after-life. There is one right? And you'll be there ... right? God, I hope so.

Revamp - Reboot - Retool - Repeat - and Happy New Year!

OK - It's 2013!!!!
And I'm starting a revamp - a reboot - a retool - for the New Year.
For one thing - I'm doing a "Health Thingie" - like ... an actual organized one - I'm part of a "program" - that shall remain nameless for now - as I had to sign a confidentiality agreement. Seriously.  But screw it - I'll tell you what it is. Myself, Queen Latifah, Kirstie Alley, Terry Bradshaw, Marie Osmond, Charles Barkley and Bruce Vilanch are being sent to an island with nothing but forks, one box of matches, a cross-bow and a case of Sensa©!
No - that's not it. It's better than that. And involves no travel. Which is fine, as I'm in the mood to stay home anyway.  I'll tell you about it later, in dribs and drabs - and will report on "how I'm doing" from time to time - here. Anyway. It starts Monday - Jan 14th. What what? That's right - Monday.
also -
I'm reengaging with my blog. This blog. Deluxe Rice. And ... adding a food element.
So - I'll write and publish on it more often (more that every 2 to 3 months??? However will you manage Carol???) (Shut up)
and - those postings will often have to do with food - and cooking and other food related stuff. As well as my 'thoughts and ramblings' on current events. I will somehow - somehow - try to make that "work". Not even in quotes. But actually make it work. Non-ironically.

I'll also be working on - my interview podcast idea - splashing into the voice-over pool - and acting that isn't just about auditioning for commercials. (though I'll totally take more commercial auditions too - so - let's keep those coming in Universe, 'kay? - and let's book a bunch of 'em! Woohoo!!!! And now - let's go! All Skate!

Storm-blocked and other-wise blocked (and masochism - a dish best rejected)

I've been blocked by this storm. Well ... not really the storm - but the circumstances around the storm and before the storm and Lord knows what else.
Part of it is my foot - feet. I've got a three week old broken toe on my left foot - and a one week old sprained ankle on my right foot. Both healing well, but making me less spry than usual.
And then there was this Hurricane Sandy/Weather Event/Frankenstorm - that snatched my city (and other cities & towns too) bald-headed then twirled it high and let it fly - to land willy-nilly whichever-way, where it twitches still, in a cold, damp, hungry, limited subways/gasoline/potable water/electrical power/ heap.
Sure. Lots of us never lost power - or we have that power back now. And lots of us had no damage or little damage. Most of us even. But the number of people not so lucky - the areas where damage roamed free, King Kong, Zeus and Aqua Man on a bender - they got slammed. Really, really bad. Fires. Nearly all of Breezy Point burned to the ground. The Rockaways, Staten Island, lower Manhattan, pretty much all coastal and low-lying areas devastated. Countless homes and businesses flooded. And when that water recedes, things aren't just dried out good as new - things are moldy, fetid, ruined. There'll be poison in the air, from the mold, from sewage. It's getting cold too. No heat - no electric - little or no gas. Awful enough if you're a plain ol' healthy person - as in, you don't need a walker, wheelchair, cane, oxygen tank, special medicines - but if you do need any of that, coupled with this? Worse. Way worse. And how about if you have little kids? Also worse. How about little kids with special needs? More and More Awful and Worse.
I have none of those problems. I'm not in an area that was hit. I've got food. Electric. Cable/Internet. Heat. And time. Because all my work for the week cancelled. Tons of time. Buckets of time. Something I've been begging for forever. "Oh if only I had time to really write more! I would do X-Y-Z if I had time. I WOULD!"
OH my god - excuse me, please, while I climb over this moldering pile of masochistic shame to reach the keyboard of my computer so I can type this confession ... (straining, r e a c h i n g through the gloopy goo ... OK ... here goes) - I HAVE NOT USED MY TIME WELL.
OH MY GOD - I am such an asshole, a loser, a faker, an asshole time-wasting-loser wretched waster.  Jesus. I disgust me.
There. Drink it in.
Feel better Carol? To finally "tell the truth"?
No. Turns out I don't.
Turns out the masochism - which I just gave in to, is no more pleasurable than being yelled at, peed on, or hit. (I've never thought any of that sounded too swell - don't want to ruin it for you though - if that's your deal. I don't like tripe or chicken gizzards either - but don't let that stop you from chowing down) -- so anyway -- all this to say ....
Over the past couple of days, I'd sit down to write, and nothing - but nothing - would emerge. And then I'd hop on the Facebook - the NY Times - Salon - and read stuff, cross reference, post something, answer another post - read something else, and so on. (not that I've never done that before, but I can usually pull myself out of it -- not this week though) And I'm trying to sort out why. Here with you. If you're here. If not - well then just by myself.
There's reasons deep dark and complex for why I don't always do what I ought - want - and apparently also don't want - to do. Or - more accurately - why do I sometimes go towards the masochism. Why don't I do everything I can to give myself an abundant life? I'm picking my way through all that with my analyst. (yes - me on a couch - her in a chair - twice a week) - so I won't go into the whole long "fear of success" "don't want to fully separate from my family" "If I'm successful by accident - e.g. 'discovered' - then it's not my fault and they won't try to kill me" stuff. (seriously - it's all that - and more - I kid you not - don't judge - I'm rubber and you? Are glue) --
But instead - I'll just say this. I underestimated the impact. The impact of this event, even if it had little or no direct impact, on me.
Yes. Like 9/11. It's similar. That also shook us to the core, and showed how quickly all we hold dear can be decimated. But of course it's also not similar - in that it's less contained, more sprawling - and has no human face(s) to pin it on. No one to curse. No one to hate.
But the relentless unfolding of new jarring stories? That's similar. The readjusting and readjusting as you - I - and we - try to wrap our brains around how long this is going to take to heal. That's similar,

"The NY Marathon will go on as planned." said Mayor Bloomberg. His points about our needing the money etc. weren't without merit, but in a few hours time New Yorkers slammed their fists down on all available tables not under water. "NO!!!!"
And the mayor changed his mind. He never changes his mind. But this time we made him. There's just too many people suffering for us to enjoy standing on the corner cheering. And the only race we need to run right now is the race to fix all that is fixable. Pronto.
Anyway - back to me - (as if I ever left)
I'm struggling to pull myself out of a deep - sticky damned "where the hell is my career?" rut, that I've been in for a long, loooong time. And I thought - with this storm and everything screeching to a halt - that it would be the perfect time to "really get something done".
But it wasn't so easy. People have died. Children have died. Lives are scrambled and smashed. And it reverberated in my apartment. And no matter how "centered" and "separate" and "together" I think I am. I'm not.
What I am though is lucky. I'm lucky that all I have to do to "fix" this is give myself a shake. And write this little potentially self-involved "woe-is-me, why-can't-I get-outta-this-hole" essay. Because I needed to shed some "brain debris". Which like all debris, needed to be cleared out of the way. And now it is.
Toes and ankles heal. Power comes back on. People go back to work. Good things happen everyday. Bad things happen every day too. And masochism is some sticky shit. Attention must be paid.

The back and forth

Do you talk to people about politics? At parties? At work? On the street? Some people say that's rude. That we shouldn't do that.
But ... well - I get that it can be rude -  or could be - or can be inappropriate (for instance probably best to avoid politics at "the Holiday Table" unless you're completely confident in everyone's ability to keep chewing and swallowing. But - other than that, must it always be "rude"? Or is it, maybe, sometimes, warranted. Necessary. Productive. Good.
Since our lives are directly affected by politics, shouldn't we at least, you know, understand what each other thinks is going on? And try to get a handle on what might actually be going on? As well as call our congress people, sign petitions, go to protests, vote, call them on their bullshit, applaud their progress and hold their feet to the fire to keep it up? Isn't that our job as citizens?
After all, what do we gain from keeping our mouths shut? Peace and quiet? At least the illusion of it?
Because when people who disagree about politics (or religion, or both) start talking, they often start shouting, and sometimes shooting (small scale - "man shoots in direction of brother-in-law, accidentally wounding second cousin and two nephews - or grand scale - terrorist attacks, full out war). Here's the thing. I don't want to cause an accidental shooting or start a war, but talking about politics is actually one of my favorite things to do. Most people, I know, would rather stick their head into a ceiling fan but not me.  Seriously - when I find another person at a party, at work, in a cab, who actually likes talking politics? (whether they agree with me OR NOT) I'm happy as a clam at a cancelled clambake.
I had a friend recently say to me that he'd stopped talking about politics entirely, unless he was certain the people he was speaking with agreed with him. He said he regretted letting some of his friends know how he felt about things, as they'd stopped being his friends now. 
He felt that sharing his feelings was bad, and that losing these "friends" was bad. But what kind of loser friends could they have been in the first place if that's all it took to get rid of them? Finding out that he did indeed, believe in global warming, gun control, etc and so forth, and therefore, that people who didn't might be, you know, stupid. 
Though I doubt he actually called them stupid, maybe they just felt stupid (because not believing in global warming and gun control is, you know, stupid). Whatever - bad friends, good riddance. The end. 
I've had awesome to really good to perfectly fine discussions with cab drivers - fellow party guests, co-workers and strangers on the street about politics. And sometimes it's not so good. And I wish I'd not done it. But I never truly regret it. It's always a horse I feel is worth getting on again, even when said horse calls me an elitist asthete communist socialist Jezebel and throws me across the virtual room. I mean -- I love preaching to the choir, you know? They're so receptive. But sometimes it's worth it to preach to "not the choir". Or talk to them rather. And listen to them. Even if it makes you want to pull your hair out. And if you're patient and leave your hair where it is - then sometimes there can be an interesting exchange of ideas, or unexpected common ground. And if not? At least you tried. And learned something. (like how to better pick your battles - and maybe how to get out of them better once you've picked them).

No. It's not like "face to face" - sheesh! (Facebook series - part 1)

And now - I shall vent.
But does "venting" mean I'm "angry"? -- I don't feel angry. (To vent) 
So maybe I'm just "sharing"(To share)
Though I do admit that I feel a groan coming on, followed closely by an eye roll, so, take it as you wish.
Let's talk about Facebook.

"OH crap!!" "Argh!" "It's SO shallow." "HUGE waste of time!" "SO fake!" "They're not "real" friends." "SUPER LAME  replacement for face to face contact!"
I've been hearing this sort of thing since I joined the Facebook - way back in 2008. (I like calling it "the Facebook" - it amuses me, don't know why. )
So I've been hearing this - and finding it to be ... what ... annoying? Tedious? Whiny even? All of the above - and I also find it to be untrue.
Let's start with "lame replacement for face to face contact".
Comparing the Facebook with the Face to Face is like comparing airplanes with cars.  As in: Flying sucks! I can't see any of the "roadside attractions" between NY (where I live now) and NC (where I'm from). Well - yes - that's true.
If one wants to see roadside attractions then one ought to drive there. Preferably opting for local roads. You'll see way more stuff. Horses, cows, truck stops, maybe a Reptile House/Chicken Shack - any number of potentially cool or funky things. Or - maybe you want to "just get there"- in under two hours - so - you'll fly. Or - maybe you've got to take a U-Haul with a bunch of stuff down - so you're driving, but you don't want to dawdle, so you'll take the highway, which also limits sitings of roadside attractions.
Is any one method really better than the other? Or is the best way to get from NY to NC the way that best meets your needs at that time?
Now - would I rather take a walk, grab a glass, share a meal, and so on, with my closest friends, or even my favorite "casual" friends or acquaintances? Sure. Of course I would. Would I rather run into them on the street and have a great conversation spontaneously? Sure! (if I have time) I love it when that happens.
But because I love that - is all other contact, including that on the Facebook rendered "lame" "fake" - and "shallow" ?
Why? Why would that be true? Are cars lame because they're not as fast as airplanes? Are airplanes lame because they go so fast (high too!) you'll never see the roadside Reptile House/Chicken Shack? (or cows and horses) Isn't it all - how you say - relative?
I have had wonderful interactions with people - often unexpectedly - on the Facebook. I've gotten to know some people better, including people I didn't know well or hardly at all before. Do I know them "completely" now? No. Are we going to spend major holidays together now? No. Are they my "best and truest friends"? No.
But I know, now, that they love to cook. I know what their child looks like, or at least that they've got one. I know they're into a certain kind of jazz or that they play the harpsichord or that they're descended from a famous Civil War General or that they lived 2 years in the Phillapines. Do I need to know these things? No. But I enjoy it. It enriches my understanding of these people - new friends, old friends, and everything in between. And reminds me that the world is a rich place and that people are multi-layered and not as easy to "box and label" as we might think.
And then there's this. My husband and I have had several friends who've had serious illnesses - or recently lost parents, pets, or others in the "loved ones" category. Facebook has allowed us to stay "in the loop" as to what's happening with them. They can know we're thinking of them - we can send messages of encouragement, publicly or privately-  or even helpful information if it seems appropriate, about organizations, stress relievers, our own personal experience with said illness. We've had friends who've gotten married, had babies, moved or started school - friends that run in different circles now, but that we want to stay in touch with, but with whom it would be overwhelming to send individual emails or letters to all the time. We wouldn't do it. They wouldn't do it. It would be crazy to try. But we can still be part of the experience they've just had, in at least an adjacent way, thanks to the virtual village that is the Facebook. There is comfort in that. And that comfort is not "undone" by the various annoyances (LOL? Hate that - and all related Facebook acronyms)  any more than the occasional travel issue would make us refuse to ever leave the house again. Man up people! Nothing. Is. Without. The occasional hitch! And just like cake - it won't make you fat unless you eat too much of it. Oui?

Hi Women. I'm Paul.

Hi Women. I'm Paul. Do you come here often? My wing-man, Mitt, is in the restroom. May I sit down? Mitt'll be back in a minute, so we'll leave a seat for him, if that's OK. And can I just say, and I think Mitt will agree with me on this, that you look really, really pretty right now. You look thin and young and really really pretty. Not too thin of course, because women are beautiful in all sizes and whatever size you are is totally perfect. And there's no reason for you to look younger either, because women are beautiful at every age. If you were thinner or younger you'd probably look really pretty too, but you look pretty just like that, in that outfit, with your hair just like that, right now.
So, now that I've got your attention, as if looking into my iridescent gray but mostly blue eyes wasn't enough ... you want to touch my hair? Well - OK, just for a second. I know! I really lucked out in the hair department.
Anyway ... look! You made me blush! Anyway! Gosh! Now that I've got your attention, there's a few things I need to tell you.
Since I'm already blushing, let's start with sex, ha ha. But seriously. (don't take your eyes off of my eyes, and this will all sound a lot better)
What you need to do, stay with me here, is let me and other people like me, but mainly me, pretty much take over all decisions about your body. You've got enough to worry about just working on your abs right? (and may I recommend P90X? I'm living proof that it works!) But your abs are great anyway - no matter what they look like.
So sex. Here's the deal. It's for babies. Only.
I mean to make babies - only - see? Procreation. Period. Well preferably procreation period. I mean, listen, we all like to have fun and as long as you're married in the eyes of God then, you know .... there's little tricks I hear about, calendars, cycles, there's ways to "do it" and maybe not get a bun in the oven (who needs the carbs! ha ha!) - but contraception? I think I have to go with the Catholic Church on this one - contraception just screws up the whole purpose of sex and makes it dirty and disgusting. So I really can't get behind that at all, well hardly at all anyway. But abortion. Ugh. Like never, ever, under any circumstances - you know? Ugh. I mean you want to talk about being "pro-choice"? Well its really very "anti-choice" because you're basically telling God that you don't agree with his choice for you. That God's decision to make the sperm of His choice connect with your egg and fertilize it at whatever moment He decides to have that happen - and I'm not going to say specifically whenever or under whatever circumstances I'm talking about right now because it's a real "hot button issue" you know? But like I said - whenever and whatever circumstances - if you get an abortion it's like you're telling God "no". It's like you hear the phone ringing in your uterus and you pick it up and it's God and you say "no".  Seriously ladies, no offense, but you need to rethink that. And you need to just, I know I sound really preachy here, and I'm sorry (keep looking into the bottomless pools of blue gray blueness that are my eyes.) You need to let us men tell you what to do with regard to your bodies and babies, both born and unborn. Period. (well unborn really - after they're born ... well that's really your area right? ha ha - but seriously, it is)
Anyway - here's why men know all about women and babies. It's because we have penises, and penises have tiny little brains in them that only think about vaginas and vagina related subjects; unless that penis is gay, in which case it only thinks about other penises (ugh. We can talk about that later). So the penis brain (if it's not a gay penis, which again, ugh.) ... the penis brain tells the head brain all about women and ovaries and eggs and even menstrual cycles (ugh - sorry!) and that information, from the penis brain, allows us to make flawless decisions with regard to women and sex and unborn babies. And, of course, we're really just taking our cues from God, who gave us this double brain: penis brain and head brain - in the first place. So he must really, really trust us to make these decisions. Right?
That was a lot of heavy science-y stuff, I know. I wonder what's taking Mitt so long? He takes longer to "go" lately. One of these days he probably won't come back at all and then it'll be just li'l ol' me! Omigosh don't tell him I said that! Jeepers! He'll kill me! But it's true. Gosh you're pretty. Have you ever read Ayn Rand? I'd love to tell you about how Atlas Shrugged changed my life, if ... you know ... you're interested ... or even if you're not. Bartender? Another round for these gorgeous women here! And me too! OK - so here's what's so genius about Ayn Rand ...

30 - again

On this, my 30th birthday - I think back on all my other 30th birthdays.
It's an age worth repeating,  as one rarely gets it right the first time. Not that I remember too much about that first 30. I'd just quit smoking, I remember that. And have mostly kept it that way, except for the occasional backslide due to the events of September 11th or my Mother's passing or because I was in a play (not that my characters smoked, but that theater folks often smoke, so - sometimes I slid back - though it was never a full slide.)
And I'd gotten married just a year prior, at 29. OH 29 - you're so silly! Which goes for all those ages starting with "2", willy, nilly and silly. Sigh. (not that getting married was silly - just the ages starting with "2". Don't worry people whose ages start with "2" - it'll pass - and you'll be glad - promise!)
And aside from quitting smoking... there was probably other stuff; stuff like cooking, eating, working, fitness, sex, shopping, sleeping, meeting people, setting goals (in my head anyway, where I set them carefully up on a series of head-shelves and occasionally dust them - how does all that dust get in my head anyway?)
So the next time I turned 30 - that second time? Much better I think.
I really, really thought it through that time. I mean ... it's one thing when you just "ARE 30" -- quite another when you make a conscious decision to BE 30. It's a "once more with feeling!" kind of thing. It's the consciousness of a truly conscious decision that makes all the difference.
I was deep into the work with my psychoanalyst by then.
Heck yeah! F-you unconscious self! I'm cracking your code, reading you the riot act, putting your unconscious head in a head-lock and giving you a round-house to the many faces of your face!
Except ... well - turns out that's not how it works.
So instead I learn to pull you apart one thin layer at a time, you onion-y rascal - to try to make you a more conscious onion, suitable for salads and saute's. I learn to separate and to be more aware of when I'm not being separate - and to not be angry - no wait - I learn to BE ANGRY ... like for real - and not rush to (fake) forgive people without letting myself know that I'm REALLY ANGRY  - and  THEN, finally, I  learn to not be so angry - but only after I fully recognize my giant pile of anger.
Christ.
No wonder that second round of 30 was so exhausting!
So ... what for this third round?
TBD? LOL? LMFAO? ROTFLMFAO? WTF?
Probably all of the above. If hindsight is 20/20 and foresight is often blind as justice - or a bat  - well maybe my mind's eye sees better than I think - since with age comes wisdom unless one truly insists otherwise - so - this might be my best damned 30 yet! (Until the next).

Sarah Palin© Wants You to Know What She Thinks© About Stuff

Hiya America©! I have terrible news. As you may have heard, "President Obama" is continuing to drag this country by the short hairs towards the Tyranny of Socialism© with his relentless push to "help" the American© people get affordable healthcare!

Everybody knows that The Foundin' Fathers© never mentioned healthcare when they made the Constitution© and the Bill of Rights© so it's a little late to be startin' it up now! Right?
Back when the Foundin' Fathers© rode into this country, or sailed in ... I know some came on boats but some definitely came on horses. I'm pretty sure. Anyway - the point is, they GOT here and they TOOK America© away from the Liberal Indians - who were paradin' around with hardly any clothes on! Their bare chiseled torsos shimmerin' in the sun, practically blindin' our poor, light sensitive Foundin' Fathers© who weren't used to so much sun because they had to stay indoors most of the time on account of those wigs they often wore which, believe me, are very hot. Not to mention the panty hose. Which I can tell you from experience can also be very hot. Wigs and panty hose are both really - really hot - and sometimes binding!
And speaking of binding - now it seems that Obama has us bound up in a deal with the Devil© and I'm not saying he's the actual Devil© but on the other hand I know from the Bible© that Satan© takes many forms so there's a very good chance that Obama IS Satan© at any given time. So he's got us all bound up in this tight, itchy sweater of Obamacare© and he's tryin' to tell us that it's cashmere but we, the American People© - we're not so dumb! We know it's not cashmere because we know what cashmere feels like! I remember that first cashmere sweater I got when I joined the Presidential Campaign© of Mr. John McCain© - it was from Neiman Marcus and it was soft as the belly of a fetal© Grizzly©. And I felt like a Mama Grizzly© when I was wearing it! Protecting her brand new cashmere fetal© Grizzly©! I said, "You kids get away from me with yer sticky fingers! Get anything on this fetal© Grizzly© sweater and you'll draw back a stump!" Ha ha!
But what was I talkin' about? OH right - the most insipid dangerous horrifyin' threat to our country to date - Obamacare©! Which this unconscionably "activist-judge-filled" Supreme Court just said was Constitutional©! It's disgusting! I can't believe I used to fantasize about what Chief Justice Roberts might be hidin' under his robes cuz he's pretty cute ya know and has good sized hands for a man of his height - but now? Forget it! He's crossed off my fantasy list forever and it's back to Justice Thomas as "Mandingo" pouring cans of coke and pubic hair all over my naked body. That's a fantasy I can rely on right? That'll never change! Right?
Wait - what was I talking about? OH right - "Obamacare's"© destruction of our entire Financial System©, Country© and World©. Ya know - The Sarah Palin Almost Vice Presidential Library that I just built (you're welcome ;-) has been doin' a study. It's on my website - it's got several colored detail-y charts that prove how if Obamacare© is allowed to provide affordable healthcare to millions of Americans our economy is going to implode, then explode, then implode again. Because we really rely on a certain number of people gettin' sick, stayin' sick and goin' bankrupt ya know? And those brave Patriots© who are willin' to GET and STAY sick AND go bankrupt to help our economy? They don't need him keepin' them from bein' the Patriots© they wanna be! He's so selfish!! And if he and that Michelle (she thinks she's so pretty!) think that they can just SIT there in the White House - RUININ' our Country© by keepin' people from bein' Patriots©?? Well they've got another think comin'! Which they'll probably LOVE cuz they're all about thinkin' aren't they? Well you just keep thinkin' "President Obama"© - cuz NOW you know what I think! God© Bless America© everybody! And please give generously to the Sarah Palin Almost Vice Presidential Library Expansion Fund! (I'm addin' a wing!) (you're welcome!! ;-). 

Awesome ideas for new amendments to NC state Constitution (that compliment Amendment 1)

• Amendment 2 - grants the right to refuse the mandatory wearing of shoes.
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• Amendment 3 - grants right to refuse mandatory possession of teeth.
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• Amendment 4 - assures freedom to refuse forced education, e.g. readin' writin' and 'rithmatic - stating that: "ifn' God wants me to know about anything he'll tell me!"
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• Amendment 5- guarantees right to:  "let's us rethink that whole "women's votin' thing."
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• Amendment 6- grants freedom to challenge that whole "no shirt, no shoes, no service" thing (see Amendment 2)
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• Amendment 7 - assures right to refuse to rent to, hire, work with or worship with or accept on any level people who are: "a little light in the loafers"- "kinda man-ish lookin' for a lady" "a little foreign-y lookin'" - or - who "talk funny" - "look funny" - "act funny".
• AND THAT'S JUST THE BEGINNIN' Y'ALL - WE AIM TO TAKE THIS STATE CLEAN BACK TO THE 1950'S AND BEYOND!! YEEEEEHAWWWWW!!