A New Calamity

This just in......   The new James Bond movie has been shelved because of one good reason, No Cash.  If that isn't a calamity.  I won't be able to watch Mr. Craig in his form fitting tuxedo dropping out of the sky from a flaming helicopter for a long time. 

Okay, its time this whole Economic Crisis is over.  I'm tired of it.  I'm hating on the Wall Street Gang (sounds like some cattle hustling, bar slinging, stinky horse cowboy Calamity Jane Insane would be in a shootup with.)  I'm to the nth degree on all the sad stories and I'm done with being patient with it. 

If we can't blame Obama who can we blame?  

Yeah, Thanks......

Time Flies for Calamity

I was talking with my dear daughter the other day and she was remarking that the weather seemed to her like "earthquake weather" and seeing how she lives in sunny southern California we discussed the inevitable event should it happen.  After getting off the phone she texted me about 2 hours later to say they INDEED had said earthquake!  That was the Mexico quake that she felt strongly in Redondo Beach.  Guess we won't be quibbling about EQ's again.  I guess I better not talk Hurricanes now that I'm here in Florida.  God just makes life one big humor story that's the tragedy of it so you gotta be careful of what you say on the phone.

Like the day I hand washed my car.  What a lovely day it was.  Clear blue sky, warm weather, happy as a little clam playing in the water.  So God tossed in a rainstorm the very next day.  Gee thanks God, you're so funny and cute.

Keeping with the theme, I was looking in my fridge for those fine zucchini to cook for the dinner I was preparing and when I reached in the bag my fingers went right though one.  You'd of thought my grandmother already cooked them since she would boil them till they turned useless, tasteless, and soft enough to feed grandpa without his teeth.  There was one rotten one in the bunch and of course it made the others feel ill and sticky.  I had to toss the lot of them.  I forget what the heck I served as a vegetable that night.  Maybe I didn't even bother.  I was so mad at the lost zucchini souls I had to chuck.  Its not like zucchini grows on trees around here.

And finally there were the frozen chicken breasts I was wanting to thaw one night.  I wanted to give them a little starter by leaving them out in the plastic container then put them in the fridge when I went to bed.  Of course, I forgot.  In the morning I had a nice batch of potential salmonella brewing.  Bacteria does not die if you bake, boil, fry or otherwise cook.  It stays there waiting to make you spill your guts after you've eaten it.  I could have loaded a gun with chicken parts and it would have been just as deadly.  Damn.  Had to throw those out too. 

Had I been in a strange mood I could have cooked the chicken and served it with the zucchini then mail it to Jesse James.  You just have to have a optimistic view of things to make it work.  I don't think Sandra Bullock would mind if I sent her husband a free dinner.

Bad Names for Cars

My dad had his own car lot way back in the day. He always had different cars to drive around, almost a car for each day in the week. Some were wrecks and some weren’t. I remember this nice 1970 Chevy Caprice he brought home. It was white with a black textured roof and really nice condition. He let me drive it one day and when I had to park it in the garage I dinged the side on the fence. I wrecked it. The fence too. I didn’t get to drive the nice cars anymore. I don’t recall him getting mad about it though. He was pretty cool really.

So one day he brings home this little 1962 red Mercury Comet. I hated it. It was so ugly. And it was mine to drive. My friends didn’t really want to be seen in it but would break down and get in if they couldn’t get another ride home. We developed our own name for it, we dubbed it The Vomit. I’d pack all my buddies in the car and head to this one street where we knew there was this big dip. We’d get to the street and I would stop the car, make sure we were all set and then I’d floor it. By the time we got to the dip we were moving pretty fast. We’d hit that dip and BOOM we’d hit the other side. It was so much fun! It was like taking a bunch of friends off a ski lift. The girls would all brace themselves by holding onto the roof so they wouldn’t bounce up and hit their heads. It was so funny. We’d laugh and laugh. I think I was trying to wreck the Vomit so I didn’t have to drive it but the damn thing kept together no matter what I did to it.

So I was sitting around thinking about the Vomit and how it should have been named The Vomit then I got to thinking about all the dumb names for cars over the years. Who names cars (and streets for that matter?) Who was the guy who designed the rough and ready Ford Bronco and what was he thinking? Ford Bronco? Oh yeah, that’s how I want my truck to ride. A Bronco.

I’d like my truck to ride smooth and solid-heavy, like a truck. So why don’t they make one called the Ford Clydesdale? That name would have me knowing that truck could do anything. If you didn’t want the big truck version we could have an option of buying the smaller little pickup called The Shetland. Those sound like real names. Then again, maybe the Mustang is a jealous nag and doesn’t want the competition. These are the thoughts rolling through my brain.

A few of you baby boomers remember the Dodge Swinger from back in the 70’s. That was a stupid name. It sounds like some hot ad on the back of a girlie magazine. I never saw one ‘swinger’ driving a Swinger. They were all driving cool muscle cars not something that sounded like a cheesy pick up person wearing a polyester leisure suit.

Then there was that horrible Pacer car. Someone had their design head up their design butt on that one. What kind of name is the Pacer? It could have been called the Pace Maker since it was ugly enough to stop a heart. I remember going to the racetrack with my dad and we’d bet on horses that were pulling buggies and they were called pacers. They were a lot better looking and had more horsepower than that idiotic Pacer. I had a real aversion to the lime green ones.

But the winner would have to be the AMC Gremlin. Yep. It could have been called the WTF? Gremlin! Who wants to buy a car that is named after small recurrent problems that are hard to fix?

I had another car that was a doozy. It was a yellow 1981 Mercedes 300D (diesel). Because it was a diesel it was slow on the get-go but once it got rolling it was good and reliable. I had it for about 13 years or so. How’s that for reliable. I have clear mental images of my daughter growing up in that car. When she was 2-3 years old she would stand up (this was before child seats were enforced) and I’d seat belt her in place and drive. Then when she was 4-5 she would kneel and I’d strap her in place. From then on she could see over the dash so she sat normally. Then when she was 17 and had her license… She always flatly REFUSED to drive the “Banana Boat” as she and her friends would call it. I told her that I suspected one day she would ask me for the keys but she steadfastly held her ground and vehemently denied that she would.

Naturally, the day came when she sheepishly came to me to request the keys to the car (all of a sudden it was called a car and not the Banana Boat). I laughed, she hung her head and I walked outside with her so I could see with my own two eyes, my daughter driving off in the stinking yellow Mercedes, aka Banana Boat. She would not allow me to bring the camera.

She drove off and I stood there laughing. Orange-ja glad I don’t have the Banana Boat any longer dearest daughter? Below is a picture by Terri Border of Bent Objects that seems to fit my daughter’s dislike for the car. HA

Oh yeah, who names street signs?? I wouldn’t want to live here although I did live on a street once called Shell Street. Some drunk climbed up the pole one night and forever changed the name to Hell Street. Yep, that’s where I lived.

10 Reasons Why You Should Become More Positive

1. You will create a better world around you. How about spraying everyone Blue? Go get some spray paint and get on meds and we’ll talk. Oh yeah, and buy yourself a Happy Meal too. Cheer the hell up.

2. You will make better first impressions. Duh. Even though it may not last it’s nice to see someone who can shower and wear clean clothes! Look at Obama, he made a nice first impression. No one says it could last. There is no greater put off than talking to someone about health care.

3. You will focus on the good things in people. This sounds like some kind of hypnosis mantra. You don’t say “man is that fellow fat! Rather say, he’s a connoisseur of good food” and lots of it, tons of it even. See, this isn’t hard. I can see past ugly, I can see past fat, I can see past stupid.  Your eyes are getting droopy, you are sleepier and sleepier.....

4. It´s easier to become more productive when you stop laying obstacles in the middle of the road in the form of negative thoughts. And here I thought that was roadkill. Now its called a negative thought. Next time I can tell everyone “Look, the buzzards are hovering over some negative thoughts! Let’s roll over them with the car!” That’ll positively make me some friends with PETA.

5. Work becomes more fun. Everything becomes more fun. You’re not serious with this shit are you? Everything becomes more fun?? Root canals, foot injections and migraines are now more fun?  You're wacked.
6. You become more attractive. Tell that to Kirsty Alley. I don’t think she’s more attractive (see #3 above) just because she’s positive she’s fat and unemployable in Hollywood. This is serious stuff. You shouldn’t make fun of fat people. (there’s too many of them now-a-days) .

7. Being negative has very little concrete advantages  Unless you work for the mob in New Jersey. Then concrete comes in real handy and you are perceived as a guy with initiative even though you are being negative per se.

8. It opens up your mind  Oh yeah, that’s what I want. A frontal lobotomy. With all the thorazine I’ll definitely be able to focus on other ways of looking at things. Nothing like in a drug induced fog to change your perspective about driving over roadkill to hear the crunch and wet concrete.

9. It puts the Law of Attraction to better use.  I don’t need more attraction in my life right now. Its bad enough the Law is attracted to my credit woes and the student loans are dropping the Law Suit of Attraction on me. Make me invisible is what I’m looking for! No, I don’t need no stinkin’ magnets. Magnets are those icky things crawling on road kill

10. You´ll waste less time.  Yep. I do waste time. I waste time thinking of reasons why I waste it. Thinking of 10 reasons positively wasted some real time. How about reading 10 reasons? You just wasted some serious time too. Get back to work you sluggard!!

Calamity Tries a New Task

Looking for a job is a job in itself.  I've been spending the past 7 months doing just that to no avail.  I do a lot of temporary work which has been a life saver since there is so much down time to this occupation that one could go batty finding things to keep oneself busy and occupied waiting for the phone or emails to ring.

I thought I would take on a new busy task of beading something.  Roommate Glo has asked me to make her a lanyard for her housekeys.  Not like she's going to wear it or anything which took off a lot of pressure to make something that actually looks good.  I've never beaded before.  Anything. So this was a new and exciting thing to help get me through some long hours.

I've finished the task today.  Almost.  I need to learn how to 'close' it, tie it up or whatever.  I think I'm surprised that it turned out so well.  I actually like it.  It didn't end up looking like I made it at the Special Olympics for Beading.  [OMG!  Is Calamity Jane being so heartless and insensitive again??]  Get over it.  I'm so over Political Correctness. I'm tired of all this 'correctness' making us reword everything into blandness.  I write, therefore I say stuff that I WANT TO SAY. 

How purging.  I feel better already.  Still unemployed though.

Here's the Lanyard.  It's made with glass beads so it probably won't last.  Just as long as I have photos I don't much care.  Ha.

CJ is almost getting normal which is very scary.  Crazy is such a comfort place for me usually.  My Borderline Personality is getting hungry for more craze.  I will have to wait a bit to try something else.  Money used to grow on trees but not in Florida.  This project only cost me $14.  Neat.

Hello

Guess where I've been?  I'm not telling, but I may stay now and keep up with the blog.  Okay, you win, I'll tell.  I've been on a Calamity Holiday.  February is such a short month and just not enough time to enjoy a calamity that I wanted to see if I could squeeze one in.  I recovered and now I'm back to bidness.

I've been thinking of many ways to renew and rejuv my blog, but I probably won't.  Ha!  Glo and I did work on a puzzle when I was cocooning but the darn Cat kept helping so it took longer than necessary.  See what I mean? 

But Glo and I managed to finish it.  What a perfect winter night activity.  I haven't done a puzzel in YEARS.  NiNi was just bugged since we weren't paying her attention. She was thinking of all the petting she was missing out on. Spoiled Brat!

I know its odd to complain of the cold

when living in Florida but it has been Record Breaking Cold here and I'm loving it!  I get to make nice comfort foods like Pot Roast and Soups and Lima Beans with ham hocks.  I have a few more recipes to do so I hope the cold will stay for a while.  But I am losing my tan from November so I do need warmth to renew it all over again.  I can't wait to be able to lounge by the pool.  In the meantime, I'm loving this. 

Here's the finished product.

            

That one was a 300 piece.  Next on the burner is a 500 piece.  Gotta start slow or I'll run into another calamity and be gone for another month. 

Best Things to Love

I got to thinking about something new to add to this damn blog which is riding my back like a sucker-fish on the back of a whale.  Every day that I DON'T add to the blog I have some nagging crapola going on in my head telling me I'm a quitter and stuff.  I'm not a quitter but sometimes I need to get all the blue marbles together and all the green marbles in another section before I can think of something to blog.

After saying all that, now when I tell you what my new blog category is I bet you'll be out Whaling and let Greenpeace be dammed while you're pulling off sucker-fish.  Maybe that's too aggressive for February...

The Best Things to Like About JANUARY:

1. I survived the flu
2. I survived 2009
3. I survived January
4. I've got 12 whole months to come up with a survival plan

The Best Things to Like About FEBRUARY:

1. Its short
2. I love the Super Bowl commercials
3. Red is such a pretty color, ie. Valentines Day (I've been in the red for the past few years.  I know Red)
4. Lots of good appetizer recipes come out for Super Bowl.

There you go. 

I could have added some Bad things to not like about the months but that's just so 2009.  What's not to like about January and February?  I'm digging a hole here.  Gotta go.  Enjoy your month!

Calamity's Dim Bulb Award

Lately, if I didn't know better I'd have thought I answered these questions.  There are days when one is just not sync'd up with what life is trying to teach us which in turn brings out the sarcasma dwelling inside. (at least for Calamity Jane)

These two answers to actual test questions are examples of the impulsive behavior I feel at inappropriate moments that end up costing me one way or the other.  I could have probably created my own book of such pithy examples.  We've all been there (or is it just me?...)

Killer Job Offer Reject #1

After months and months of sending out my resume to endless lists of people, companies and places I'd never heard of (or heard from) I got to thinking of a job that I wouldn't submit my resume to no matter the dire calamities I face.  Sometimes the only way to know what you DO want, is to know best what you DON'T want.   So here is an online ad description I thought of while staring at the carpet for hours on end.

Assistant Grim Reaper :   We currently have an opening for a few good "escorts to the afterlife party". Looking for those with a killer personality.  Someone who can do whatever it takes to get the job done, with or without soul.  Black hooded uniform (one size fits all) and scythe provided (guaranteed not made in China so no chance of toxic chemical transfers).  No previous customer service skills needed and having no sense of humor is a plus.  Looking for hardworking individuals who know how to reap what they sow.  Brief social encounters necessary and all leads provided. Benefits include free hot meals in our world famous Hell's Kitchen, medical and dental, 401K and use of the company hearse.

A Beautiful Day

And I'm not just saying that to compliment myself but I always say if the horseshoe fits...

I downloaded my camera and realized that I forgot to post the beautiful amazing sunrise on New Year's Eve day.  I was so "shock" to see a sunrise that rivaled a sunset.  Pretty cool.

It all happend within the space of 10 minutes.

The colors were so perfect.  It reminded me of
a sunset I saw while going down the Nile River in Egypt.  It filled the whole sky.  Just like this one.

I was thinking that it was a fitting end to a miserable year for everyone.  Hopefully 2010 will be without as many Calamities as 2009.

I think it was appropriate that I took these shots from my bathroom window.  2009 was a bunch of crap!   Awe, did I ruin the moment?  Blame the politicians.  They've jaded me.

Calamity’s Secret Clubhouse Meeting Notes #548

Thought you might want to see this initial report on the Christmas Day bomber.  Please don't distribute. Its for your eyes only....

Mr. President of the USA
Secret Hideout
Kommon I Wanna Lei Ya, Hawaii

Dear Mr. Prez Sir:

As requested, here is our report on the Christmas Day near blowup by theUnderpants Bomber, aka Mr. UFA.  aka United Flaming Arab-type.  (just an office joke Sir)

On the day in question, the department was holding its annual Christmas Holiday party in the lunchroom . Outside our windows another freekin beautiful snowstorm was coming down while we opened Secret Santa presents. One of the guys got a tricked out model of a plane called Air Force Tiger One complete with wheels that really rolled, a tiny set of golf clubs and a miniature stewardess dressed in a little Santa’s Helper outfit. We had some great comments on that one.

Anyhoot, the War Room (the one next to the lunchroom) had lots of connect-the-dots drawings on the walls from the day before where we were practicing ‘situations’ based on valid information from the goons at the CIA. We got tired of doing that after about 6 hours but we judged Bob McKlowski’s drawing to be pretty darn near a real possibility so we all chipped in some pocket change to make him feel warm and fuzzy during the holidays.

Afterwards, we looked at endless photos of men wearing burkas, towels on their heads, and veils. It was hysterical. We all took turns on the Spin the Tale of the New Donkey. You won. You weren’t here so we got to spin again.

Later that night we got a call from Detroit about this guy with Hot Pants on his way into town. We figured it was some of your Illinois buddies gaffin’ around so we waited until Cheney called us a bunch of twots and said it was real. We nipped his ‘tude in the bud and told him if he was so sure Mr. Hot Pants was a threat that he ought to take the guy hunting with him since he was a hellava shot. He hung up. What a baby.

Well whaddya know?! Asswipe Cheney was right on target. (hee.) There really was a Situation based on our connect-the-dots games. We were floored to say the least. When we found out the guy burned himself trying to ignite, well things got funny. Again. Jack Harmon said the guy couldn’t find a date on Match.com. (couldn’t get fired up! LOL)Then Phil Williams did an impression of UFA lighting his pants on fire. What a dolt. He just has 1st degree burns. It would have been less but none of the guys could bring themselves to put out the flames in his crotch and all the beer was gone.

Bottom line Sir? We blew it. (no pun intended) Hey, we’re human-like. We flubbed up. We promise it won’t happen again. Really. The country is safe, we’re paying attention, dotting the I’s and crossing the t’s. You and the missus and kidlets can sleep safe at night and everyone else. Not one man in this department is dropping the ball anymore.

We’ll make sure that no more terrorist’s get the Terrorist Employee of the Month Award like Mr. UFA did. Oh wait, you didn’t know he got the award from al-Qaida’s kingpin? Yeah, we have a photo of it hanging up on his cave wall back in Yemen. Awe geez, do we have to do another report?

Your Ever Diligent Staff

How I Love a Well Dressed Man

I was listening to one of my favorite groups, ZZ Top the other day and their song Sharp Dressed Man, and it got me thinking how close to the truth it was.

No one dresses anymore like they used to. I hope the next X0 years bring about better use of fashion than the last X0 years because I’m beginning to miss admiring a well dressed man.

I’m talking French cuffs, starchy shirt collars, pocket scarfs, Italian leather shoes and well fitting suits, subtle cologne, men who aren’t afraid to wear pink shirts or designer ties, even suspenders sometimes. I miss a man who owns a tuxedo for winter and summer which still fits and is used often.

I loved and was loved by a man like this once. He was a tall blond Norwegian who had style and panache most men can’t even imagine and even refuse to anymore. He never owned a pair of thongs (flip-flops), never picked his teeth in public, he let other men fix his car engine, he didn’t watch TV shows or sports unless he participated.

He played golf and taught me how. He took me to Austria to see the ski jump he skied down after college; he proposed to me in Rome over candlelight; he took me on a carriage ride in Central Park, NY one November and he brought Dom Perignon champagne and two glasses. It was cold but we were cuddled under a blanket toasting at twilight while the driver gently nudged his horse through the park. Well dressed men don’t hesitate to be romantic. 

On a trip to Europe we stopped in Garmish-Partenkeirchen to ski the Zugspitz. I lasted 4 times up on the cog railway inside the mountain tunnel steaming hot and 4 times down with frozen hair and limbs before I cried ‘you win’. We found out later that night it was one of the coldest days on record but he still liked winning and I was happy anyway.

He spoke with an accent I can still recall with longing, he had Carribean blue eyes I still see in my dreams and always seemed to be tanned. He was built like a fine snow leopard, muscular, firm, trim and graceful. He looked amazing in anything he wore and had the most beautiful hands I’ve seen on a man.

He made me laugh and when he wasn’t there it made me cry. He made me realize I had a heart with love inside. Every woman in my family loved him, as any woman would for obvious reasons but also because he was not afraid to show everyone how much he loved me.

He let me drive 110 miles an hour from LA to San Diego once without too much complaining. He looked the other way when he got me drunk one winter on Aquavit outside a Swedish restaurant and I spilled my guts in the parking lot. He didn’t laugh when I met him one August in Fort Lauderdale for a visit and he saw that I brought a flannel plaid jacket. He forgave me for flattening all four of his tires one day after he forgot about a date we made. He wasn’t at all interested in my beautiful blond best friend who was Swedish. He thought my Aunt’s were crazy and wonderful and he was right.

He took me to Provo, Utah and taught me to use cross country ski’s, after that we rented a snow-mobile where we zipped through the fields recklessly fast. Too fast to see the upcoming culvert in time to stop before we sailed over it like we were on a flying carpet. When we landed on the other side I promptly fell off. I’d never been more shaken or alive.

I was young and didn’t think to let my past ruin my present. The baggage wasn’t there at the station to limit my ride or overburden me with doubts. I fell wholeheartedly in love and it was triumphant!

We weren’t like blood in the veins we were the CELLS, living, alive and vibrant together.

All because he was a well dressed man.