Niche (As In, I've Found One).

This kind of stuff makes me speechless. Who ARE these people?

Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy

Someone stop the planet. I wanna get off.

Smack Down.

And then she said:

Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy

I LOVE this woman. I'm so glad that I'm not a lesbian so I don't have to stalk her.

The Nerve.

Is this guy for real? Really?






I guess some old white guys just can't help showing their true colors. Wow, Pat. You must be joking.

Love Her

My girl, Contessa Brewer, was feeling her oats this morning and engaged in a smack down with some Palin-loving wing nut. Girl almost got rashy, she was so mad. I love her and this morning, she gave me reason to cheer.

At the risk of sounding stupid, you go, girl.

Additionally, she interviewed some guy who wrote a book called, "Nanny State: How Food-Fascists, Teetotaling Do-Gooders, Priggish Moralists and Other Boneheaded Bureaucrats Are Turning America Into A Nation Of
Children." The topic was Obama's suggestion that there is a link between poor eating and lifestyle habits and the cost of health care and that the government could be doing more to combat the problem. The author took exception to the idea that workplace obesity screenings and taxing of sugary drinks would, over the long haul, have a positive effect and that, those of us who take care of ourselves, could stop paying for the health care of those who make poor choices.

This is a subject that really riles me because I struggle every month to pay for my health insurance. I have a very high deductible (the "Hit By A Bus" policy) and find that I don't really need much more than the annual look-see cavity check because, although my methods are questionable, I generally take care of myself. Some of this is a result of good fortune and a sturdy breed stock, but primarily it's because I make sure that I eat some vegetables and get off my couch. It just rankles me when I hear someone who is obese go on about their health problems, as if there were no connection.

The crux of the matter for the author seemed to be that "we have to draw the line somewhere" when it comes to government intervention and to that I say, how has that been working so far? He made the short-sighted statement that taxing sugary drinks won't keep people from drinking them and while that's most likely true, he didn't seem to get the concept that the added taxes WOULD HELP TO PAY FOR HEALTH CARE.

Dude, get your head out of your ass and stop stumping for the Processed Food Industrial Complex. I can see right through you.

Blisters and Scabs

Now, that ought to get your attention. This post falls into the category of, "Thank God I visited this upon myself and not another."

About every 10 weeks or so, I go through the uncomfortable ritual of bleaching my hair. This essentially involves putting corrosive chemicals on my scalp for periods of up to 75 minutes or more. Generally, it's 45 minutes before I begin to experience some discomfort; at about 60 minutes, it becomes downright painful, in a burning, searing sort of way. We (bleach blonds) put ourselves through this is because we never want to pull the product off while our hair is still yellow - we just have to tough it out.

In order to achieve maximum blonding, I use a pre-prepared, 30-volume (peroxide) developer and Wella's cream bleach. This week, I ran out of 30-volume, but had plenty of 20 and 40.

Does anyone else get where I'm going here? I remember a very early, basic algebraic instruction. You know...(-)__________20__10__0__10__20__30__40_________(+). Right? So, you can plainly see how I would assume that a combination of equal parts 20 and 40 volume would result in 30 volume.

My scalp will tell you differently. It certainly notified me the moment my platinum specialist, Berlin, slapped the cold goo on my pate. The instant sting should have been a signal, but I gritted my teeth, donned my plastic cap and went about the business of tightening up Berlin's faux-hawk. While my scalp burned.

At about 15 minutes in, Berlin insisted that I, "take it off, man." ("Dude, I can see your red scalp from here. In fact, it's purple.") So, he rinsed it off with cool water and, while it felt good in one respect, it hurt like a motherfucker in another. I was unable to see the top of my head, but reports were that it was really red. With blisters.

(Additionally, this whole exercise has sparked a lively debate around the back-room table at the salon and there are a couple of guys that are just not talking to each other about it. My word.)

So, at this juncture, I'm in pain, I have yellow hair and sores on my scalp. Totally sexy.

But, we bleach blonds are a sturdy lot and I refuse to go about with yellow hair, so the next day, I "toned" it. Which involves putting yet more corrosive, albeit less-strong and tone-balancing, chemicals on my scalp. For about 20 minutes. I rinsed and the result: yellow roots with dull, peachy-purple ends. Super duper.

The next day, I went about my business and wore a hat while doing it. My hair looked like ass and I monitored the sores for scab formation so I could do what ultimately needed to be done...the reapplication of the 30-volume and bleach, this time with pre-prepared solution. At about 4pm on Day Three, I mixed up a batch and....put it on. No sweat. No real burning (it's all relative at this point). I'm gold, bother literally and figuratively.

I was naturally concerned that my hair would melt so I probably pulled the mixture off before the hair became completely platinum, but I let the experience-so-far dictate my caution. The hair is a little on the fluffy-baby-chick side of yellow, but a certain improvement, with very little further skin damage. I'll use some blue shampoo and I'll be right as rain, I'm pretty sure.

Wow.. What an odyssey. I'm not sure how Gwen Stefani does it.

Birds of a Feather

My girlfriend, T, sent me the following email and I'm posting it here because it is a perfect example of kvetching at its finest. It's one of the reasons she continues to be a good friend - her whining is top-notch.

So, with no further introduction, please enjoy.

Tamara Nielson

I'm a good person. And reasonably easy to please, I think. I try not to stere...

11:27 AM (1 hour ago)

Tamara NielsonLoading...

11:27 AM (1 hour ago)

I'm a good person. And reasonably easy to please, I think. I try not to stereotype folks.

Let's say you have a police officer for a relative. I'm not going to sit here and tell you that the are, positively and without a doubt, abusive bullies of lower than average intelligence. Okay, so I'll think it - but I won't say it.

Can't say I'm as flexible with real estate agents and their ilk. ("Ilk" - what a great word!) I'll apologize ahead of time if there are any beloved family members who are agents. And I'm sorry you've mistakenly assumed they had a soul. They don't.

So we've talked about Rush Limbaugh-guy, right? The one that was bragging about lying to a bank appraiser about there being pedophiles in the neighborhood to drive down the price? Nice. Those are his credentials. "I'm a conscienceless liar... and a Christian!" And I've also mentioned that severely injuring his nutsack is on my 'bucket list', right?

Let's move on to the next Rucker Hill agent. Two words. TED BAXTER. With a silver mustache. That he strokes in a very unnerving fashion. At least the real pretend Ted had an endearing quality to him. This is the joker who was raving about the view of the gigantic aircraft carrier in Port Gardner Bay from the living room and kitchen of one of his listings. Apparently, on a warm summer evening, you can open the window and hear them play 'Taps'. Yanno, just like you're on an army base. Ooooooh! So romantic!

So I'm sticking with Jerry the Weasel, our listing agent and erstwhile 'buyer's agent'. He's agreeable enough. In fact, that's the problem. He's enthusiastically agreeable to EVERYTHING I say. What a disingenuous fuck. It's really getting to be like fingernails on a chalkboard. And those eyes! Those bright, friendly eager eyes. Like a gerbil that smells food. He doesn't lie, though. To use his words, he "fibs". WTF? Dude, could you BE any more of a pussy? I'd rather work with a lying motherfucker than a 'fibber'. At least Rush has a sack to kick. Arrrgh.

It could be worse. I could be listed by Lorena. Here's the deal - if you're in sales and you look like Aileen Wuornos, go the extra mile and get a professional photo done. It's not that you have to be attractive, but maybe just a little less DANGEROUS looking? I was using the real estate search engine, Zip, and she came up as "my realtor". It was disturbing enough to have her mug on the side of every page I looked at. And I was starting to beat myself up a little about being shallow. I mean, who cares what she looks like, right? Well, she called me this morning to tell me she was my realtor. When I told her I already had one, Lorena got angry. Very angry. She said that if I'd found anything on Zip, I HAD to go through her. Fuck man, the chick knows where I live. Brrrrrr. So I did the only thing I could think of - I gave her Jerry's cell number. God, he's probable dead now.

So that's the latest from the land of rodents and reptiles known as "The Real Estate Market". More to come, I'm sure.

See what I'm sayin'?

Saunter Much?

There is an intersection near my place that sees quite a bit of traffic, both vehicular and foot. Volume-wise, it even reminds me a little bit of the West Village. Which wouldn't be a problem in, I'm guessing, most places. But, here, the pedestrians have this really weird (passive-aggressive) way of slowing down and sauntering through the (very busy) intersection, as though they are making some statement about their power as....pedestrians?

God, sometimes I miss New York. I think you know what I mean.

Where DO you draw the line?

I know that this is going to sound like the grumblings of someone who didn't attend a name-brand college (and, if the truth be known, I put in some semesters at a couple of Community Institutions of Higher Learning, but never matriculated). However, I would like to state right here and right now that I think there should be a point at which one should stop wearing or exhibiting their alma mater on either clothing or car-back-window-stickers. I'm going to be generous and say that I think that line should be drawn at two years after graduation.

I do think that the university emblem thing is all about bragging. When was the last time you saw someone sporting a sweatshirt that proclaimed "Hayward State?" What else would make someone in their forties put a Brown University sticker on their vehicle? Why would a thirty-five year old guy wear a Stanford sweatshirt? I cannot get into the psyche of the beast, but it smacks of elitism. And, I'm guessing that's what bugs me.

Butt As Billboard

I am a very lazy blogger because I just can't bring myself to find a photo of a large girl wearing a pronouncement across her ass. I settled, instead, for this young cutie and only because I think that I've made my case in spite of her lack of girth. Who uses their ass as a space for advertisement? From a manufacturer's point of view, it's brilliant. Otherwise, it's just downright dumb to draw attention to your hind quarters. I'm just sayin'.

Really Alarming

Category: Really Useless. (Sub Category: Scam) Item: Car alarms.

It's fucked up when a car alarm goes off just because some other (loud) vehicle drives by. Who sets their car alarm during the day? Do alarms really keep thieves from breaking into cars? I don't think so, because no one takes notice of activated alarms due to the 98% incidence of non-break-in-activation.

I would like to know the connection between the insurance companies, which give you a "discount" for having an alarm system, and the alarm manufacturers. Call me cynical, but I'm pretty sure there is one.

A Public Apology

I learned this morning that Miss California went and made ass during the Miss USA Pageant 2009 last night. Whah.

While I'm sorry that I missed the controversial Prop 8 question/answer, I'm downright heartbroken that I WAS NOT EVEN AWARE OF A PAGEANT ON TELEVISION and that the Pageant Posse has dismantled entirely.

I suppose this is a prime example of some of those good things that come to pass. Dammit.

Cultural Differences

It makes me crazy that someone can stand in line for, let's say, a bagel and get to the register and then.....take time to decide what it is that they want.

In New York City, this would just never fly. These people would be chewed up and spit out. In a good way.

Sorry To Disappoint

I know, I know. I thought that the absence of food for two weeks would bring out the worst in me, but it seems that it may have actually had a positive effect on my disposition. Sorry about that.

So, this morning, at 610am,
I got myself a cup of coffee. Game on.

I Think I Just Threw Up In My Mouth A Little Bit

Okay, so it's Day Two of the fast and maybe I'm a little over-sensitive (maybe?), but I just saw something on TV that made my skin crawl: A new Public Policy Polling Survey shows that "President Obama would crush Alaska Gov. Sarah Palin in a hypothetical 2012 presidential contest, 55% to 35%."

This is distressing to me on so many levels. Let's start with the fact that I considered Sarah Palin an inauthentic charlatan and honestly thought that we would have all, collectively, gotten over her. That the media is still seriously talking about her honestly surprises me. (I am not a total Republican hater, per se; I have been impressed by the young Meghan McCain. I don't agree with her but I think she's authentic. I also have a teeny weeny crush on Chuck Hagel.)

Then, there's the issue of premature ejaculation. I mean, this guy hasn't even been in office for two months and the pollsters are already pitting him against the next opponent. Jesus Christ, the body's not even cold yet.

And, of course, there's the nagging question of, who in the hell are the people that make up that thirty five percent? That is, perhaps, the most disconcerting part of all.

Can you say "crabby?" I can't stand being with myself right now.

Fasten Your Seatbelts

This is fair warning, people.

Tomorrow morning, I will awaken and not eat. For at least twelve days. Possibly fourteen. And, if I'm feeling smug about it, maybe even twenty.

So, I should be plenty peeved over the next few days. After that, it gets easier. For everyone.

This Is Disturbing

Last night, my 19-year old niece shared with the rest of us at the dinner table that the incidence of STD's is highest among the senior-community demographic.

Now, I'm not sure what I find most disturbing; the actual fact or that my niece harbors the information. I don't know if that's healthy for children.

There was, of course, much discussion regarding same, replete with the double entendres and snappy puns, but ultimately there was an underlying discomfort about the whole matter. I'm still a little.....is it verklempt?

Tweet This

There's something unsettling about hearing a television commentator, specifically when one of them is commenting on the economy, talk about Twittering. To hear Ali Velshi of CNN say the word, "Tweet," really diminishes his authority on the subject. I'm all for new communication vehicles. But, let's leave the Twittering to Miley Cyrus and the like.

As somewhat of a non sequitur, it kills me that House Republicans are going on about "spending." Suddenly, after blowing through nearly/more than a trillion dollars in budget surplus and creating the biggest government in history, they are concerned about "spending."

I think that they believe their grand plan to dumb down the populace, through a lousy education system and the processed-food-industrial-complex, has surely been successful. Because, they seem to think that we are stupid and have no memory. That we can't make the connection between the eight years of their reign and the current condition of the country - oh, hell, let's just say it - the world. God bless 'em. They've got big ones.

I say eight years, but let's be honest and call it the thirty years since The Gipper took office. God, it's been a long road. And, politics aside, I look at the facts and see that we now live in a country where the divide between rich and poor is greater than ever before, 46 million people don't have health insurance, obesity is rampant, twenty-five percent of kids drop out of high school, people all over the world think we are arrogant and some of them would like to kill us....I could go on. My point is, how have these years served us, The People? Unless you believe that no one has had any control over any of this, then you have to conclude that we have been had. Without lubrication.

I Never Knew

I watched The Pope of Greenwich Village for the first time tonight. Beyond the obvious talents of Rourke and Roberts, I found myself asking why anyone would cast Daryl Hannah in anything. Can you say, "flat?" I don't get it. Never have. Although, I do think we share similar world/political views. Go figure.

Mickey (he spells it like the Mouse) is great, but I think Eric Roberts shows real genius in his portrayal of a pseudo-goomba, considering that he's born in Biloxi, MS. Nice perm. His intensity is...well...intense. He should work more. A few years ago, I heard that he gave up smoking pot after twenty five years. That must have been some habit.

It should be noted that, during the late eighties and early nineties, I went through an "Eric Roberts phase" (my then-roommate worked at a video store and supported my habit); I'm not sure how I missed out on this gem.

It Only Gets Worse

It's only been a few weeks since I mentioned it here, but my Progressive-Insurance-Girl thing has only gotten more vociferous. She just irritates the shit out of me and I'm pretty sure that I have the opposite reaction from what the ad folks intended for viewers - I change the channel and swear to myself that I will never use Progressive Insurance, ever.

Oh, Yes He Did

"You know, you have such a stunningly superficial knowledge of what went on that it's almost embarrassing to listen to you."
These are the words said by former National Security Adviser, Zbigniew Brzezinski, in reference to his host/interviewer, Joe Scarborough (himself, a former U.S Congressman) on MSNBC's Morning Joe.

It had to have been especially uncomfortable for Zbig's daughter, Mika, who plays foil to Scarborough every weekday morning. "But, Dad, I have to work with him."

I love discourse but Joe is a windbag and he bugs me.

Tawk Amongst Yourselves

This morning, I heard someone say the words, "income equality," in reference to the Obama presidency. How DO you spell halleluja?

Discuss.

I Piss Myself Off

It's taken me less than a month of this blogging business to realize that I am not really all that fussy about stuff.
Oh,sure, there are some things that have always rubbed me the wrong way, but after dumping about them, I don't have much ammo. I really have to reach, which takes the sting out of my supposed/alleged gig.
But, have no fear. I will continue to search for and dredge up that which really bugs me. Because, there's only so much Pollyanna any of us can take.

Excuse Me But You're Idling

God dammit. It freaks me out when someone (btw, it's usually a dude) sits in their car and lets the engine run for any length of time. It's especially offensive when the vehicle in question is a diesel.

I always want to approach the culprit, but I don't want to be one of those nutbag women that run around trying to impose their ideals on other folks. I am unable to be anything but blunt and, ask those who know me, I can be abrasive.

I do believe that there is an awareness level that just hasn't yet breached the idiot levee.

Because, how can you explain it otherwise?

I Can't Stand These Things

Or the people attached to them.
Nor am I a fan of small plastic furniture.

That's Why They Call It A SideWALK

Does it strike anyone else as odd when a group of folks (usually young and white) will stand on a sidewalk, seemingly unaware of the foot traffic around them? They appear to be especially fond of clustering in areas of ingress/egress.

I'm curious to know if it's really self-centered oblivion or just some of that passive-aggressive behavior that I attribute to this particular subset of peeps. "Notice me!"

Sometimes, I will skirt around them. On other occasions, I plow through. In both cases, I am irritated.

Honestly

It makes me crazy when someone starts a sentence with, "To tell you the truth," or, "I'll be honest with you." Does that mean that you would be lying to me otherwise?

Oh, The Scourge

Do you have these funky things on the sidewalks of your town? I swear, when I get some time, I'm going to mount a campaign against them because they are a blight.

I want to know who's making money on this deal; I'll start with them first. In this photograph, taken at one of our more upscale retail intersections, I was only able to include half of these unsightly dispensers. There are sixteen ON ONE CORNER. I want to know why that's necessary or acceptable.

Maybe a call to the Mayor's office is a good place to start. I predict a run-around of at least a half dozen phone calls ("I'm sorry, but you'll have to call ______Department of ____."), only to discover that I will have to attend some sort of supervisors' meeting where nothing will be accomplished beyond a considerable amount of hot air being moved around.

I'm serious. We need more beauty in this world, not more crap on our sidewalks.

And Then There Are Times

It's entirely true that there are plenty of occasions when I have nothing to complain about. In fact, I downright rejoiced when I was given a piece of custom jewelry, hand-made for me by a neighborhood Irish gal who is a horologist by training and education. The girl could actually build a watch if she wanted to. That's quite a niche.
I pestered her for nearly four - count 'em - four years to make me a replica of a piece she wears and I was floored when she coughed it up a few months ago. Let's put it this way - if she'll let me, I'll do her hair free of charge for the rest of her natural life (or mine, I guess). I absolutely love it and am so honored that she would take her time to make it for me. It was one of life's great moments.
So, the photo doesn't do it justice but I wanted to pay homage to my gift from the horologist. I'm working on the technology part of this whole bloggy thingy, but I've got a lot to say before that happens.

Rainbow Barf

So, I know that I sound like an old curmudgeon (see grouch) and, by the way, that's sort of the point. But on the whole, I am a very good-natured, happy-go-lucky sort who sees my glass as more than half full and I'm so very grateful for everything that has been afforded me.

I love rainbows. I have lived in rainy locales and one of the great things about that is that you cannot escape the rainbow. I have seen many double rainbows and I am always awed by their coupled perfection. All rainbows are God's gift and I mean that.

Having said that, I hate unicorns and rainbows.

It feels incumbent upon me to mention the toadstools. You just don't see a good toadstool anymore.

What Is The Date Today?

It's February 19th, right? By my math, this means it's been nearly eight weeks since Christmas (unless you are Russian Orthodox, in which case it's been more like six weeks, give or take).
So, some lazy numbskull just put their tree out on the sidewalk last night.

Pee-Yew

Another thing that really gets my goat is the overwhelming smell/scent/stench of too much perfume or cologne. When I can smell someone from 30 paces, I know they have applied too much (read: took a bath in it). Maybe some peeps have a need for some things to be way too obvious; there is a modicum of subtelty.


I think that you should only be able to smell someone in the event that you snuggle up to their neck and take a long, deep breath. If they are wearing an engineered, yet pleasing scent - great. If they smell really good just as they are - even better.


Disclaimer: I know someone who wears Paloma Picasso and every time I see her, I have to sidle up and take a whiff. Good stuff.

How Do They Sleep At Night?

This morning, I plan to email MSNBC again, and inquire as to why they continue to allow Andrea Mitchell to host her own show, in light of the fact that she is married to one of the architects of The Great Depression, Part Deux. Time Magazine lists him as #17 on a list of twenty five blameworthy parties. What a great moment not to be Number One!

It wouldn't be an issue for me if she were reporting on, say, sports or entertainment news, but she gets to comment on the state of the economy every day. The economy that is teetering on collapse. She gets to ask questions of the players. I just don't believe that she can be objective and non-partisan. During the run-up to the election, while the economy began spiraling downward at an alarming rate, there were a couple of interviewees that accidentally dropped the suggestion that she might know the answers to her own questions better than they, due to her proximity to the source of some of our woes. God bless 'em.

On a side note, it's a little ironic that all of these talking heads on TV have more job security, the more difficult things get. Because they get to talk about it in even more depth. And not really say anything.

I do like Contessa Brewer. First of all, her name is Contessa, which makes her seem vaguely regal. After watching her most mornings, I'm pretty sure that I'd like to be her friend and she's living proof that you can actually do something with a degree in Broadcast Journalism.

So, MSNBC is going to get a page-full from me today and while I'm at it, I'm going to suggest that they do something with Joe Scarborough. And, by "do something," I mean get rid of him. He's a Republican Baptist attorney from Florida. What's not to hate?

Blog Ammo

Okay. I have been whining about this for years and it still bugs the buh-geezus out of me when drivers don't follow the rules of the road. You know, you pull up to a four-way stop at the same time as another and the person on the right has the right of way, right? And, they sit there. Waiting for you to go. EVEN THOUGH THEY HAVE THE RIGHT OF WAY.

Does everyone know that, on a hill, in a single-lane situation, the car facing downhill must yield to the car facing uphill? You'd think that, in a city built on numerous hills, drivers would know this and abide by the rules of the road. But no. It's a constant cluster fuck.

Pants-in-Boots

It must be said, even at the risk of offending some of my friends, that this ubiquetous tucking-in of pants to boots has really reached saturation point. I witnessed this trend in full bloom last year while I was in New York; that it took a year to catch on here in this fashion-challenged city only makes it more annoying to me.

I don't really know what the alternative is to trend, but it does seem that certain gals should not embrace certain trends. The young ladies that can get away with it should feel okay about being individual and unique.

I decline to comment on the sofa.

Make It Stop.

This will be brief.
The uber-perky Progressive Insurance girl? IX-NAY.
Someone, somewhere got paid a whole lotta money for this sucky ad campaign. And this really irks me.

There are some things that make me happy.

This is Kooba, the love of my life. We think he's part terrierist and part Snufaluffapuss. Thanks to the interweb, I can see him any time I desire. Of course, I can't feel his really soft, fuzzy ears and I can't smell him or lay in bed with him nestled in the crook of my arm.

Kooba is the product of a successful co-foster/adoption situation, which, in the end, resulted in his moving across country to Brooklyn, NY. One of the saddest days of my life was the day I drove away from him. He scampered up the stairs to his new and rightful owners, Ben & Patty, barely looking back, because he's a dog and he didn't know that we were to be separated. Anyone who thinks I'm a little heartless should know that it chokes me up just to write this, even years later.

I was able to see Koobs while I visited NY last year and his initial reaction was priceless. It took him a split second to recognize me and then he spun in circles and peed all over. I was able to walk him in Prospect Park a couple of times and was overjoyed to see him be so well-cared for and loved.
flickr.com/photos/bgmckay/sets/72157612866864528/show/with/3218416362/
for a Koobacentric slideshow.

Thanks, Ben and Patty. I know you love him even more than I, if that's possible.

And, Another Thing.

I don't suppose that there is any way to legislate this, but I think it should be an understood and common courtesy to keep your trap shut about current movies when in public.

It goes like this. I'm sitting at a table in a Vietnamese restaurant last night. The tables are close and there were a couple of youngsters next to me, going on about The Wrestler. By the end of my meal, I felt like I didn't really have to see the movie because I HAD HEARD ALL ABOUT IT.

One of my favorite things is to see a movie with absolutely no preconception (This is how I went into Boys Don't Cry. Imagine that.). One of my pet peeves is when someone ruins that for me. Thanks a lot, youngsters.

Click Here First.

Really. Click on the title first. View the commercial and then come on back.

This television commercial is the inspiration for my blog. Thank you, Bounce. Because, instead of showering, you can just use a dryer sheet that infuses your clothes with "scent beads" which are time-released during the course of your wearing them. Is it me, or does this seem unnatural and, dare I say, superfluous?

This post couldn't wait for me to figure out how to (illegally) download an image of this miraculous product, so I posted the above URL. You can decide for yourself if this is another example of SAC (Stupid American Consumerism).

Don't Get Me Started.

I try not to annoy my friends by going on about things that annoy me. Who really wants to hear about it? Someone once admonished me about this and I've never forgotten it. It was very good advice.

However.

There are times when I can no longer keep my irritations to myself and I must experience relief by pissing and moaning.

I am not blogging to communicate with other people; I'm not really interested in opinions about my opinions. This is my soapbox. So, get ready, because I can bitch with the best of 'em.