Rent vs Buy

For a number of years after we were married, my husband and I rented. We did not have the cash for the down payment of a house, and even if we did, we were not really to make such a financial commitment. So we rented.

I did not mind renting. I did not think that our rent checks were being wasted. I know others did (real estate agents, for instance), but we got a place to stay, and that seemed adequate trade for the rent money. I mean, if something happened to the house – if the house needed a new air conditioner, for instance, it really did not affect us financially.

The only thing I did not like was, sometimes, they way I was treated because I was a renter. People expect, when you are renting, that you are not as good as homeowners. Yeah, you can say I am full of it, but I have heard someone's voice change after learning that I was a renter. Well, it was great when the gutter salespeople came by: "I'm sorry, but I am a renter."

Renters get a bad rap, I suppose, because some renters don't take good care of the property they inhabit. You know, there is not much of a financial incentive to do so – a number of rentals I have had seem to do everything they can to retain your deposit even if there is nothing wrong with the apartment or house at the end of the rental agreement. The property is not yours – and some treat is less preciously because of that. That's what some think renters do – they don't take care of the property as well because they don't have a financial reason to do so. Oh, and perhaps as a rule, this happens more often than naught.

I have been thinking about the direction of my life lately, and I have been treating my life as a renter. I have not been owning my life, just renting it. There are things I want to do, things I want to write.

In my blog, I used the following phrase to introduce my blog: "I started blogging to improve my writing; I really did. Painters don't start with masterpieces – they start on scraps of paper, and even when planning a great work, they do many other drawings in preparation. I think writing is the same. You just don't start and finish a novel by merrily typing into the computer; you experiment. Blogging is sort of like a writer's doodling. So this is my scratch pad of sorts. This is less than scraps of paper actually, just 1s and 0s on your computer screen."

Well, after a few years of writing this blog, I have not really done what I set out to do. Yeah, my writing may have gotten marginally better, but I have not started any serious writing.

Last month ~Deb gave up her blog, and I have been thinking about doing the same. Temporarily or permanently, I don't know.

I am not stopping this blog because I have run out of ideas or because I have gotten any stalkers. I just want to spend my time doing other things. I have enjoyed this blog, I have enjoyed the people I have met, and I have enjoyed the whole blogging experience.

I guess I want to start owning my life. We have very little time on this earth, and I need to spend it doing what I want to do, what I feel called to do. Now I don't know if I will be back next week, next month or never again, I could not tell you. Personally, I hope I will be able to write, really write, and not come back to this blog. It's not that it is unimportant. It is that I feel called to write a novel. I am a bit scared, but that is not necessarily a bad thing.

I will miss writing every day or several times per week. But it is time for me to move on.

Note: I have one post scheduled to get published some time in August. But it is already in the queue. Other than that, I may or may not be back. We will just have to see.

At the Gym

I go to the gym nearly every day; I am not a gym rat, but I like to observe while working out. Anyway, I go to the gym at certain times a day, and because of this, I run into the same thing every day. Here are a few people at my gym:

Ponytail
I call one of the young women "ponytail." I don't know her name – I don't know many people's names there – but I have in-my-head nicknames for the regulars. As you have probably guessed, she has a ponytail. Her blonde hair goes nearly half-way down her back, and she normally does ellipticals several machines from me. She almost always wears a white top, but her shorts change from time-to-time. Her top are sheer, probably Under Armour. She always does the same 30 or so minutes, then heads to the weights. I don't do weights, so I don't know what she does there. All I really know about Ponytail is that she has nice skin.

Small Package
There is a guy who has the largest chest I have ever seen. A freakin' barrel chest. He must do weights. He has to do weights, but I see him on the treadmills and ellipticals. I call him mentally "small package" because he is the body type that I associate with 'roids. I mean, I am not sure he dates ugly country music singers, but he is definitely a guy to ogle over. I don't hunger for him, but I like looking.

Nice Ass
One of the ladies on the ellipticals is Asian, and she has the nicest ass I have seen in quite some time. I look at women's asses, partly because I compare myself to them. This woman is probably 50-years-old, and she has a great ass. It sort of makes me a little bit envious. A 50-year-old should not have such an ass. She always wears dark work-out clothes, and she I think she works out often. I almost always start and stop my ellipticals before she finishes. Always. Must be why she has a great ass.

Bony
One guy who I see often I mentally call bony. He is old, how old I really don't know. I want to think he is in his 80s, but maybe he is older. He is only slightly taller than me, and if he weighs 100 pounds, I would be surprised. His head is a little bit larger than normal, or maybe because he is so skinny, his head appears larger. His shirt is normally full of sweat, but he seems like a cute old guy. He is single, but not my type.

Gidget
I don't like calling her Gidget, but I could not think of a better name for her. She is probably 30, and she has all sorts of friends. And they talk to one another on elliptical equipment, and I hear words over my iPod. Gawd, I am old. I thought "Walkman" when I meant iPod. Anyway, the conversations are juicy. I know if I had Gidget for a friend, I would not tell her a damn thing. I mean, when I get bored and she is within earshot, I listen. Sometimes it is about who is screwing whom in their neighborhood, or complications from pregnancy for other people, or that Jimmy's testicle finally dropped (okay, I don't know what this means, but I nearly choked when I heard that).

There are lots of characters at the gym. Not just sweaty people trying to drop a few pounds.

Random Thursday

Ass Pants
Every girl ,every woman, likes to look good. There's no secret there. But what some men don't know is that all clothes are not created equal. Me, I have a favorite pair of pants. One pair makes my ass look so good. I feel good in the jeans, and in my mind, I always call them my ass pants. Now, I can't wear the pants in the summer, but in the spring and fall, I reach for my ass pants when I want to look good. Pick the pants first, then the top and shoes. Because if your ass looks good, it makes everything else look good.

Tickle Answer: Leesa, you're the Shy Side Of Sexy
When it comes to sex appeal, you've got it — and you know you've got it — you just have trouble flaunting it. Taking that first step can be really hard for you, especially if it's a step into a new lover's arms. And you know you can sometimes come off as a little, shall we say, tame. But look out! When you reach your comfort level, you're in the zone and unstoppable.

Your lovers are the lucky ones because they're the only people who really know what lies beneath your reserved exterior. In public you sometimes blush or shy away, but once you get behind closed doors, you truly unleash your sexual desires. And saving your racy side for those fortunate few bonds them to you that much more. You may be shy, but you know how to hook and reel 'em in.

Where is my Stuff?
A hoax Craigslist advertisement resulted in an Oregon man losing a sizable chunk of his possessions as hoards of bargain-hunters descended upon his home in a free-for-all grab.

A number of ads apparently popped up on Saturday afternoon, claiming that the owner of a Jacksonville home was forced to take leave in a hurry. As such, all his belongings, including a horse, were now free for the taking. The problem was that the victim, Robert Salisbury, had no such plans. In fact, if not for a call he received from a concerned do-gooder, he could well have returned to his home to find it totally cleaned out.

Excerpt from Seattle Times:

On his way home he [Robert Salisbury] stopped a truck loaded down with his work ladders, lawn mower and weed eater. “I informed them I was the owner, but they refused to give the stuff back,” Salisbury said. “They showed me the Craigslist printout and told me they had the right to do what they did.” The driver sped away after rebuking Salisbury. On his way home he spotted other cars filled with his belongings. Once home he was greeted by close to 30 people rummaging through his barn and front porch.
According to Salisbury, the trespassers tried to brush him off initially with printouts of the ad. By the time Jackson County sheriff’s deputies arrived, several vehicles laden with his possessions had already taken off.

The case is now in the hands of the police who are working with the Craigslist legal team. In the meantime, items can be returned with no questions asked. If caught with Salisbury’s possessions though, prosecution is likely.

How the hell do you steal stuff because of something you found on the Internet? It is like if it is on the web, it is true.

Ian Fleming and President Kennedy

I am a little young to remember President Kennedy. Too young for Johnson and Nixon as well, really. The first president I can remember is Jimmy Carter. I don't know if it is because of where I am from or that I grew up in a household that really did not follow politics. Anyway, when I write about Kennedy, Johnson or Nixon, I am doing so from a more historic perspective – or really, whatever my social studies teachers told me about more recent history.

Anyway, the following comes from my recollection of something a couple of social studies teachers told our class. I have no idea if these stories are true, but it is interesting nonetheless.

Josh F. Kennedy was an attractive president, and it seems that the press was in love with him. Actually, as a Catholic, I remember some teachers telling me that they did not know if the US would ever elect a Catholic president. Anyway, apparently President Kennedy invited Ian Fleming to the White House for a party. My guess is that the president did not specifically request him, but he made a list.

Fleming chatted with the president at the party – and said something funny. The US was concerned that communist-run Cuba (a mere 90 miles away), and Fleming had an idea about how to get rid of Castro.

Getting Castro to shave his beard was the key. Fleming believed that without the beard, Castro would look like anyone else, and the Cuban people would be less enchanted with him. He would not be as special. Fleming suggested that the US should announce that beards had hazards – that the beards attract radioactivity. Then any person could become radioactive him/herself, as well as becoming sterile.

Castro would then shave his beard because of the health concerns, and then he would fall from power. No Bay of Pigs (the Bay of Pigs had not happened by then), just radioactive beards.

Anyway, President Kennedy was amused/impressed, and said he would read one of his books (he wrote a series of James Bond books).

Anyway, later, at a press conference, a reporter asked what types of books he liked to read. Now I am not sure Kennedy was a particularly scholarly person. I mean, listening to the stories over the years – his daily sexual escapades with his "assistants" in the White House pool, for instance – I wonder if he had time to read.

But he was the president, and he could not say, "Read? I don't have time to read. I bone a couple of girls in the pool every day." Instead, he said he enjoyed books by Ian Fleming. Not that he read any of them, but that's what he said.

And, funny thing, Mr. Fleming and the James Bonds books, really became popular. All from party conversation.

Remember Me: YouTube Video

Lizzie Palmer made a YouTube video called "Remember Me." It aired on Fox News Sunday.



I watched this video, and what is interesting, is that after I watched it, I noticed that the first video that was "related", was on Oral Sex. Not sure what that was about. Definitely a way to remember someone, but it was not the point of the video.

My regular Wednesday post will be tomorrow (I try to post M-W-F). I guess tomorrow being Wednesday, you might guess I would post tomorrow.

Adult Summer Camp

I have a college friend who has invited me to do a week-long summer camp with her. I don't know if I am going to do it, but I am tempted. Ever since I have been married, I have vacationed with my husband. Sounds reasonable. I mean, we got married because we enjoyed each others' company.

Anyway, I will let you know if I go. I am thinking about it.

That brings me to a topic I don't know if it exists. In March and April, I hear about summer camps throughout Georgia. Golf camp (all sports camps, but there is a lot of golf), space camp (I think they go to Alabama for that one), day camp, traditional camps, you name it. Not once have I heard of a frazzled mothers' camp, a couples' get-away camp, a fathers' I just-want-to-fish camp.

I would not really be excited about my husband going on a cruise by himself – I have not been on one of the big cruises, but from my experience watching the Love Boat, there are a lot of hook-ups there. And frankly, I don't want him to be (unsupervised) around that many bikinis.

Sorry for such a short post this morning. It has been hot-as-hell here lately. Well, not 100, but I am not used to the heat yet. Where ever I spend summer camp, I want there to be lots of water and refreshing drinks.

Trapped without a Thought

You can't keep a good woman down. Okay, the original saying is, "You tie a woman to the bed, gag her, and then leave her to contemplate the situation, and she will probably wiggle free." But you know, we needed to simplify things, so now, we say, "you can't keep a good woman down."

And by good woman, I am talking about ~Deb. I got a message from ~Deb that she is addicted to blogging, and her blog is back in business. Funny thing is that she stopped blogging because she was tapped. Oh, and don't think of the original image when I talk about ~Deb being tapped. She just ran out of ideas for a while. She may have just needed a break.

Now here I am, a month or so later, and I can't think of anything to write about. Not a thing. I first was thinking of guessing the subject that ~Deb wrote about today. Obviously, my first guess would involve something to do with God. God is all around us, so that is a pretty safe bet. Well, either God or Atomic Chickens. The chickens are all around us as well.

One of my favorite actors is Christopher Lloyd – but even he messes things up occasionally. Remember the TV show Stacked> Okay, I never saw it. It started a couple of huge stars, and by stars I mean Pam Anderson's breasts. I did not watch the show on principal. Then I peeked at Christopher Lloyd's resume. He has made a lot of stinkers – though I bet he will make a wonderful Marley's Ghost (rumored film, A Christmas Carol).

Well, I am going to go work out at lunch – I have not stopped doing that, at least. The weather is really nice, and I don't want to be embarrassed with wearing shorts and swimwear. You know, secretly, I think women would shave off a few years of their lives in exchange for looking hot longer. Flies in the face of self-preservation, but there you have it.

I am going to hit the elliptical machine. Perhaps even reward myself by going to the hot tub. At least in the hot tub, "trapped without a thought" feels good.

Chatting Experiment

I don't often chat on Yahoo Messenger, but I occasionally do so. And since I don't chat often, the odds of one of my buds being online is fairly small. I mean, I really want to chat with my buddies, but since they are not losers spending 22 hours/day online, they are not there when I need them.

Well, in that case, if you really want to chat with someone, you can always log onto the "chat rooms." Now I remember chat rooms when they were actually full of real people. By real people, I mean people like you and me. Now a days, that is not the case. The chat rooms are full of robots.

Normally, it is really easy to tell the professionals from the normal people. And by professional, I mean stripper. And by normal people, I mean mostly men and lesbians. I normally don't pay attention to the professionals. They pretty much just want my credit card information so they can charge the card.

Well, I got a gift card a while back, and there was a little money left on it. I really think stores do gift cards partially because of the wasted end of the card. You know, all of those $2 or $3 adds up. Well, anyway, I had a card that

HornyHannah75: i'm gonna send you a cam invite here k?
Leesa: Sure.
HornyHannah75: ok sent, did you get it?
Leesa: Nah.
HornyHannah75: hmm.. let me try again, hang on
Leesa: Didn't work.
HornyHannah75: what about now?
Leesa: No, not quite
HornyHannah75: ugh, this is stupid, this always happens to me when i use yahoo.

Then you get lured into a paid site, and you give them your credit card info. Well, since I had a little money on a card, I chanced it. I really wanted to see if they would drain the account after I gave it to them.

Well, they have not drained the account. Yet.

But after I went to the chat room, I was "alone" with one very nice woman. I may have said it before, but I am a bit picky about lusting for women. Not all women get my juices flowing, so to speak. She did not. She was cute and all, but she was just not my type.

So here I was, girl that I was not attracted to in a bra and panties. And I was chatting with her. I first asked her to put up two fingers. I just wanted to ensure it was live.

She takes off her top, and I am just chatting with her. Where are you from? How did you get into this line of work, and she is asking me if I like her nipples. Not sure she was ready for my chat. Here I was, doing Barbara Walters, and she was doing her nasty chat. It was a bit comical.

It cost me $1. Plus they will probably drain my account. I don't really care. The dear was sweet and professional. Which is a bit weird for someone who takes her clothes off for strangers every day.

Now I sort of feel like the people who spend 22 hours on the Internet each day. Maybe I should live in a basement. Well, I first have to find a place with a basement. Instead, perhaps I will stay out of chat for a month.

Summer Reading

I love reading at the beach. I absolutely love it.

When I was in high school, one of the most important things to me in the summertime was to darken my skin. I loved worshiping the sun. Well, not worshipping like one worships a deity, but the good sort of worshipping – the kind that deepens the tan and gives one sarcoma or melanoma.

But in high school, I was poolside.

One thing that is important when tanning is not getting freakin' bored. To combat boredom during the baking phase of my summers, I would read. But what to read?

1. Romance Novels: Romance novels are sorta mindless. I have read them, and, yes, I enjoyed them initially. But that was a long time ago. You know, before real sex.

2. Scientific Journals: Okay, how did that get in the blog entry.

3. Geek Books: I am not talking about the latest Star Wars novel. Okay, perhaps that, too, but I am talking about books on unexplained phenomena (Lock Ness, Stonehenge, whatever).

4. Book Covers that Would Embarrass: There are certain books that have book jackets that would embarrass. For instance, bOObs: A Guide to Your Girls or Naked Economics: Undressing the Dismal Science. It is not the stuff inside the book that is embarrassing; just the jacket.

5. Any Book by Suze Orman: What can I say? Suze Orman just sucks.

I prefer books that have small titles. I don't like guys trying to strike up a conversation on some book I am readying while baking. I just want to catch some rays.

Inertia

Inertia: a property of matter that causes it to resist changes in speed or direction (velocity).

We learn about inertia in the physical sciences, and for most of us, it stops with a true/false question on an exam. Or maybe multiple choice, something I prefer to those darned true/false questions.

Inertia is something that keeps us doing the same thing over time. I have a cup of coffee or a Diet Dr. Pepper in the morning. Then I decide it would be better for me, for my teeth, for my neurological system that tells me I should quit. And I decide to quit. But then inertia keeps me wanting my Diet Dr. Pepper in the morning. A bad habit.

Do you ever notice we don't focus on the good habits in our lives? Those who go to the gym five days per week? Or those who floss? We don't really even think about it.

Inertia is the elephant in the room – something we don't talk about – when we think about doing something else. The book I have committed to write but have written a couple of pages. Son-of-a-bitch. So why don't we do the things we should do and avoid the things we should avoid? Inertia. That little word that was worth five points on a high school sophomore's science test.

I have no other answers today. Just thinking about inertia.

Going Pantyless

Several months ago, there were pictures of Britney Spears's love muffin all over the web. Then there were pictures of Paris Hilton's love muffin as well. And Lindsay Lohan's. Now I don't know if paparazzi intentionally go for the crotch shot, but they definitely get some shots when taking pictures of these women.

And then there is Ashley Tisdale ¹ who says she's nothing like them - she always wears panties.

She did an interview for Blender magazine recently, and she is quoted as saying: "I don't know why they do that. Maybe they didn't do their laundry. I’m definitely the kind of person to wear underwear all the time."

I absolutely love her answer.

I don't know if you do it, but when I read an interview, I think of something that would have been better to say than what was said. Okay, my weird word play has disadvantages. I never read that Tom Cruise was into scientology because he liked controlling his wife - that was just something in my head that I heard.

But when I read the bit in Blender – someone emailed me the link – I don't read magazines named after kitchen utensils, I would have answered differently.

Blender Magazine asks some question about my opinion of why some celebs don't wear panties.

Ashley Tisdale (in Leesa's head): "I don't know why they do that. Maybe they have recurrent yeast infections."

Blender Magazine (in Leesa's head): "Are you saying that Britney, Paris and Lindsay have yeast infections?"

Ashley Tisdale (in Leesa's head): "I didn't say that. I was just giving a hypothesis as to why they seem to be pantyless. I had a friend in middle school who did not wear panties because a doctor told her not to. Something to do with infections."

Blender Magazine (in Leesa's head): "So what are you saying about Britney, Paris and Lindsay's love muffins?"

Ashley Tisdale (in Leesa's head): "I am sorry. I have no knowledge of their love muffins. Well, maybe not Lindsay's."

Blender Magazine (in Leesa's head): "So you are familiar with Lindsay's love muffin?"

Ashley Tisdale (in Leesa's head): "I didn't say that either. I meant I saw it in one of the celeb gossip pages."

Before the interview was over, I would have had to reach over and destroy the interviewer's notes and tape recorder. I then would have been arrested for assault, but would have taken a dynamite mug shot. Afterwards, I would have gone on a drinking binge, got in a taxi, then upon getting out of the taxi, a paparazzo takes a picture of my love muffin.

Son-of-a-bitch.

---

¹Okay, she is one of the stars of "High School Musical". I don't get cable, but I did see the original, made for Disney TV movie.

Elementary Schools and Memorial Day

I remember visiting my elementary school when I had just graduated high school. I can't remember the reason for the visit, but I definitely remember the feeling. My initial reaction was that I was some sort of mutant giant. The combination chair-desks looked so tiny, but when I was 5 and 6, they were as large as the desk I am sitting at right now.

When I saw the classroom, not much has changed. I mean, I felt like they shrank the desks, but intellectually, I knew that they hadn't. I spent most of my childhood years in the same school system, and I liked it that way.

If I would have lived nearer the school, I guess I could visit every time I needed to be reminded about change in perspectives.

I was in an elementary school recently – well a month or so ago. Not my elementary school, and I did not feel like a mutated giant. I think it may have been because I never saw the chairs when I was small – that they were just chairs to me, not my chairs when I was growing up. Everything looked fairly normal.

But I was reminded how strict they are in elementary school. Walking in a single-file line with no talking. Waiting for the teacher before entering the classroom. Wow. They still are strict in elementary school.

I am a bit removed from Memorial Day. We never really observed it as children, and we really don't do so as adults. Most of us think of Memorial Day as some three-day weekend in May. Nothing more. I have seen little things that remind me that war, even today, leaves families in pieces. But it is like me seeing someone else's kindergarten classroom. It makes less of an impact than if it were my own. If I were closer to the reason for Memorial Day.

Take a moment to pause today for the men and women who have fallen in defense of our nation.

Connections

I little more than a month ago, one of our friends (~deb) stopped blogging. At the time, I know what we were all thinking - ~deb is getting too much action to write. Okay, perhaps that's not what other people were thinking. Most people don't have their brains in the potty.

Here is what I noticed. ~Deb was (is!) really popular, and her blog linked people with very diverse interests: fundamental Christians (they either love her or hate her), lesbians (ditto), writers, people who loved her sense of humor, and those thinking she would post lesbian kissing videos. I am sure there are other interests involved, but the point is that she has a diverse bunch of friends. Anyway, she would connect people of different interests with her blog. And we would benefit because they would occasionally hop over to our blogs as well, posting occasionally.

Since April 15, however, I have noticed fewer lesbians and fundamental Christians on my blog. I mean Grant can say I will rot in Hell for my actions (he is not fundamental Christian; I suspect he believes everyone will rot in Hell – though he may characterize it as more of a party atmosphere), but that's not like someone else knowing God's mind and telling me I will rot. Some Christians are just helpful that way. Plus I don't get the lesbian crowd trying to convince me to go to Florida for a private pool party (I suspect that is code for something, but I am not sure what).

At one point I actually wanted to get together two of my blogging friends: ~deb and Joe. I mean, I thought the two of them had a lot in common. They were both from New York. They both wrote wonderful and humorous blogs. And they both like girls. Yeah, I did not really think this one through. That's like saying, "This Phillips screwdriver should work fine, screwing in the flat head screw. The screwdriver is near the screw, and both are made of metal." But ~Deb and Joe were not destined to be. SSC gets that honor. Oh, SSC and Joe, not SSC and ~Deb (as far as I am aware of). Reminds me of Malcolm Gladwell's story in Tipping Point concerning Paul Revere's ride. There were actually two riders that night, Paul Revere and the other guy. We don't remember the other guy because he really wasn't that connected to the people he was trying to communicate with. So history has forgotten this man, and so have I. The other guy was not effective at linking people, so when he rode by, shouting "The British are coming," I suspect a lot of people thought to themselves, "Who is that idiot who seems to have had too much mead this evening." Okay, the story is a bit different, but you get the idea.

As humans, we seem to need to connect. And many of us connect with similar people – our own church groups, people we work with, maybe people we share a hobby with (swingers, perhaps, connect in another way). But some, the rare individuals, seem to be able to connect with people of different backgrounds. Whether it is people or blogs, when connections are broken, it is felt.

Who's the Boss?

The other day, I was stuck in traffic, and it occurred to me: I am not the boss in many of my roles I have in life.

Take my part in traffic. There was a man who was directing traffic, and he was the boss. Others in traffic did not realize it, but I certainly did. There was construction around an intersection, and he was directing us through the intersection. Okay, this is not news or a revelation.

But I saw a man make an obscene gesture towards the man, you know, give him the one-fingered salute. The flagman's reaction? He smiled, and flipped his sign over, from "Slow" to "Stop." He kept the man at the intersection far longer than was customary. And thinking back, I sort of applauded the lesson the finger-flipping man was given.

When I go to the doctor's office, I am very kind to the medical receptionist. I used to be kind just because I thought the job may be thankless, but that's when I had not really observed the medical office. Now I see that she really guides traffic, making sure patients have their vitals checked, their insurance in order, and their children controlled. And she, more than anyone else, determines when you get ushered to the exam room. In the medical room, I am certainly not the boss.

Not only does the medical receptionist tell me when I can go to the room, but once I am there, I am at the mercy of the doctor. I can't ring a button or change a tipping situation in order to command better service. I am at her mercy. And then she gets to decide whether to give me a shot (well, that argument probably works better in the pediatric world), give me a pap smear, or hit me with the rubber hammer. Yeah, me out of control.

I go to the airport, and I am definitely not the boss. The luggage has more rights than I do. Everyone with a TSA jacket and badge can pretty much do what the hell they want with me.

TSA Agent: "Touch your nose with your left index finger."

Dumb Ass Leesa: "How is that a security request."

TSA Agent (talking into radio): "We have a code orange in Terminal B. Bring the cattle prod."

Okay, it is not that bad. But they get to determine what is three ounces or five ounces, if as stick pin is some sort of dangerous weapon, and who to delay when they wave their phallic wand in your direction. Me, certainly not in charge.

I suppose that's why, when I am grocery shopping, I sprint to the "Self Check-out Line." I love being in charge of that machine. I love that I don't put my bread and canned items in the same bag, and I love that no one smirks when I say, "plastic." I re-use the damn bags all of the time. Stupid environmentalist baggers.

Movie Reviews

I remember Siskel and Ebert – they were the first movie reviews I ever really watched. Gene Siskel, as I recall, got brain cancer and died. By then, I had stopped watching their reviews.

At first, I started watching them because they were entertaining and their information helped me make decisions on movies that were in that somewhat grey area. Yeah, they had an actor or actress I enjoyed watching, but the previews looked questionable. They gave me useful information.

After a while of their same stick, I started watching their interactions. Sometimes they would can a movie, say it was not very good, but they would say that young men in search of boobies might find redeeming value in the movie. Okay, so their interactions did not say that, precisely, but you know what I mean.

I watched a movie this weekend with my husband, and we really took two different approaches. The movie was not one I would have ever seen on purpose. In fact, if I were in a plane at 30,000 feet and the movie was on, I might take a nap.

The movie was Speed Racer.

Okay, I did not really ever watch Speed Racer when it was on TV. I don't like Anime, and I don't like cars. I read the reviews as well – something about a movie giving people headaches. That it was a fast-paced and slow-paced movie, wavering between the two. So watching this movie was an act of love.

On the other hand, my husband loved the movie. He said that the movie reminded him of the TV series, not the artwork but the spirit of the series. Personally, I think he is full of crap. But I am still suffering from the over-stimulation of my optic nerve.

Funny thing is that I was waiting for the movie to end and he loved every minute of the movie. We watched the same movie and had totally different takes on it.

When I was in college, there was a movie reviewer called Joe Bob. He used to review really bad movies. But it seemed he really gave reviews that his audience appreciated.

Don't worry – I will not do movie reviews. I think there should be movie food reviews, though. Cost verses quality/tastiness.

Random Friday #22

The Singing Patient
I got a comment this week from someone called "The Singing Patient". Well, her name is Carla Ulbrich – she is a mucician who is also a blogger. You can see her music here. She has lupus, she is a newlywed, and I love her sense of humor.

Public Television
I read in the paper that the government is thinking of cutting public television again. I remember fondly about public television when I was growing up. Personally, I think they are talking about cutting funding for the same reason that local governments talk about cutting libraries – they want to scare people into accepting higher taxes.

I was looking at public television the other day, and I know it is supposed to be commercial-free. But when the television tells you about a product and gives you a phone number, it sort of feels like a commercial.

Weird Saying
My mom, when talking about her early years of marriage, would say, "We were so poor that we did not have a pot to piss in." You know, I don't think Bill Gates has a pot that he pisses in, either, and, well, he is doing pretty well for himself. And if I were really poor but had a pot, I think I would be making stew and soup, not using it for a restroom. Doesn't seem to make much sense.

Vista
I don't use MS Vista; I still use the last OS: Windows XP Professional. Apparently Vista must suck, because my husband has not mentioned purchasing it. It is sad when I assume that's why we have not installed it on the home machine.

Geek Girl TV
I watch Geek Girl TV on YouTube. I am not much of a computer geek, but I like the intro music by The Daze. Plus, I really like listening to technical stuff, even if it doesn't really make sense.

Iron Man
I saw Iron Man recently, and although I did not really like Robert Downey, Jr., or I should say I haven't until now, I liked him in the movie. I did not know that there was an Iron Man superhero, but apparently he is pretty popular. I looked him up on Google, and Iron Man debuted in 1963. Who would have known? I am not a big comic book person. I think comic books serve a purpose: limiting the genetic success of their readers – but I don't understand the draw. I love to read, and to read sentences that are not surrounded by bubbles. Oh, I meant to say that I actually enjoyed Iron Man, surprising for me and my husband. Yeah, I agreed to see it so I get to pick next time. Perhaps we will see The Edge of Heaven, if we can find some local movie house that is playing it. I really want to see the new Indiana Jones movie, but I am downplaying it with hubbie. I want him to think this is a sacrifice for me. I am sneaky that way.

Bill O'Reily
I don't watch Bill O'Reily (because I don't watch much TV and I am more liberal than conservative). But he had on Marina, one of the YouTube people I watch.



Have a great weekend!

Recession Anyone?

I am not much of a newsie, but I keep hearing reports that the US economy sucks. Okay, gas is freakin' expensive. Okay, it is so expensive that I probably should have said "fuckin' expensive." That is expensive. And I hear that food is getting more expensive. Okay, I am not sure food is more expensive. I mean, I can't really tell with fruits and vegetables; I mean, sometimes food gets more or less expensive due to the season. And I am eating more organic stuff, so it is hard to judge based solely on the grocery bills.

I do know the price of our home has decreased in value over the last year. Fallen like a stone. Someone on our street is selling a house and has dropped the price twice in the last month. Holy crap.

So all of this stuff – the stuff in the media, I am talking about – makes me think that I am not doing so well financially. I mean, I have not lost a job, and I got my cost-of-living increase. Okay, it was called a raise, which is technically true. Actually, a cost of living increase would have been a heck-of-a-lot more, considering the price of gas and groceries and vibrator batteries.

I read last week that there are certain recession-proof things. Professional sports is one of them. People will not give up their season tickets. That sort of surprises me. I mean, in economics, we learned that booze is recession-proof, and some suggest that hookers are also recession-proof. During hard economic times, people need a way to escape. Not sure if there is a rise in illegal drugs, but based on other things I know, it would not surprise me.

My grandparents were children of the Great Depression, and it really affected how they viewed the world. I had a grandmother who was very well off, and she would wash out Ziploc bags. Several times. My mom did the same thing. And I started doing it as well. You know, clothespin them to the curtains in the kitchen to dry. That was just part of how I lived my life. Then several years ago, I thought about how much Ziploc backs actually cost. One fewer stop at a Starbucks could fund my "not reusing Ziploc bags" fund for a month. Sure, there is also an environmental impact as well. Sometimes I don't like having a conscience.

But you know, I re-use tubs from my spread (not really margarine) and other packaging. It makes good containers for leftovers, and I throw them out when they acquire a smell. I know what you are thinking: it would be more environmentally sensitive for me to churn my own butter, but then I would have really bulgy arms. And I would have to buy different dresses, I am sure, to accomidate my new Eastern-European weightlifters on steroids look. And that would be worse for the environment. The world is a complicated place.

I talk to my friends, and they are cutting back on stuff as well. Not that they are making less money, but they feel poorer. At what point are we psyching ourselves into this recession?

I am no economist – I have far too much common sense for that – but it seems to me that when people spend less, companies make less, they lay off more people, and so on. What is sort of messed up is when times are good, our government still spends all the money it receives in taxes (and then some). So when times are rough, the deficit spending just increases.

I saw an article the other day about spending money. The congressman who was proposing some $4 Billion dollar program defended it because "$4 Billion really is not a lot of money when the total budget is about $3 Trillion." That's like me telling my husband that I bought a $500 dress because, in the grand scheme of things, it is not really all that much compared with our annual budget. And these are the sorts of guys that are deciding on how to spend the Federal budget. Yikes.

So we have a bunch of people in office who are fiscally irresponsible, we have a media who tells us how bad things are economically, and we spend less money. I know who we need to blame: President Bush. He is an easy target.

A recent Bushism: "Let me start off by saying that in 2000 I said, 'Vote for me. I'm an agent of change.' In 2004, I said, 'I'm not interested in change --I want to continue as president.' Every candidate has got to say 'change.' That's what the American people expect." --George W. Bush, Washington, D.C., March 5, 2008

Weighing In

Okay, last week I bought a new scale. I figured, "I am an American consumer, and my goal is to loose weight, so I will purchase a better devise for measuring weight." Okay, tongue-in-cheek, but I got a new scale.

This scale measures weight, but also tells you body fat, bone weight and percent water. Personally, I think the scale has some random number generator and takes guesses at much of this, but it is fun. And it looks so professional, with the LCD-numbers. LCD always looks accurate, huh?

So here I am, weighing myself every morning at 5 am, with no clothes on. Yeah, I can see me loosing one-tenth of a pound, though I think perhaps if my toes are not in the same position, perhaps, that might account for the tenth-of-a-pound.

Here is something I did not expect. My husband is using the scale. He has not used our other scale in years, but because this is new technology, he wants to use it.

So I would think, "Great, hubbie is going to work on loosing weight as well." Yeah, right.

The other day, I am in the bedroom, and I hear my husband on the scale.

Hubbie shouts to me, "Hey, Leesa, guess what?"

I yell back, "What hun?"

Hubbie answers, "My poop weighs 0.2 pounds."

"Excuse me?"

My husband explains, "I weighed myself, then pooped, then weighed myself again. And I am 0.2 pounds lighter."

I retort,"Just don't weigh poop on the scale."

Oh, yeah, and I am told that my husband's pee weighs either 0.1 pound or 0.2 pounds, depending on how much there is. Yeah, he did that experiment as well.

Oh, and by the way, the next time my husband asked me, "Hey, Leesa, guess what?", I had a different response:

"Not a clue, honey, not a clue what you are up to."

Stepping Out with a Woman

This is the second part of a two part post.

After avoiding a man, a woman was also flirting with me.

We were at a bar, man to the left of me, woman to the right of me, and both were flirting with me. Like it or not, I was enjoying it. The guy touched my ass, the woman touched my leg, and I was a lady.

Now I did not fuck the man because I did not want him to think less of me. And the woman, I thought about it.

I mean, when I was unfaithful with my husband in the past, it was with men. So with a woman, would that be different?

I have heard lots of people say, "If a woman fucks another woman, it is not exactly cheating." Actually, I have a friend who has lots of women lovers, because his husband allows female conquests but no male conquests. That is a bit twisted from my point-of-view.

But at the bar, when she was touching my leg, accidently brushing against it, I wondered if it was an easier road to take. Still did nothing about it, but I don't dream about her since I got back from the conference.

Stepping Out with a Man

A few months ago, I attended a conference. It was a conference I did not really need to be at, a conference I was at because of a reward. Yeah, vacation on the firm. It sounds so "big girl" when I say it that way.

Anyway, the conference was full of hour long or 90-minute long presentations. Okay, I was not really interested in the presentations. I was looking to see why people would ask questions – so I was watching the participants seeing their motivations for speaking up, for checking email instead of listening, all sorts of things. You know, I can entertain myself with my thoughts. I never got the "I'm bored. Entertain me!" mantra I seem to here every once in a while.

In the evenings, we would have mixers and go out. I have not gone out much in the past several years, so it was fun going out. I flirted, I danced, I had fun, and I was a good girl.

At the conference, I went out with the same group of people two nights in a row. I was pursued by both a man and a woman on those nights, and I was flattered: today I will write about the man who pursued me; Friday I will write about the woman.

I have had men hit on me over the years, and I am very good at saying "No" without bruising egos. It is an art, and most women who like male friends having additional benefits know how to do this. The difference about this conference is that I actually wanted to sleep with the guy.

You know, I wanted to sleep with him and I didn't do it. I controlled my emotions, my feelings, and I did not sleep with him.

I want to say that the reason I did not sleep with him is that I am a different person than I was several years ago, and while that is true, that is not the reason for my abstinence. I have avoided situations like this for a while, but when you are by yourself at a conference, there is temptation.

I did not sleep with the guy – a handsome, smart, sexy funny man – because I did not want him to think I am a slut. I wanted him to think better of me. Yeah, that does not make me feel any better. I may have slept with him if I did not think he would think of any worse of me. That's sort of screwed up.

He emailed me after the conference, "networking" as he put it. He is still trying to hook up with me, and I am not discouraging it. And that makes me a bad Leesa. Or a human Leesa.