FU Penquin

Filed Under All Posts, Carine Fabius, Humor | 8 Comments

Wrapping up our fun holiday picks, Carine Fabius’s choice might be just the antidote for the cute overload so abundant this time of year.

Excuse the language, but what I’m groovin’ on is the site called “Fuck You, Penguin, A Blog Where I Tell Cute Animals What’s What.” This may say more about my dark and twisted, and crude-language-loving sense of humor, but I think this guy is funny as hell. His blogs are very short—just a few lines—and they never fail to crack me up.

If anyone is offended by raw language, don’t go there. If anyone is offended by this site, please don’t write me off completely. People tell me there are other, very winning sides to my personality!

http://fuckyoupenguin.blogspot.com/

Sweet Revenge

Filed Under All Posts, Christie Healey, Humor | 10 Comments

Christie Healey shares a holiday pick about a musician who turned a bad experience into a very popular video.

Dave Carroll adds new meaning to “sweet revenge”. This may not be everyone’s idea of an inspiring holiday video link, but it is mine, and I hope it makes you smile and sing along.

United Airlines broke Dave’s custom Taylor guitar and were not really sorry about it. During Dave’s final exchange with United Customer Relations, he said he had no alternative but to create a music video and post it on YouTube. The manager responded “Good Luck with that one pal.” After the video received almost 6 million hits and was featured on CNN, United contacted Dave and attempted settlement in exchange for pulling the video. And his response? “Good Luck with that one pal.”

A little bah humbug, but a lot of giggles too. A big Happy Holidays to all.

Papa’s Got a Brand New Bag

Filed Under All Posts, Family, Humor, Prudence Baird | 10 Comments

After 15 years of marriage, and too many misplaced items to count, Prudence Baird insists her husband consider a new approach.

When I say I married a loser, I don’t mean that kind of loser. I’m talking about the kind of loser who loses things. Like keys, hats, sunglasses, cell phones, parking lot tickets, wedding rings—and most of all, wallets.

Like the clueless wife who finds that her husband has a gambling problem only after the repo man takes away the family Volvo, I found out that (let’s call him “Tim”) was a misplacer (nicer word, huh?) after we married. The first time it happened, I had no idea that this was merely Point A in an ever-lengthening trajectory that would arc across the time grid of our marriage.

I was in my home office churning out press releases when I heard the front door slam and heavy, frantic steps on the staircase. I emerged to see a man I didn’t recognize—a red-faced man, his salt-and-pepper askew; a man who hollered in my face: “My wallet is gone!” Read more

Confessions of an F-Word Addict

Filed Under All Posts, Connie Stetson, Humor, Reinvention | 27 Comments

Hi. I’m Connie and I’m an F-Word addict. (Okay—Now you all say encouragingly, “Hi, Connie”.)

I guess my addiction began when I was a teenager in the late ‘60s. In fact, I’m sure that that word was so forbidden; I’d never even heard it spoken out loud till I was 16, thank you Frank Zappa, but once Pandora’s box was opened, I could not stop myself. I started in the car, in traffic, with the windows rolled up, in bars, at sporting events—well, everyone else was…. Then I amped it up, using a little at first in public, just to be naughty, and before I knew what was happening I was running with a wild crowd. You know, artists, musicians, theater people, users of Maryjane, and unapologetic, irretrievable aficionados of the F-bomb. My mother was aghast.

I began using the F-word as noun, an adjective, a verb, an adverb, anyway way I could torture it, twist it into a sentence, was okay by me. Soon, I couldn’t control myself. That word had become part of my vernacular. I had become a habitual pottymouth, a borderline “vulgar”, as my mother had predicted. I began hanging around dockworkers, construction sites, listening to rap music, went to David Mamet plays; I was an addict. Read more

Let the Good (Prozac) Times Roll!

Filed Under All Posts, Health, Humor, Prudence Baird | 15 Comments

Nowadays, physicians whip out the prescription pad when women my age cross their thresholds. Hot flashes? Prozac! Empty-nest blues? Prozac! Husband suffering midlife crisis? Prozac. (Why the wife must medicate herself when Goofus makes a damned fool out of himself is beyond me, but hell, if being stoned helps women avoid committing manslaughter, I’m all for it!)

My first brush with Prozac came in 1989, after I had been unceremoniously dumped by a chinless mama’s boy. I’m not sure which depressed me more—that I had settled for a guy who still wet his pants, or the fact that said pants-wetter had dumped me first.

The next business day, I was first in line for legal drugs of any kind. The psychiatrist, who looked to be about 12 years old, pressed several samples of 150 mg. Prozac into my hands. “Take your first one after dinner tonight. You won’t feel any effects for two weeks,” he promised.

Like hell I won’t!  Read more

Gray Texture

Filed Under All Posts, Beauty, Carine Fabius, Humor | 17 Comments

Photo by Pascal Giacomini

Can I just bitch for a moment about getting old? I know, I know, there are people starving in America, and I should just be grateful for my wonderful life. And, I am. But let’s face it. Regardless of bombs going off in the world and in the lives of people you love, if a missile has landed in your little universe, you can’t just wish it away. Pettiness and substance often occupy the same space. Life is like that. Okay, disclaimer taken care of. Now can I bitch?

I’ve written on this site before about going gray, and I thought I had a pretty good game plan in place: because it blends so well, start with platinum blonde around the crown, where it’s coming in at a speed rivaling the action in Charlie Chaplin movies; and, that’s been working very well. Until now. Who knew that my nice, soft curls would morph into coarse, wiry pubic hair? Gray pubic hair at that! Read more

That Was So Much Fun, Let’s Do It Again

Filed Under All Posts, Christie Healey, Humor, Work | 12 Comments

I recently joined Facebook at the urging of two friends. I am quite bemused by this social network, and the comments people post: E wants to know if B is awake, M has changed his profile photo, B confirms he is awake but that it’s not the world’s business. I have ceased striving to find meaning.

Recently former colleagues from Chrysalis Artists/Records/ Music have found me on Facebook. There’s a 40^th reunion in the planning stages. We are trying to meet up sometime this year before we are all too gaga to remember why.

I joined Chrysalis when Swinging London was in full swing, although how a shy girl from the industrial Midlands came to be part of a white-hot music scene is still a bit of a mystery to me. Read more

keep looking »