Mom for President 2020




My 82-year-old mother is running for POTUS. She figured she’d kick off her campaign immediately because, as she put it, “I might die in my sleep tonight.”

Also, The View is on at 2 pm.

I think she’ll win in a landslide. After all, she came up with a pretty sweet slogan:

Nagging We Can Believe In!

(It was either that or Well, I Guess The World Is Pumping A Handcart To Hell, Now Eat Your Damned Veggies Or You’ll Get Buttlogged)

Some of the things she promises to do once in office (and only if I take her shopping at the Christmas Tree Shop later this week):

  • Redecorate. The more doilies, cat knickknacks, and miniature Elvis figurines the better.
  • Require all thermostats to be set at 80 degrees. If the temperature falls to 79 degrees — Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock get blown up.
  • All state dinners will be gluten-free and served at 3:30 sharp.
  • Deport all of the “Karbuncles” unless they “for god’s sake, cover up!” Same goes for anyone else showing even a hint of “chest crack” in public.

    Kim doing her part for a kinder, gentler, less chest-cracky nation.
  • Make sure every vending machine in the nation carries rice cakes, prune juice and Sanka.
  • Vice President: Oprah.
  • Surgeon General: Dr. Oz
  • Secretary of State: Tony Bennett
  • Supreme Court justice: Betty White
  • Foreign policy: Sit up straight.
  • Domestic policy: Get a real job.
  • New national holiday celebrated from January 1st through December 31st: Happy Call Your Mother, Because You Never Know She Might Be Choking On A Rice Cake And Lying On The Floor Unable To Turn Up The Heat And You Don’t Want That On Your Conscience, Now Do You? Day
  • At every meeting, all world leaders will be required to wear a cat sweater. Because how could you possibly argue about climate change with someone who is wearing a cat sweater?


So please, vote for my mom in four years. And would it kill you to eat some broccoli? Jeez.


What I didn’t do on my summer vacation

I spent most of the summer reading. Author/spiritual guru/King of Chilltown, Eckhart Tolle, has a simple message: Life is all about balance; there’s an intrinsic ebb and flow. You win some, you lose some. Things come and go. You try to do the tree pose to impress your kids, you fall onto the yoga mat and pull an ass muscle you didn’t know existed.

Eckhart’s Spiritual Truth #234: Give it up, girl. You’re a klutz.

This summer, I decided to balance my mental state by weeding out the soul-sucking nonsense in my life — social media. What was interesting in this experiment was how little I missed it after a few days. It was very difficult at first. I had the typical withdrawal symptoms: trembling fingers, twitchy eyes, bitchy mood.  I had to uninstall apps on my phone to resist the temptation.

Then I would reinstall them. Then uninstall them. Reinstall. Uninstall.

Balance, dear child.
Balance, dear child.

Then I muted almost everyone on Twitter. Then I unmuted some. Then muted them. Mute. Unmute. Mute. Unmute.

Balance, dear child.
Twitter isn’t real. Nothing is real. It’s all a figment of our collective consciousness. An illusion. Let it go.

Then I scrolled through my Facebook feed, cursing at myself for caving once again.

Facebook is merely a construct that serves the purpose of feeding the ego. We all project a false sense of self, a persona. This is not your authentic essence of your true being.
Facebook is merely a social construct that serves the sole purpose of feeding the ego. It’s a place where we all project a false sense of self; a persona. This is not the authentic essence of your true being. Release yourself from this manmade prison. And let it go, etc…. I mean, I think it really goes without saying…duh.

Finally, I threw my phone in the trash. Then retrieved it. Throw. Retrieve. Throw. Retrieve.

Ah! For the love of– YOU are an IDIOT! 

Man, that Eckhart Tolle sure gets on my last nerve. But the smug bastard speaks the truth. When you let go of things that don’t serve you well and life is in harmony, a whole new world opens up.

And yes, I’m an idiot.

After a week with less social media, colors seemed brighter, images sharper, my kids’ names clearer. Still, there were doubts. I did miss the social interaction on the interwebz.

How would I survive without knowing how outraged people were with the asinine thing Trump did this week? How would I go on without seeing in my Facebook feed 35 photos of my friend’s cat that all look the same? How would I cope not knowing how everyone else is having more fun and looks ridiculously more attractive than me this summer?

I’m happy to say I curbed my addiction. I stopped doing things I wasn’t truly enjoying anymore. I let negative stuff go. I didn’t blog for two months. (gasp) I didn’t go on Twitter. I came to the stark realization that no one really cares how tasty my omelet looks on Instagram. (For the record, it had feta cheese and spinach and it was AMAZEBALLS!) I discovered that people no longer say ‘amazeballs’. My Facebook page was (mostly) silent.

Guess what? I exist. I’M STILL ALIVE!!

(Barely, but I do feel a faint pulse…)

Thanks, Eckhart. You’ve changed my life, dude.

Huh? Did you say something? Sorry, (hehe) but I was watching a YouTube video of Chewbacca Mom wrestling Trump in a vat of pudding.  Hilarious! But (ahem) yes….uh….balance. It’s all about letting things go. All that matters is being fully engaged in the present moment. To find out more about how we hold onto material things that don’t matter, be sure to buy my book on Amazon, on sale for only 19.95 plus shipping and handling!

Gloating in my success at banning social media, I watched a YouTube video of Tolle talking about another addiction we all face (after I checked out that hysterical Chewbacca Mom clip). It’s an addiction that’s much larger in scope and more difficult to beat.

Our addiction to thinking. Specifically — overthinking. Or thinking about overthinking. Or thinking about not thinking about overthinking thinking.

I am so screwed. I love to think! It’s what I do best! Or worst. First step to get back on my road to Chilltown: Buy beige sweater vest.

The key to a calm mind? It's all about the vest.
Calm vest, calm mind.

Thankfully, I’ve practiced meditation for nearly 25 years, so I’ve got this nonthinking shit down. I just have to not think about it so much. Easy! I need to breathe in….and breathe out….just…….one with my true essence…ahhhhh…

I feel dizzy now, but it’s all good.

Because — like Eckhart has said many times in that soft, mesmerizing, endearing Yoda-like way — we are all simply forms of consciousness, always transforming, manifesting and dissolving into formlessness. This is the true reality of existence. Not worrying about how big my thighs look in my leggings or how in the hell I’m going to survive until our election is finally over.

You hear that, Trump?

Republican presidential candidate, businessman Donald Trump stands during the Fox Business Network Republican presidential debate at the North Charleston Coliseum, Thursday, Jan. 14, 2016, in North Charleston, S.C. (AP Photo/Chuck Burton)
The Donald — fully basking in his true essence.

You are a temporary form of consciousness! Everything has its purpose! It’s OK! (deep inhale) You’re just manifesting! (long exhale)

Sigh. I think I need to meditate again. Om.


How was your summer?
How long have you gone with no social media?
Do you have any extra beige sweater vests lying around?
Is this election all just a crazy, mixed-up, endless, nightmarish trip I’m having due to that time I accidentally smoked the ganja?




Mishmash Monday

Hello there!

How the hell are you?

Just a friendly message letting you all know I can’t write anymore.

No, wait! Don’t leave me! Come back! This is serious! I got nuthin’! My bloggy well ran dry. My bloggy liquor cabinet has been emptied. My bloggy fridge has nothing but a half-drunk bottle of PBR and my bloggy pantry is full of moldy chocolate-covered raisins. No, wait…those aren’t raisins. I wish to god they were raisins.

Normally I have at least a dozen half-assed posts collecting dust in my draft folder. Today I checked and all I had was a quarter-assed post about Duck Dynasty I wrote nearly two years ago. About asses.

Oh how I wish I really couldn’t see them.

This terrible no good winter from hell has killed my writerly soul. Yes, I said writerly. See how bad this is?

But being cooped up with cabin fever for these past six months has made me better at complaining. All winter long my husband and I played the classic married game of “Who’s More Miserable?”

Answer: It’s always me.

(Thank you, past hellish childbirth experiences.)

We’re celebrating our 15th wedding anniversary this week so this is what we do for fun now. Every night we cozy up in bed and suddenly turn into our grandmothers.

Him: “Oh god! I think my foot is going numb.”

Me: “My lower back is on fire!”

Him: “Yeah? Well, my ankle hurts!”

Me: “My knees hurt!”

Him: “My right butt cheek hurts!”

Me: “Hey, you know what hurts? That time they ripped all my insides out then put them on the table next to me! Twice!”

What’s even sadder is most times we are so exhausted from our daily lives we simply yell out body parts at each other. Sometimes to spice things up we’ll throw in a few potential diseases or ailments we think we might be developing.


“Ovarian cancer!”

“Sleep apnea!”


What a delightful game! Other than my always being more miserable, nothing much else is going on with me.

As for my two kids? They’re flipping fantastic! Love them to pieces!

My eight-year-old daughter was looking at my high school yearbook photo last week and cringed: “Mom? Why is your hair so big? Why did you make it stick all up like that?”

I wish I knew, Miss J. I wish to god I knew.

scan2-e1338080234845 (2)

Laugh all you want now but at the time my Cowardly Lion mane provided a cozy home for a down-on-their-luck family of mice. (inhales) Ahhhhh! and I can still smell the burnt hair and chemicals just looking at this picture. And they warned us back then inhaling too much Aqua Net might fry your brain and lower your IQ! Pfft! Yeah, right! Whatever! hmmm…soooooooo….yeah…ahem….yep…..what was I talking about again?

Oh yes, my kids! My son is almost 13 so my knack for embarrassing the hell out of him comes with zero effort on my part.

The other day I was picking him up after track practice when I noticed a slight change in his appearance — a bit of peach fuzz on his upper lip.


Sure, I probably shouldn’t have yelled this revelation at the top of my lungs in the parking lot in front of his school. Or collapsed to the ground weeping. Okay, and I shouldn’t have actually picked him up. My back will pay for that one later. And maybe I shouldn’t have done all this when his friends were around. Plus that cute girl he really likes. Live and learn. Or not learn ever, in my case. I live to embarrass that boy. Let’s call it payback for colic.

I’d like to close this random post with a little movie review titled Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of What the F***?)

“Do you know what this movie means?”
“Hell no! I thought you did!”

**SPOILER ALERT! If you haven’t seen the film yet, go away now! Go back to Twitter where you belong! Nothing to see here!**

Last week the little red Netflix envelope appeared in my mailbox and I thought, Ooh! Birdman! Cool! I like birds, I loved the movie Mr. Mom, this is going to be awesome! and settled down with my popcorn and gin to enjoy the feel-good movie of last year. I should have known a movie’s only Academy Award worthy when it makes you cringe the entire 2 hours. Ah, yes, the endless inner conflict of creativity versus fame, self-acceptance versus popularity, prop gun versus blown-off nose. Oh, Michael Keaton! I love you, man! You should have won that Oscar! But please, I’m begging you, rip off that ugly toupee and tell me what the hell the ending meant! Why were Emma Stone’s eyes so big? Why is Ed Norton so good at playing an asshole? Why was this movie the most depressing thing I’ve ever seen? Please tell me you lived happily ever after and flew away into the sunset wearing your undies! Why, Birdman? WHYYYYYY????

That’s it from here. What’s new with you? Do you know what the ending to Birdman meant? Do you also embarrass your kids? Can you give me some tips on how to improve my parenting tactics? Did I tell you my lower back’s on fire? What parts of your body are disintegrating?


Birdman image: Rolling Stone
High School Yearbook Photo: She’s A “Gag me with a spoon” Maineiac

fake news · Humor

The Rotten Avocado–January 2015

Welcome to another edition of The Rotten Avocado!

Bringing you fake news that’s never perfectly ripe, hard to crack open, and filled with green slime.

Proud dad Ashton Kutcher recently gushed about his new baby with partner Mila Kunis, remarking they want to be hands-on parents and therefore do not employ a nanny. “We want to be the people that know what to do when the baby’s crying to make the baby not cry anymore,” Ashton said, and then a nanny changed Ashton’s diaper and fed him a bottle.



Popular exercise product Fitbit — a wristband that displays time, distance, and calories burned, or as I like to call it, “The World’s Ugliest Bracelet” — has received complaints from consumers stating the band produced an angry rash on their skin after they worked out. The company recommends removing the Fitbit periodically after exercising to prevent irritation. Upon hearing this, millions of women looked down at their Fitbits and yelled, “What? I’m supposed to be exercising with this f—ing thing on?” then finished inhaling their chocolate-glazed donuts and took a nap (or maybe that was just me)



Mark Zuckerberg recently put to rest any rumors of adding a “dislike” button to Facebook posts saying, “I don’t think there needs to be a voting mechanism on Facebook about whether posts are good or bad. I don’t think that’s socially very valuable or good for the community to help people share the important moments in their lives.” Then he sat down at his gigantic desk, lit up a cigar, and cackled maniacally as he turned his attention back to the giant wall of monitors depicting live surveillance footage of every man, woman and child in the entire world.


Us Weekly
Us Weekly

The movie Wild is getting lots of buzz not only for the incredible acting, but for the fact Reese Witherspoon appears completely makeup-free during filming, even foregoing her hairbrush. Because as we all know, statistics show the shittier you look, the better your chances at an Oscar.  In one scene, a disheveled Reese is depicted hiking down a desolate country road, all of her worldly possessions strapped onto her back as her mental state teeters between hope and despair, solace and anguish. Or in other words, just another typical day in the life of every woman in Maine.


Former “Saved by the Bell” child star Dustin Diamond will face trial in the alleged stabbing incident of another patron at a bar on Christmas Day. While pondering why Diamond’s life has taken such a dark turn, I think I speak for everyone when I say, “For god’s sake — he was Screech on Saved by the Bell.”

fake news · Humor

The Rotten Avocado

images5SXOPX05Bringing you news that’s never perfectly ripe, hard to crack open, and filled with green slime.


Chris Martin and Jennifer Lawrence reportedly broke up, calling off their relationship after four months. Jennifer revealed she’s looking for a man who can be himself, someone who “isn’t afraid to fart in front of me.” Coincidentally, the dating website eHarmony was temporarily shutdown when 4.2 billion men sent Jennifer Lawrence requests.

141026122852-hickox-tent-horizontal-galleryA nurse who was quarantined in New Jersey after returning from ebola-ravaged West Africa has been released after she complained of the poor conditions she suffered during her involuntary 24 hour stay. Apparently, she was forced to sit in a tent with no access to technology, using only a box for a toilet. She’s currently on her way to Fort Kent, Maine where the conditions will be exactly the same.


A woman in Portland, Oregon may have a new Guinness World Record after she ran a 10k in 38:15 while pushing, in her own words, a “rent-a-baby” in a stroller, borrowing a friend’s baby in order to complete the race. Officials are still determining whether she was overtaken at the finish line by Hank Peterson, who was following close behind pushing an unpaid rotisserie chicken in a Walmart shopping cart.


Parents were greeted by police after their two-year-old had several tantrums on board a flight from Dominican Republic to St. Louis. Flight attendants stated the child was crying and not willing to stay seated. No word yet on how airlines will continue to crack down on this epidemic of completely normal toddler behavior.


Coffee giant Starbucks has decided to put an end to giving unhappy customers free coffee at their next visit, instead offering a four dollar discount, bringing the cost of a tall coffee down to a more reasonable nine hundred and ninety-six dollars. Yet there is still no confirmation Starbucks will ever make those customers truly happy simply by changing their patented “burnt diesel fuel and ass” recipe.





My Secret TV Star Life

You may remember the post My Secret Movie Star Life when I revealed I used to be almost famous as a stand-in for bratty actors on bathroom breaks*. But like most real movie stars, my high-flying prolific career started to fizzle and plummet faster than Jenny McCarthy’s breasts in 30 years.

Hey, this gorgeous frying pan I have for a face can only take a person so far in life.

Picture 21
My official headshot.

So for years I did what anyone else would do,  I drowned my sorrows in Zima and Hot Pockets, then I tried my hand at stand-in jobs on a much smaller scale: The boob tube.

Emphasis on the boob part.

Please join me as I revisit some of my most celebrated TV show stand-in roles from the 1970s, 80s and 90s!



You take the good, you take the bad, you take them both and then you have me ripping chunks of hair straight out of Blair Warner’s Aqua-Netted head.

It all began when the director insisted I roll around set in Tootie’s roller skates while she took another “cigarette break” and Blair strategically placed dozens of tampons in the doorway of every hallway, hoping I’d crash-land on top of her archenemy, Jo Polniaczek.

In retaliation, Jo and I conspired to sneak a magic ingredient into one of Edna’s Edibles muffins and within hours security was dragging a screaming Blair away as she kept insisting gummy worms were oozing out of Natalies’ dimples.

Yes, her career as a snarky girl in a dark blue tie was officially over before it began thanks to me, her penchant for baked goods, and a sweet little bag of Maui Wowie.




This show brings back so many painful memories. Not the least of which is the fact I was forced to work with the uppity Mrs. “Saggy Girdle” Garrett yet again.

And Gary Coleman? A complete asshole once cameras stopped filming.

Sadly, no amount of pleading on my part convinced the director that my catchphrase ideas were more buzz-worthy, so I was promptly thrown out of the studio after the first week of shooting (and coincidentally, I landed right on top of Jo Polniaczek)






Oh! Now this was a sweet gig! I spent many fond years standing in for Sophia Petrillo due to her constant need to feed her insatiable cigar and malt liquor habit.

Once the season wrapped, I barely kept up with these guys, what with the constant midnight strip poker parties held in Stanley’s trailer, the clouds of suffocating ganja smoke permeating from Rose’s dressing room, and the steady stream of Chippendale dancers filing out of Dorothy’s boudoir. As for Blanche? Total prude.

How I miss these ladies! They were wild. They were saucy. Most of them are now dead. Why? Why mortality? Why not Jenny McCarthy**? It’s just not fair!



Yowza! Another sa-weet gig. I was the stand-in for Willie “Booger-Eater” Oleson. So basically I spent my time inhaling chalkboard dust,  running into walls, and cramming my pie hole with Gobstoppers at the Oleson Mercantile.

One fateful day Nellie “Smellie” Oleson and I snuck cayenne pepper into Ma’s morning coffee and she spewed it all over Pa’s perfectly-coiffed mane of glorious hair. Oh was he pissed! I remember vividly how he ripped off his shirt and suspenders to mop up the mess. One thing we could always count on was Michael Landon’s constant need to subject us to his glistening pecs.

During the rare down times when Pa wasn’t stripping, he’d bust out the violin while the cast and crew would gather ’round the fireplace to be entertained by Laura Ingalls’ superior liquor chugging skills. She didn’t get the nickname “Half Pint” for nothing.



Ooh, yeah. Yikes. Not much needs to be said here. Other than two things:

1. The producers refused to listen to my sage advice when I warned the public would be much more receptive to a less obviously perverted nickname for the character who played Mike’s best friend, Richard  “Boner” Stabone.

Like maybe Mr. Giggles McSchlonger or Dick Donger.

2. And Mike Seaver? Complete asshole once filming stopped.

Complete asshole during filming.

Complete asshole in general.



Finally, my last paying job, the one where I pulled off a feat never before attempted in the history of Stand-In Acting: I played three roles simultaneously.

Exhausting? Hell yeah! But at least in order to play Kimmie Gibbler I didn’t even need new hair, makeup or clothes as we all marveled at the fact we could have passed for twins. Very odd-looking-bordering-on-dumbass twins.

The Full House crew was like one big happy family. We had Joey Gladstone, who bored us all to tears in between takes with the one good impression he had in his repertoire (and even Jesse could do a better Bullwinkle in his sleep), the ever-present and uber-creepy Danny Tanner (who would go on to do an equally disturbing voice-over for How I Met Your Mother), and my personal fave, Jesse “Bam Bam” Katsopolis.

Sure, Jesse was sexy. But the clincher for me was the biggest jewel he possessed in his ridiculously talented crown:

His musical career with the unparalleled group, The Rippers. Enjoy.

And so this wraps up my secret TV star life!  Impressed? I thought so.  _______________________________________________________________

*never happened

**I sincerely hope Jenny and/or her breasts live a long fulfilled life.









When God’s Your Facebook Friend


[It’s early morning. I’m folding a mountain of laundry. A bolt of lightning cracks overhead and a blinding light fills the room. I drop my husband’s underwear to the floor, shield my eyes and squint at the ceiling.]

Me: What the…?

God: [voice booms] IT IS I!

Me: God? Is that You?

God: [yells] YES! OF COURSE IT’S ME! [mutters] Didn’t I just say that?

Me: Wow, oh wow! You finally show up! I have so much to ask you! Let’s start with the wars and the poverty and the sick and the dying and the pain and the suffering and the–

God: I know, right?

Me: So will humans ever learn to choose love over fear, compassion over hate?

God: Tsk-tsk. Oh no. Oh no, no, no. That shirt doesn’t go with those pants, dear child.

Me: Huh?

God: And your makeup! Please! The color is all wrong! [sighs] Atrocious. Have you not seen my recent Pinterest featuring Rihanna’s latest look?

Me: But back to the pain and the suffering. Why do we have to suffer God? Haven’t we learned enough?

God: By the looks of your hairstyle, no.

Me: Tell me the future. Will humans survive? How many years do we have left? Is this planet toast? Will global warming do us in?

God: George Clooney is getting married.

Me: I…I don’t understand.

God: Yes, I was just as shocked as you.

Me: I….

God: What people don’t realize is he was actually married to actress Talia Balsam from  1989 to 1993.

Me: Huh. Good to know. So anyway, is the world going to end, God? Is it too late? Can you tell me anything about the future at all? Is there hope for the human race?

God: Beyoncé will get a new haircut.

Me: Um…

God: Three of them in the next year. She’ll go from pixie to shag to a very sassy bob.

Me: Forgive me, God, but uh….I don’t really care about that stuff.

God: Oh of course you do, dear child! It’s all you people down here talk about!

Me: You people? Well, not all of us. And if we do, you sorta created us so…

God: Create you? {scoffs] Ha! No, I’m not responsible. Nope. Nuh-uh. Can’t blame me for that one.

Me: You did. All of us. You created everyone. And you gave us all free will.

God: Ooooh. Yeah. I guess I did, didn’t I?

Me: Yep.

God: Well, this certainly is depressing.

Me: It is.

God: Hey! I know what will cheer us up! Selfie time!

Me: No–uh, I really don’t want to–

[God holds up gold iPhone, leans in close. Phone clicks.]

God: [looks down at phone] Ah! Nope, do-over. I look way too fat.

[Holds up iPhone, more clicks.]

God: [frowns] Still awful. No worries!  It’s salvageable. [taps screen] Hmm…go to Instagram…maybe change the color tone here…add some soft focus there…ooh! We look sa-weet in Orton! I’ll post it on your Facebook wall. Because peeps be jealz! Because right?

Me: Right. I guess.

God: I know, right?

Me: Right.

God: I know, right?

Me: R-right, sure whatever–look, we done here? I’ve got some folding to do.

God: [stares intently down at phone, dismisses me with a wave] Yeah, I’m good. Huzzah!  Already 5.5 million likes on our selfie!

Me: Great. So..thanks for dropping in…

God: [taps phone] Huh? Hey, no problemo. [frowns] Gah! So frustrating! Have you gotten past level 352 on Candy Crush yet? I don’t think it’s possible, I mean, seriously?[groans] So can you send me some lives? I’m outta of lives again.

Me: Sure, anything for you God.

God: Oh, and I give it 3 years max.

Me: [gasps] The world will end in 3 years?

God: What? No! George Clooney’s marriage.

[bolt of lightning flashes, God fades into a pinpoint of light and disappears]




Humor · TV Shows

Why I Almost Hated Friends

Friends was one of my all-time favorite shows. I loved it so much, it’s now my main go-to show I’ll watch in reruns– I’ve seen every episode countless times.

But there was a time I hated it. Yep, I was one of the few people who just didn’t see the glittering gem hiding in the hunk of crap that was the show’s first season. And oh, God, it was such a bad, bad season too. Just terrible. The clothes! The hairdos! The Rachel hairdo!

image wikipedia

I hated the show so much, I refused to watch more than a few episodes and declared the show would soon tank in the ratings, never to be heard from again. I also thought the internet would never catch on.

Why I Hated Friends (in the Beginning):

1) The annoying theme song.

When I first heard it back in 1994, I think it wormed its way into my brain, shacked up in the frontal lobe, and set up camp–managing to destroy my love for all music forever.

” I’ll be there for youuuu….when my soul starts to scream. I’ll be there for youuuu….when my mind starts to bleed. I’ll be there for youuuu…stick this fork in my eye. I’ll be there for youuu…no I’m serious, do it now….”

2) Ross’s haircut. (see image below)

It was too shiny and looked hard, like a helmet. How much Dippity-Do did he use for God’s sake?

3) Ross’s monkey.

In the first season, I could not get past the fact that he had a monkey perched on his shoulder in every scene. I wish I could’ve been at the writers’ staff meeting when they came up with that genius idea. “Hey! Shouldn’t Ross have some kind of pet? I mean, we’ve got to distract people from his hair.  Uh…like a cat! Yeah! No…a parrot? Hmm…no, you’re right…not bizarre enough…. Ooh! I’ve got it! A pet monkey named Marsel! And then hilarity will ensue!”

Thankfully he vanished sometime between season 1 and 2, probably after meeting an untimely death involving a runaway taxi cab or an accidental cappuccino overdose at Central Perk.

To-Do List:
1) Clean Up Feces in Couch Cushions
2)Bring Marcel to the ‘Circus’, then drop him off in an empty field and slowly walk away

4) Phoebe’s Smelly Cat Song

image digplanet

Sure, the song is cute and annoying and pure Phoebe (whom I love dearly). It was funny the first time I heard it. But then they kept making her sing it. They even dragged in poor Chrissie Hynde to duet with her in one episode. Enough already. “it’s not your fauuuuult…” It IS your damn fault so please shut up with the bad singing and the guitar before I smash Marsal over the head with it. (I didn’t realize I had such rage about this until now, whew! Felt good to get that out and I’m sorry.)

5) The Rachel.

I hated this haircut then, I hate it now. Back then, it was everywhere. Everyone wanted to look like her. The more my friends gushed on and on about The Rachel and had their own hair cut like hers, the more I wanted to rip my own hair out of my head and just go bald and call it The Darla to spite them all. This haircut was probably the main reason I hated Friends in the early episodes.

6) Courtney Cox-Arquette-Now-Back-to-Cox-Again

In the early days, she still had the fresh-off-the-Bruce-Springsteen-stage look. Every time she entered a scene, I waited for her to suddenly break out into her lame hand-clapping, finger-snapping, foot-swishin’ moves to “Dancing in the Dark”. Sadly, she never did.

image: buzzworthy


7) Monica’s boyfriend Richard

What was it about seeing Tom Selleck cozy up to Courtney Cox that made my skin crawl in that “he’s-old-enough-to-be-your-dad” way? Then he shaved off his moustache in a future episode. I don’ t know about you, but Magnum PI is no man with no ‘stache. His face looked like a newborn baby’s butt. All exposed and vulnerable. And dimply, way too dimply. It was just wrong, so very wrong.

Monica: Fine, I can get past the 30 year age gap…but I swear to God, if you reach for that Gillette razor it’s all over, Old Man.

8) The Gleeful Fountain Scene

We are so cold. And wet. And so very cold.

Ah, yes. We get it. You guys are having fun. Whee! Let’s splash around! Yay! Oh, and now you’re all doing the Ahnold Schwarzenegger muscle flex move! Nice! And then you sit on a couch and turn off a lamp. How cute. Blech.

10) The Will They or Won’t They? Crap

Does Ross know Rachel likes him? Does Rachel know that Ross knows she knows?

Should we kiss now? No? How ’bout now? Uh…tell you what, I’ll meet you halfway and then whatever happens, happens? Okay…on the count of three…one…two…oh. Oops! Nope, you got my nose there. Let’s try again. OK, this time our lips WILL connect. Are you ready? Get ready, okay? Let’s do this! One…two…

It was like watching two old ladies fight over the last loaf of rye bread at the Buy N Bag. Painful and slow and very unattractive. I didn’t feel any of the potent sexual tension the 9999 times they almost kissed. When they finally did, it was the OoOOOOHHH! heard round the world while I was probably on the couch snoring.

Did you love Friends the first time you saw it? Did you like Seinfeld too? Because that’s another show I hated during the first season (and grew to love). Is there a popular TV show out there now that you just hate? 


I Need to Have a Word With You, Friend

At first, I usually try to avoid most things popular in this digital social media technological-informational-crappola-highway-to-hell that is Facebook, Twitter and Pinterest. Mainly so I can smirk when people ask me why I’m not obsessed with the latest app or fad like the rest of them. Then I normally cave and get sucked into it like all the other mindless drooling souls out there.

So it’s no surprise that I’m late to catch the Words With Friends  bandwagon. (Apparently a bandwagon for nerds who like to stare cross-eyed for hours at a jumble of letters for fun.) Sure, I suppose you could say I am also a nerd. And yes, I’ve played Scrabble many times in the past and was terrible at it. And okay, I tended to stick with the easy two or three letter words and would always lose to the person who’d put down ZYGOTE or QUASI.  Still my interest in this WWF craze was piqued when I read that Alec Baldwin famously brought the airline industry to a grinding halt because he was hopelessly consumed with the game.

Finally, I gave in and played my first WWF game last week on Facebook. Before I knew it, I was playing several games at once, with about 100 different people. Right away I’ve noticed a few things, a few tricks people use. First, they most likely are spending their turn googling all the word combinations (I believe that’s called cheating. I’ve never done it, of course. You believe me, right?)

Next, they try their hardest to use little known words like ODALISK or ADZUKIS and get a billion points in one turn, while I put down words like SING and HAT. Nice words but they ain’t worth jack. (I’m not even sure AINT will net you much.) My feeling is, you shouldn’t be able to put down a word if you don’t know the meaning of the word without looking it up first. Hence, why I use SING and HAT all the time. This might also be why I lose all the time.

Clearly, I suck at Words With Friends. I don’t think I’ve won a game yet. And oh, have I tried. Sometimes, late at night, after my eyes have completely crossed and my brain has melted, I try to throw in some weird letter combinations, y’know, in the off-chance that these words actually exist. And I think some of these words I’ve invented should exist. For instance:

SNIRG (verb) The embarrassing sound one makes when snorting and scoffing at a snarky comment because they know deep in their heart it’s true.
And then she had the nerve to tell me that I was the worst Words With Friends player in the history of the world and my only response was to snirg uncontrollably.

QIG (slang): When you are really upset about something but you don’t want to swear because there are kids present.
Oh my god! There’s ketchup on the ceiling and popcorn in the toilet! What the qig is going on here?! OR
She just scored 68 points with a three letter word?! What the qig is going on here?!

(notice I have the ever-popular ZESH waiting in the wings for that all-important triple word score. Zesh, of course, meaning when you bite into something zesty yet real mushy, like a pomegranate.)

ZEQUISH (adjective): The state of getting dizzy while failing in your attempt to quiet your mind during Zen meditation.
I was trying so hard to empty my mind, so I chanted “OM” and closed my eyes. Then tomorrow’s grocery list popped into my head and I began thinking about all the ways I could cook a damn chicken and I started to feel so zequish I had to stop. 

NERSH (verb): When you crush a nerdy opponent in a Words With Friends game by using either X, Q, or Z with three different words all in one turn for big time points.
I was losing by 300 points when I made my move and totally nershed her with the word QIVIUTS! OH, I wish I could’ve seen her face! Take that ,suckah!

ZANG (noun): 1. When you get carried away while cooking and add something incredibly spicy to a recipe that will probably set your tongue on fire.
Hmm…this chili could use a little more zang. Throw in a few tablespoons of cayenne pepper and some tabasco sauce. Ah, hell, put in the entire habanero!
 (verb)   2. When you are so eager to eat or drink something you know is scalding hot, you think blowing on it will cool it down enough and you end up repeatedly giving yourself second degree burns on your tongue.
Dude! That pizza just zanged the hell outta my mouth! But I can’t stop eating it. Can you take me to the emergency room?

(for those of you that questioned the other word I created above, GPUNA, well nice try, but I do believe that is a small nation nestled between the country of Ghana and a puna (which is obviously a high, cold, arid plateau, as in the Peruvian Andes). So what if they’re on different continents, this isn’t a geography test.)

ZARF (verb): When you are so tired of losing Words with Friends you start to feel like you’re going to be sick.
I swear to God, if she uses the letters Z and Q in the same word and gets the triple letter score, I am going to seriously zarf!

These are just a few of the words I’ve tried. Maybe some day soon the dictionary gods will recognize them. As a matter of fact, I’ve just discovered that ZARF is, in fact, a word.  Definition: (esp in the Middle East) a holder, usually ornamental, for a hot coffee cup. Further proof that my made up words are catching on! This is great news because the next time I’m in Egypt on my way to Gpuna and order a grande cappuccino at Starbucks I’ll have the benefit of snirging at the barista, “What the qig?! Damn, is this like a billion degrees? I just zanged my tongue! And hey, can you give me a freaking zarf for this thing, it’s burning the hell outta my hand!”

Until then, wanna play a game with me?  C’mon, you know you wanna….I promise you, I will lose.