Issues and Robots

I think we should have a robot as president. All the conflict and bitterness over the election is really because of the people running, right? Elections have become too much about the person and not enough about the issues. I mean, I'm guilty. I can't stand Hillary. She just rubs me the wrong way and yes, her voice is abrasive. I suppose if she talked sweeter, I'd like her better. So sue me.
I don't dislike Trump as a person per se. He makes me laugh, but I sure as hell don't want him to be president.
I like Bernie, he seems like a good guy, I like that he's an old, Jewish guy from Brooklyn. I might have voted for him, but he's not gonna make it to the election. Regardless, I'm aware of the fact that just because he's cute and a father-figure to me, doesn't mean he's going to make good policy.
We should be voting on the issues, not on our level of tolerance for the sound of the candidate's voice.
So let's have about 5 robots running. Each has a platform that's very simple and understandable to the layperson. Then, it's so easy, the robot with the most votes wins, and we implement the policies on their ticket! None of this democrat/republican divisive bullshit. None of the screaming and yelling. No more kissing babies in front of the camera.
Just plain and simple, issues and robots.

Colloquialisms Drive Me Mad

Throughout my life I have spoken English. I'm pretty rigid about the language and it just annoys the hell out of me when new words get adopted into the language because people can't think of a better word already in existence to express themselves. Take my latest pet peeve, "Super." Everything now that's "a lot" or "very" is "super." It's idiotic and when people say it, I lose some respect.
"We're super excited to see you!" Excited would have been enough.
"It's super cold out!" Freezing would have sufficed.
"Those are super cool boots!" Cool, by itself, would make the point, but I sort of hate that word too. How about, "I like your boots!"
I just can't adapt to these things. And it seems like if I do, they go away and something else replaces them, so I'm just sticking to my language. It works for me.

Biker chick or lesbian, which will it be?

Given that I may have recruited a new reader or two, I figured I'd better post something for them to read. It has, after all, been a year, and a lot has happened since then. Well, not really, but one can dream, no?
I binged watched Sons of Anarchy, and I decided I wanted to be a biker chick. So I grew my hair long and bought some black jackets. Tried to wear black high, heeled boots, but alas, my knee hurt and I ended up in physical therapy. Since the sexy biker chick look doesn't really go with Dansko clogs or Sole flip flops, I decided I'd try a different angle.

Binged watched Orange is the New Black and decided to go the dyke route. Bought a bunch of carpenter pants, flannel shirts and chopped my hair off. (Whew, can you say, nose job?) That look is going very well for me other than the fact that my husband hates flannel and has lost all interest in me. That's okay. Orange is the New Black has convinced me that we're all lesbians anyway, so I may try women. Turns out I have a lot more in common with Latina drug dealing prisoners than I do with high-achieving, A-type professional women who shop at Whole Foods and do yoga.
As my hair grows out and summer approaches I suspect I'll just neutralize back to my old, boring look. Denim and black t-shirts. Tanning might be an issue this year as I've had my skin photosynthesized to get rid of sunspots, so it's even more sensitive to the sun. One doesn't want to photosynthesize their face and then go out in the sun to redo all the damage that was repaired, now does one.
We'll see. Given that I may have nothing better to do with my time, I might have to get a tan.
Oh, and we bought a house, I started teaching autobiography classes and I volunteer working with old people now, so I guess a lot HAS happened in my life! Whew! That's a relief. I was worried.
Welcome new readers! You're in for the read of your life. Oh, and Butters is doing fantastic too. Thanks for asking.

Welcome Butters!

This is our new dog Butters!

Butters came to us from SGE. SGE stands for Sweetest Girl Ever, and she and I worked together at the club. Remember the club? Well, if you don't, scroll down and read my stories because they're pretty fucking funny. I haven't been that funny since I worked there. I knew it! It's good for me to get out of the house!
Anyway, Butters is named after a South Park character who is, apparently, very sweet and naïve.

Butters loves everyone and loves affection. She loves to cuddle and sleep with us and if you're anywhere in her vicinity, she will nudge you to be petted and loved.
Well, now Butters is mad at me. I don't know what I did! And I'm obsessing. I must have done something! Did I say something about her that she overheard? Did I look at her the wrong way? Did she decide she just doesn't like me? Did I imply that she might be getting chubby? I didn't mean to! She's getting svelte since she's been with us. Oh, Butters, what did I do?
She has shunned me all day. Staying in the other room whilst I sit here by myself.
Everyone is mad at me. It's no wonder, I guess I'm in full-blown peri-menopause. I suddenly heat up like a furnace out of nowhere! Okay, it's 90 degrees here, but still. I feel like crying all the time, not because I'm sad, but because I'm frustrated and angry. I was so mad at SSMG yesterday, and now I'm so afraid he's mad at me!
Well, I can handle SSMG being mad at me, but Butters? That's just wrong.

I'm free, oh lordy, I'm free!

I’ve finished the entire 91-episode-long series Sons of Anarchy. After a several-month-long binge, Jax is gone. What will I do with myself now? For the first time in years, I’ve stayed up past my 9:00 bedtime while my husband snores away. I’ve sat in coffee shops, bars, libraries, my car, anywhere I could get some peace and quiet, to continue with my unhealthy addiction to deceit, manipulation and violence. And, of course, Jax.

I’ve had purpose. For once I’ve been interested – really interested – in something. I’ve had passion! And now, it’s all over.

I’m experiencing mixed emotions: Loss, guilt, sadness, anger, fear (fear that I have no life left) but, most of all, relief. Relief that I can get on with my life. Be a functioning member of society again. Maybe find a job. Maybe travel. Maybe find a cure for some disease and save the human race.

 

I’m exhausted.

I'll be driving a lot more...

How about, never leave one person in charge of a plane???? If a pilot has to piss, put someone else in the cockpit! Why the hell don't planes have bouncers anyway? With all the irate, drunk passengers and suicidal pilots in the air, we have more security in the bars in fucking downtown Boulder. 

The CEO of Lufthansa, parent company of Germanwings, said its air crew were picked carefully and subjected to psychological vetting."No matter your safety regulations, no matter how high you set the bar, and we have incredibly high standards, there is no way to rule out such an event," CEO Carsten Spohr said.

Tiny head, big breasts

I had a terrible age-defining moment the other day. All my life all I wanted to hear was how thin I was, it was always music to my ears. Even when it was too thin and I looked awful. The thinner the better. Well now that I'm 50, being thin means a whole new thing.
I saw a friend the other night who looked at me in shock - and I mean horrified shock - when I walked in the door. She said, "Oh my god! How much weight have you lost?" I said, "Not a pound!" (which is the god's honest truth. I'm peri-menopausal which basically means that eating is really the only thing next to alcohol that gives me any pleasure.)
She said, "Your face looks so thin!"
Now, when I was 25 and wanted cheekbones, I would have rejoiced. At 50? My face is thin. It's drawn. I look like an old lady who has been out running one too many times without sunscreen.
On the other hand, it appears that my breast have gotten quite large with these hormonal changes. So what a freak!
Tiny head and big breasts.

50 is the new...50

So my birthday passed without any upsets, other than dropping my home made M&M birthday cake face down on the floor in the kitchen, and then again on the patio during my wonderful party. A lot of people asked me how it "felt" to turn 50. My response? It doesn't really "feel" like anything. I mean, I'm not so sure what I'm supposed to be feeling. So I read a book to tell me. A book by a middle aged woman lamenting the sorrows of turning 50. The wrinkles, the sags, the injury-prone-ness (slower to heal), the un-coolness. She was trying to be funny, but the book made me cry. Oh, THAT'S what I'm supposed to be feeling. Distraught, depressed and all around miserable instead of "nothing."
It had occurred to me that perhaps my monthly rages, usually directed at SSMG but often at some infringement on my rights or some perceived act of anti-Semitism might be hormonal, but somehow it never occurred to me that I might be peri-menopausal. Really? I'm exempt!
Until I saw my doctor last week about my "moods."
"I'm very, very angry." I told her.
"ALL women your age go through this!" She assured me.
Oh yeah. I'm 50.
I wake up soaking wet in the middle of the night too. Ya think???
During one of our nonsensical fights a few weeks ago I came clean to SSMG that my mood might have something to do with my hormones changing. His response was, "Well how come you didn't do something about this! You knew this was going to happen, right? It's not like it was a surprise!"
I told that story to my doctor, and she laughed with me. He was angry because of something else, but she also assured me that men just don't and can't understand this. I should be talking to women.
I will share that story again and again though SSMG, I assure you. It's just fucking funny.
Meanwhile, SSMG made the most touching and wonderful speech at my birthday party that, if I can figure out technology, I will post here to inspire all of my 50-year old friends!

White pants & shorts addendum

I've gotten some questions about the white pants and shorts comment in my previous post so I think I'd better elaborate. One question came from a man, "Why?" The other from SSMG who reminded me that I have white shorts. Do as I say, not as I do! I've decided that shorts are acceptable. Under certain conditions. Denim.
The pants: First off, they are just NEVER in style and really the only ones who wear them are old ladies. That was my point. Second, they reveal everything and if you're 50, like me, you probably have stuff back there that you don't want anyone to notice, so why invite it? You wear a thong so you don't have panty lines, and then we all see the bumps. You wear big girl underwear so we don't see the bumps and then we see the panty lines from your big girl underwear. You just can't win, so I say, avoid it altogether. Not only that, you'll inevitably spill your coffee or wine, and that's the end of that.
Any more questions?

Turning 50

50 Shmifty. You know I really don't care. People say "it's just a number" but I don't know what that means. That's like "it's all good," or "no worries" or "cool" or "awesome" - all these things we say when we don't know how to express ourselves in words. So I won't say that. I simply don't care. Maybe that's 'cause life is good. If it weren't, maybe I'd care. Anyway, it's a great excuse to have a party, and that's how I see it.
BG wouldn't be BG if she didn't have criticisms for everyone else, and through my keen observations of old ladies, here ladies, are tips for staying young.
1. Forget plastic surgery. Let's face it, the little nip tuck that you play with in the mirror that seems so simple and easy isn't what the doctor has in mind. You won't look young or pretty, you'll look like you had plastic surgery. Except, of course, for Madonna.
2. In the absence of plastic surgery, moisturize, but don't wear too much makeup. Foundation looks crusty in wrinkles and accentuates your age.
3. Botox is fine, but it won't make you look younger, just less worried.
4. Lift weights, get strong! Nothing will make you feel younger than being strong and having muscles. No ladies, you will not get big. Are you kidding me? Do you know how long, how much work and how many supplements it would take for you to get big?
5. Hang out with young people. Older people are really boring. All we talk about is home improvement and our diets.
6. Learn how to text so you can communicate with your new, young friends.
7. Don't wear white pants or shorts. Just don't.
8. Don't think because you're skinny, you should wear skinny jeans to accentuate your skinniness. You look like an old, skinny lady with no sense of style.
9. Don't get a hairdo. No even lines. Put some layers in, some funky touches. If you're curling it under, you're old.
10. If your husband is a curmudgeon, which he most likely is at your age, go do stuff by yourself or with your girlfriends. Find people who like to have fun.
11. Don't wax your eyebrows. Too much of that and they end up thin. Those arches make you look old.
12. Get a good bra.
People probably think I'm immature, which is fine. I don't think they think I'm trying to act younger than I am, and that's different. I don't make an effort to be young, I just think I am! So what if the mirror tells me something different. Fuck the mirror, I say.