Friday, June 27, 2008

About Last Night........

Oh man, how 'bout last night?
Did we have fun, or what?
A few observations, conversations, acclamations, calculations and genuflections.
First off, a little background info.
This week instead of the Anger Management Girls meeting at one of the local tap rooms, someone suggested going to the movies to see "Sex in the City."
So y'all know what happens next when one of us have a suggestion. Yea, all the AMG's started talking at one time, saying things like when we should go, where, what to wear, what we should do before and after. You get the idea.
After the heads stopped spinning and mouths stopped talking, we decided to "borrow" a bootleg copy of the movie and watch it at Megs.
Can I just say, Thank the Good Lord Jesus, we didn't go to a theater.
Thirteen of us showed up at Megs for good food, good conversation and hopefully good movie.
The original plan was to put her big screen TV out in the back and swim or sit outside while watching.
The weather had other plans.
So never let it be said that the AMG are not adaptable.
We just moved things inside. Its not like there is a shortage of space in that house. We picked one of the THREE living rooms to sit and watch the movie.
Big screen TV. Very spacious sofa's to sit on. Two sided fireplace. The balcony's. The view of the pool. If one used their imagination, yes, Carrie, Miranda, Samantha, and the one whose name I can't remember, would fit right in.
So after devouring a feast, we settle in the the movie.
Let's just say thank God we didn't go to a theater. We would have been kicked out after the first twenty minutes.
About 8 minutes into it, the peanut gallery comments started.
I think I speak for more than myself when I say the girls in the movie were getting on my nerves.
First thing up, the clothes. I don't think I'm the best one to comment on this. But, since you asked. (ok you didn't, but it's my blog) I never quite got the whole fashion thing. I think the People Magazine article naming Sara Jessica Parker as the worlds most unsexiest woman is right on. Is it just me or does she look like the Wicked Witch of the West?

And then there's the mole.......the mole......the mole!
I can't even begin to print the comments about the mole
Maybe I'm missing something. And believe me,I am saying this as someone who for twenty years didn't wear anything unless it was navy blue with a white collar. But I appreciate looking at good clothes. They were few and far between here in this movie. Did you ever watch the Paris fashion shows on TV and wonder who wears these things?
I guess now we know.
Another observation. Again, it may be me, but they sort of got on my nerves. They came across as whiny, self absorbed bitches. Ahem, keep comments to yourself please.
Really, the whole calling off the wedding thing. I'm sorry, but if someone says they've been thinking on the day of my wedding. I sure as hell want to hear them out and hear just what the hell they've been thinking.
What I'm trying to say is during most of the movie, I caught myself siding with the men.
The whole thing kinda got on my last nerve. I'm just happy I didn't pay to see it.
One more thing and I promise I'll quit. How about the hideous bird one her head. Christ, no wonder he was having second thoughts. He was thinking, Jesus, do I really want to spend the rest of my life with a woman who wears birds on her head and thinks that's OK?

I almost forgot. Charlotte's creepy adopted daughter. Why did she feel the need to bring her with her every where? Some places aren't suitable for children. A bachelorette party where four woman talk about the men they sleep with is certainly on the top of my list.
I was ready to call CYS for God's sake.

I am going to get shit for this, but here goes. Miranda's husband confessed to cheating because they hadn't had sex for six months. Not that it's right, but as Harriet would say, if you can't keep a man happy at home, he's going to look elsewhere. Just the same a woman will look elsewhere if she is not happy.

And the whole marriage thing. Why buy the cow when you get the milk for free?
I know, I know.

Changing the subject a little. OK a lot.
Obama is encouraging people to donate to his campaign to help Hillary with her campaign debt.
THAT IS NOT MY PROBLEM. She decided to do that herself. She could have and should have bowed out months before she did. She decided not to. She has to pay her own bills.
This is making me really, really angry. It is not right. I know, I know, it's all for the good of the party.
But for me it's personal. Those who know me, know details. She took a good friend of mine and threw him under the bus to save her own ass. Don't know how her or her husband sleep at night. But that's their problem, not mine.
I cannot forgive and certainly will not forget.
If for one minute I think that one of my hard earned dollars that I donate to Obama is going to help her in any way, I will never again give him one dime.
I mean it.
I know it's short sighted of me. Can't help it.
The Bitch.
But you know, that's what's so great about this country of ours. We are all entitled to our own opinions. And we respect those whose opinion differ with our own. Just look at all the different opinions we AMG's have.
Sorry. I'm done now. Will not mention it again.

Do we all agree Kathy is certifiable?
I thought so.

See you all next week.
Have a nice weekend.
Don't know how many of us are in town next week. Let me know.

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

Just another day in the paradise that is my life!

Well let's just say this hasn't been the best week of my life.
Went to Dr. for follow-up on some problems I've been having. So we're sitting there. And he says to me: "I think you need to go into hospital to have additional tests done. This is not getting any better, in fact it's getting worse."
So I'm thinking, holy shit, you have to be half dead before they put you in the hospital nowadays. Is there something he's not telling me?
Turns out, a few months ago I was having problems with blood pressure going really high and then falling really low. It was causing me to be lightheaded and nearly pass out. So he orders a MRI among other things. The MRI showed, how did he word it? Oh yeah, he said I look like I have the brain of an 80+ year old, not a 50 year old. Apparently my blood isn't flowing all the way up there to my brain. It's getting stuck somewhere. He said we can watch it for a month or two and see if it gets better or worse.
Yeah, you know it,as sure as I am Marie Green's granddaughter, it got worse. So he puts me in the hospital.

First, let me say how different things are now when you enter the hospital. They call YOU. They do. Dr. told me they will call shortly with instructions.
Sure enough, in about an hour they call me and tell me my room number is 7714 and I just report to my room.
How about that? No more laying on one of those gurneys in the hall for hours on end waiting for a room.
It's just like a hotel. Ski picked me up and laughed because I had a bag packed like I was going on vacation. (I told her I was, at least I wanted to pretend because the room had to be cleaner than mine)
When I got to the room, it was nice enough. They had one of those little cards on the dresser just like in a hotel. It said Hi I'm (so and so) I cleaned your room on (date and time)That stuck me funny.
Let me go back to when I was packing. I was all in a tizzy. What does one wear in the hospital these days. Do I take a night gown or do I wear one of those awful hospital gowns. I call a few friends. The vote was pretty much split down the middle.
When it came down to it. I am Harriet's daughter. I would be haunted forever if anyone came to visit me in the hospital and I had on a hospital gown and not a freshly ironed nightgown.
So I dug deep and found a nightgown which happened to be my mothers. Of course I ironed it. Ironed my underwear (again, a Harriet thing) and off I went.
That nightgown was strangely comforting.
I no sooner get there and start to settle in, when they call me for the first test. At 11:00 in the evening.
That started two nights and three days of intense testing, prodding, sticking.
To name a few of the tests I had: The tilt test. They put you in this thing

They do various things like put a nitroglycerin tablet under you tongue until you pass out.
Uh, yeah, that was so fun. Last thing I remember was the Dr. saying "There she goes"
I passed that one.

Then they put me in this, notice what they had my head in before they even put me in that damn MRI machine.

Thank God I kept my eyes closed and didn't see the extent of where I was. I would have freaked.

To make a long story short, They diagnosed me with Vasodepression. Basically it causes my blood not to be able to get all the way up into my brain. It depresses the circulation. Making my blood pressure drop too low without any real change in my heart rate.

I'll live.

A few notes about the whole ordeal:
-The worse thing about the whole hospital stay was definitely the needles. I am petrified of needles. Ski was with me when they tried to put the first IV in my arm.
She told her kids she has never seen anyone act like such a baby.
The thing is I have really deep veins. When they try to put an IV in, they have to dig and it hurts and I get myself all crazy and then my veins collapse. OK, that hurt.
She was thankfully not there when they gave me shots in my stomach. Yes---my stomach.
-Through a comedy of errors, I didn't get anything to eat or drink from Sunday at 4:00 PM to Monday at 5:00 PM. I was not pleased.
-So I wake up Monday morning around 6:00 AM. I notice someone sitting in the chair in my room. It's my Aunt Patsy. I groggily ask what she's doing? She whispers "I didn't want them to think you didn't have anyone"
Yeah, looser that I am, I don't have anyone.
Poor thing sat there all day. Fielding calls.
-The phone calls. Every shift of nurses had the same comment. "Gee, your phone sure rings alot."

Thanks my friends for keeping tabs on me, and for caring. I truly appreciate it.

How about the whole time I'm in the hospital and doing one heart test after another, I'm watching the whole Tim Russert thing. What a truely remarkable human being. God Rest His Big Irish Soul"

On a lighter note, while I am a little weak and black and blue, I desperately need a night out.
See you all tomorrow!!!!

Wednesday, June 11, 2008


Signs of summer are everywhere.
I'm hot as hell.
My flowers are blooming. (A miracle, I know)
I'm hot as hell.
Kids are done with school.
I'm hot as hell.
People are headed to the beach.
Did I mention I'm hot as hell?
But nothing says summer's here in Pittsburgh quite like Kennywood Park.

The new Kennywood commercials started about a month ago. As I watched this season's commercial the first time, I suddenly remembered that the park had been sold. It is no longer a local company. Or an American company for that matter.
I was reminded of this fact about two or three seconds into the first commercial.
Wanna know how?
I'm sure you all thought the same thing. As least if you grew up in the Burg.

The commercial starts with the phrase "KENNYWOOD'S OPEN"

Come on. What's the first thing you do when someone says to you "Kennywood's open?"

Of course you look down at your zipper.

Didn't any of the employees of the advertising agency responsible for the commercials say, "Hey, wait a minute. You can't say that. I grew up in Pittsburgh. And that phrase has absolutely nothing to do with Kennywood."

You'd think someone there grew up at least near Pittsburgh.
I guess not.

I think it's a riot.

It's these stupid things that make me miss my mother. She would have thought it was hysterical. She would have called me, and we would have giggled like two school girls getting ready for the "School Picnic"

Tomorrow we are going to be celebrating the first summer AMG on Ginny Ann's deck.
She has wine and strawberry daiquiri's.
If you want to drink anything else, BYOB.
See you all round 8.

Hey you, Kennywoods Open! hee hee

Late Edition: It's not as if I needed proof of this, but I google image "Kennywoods Open" to see what came up. Yep, you guessed it. The whole first page had pictures of either zippers or people pulling up their zippers.

Tuesday, June 03, 2008

I'm Baaaaaack

Sorry girls. I know, I know. You don't have to say it. I've been slacking lately on this here blog. I better get back into action before there's a mutiny for Christ's sake.
Truth be told, I haven't had alot to say.
Scratch that.
I have had stuff to say, just not alot of extra time to say it.

Since it's been so long, and I have so much to cover, I'll try to just touch on a few of the topics on my mind lately. We can expatiate tomorrow if you'd like.

First up. Last Friday we received this postcard from Mr.and Mrs. Katsafanas. Too Funny.
Sorry. Can't open postcard to attach. I'll attach it later. Promise.
As promised!
Oh, forget it. I'll just bring it tomorrow. I just spent the better part of the past hour trying to scan and attached the damn postcard.

We all know there is no love loss between "the bitch" and me. Don't act all confused and shit. Y'all know who I'm talking about.
As I am writing this, I am sitting in my living room with the oldest son. He is watching CNN with an enthusiasm usually reserved for ESPN.
Obama just officially won the Democratic nomination for President of the United States.
We are waiting for Hillary to come on with her speech. Bill will be standing behind her biting his lip and all.
I don't know if they just heard my revulsion of Hillary for so long that it became church to them, but my kids dislike her just as much as I do.
OK, why is she on first anyhow?????
Oh, there's Bill, biting his lip.
Bill, Take her home.
Liar, Liar, pants of fire......go home and bake some cookies or something.
OK, I'm done.
I feel better. I truly thought she was going to pull a "Tonia Harding" and end up with the nomination.
You know what my son just said while listening to her speech.
"This is so scripted, how can anyone relate to her?"
Enough already Hillary.

So earlier this evening, one of the commentators stated that when Barack Obama accepts the nomination for the President of the United States this August 28, it also marks the 45th anniversary of Martin Luther King's I Have a Dream speech.
That gave me goose bumps.

OK, enough time wasted on her, onto other rants n'at
I am on vacation this week. Well, I'm not actually. Dr. is. He went to Greece. I get to stay home. Whoop-de-do.
I spent the afternoon running around trying to get a few things done that I've been putting off.
So I'm riding down Butler Street and I see this woman who looks to be pregnant and she's smoking a cigarette. I think to myself, gee that's something you rarely see anymore, a pregnant woman smoking.
OK Karen, you might want to skip over this next part. I know how talk like this makes you queasy.
A got a closer look, she wasn't pregnant at all.
OMG, her boobs were............all the socks and orange stories in the world won't do it justice.....Lets just stop there.
Hope none of you have nightmares tonight. Sorry.

Yesterday I was on line looking up something. I can't remember what it was. Anyway,I came across a picture of Hillary Duff.
Imagine my surprise when, upon looking closer I notice that she and I have the same purse.
My love of purses is well documented here in this blog.
I love this purse.
Yeah, Hillary Duff and I. We're like this (insert crossed fingers).
So here we are.
Look at us. We're so alike. It's uncanny.My BFF.
Don't you think? Hillary and me with our Goyard purses
I think I had the same pants.
In 1976. (Same size too)
Quit laughing, I did. Geeze-oh-man.

Thursday will be a farewell AMG for Sharon who gets to go to Rhode Island for the summer. (Sniff, sniff)
You know where to go girls. Get those dollar bills ready.
The main event will be AMG Girls singing "See You In September"
Wonder how long it will take us to clear the place?
See you all Thursday.
'Round 8.

I almost forgot. GO PENS. What a game!
I think I've found my next husband. How does Mrs.Eileen Fleury sound?
Don't start the laughing again. No, not his father. Hey, if boys can go for the young things, why can't girls?