Archive for September 4th, 2011


Men – O – Pause, for Labor Day.

Labor Day seems like an appropriate time to dedicate this blog to the love of my life…who has worked harder than I thought was humanly possible, and deserves to retire whenever her little heart desires…

Is it purely coincidental that the word Menopause contains the words Men and Pause?  And “O”?   I think not.

I have never read the “Vagina Monologues”.  So I hope my words are not too redundant.

In this dramatic stage of my life, I can only speak for myself.  The pausing has begun.  Men, my man, sex…not really interested. Boo. Hiss, hiss.

It sucks.  I feel like there should be a funeral.  I really LOVED sex.

Oh pause, men.   No room at the Inn.  It’s like one of those neon signs that once flashed so brightly, now down to it’s last flickering bulb.

My precious stud muffin is in a coma.  The plug soon to be pulled if she doesn’t make a miraculous come back.

Let me prepare the Eulogy, just in case.

(Read the first half with a church organ sound in the background of your mind.)

(Then in the second half, kick into your best Patton impersonation.   And imagine the humming of the “Battle Hymn of the Republic.)

We are all gathered here today to mourn the loss of my beloved, beautiful, closest friend.

She was always there when I needed her.

And for you, and you, and you, and you, and you, and you…..

And you, and you, and you , and especially you

You all know who you are!

My dear, dear, sensitive friend.

Shedding tears for me when I needed you to cry, bawling even.

You were so drenched with emotion.

You stood by me when I was alone.

Through the ups and downs, the ins and outs.

The best little buddy I could have ever have asked for.

Through times of peace,

Through bloody battles.

You got me through many sticky situations.

Even when I said I couldn’t do it, you insisted!

You’d say to me, “Damn it, Linda!  Do it for the team!  Do it for Joe, for Dave, and the rest of the guys!

You were always there to carry the extra loads no matter how big.

You were quite the soldier.  

You deserve the Goddamn Purple Heart.  

Of course, you weren’t always tough.

In fact, sometimes you were a real pussy.

Occasionally you broke down,

but I never left your side.

Even when you felt like crawling inside of your little hole,

But what a trooper.

Even when you were sick and burning up, you still wanted to go, go, go!

You worked hard for me when I asked of you any task, hours upon hours of hard labor thrust upon you.

You worked so well with others.    You got the job done.

Even if you accidentally let things slip through the crack on rare occasion,

You saw things through the end.

You opened up for so many, regardless of their disposition, country, age, religion, skin color, size,  intellect, income, occupation, political party, or morals.

Even if someone was a complete asshole, you managed to love them in particular.

And I appreciated you backing off when I drew the line at that Tea Party member you wanted to screw when we were really drunk and desperate once.

I hope you know how much I loved you, even if I told you to shut your trap every once in a while.

But no matter how much shit I’d give you,

You never gave me any of your lip.

They should make you a fucking Saint.

I salute you.

I’m going to miss you terribly.  And we will all never forget how very giving you were.

But as Scotty said on Star Trek,

“I’ve given her all she’s got, but she just can’t take anymore!”

Bow your heads that once lifted so high for her, in a moment of silence…

…I’d like to thank all of you for coming.

Yet gone from this earth, I guarantee she will always remember you deep inside her.


Anal in the Airport – EW!

From Dictionary:

The term anal retentive (also anally retentive), commonly abbreviated to anal,[1] is used conversationally to describe a person who pays such attention to detail that the obsession becomes an annoyance to others, and can be carried out to the detriment of the anal-retentive person. The term derives from Freudian psychoanalysis. People who are said to be anal retentive usually suffer from obsessive–compulsive personality disorder[citation needed].

First of all, I don’t get why “anal” has to be part of the description?  I don’t associate the anus with cleanliness.  I should have bought stock in Charmin.  I abuse the paper.  I am probably responsible for destroying a large percentage of the rainforests.  I am ashamed.  But  my sphincter sparkles.

When I was younger, I was oblivious to germs.  Now I don’t like to touch public toilet  handles or doors.  Sitting on them is out of the question.   It improves my balance and leg strength!  I’m surprised there is not a yoga position.  Pooper pose?  And I certainly do not touch the flushers.  (I use my foot.)

Those automatic flushing systems?  Definitely invented by the Anal Retentive Association.   And they don’t always work!  Then what are you left with?

I’m actually sitting at Newark Airport right now, on the floor, before security.  Waiting for hubby.  We dropped off the bags, and he went to put the car in a lot.  Good time to write a blog!

LIVE SHOT!  12:02 p.m. Sat. 9/3/11

Anal retentive me is on the floor!  So I’m not that bad.  And I must say, I am impressed with the cleanliness of it!   But the bathrooms?

As I went into the Ladies Room, I noticed a security guard peaking in a few stalls before entering.  She was not looking for bombs.  She was screening for torpedos.

We all do it.  And that’s the problem with the automatic flushers!  They don’t always respond to the workload.  They are as efficient as the TSA.

Of course, when I was finished with my business, the toilet did not flush.  I didn’t want to be one of those folks that just leaves the scene of the crime.   That’s not very neighborly.  Why do people do that?  WHY?  WHY??!

So I looked.  There was no little black plastic button to push!  (And even if there was, I would have to take another wad of t.p., so not to directly touch the button.  Ew!

Then I noticed the little red light that was not lit.  I waved my hand across it like a wand, using my magic plumbing powers.

Yay!  Success!  I felt like Harry Potter!

But there is no spell that will keep me from being terrified every time I see a little kid squirming onto a public toilet seat.  Ew!  (And NO, I do not go looking at little kids in bathrooms.)

They leave the door open!  With Mom there using their kid as a toilet seat mop!  Why do mother’s allow that?  WHY???  WHY??  AHHH!  I don’t think I could ever be a Mom.  I would have a heart attack.

Moving right along towards the gate on that electric walkway thingy.  Hubby glided his hands across that black rubber rail.  Just looking at it disgusted me!  Ew! I had to say something!

“Yuck!  Do you know how many people put their hands on that?”

Then he got annoyed for my criticism.  (What’s new?) I am a joy to travel with!

Luckily I am not monitoring his bathroom visits!  I would faint and hit my head on the urinal.  EW!

Quick stop at the Presidential Lounge to take as many food items on the plane that we can stuff in our bag.  We have to buy the food on the plane, now.  They really expect people to pay for that cuisine?

I’m actually glad.  It gives more of an option to pack a picnic with goodies….you make yourself….that no one else puts their grubby hands on!  Ew!


Mozzarella di Bufala with Jersey Tomatos and Fresh Basil

Melone e Prosciutto

Lavash with Rosemary

Avocado Salad with aged balsamic monkey balls

Biscotti dipped in Chocolate

All the shit from the President’s Club


We’ve got a 5:40 minute flight.   I hope I don’t ruin my appetite for the 6 hour layover in San Francisco.  Our friend is picking us up to dine in one of the most beautiful cities in Western Civilization.  You can’t compare it to Rome., of course. OMG!  The toilets in Italia?  Mama Mia!  Da Vince  dropped the ball there.   EW! EW! EW! EW! EW!  

Japan gets the award for the coolest!  Complete with a fresco of options.  The Sixteenth Chapel of toilets.  A Masterpiece.

And how on earth did Japan’s neighbors miss the boat?  China takes home the Silver for most disgusting toilets olympics.   What form!

And the Gold goes to….TIBET!

Oh!  I could talk about toilets I have experienced all day!  But I have a plane to catch….

I’m supposed to call my friend when we land.  Which brings me to my next anal characteristic.

WE DON’T ALL NEED TO HEAR YOUR CONVERSATION ON YOUR CELL PHONE WHEN YOU LAND!  Really?  Can’t you keep it down to a loud roar?  Is that anal of me?

Damn!  Ms. Pooper Potter has to Board the Continental / United broom now!  I don’t even have time to bitch about the merger!  WHY CONTINENTAL?  WHY???!!  I liked you before!!!  NO!  NO!  NOT UNITED!  THEY SU-U-U-UCK!

Okay Linda,  get mellow.  You are heading to Oregon to frolic amongst the hippies, sleep in a yurt and shit in the woods.  Hope a tree does not have it’s revenge by falling on me for slaughtering their family.  Kakarma!

Hmm.  I think I sense a Travel Blog Series!

Let me slip in one more gripe before they close the gate!!  3 words.  Airplane Bathrooms.  EW!

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Linda Chorney

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