Thursday, February 28, 2013

Miss March Eve says "Celebrate it, Bitches!"


It's the last fucking day of February!  Happy March Eve!  Our best days are yet to come!

Tuesday, February 26, 2013

Spread that shit all over, but don't get any on the carpet!


There used to be a comedian who did, as part of his routine, an impersonation of Jeff Stryker, but instead of using "Cock", he substituted "Entenmann's raspberry twist danish."  Now, just imagine, in your head - and given Jeff Stryker's acting abilities in his porn career and his voice, imagine him giving you instructions eating Entenmann's.

Yeah, spread that shit all over (but don't get any on the carpet!)

Monday, February 25, 2013

Kevin: Baby, I'm a STAR!

Kevin, I take it that Timmy isn't in the well, correct?

Enough already with "Bloscars" (Blah Oscars) from last evening.  Talk about a fashion yawner.  If you missed it, and good for you, then you know that the evening was filled with pale young women wearing pale dresses that washed out their pale skin.

And Jessica Chastain: she looked fabulous you say, no, make that coo.  You coo that she looked fabulous.

What the fuck is wrong with people?  You do not put a pale pinkish woman in a pale pinkish dress makes for a washed out appearance on the red carpet.  Yes, she has a fabulously unhealthy figure.  I could snap her neck like a Chicken.  But the girl needed color.

But enough about them.

Lets talk about this stage mother's favorite topic: our little STAR Kevin!

Kevin will appear this coming Saturday morning on WBAL-TV during Dr. Kim Hammond's pet chat appearance.  Kevin will hopefully look adorable for Dr. Hammond while answering questions on worming, fleas and temperament issues.  Not his, but the people who call and write in.

Its three minutes, but we're dying to see how many people call in wanting to adopt him, not knowing he has a very loving and caring home.  Nothing but the best for Kevin, who is a GIANT chick magnet - fat lot of good it does Cookie. 

Right now we're working with Kevin and his emoting.  Though he tends to "Live in the Moment", Kevin has several facial expressions that we feel will WOW the home viewing audience.  While cute and lovable, this stage mother feels that we have to reach beyond adorable to snag an award.

So today we were working on his "Gonna Go Eat Some Worms" look (see above) and we've also mastered "pathetic" because pathos really sells a role to the audience.

Will anyone love me? Kevin masters pathos.
And after a long walk, and a huge poop - whatever do they feed these dogs when we are away - he is now content and relaxing upon the giant pillow we bought for his big brother (and April STAR) Rocky.

Kevin must have his beauty rest.  His brother Rocky joins him for some nappy time.


As for dialog, we're thinking it would better for him to approach this as a silent picture, and just emote, emote, emote and not get a doggy woody, because its huge and obscene.

So tune in sometime on Saturday morning (you can stream him at http://www.wbaltv.com/). 

He may not have the pedigree that Norma's gorgeous (and I mean gorgeous) corgi's have, but he an 8 lbs. scene stealer.  And America loves its mutts.


Friday, February 22, 2013

Bay State Cookie


Once again we find ourselves in that bastion of liberally educated women Wellesley, Massachusetts for another episode of "They're My InLaws".  This trip, starring yours truly, features Cookie, The Husband and Husband's parents, with special appearances by my husband's brother and sister. 

This is a visit of "family business", which means I don't have to be on stage a great deal of time.  In fact, I get excused from a great deal of the drama.  Thank God. 

My in-laws are 89 and 90, so there is a great deal OF SPEAKING REALLY LOUD BECAUSE THEY BOTH HAVE A HARD TIME HEARING what we say to them.  

We have also made FOUR trips to Roche Brothers Grocery Store, because that's what we do when we're here.  You have to be careful in Roche brothers because the store is full of the clueless people that live here.  Give these Wellesley women a shopping cart and they completely go into an agressive trance.  All those years of repression and housewifey angst come out in the grocery store as they try and kill you with their shopping carts.  The men here are no better.  They are either coot and coger behind the wheel of their Chevrolet Caprice's, driving at 20 miles an hour in the fifty mile per hour zones, or their young men with small penises and BIG expensive cars who drive at 50 miles and hour in a 20 mile per hour zone.  And all of these people have a phone glued to their ears. 

No fun. 

We have also gone to Dunkin' Doughnuts because its gets us out of the house and away from everything. 

In 24 hours, Cookie and the Husband have consumed a bottle of Gaviscon to help with the stress induced heartburn.

Its hard seeing the people you love grow ancient.  AND its also hard on one being in their house because the furness is turned up to 78 degrees. 

We've been fixing little stuff around the house, a nut and bolt here, and new cord there.  

And we've been cleaning things on the sly.  The inlaws have an aging Brazilian "gentleman" (and I use that in the most Christian of voices) name "Paulo" who comes in once a week and pretends to clean.  They pay him $100 while he prances around in short shorts making dusting motions and saying things like "Oh, Messes Inlaw!  You haave sooch hamsume suns.  Chess.  That is what I, Paulo, thinks."  

Oh, Paulo, Paulo, Paulo...

This morning it was "Hello Paulo."  

And Paulo said "Did chew sleeps well.  That bead eze a nice bead for the sleeping.  Paulo no's deese because I make the bed."

Never mind that I we were coming inside from outside.  Then it dawned on him that we slept at the sister in laws house.  "You deed not sleep in de bed?  Chew have slept somewhere eefrent. Ten, Paulo wants to know, wooo is de body in de bed?"

It was the Husband's other brother who always sleeps "een de bed" when he comes to take the folks out and about.  Poor Paulo.  It's 20 degrees out side and he's in his hot pants and he can't keep track of who is sleeping where. 

The mother in law wanted to buy us some new clothing (Hooray!), but she wanted to get it from "Haband", the catalog for "Active Seniors...featuring easy care polyester clothing for that active life style..."  We passed. 

So we return home tomorrow and will get to sleep in our own bed.  Still, we haven't seen to make much progress on the things around the house.  I guess that they'll keep for the visit. 

Tuesday, February 19, 2013

John Gammon, le Hot


OK, so Cookie is on a roll with hunky men.

John Gammon is le HOT!   So hot that Cookie is burning up.  Cookie would have the dogs turn down the thermostat because its terribly hot.  But of course, little dogs have no thumbs, so that ruins that idea.

And unlike Norma who is going through the change of life (and changing into what is anyone's guess), this moment of sexually charged personal August is because of Gammon.

Gammon, who?

If he doesn't look familiar, try this picture:


Gammon plays the sweet and somewhat clumsy "Darrin" in ABC's Wednesday Night sitcom, The Middle.

While The Middle plays to family TV, Gammon's character is moving up from an occassional appearance as Axel Heck's dimwitted football friend, to a more noticeable role as the guy who has it for Axel's sister (and series "Job") Sue Heck.

What I love about this is 1) Gammon is hot, 2) his character is adorkable, 3) he has oh, so kissable lips and 4) we all need someone to love, and in truth - love is never very far from us.

Yes, we all know that Patricia Heaton is a little Christian crazy, but the show is funny.  And besides, there's a little Sue Heck in all of us, so I would like to think there's a "Darrin" out there for all of us.

Monday, February 18, 2013

Just so you know: Peter Calandra



Meet Peter Calandra.  Peter doesn't know this yet, but when we meet, he will fall madly in love with me.




Peter and I will have a night of pure passion, and in the morning, after mind blowing sex, I'll leave him in the bed that we shared.


Peter will ask me not to go, but I will tell him it is for his own good.  I will tell him that I lust over his body, and pine for that sweet face of his, but in the end, I cannot love him as he needs to be loved.  

I take a card from my jacket and write the name of Mr. Peenee on it. "Here is the name of the man that you need."

I tell him that Mr. Peenee will spank his "muscle pussy", and spank it good. 

"Do not be sad that I am leaving.  Be happy that we met.  Be happy that we gave each other a great deal of joy."  

And I leave.  You see, Peter has a thing for candles, and frankly, they make me sneeze.  His fire insurance premiums must be beyond comprehension.  So this is why I left him. 

That, and I love another. 

And just so you know, I go home and tell my husband of the affair.  He forgives me.  Why? Because we are terribly civilized and cosmopolitan people, he and I.  That, and I have a tape of the love making.  And he likes that a lot. 





Saturday, February 16, 2013

Friday, February 15, 2013

Everyone wants something & I give the death sentence to a tree


My day yesterday was a hectic one.

MORNING:

We wrapped up the fence project which looks fabulous, but we can't use the back yard.  With the contractors back there walking around on the soggy ground, the back yard is a mud pit.

Two nights ago we got a beautiful snow fall - big wet flakes - that amount to five inches of fresh snow come morning. Then the temperatures spiked at around 50 degrees, so all that wet snow melted and turned the yard into a bigger pool of draining water.

The fence guys, trampling about in the muck, reminded me of Moses in the mud pits making bricks, and me as Pharaoh's overseer admonishing them to "Dance you mud turtles, DANCE!"

The fence builders wrapped it up and handed me a bill. They want money.

One of the neighbors came by and admired the fence. Now they want me to re-landscape.

About five minutes after the fence guys came back for their final day, the tree removal people came here to cut down the grizzled and mutilated maple at the end of the driveway.  BGE had been hacking away at this poor tree for years, so it was lopsided, topped and rotting. Years of road salt and pooled water left its base black with spongy rot as well.  And the other day it started to groan in the wind, so it was time to do the humane thing before it fell on a passing car, or us.

So down came the tree.  I counted its rings and it came to sixty-six.  Poor thing.  They ground the stump out, cleaned everything up.

Then they wanted their money.   Like I said, everyone wanted something.

AFTERNOON

Then the electrician arrived. And he was gorgeous.


He introduced himself as "Danny" and proceeded to talk non-stop for the next hour and a half while worked on our electric panel.  

Cookie does electric off existing lines, but Cookie does not go into the panel, period.  No live bus bar for me. This is why Danny was called in.   He also fixed the strange outdoor light by the back door.  

Danny was easy on the eyes, but his nonstop yakkity yak yak wore thin after about five minutes.  Cookie would leave the room, and he could hear the yakkity yak yak continue.  And whenever I came round to see where motormouth was on the project, Danny would start a new yakkity yak yak routine by saying "It's funny you mention that, yakkity yak yak..."  

What was funny is all I said was "How's it coming along?" and the yakkity yak yak began. 

Then he handed me the bill; he wanted his money.

But Danny does beautiful work, arrives on time and relatively affordable. 

Nice guy, lonely I think.  When he was leaving he said "Hope I didn't talk much.  My wife says I talk too much.  But I don't think I go on and on like yakkity yak yak..."  Ten minutes later I excused myself.  Looking in the morrir my eyes were glazed, my face tightened into a slight smile of a psychotic and my ears were ringing. 

So I sat back and had a cup of coffee until the husband came home, and he wanted dinner. 

Like I said, yesterday was a day of people wanting stuff.

On today's menu is shopping for a fridge.  Maryland has a sales tax holiday this weekend, so that gives us the chance to save another $100 on a new fridge. 

If I find anything, I'll let you know.  


Tuesday, February 12, 2013

Muscato Visits the Colossus of Barbie


Now that the great thaw is on, Cookie wants to travel and see the wonders of the world, like the Colossus of Barbie.  Oh, look!  There is Mr. Muscato way up on her knee!

Sunday, February 10, 2013

But what about me? And a Rocky update.

Kevin, Husband and Rocky are not paying attention to Cookie's needs.

So while the in-laws are buried under feet of snow following a Blizzard Named Nemo, Cookie and Household spent the day on Saturday puttering around the house and in the yard.   And yes, they all napped on me.  Look at them, all of them, in a nap induced state of bliss.  All three of them snoring away, leaving me to document the day and watch Rosalind Russel nun themed movies by myself.  Some fun. 

It's fence and gutter week here at the house, so the husband spent the day, in the sun, cutting back the mountain laurels so the fence can be installed. The gutters are getting cleaned out, re pitched and then surgical steel screens installed so we don't have to clean them out. 

So the dogs are getting their fence.  The husband is getting his gutter screen guards, but what of my need for a refrigerator that has ice and water through the door?  Is it too much to ask?  Convenience is an American birthright, and yet, I Cookie, am denied. 

I ask you reader, what about me?  

What about my needs?  I guess I'll just have to keep filling those ice trays and walking them to the nasty old fridge that came with the house. 

Well, let me tell you: Cookie will not be denied.  When I get my fridge, I will also be taking down walls. WALLS DO YOU HERE ME!  Muhahahaha, hahaha, ha. 

__________

Now, that Cookie has regained composure, time for a Rocky update:

Rocky is right as rain.  His tongue is pretty and pink, and he's back to licking us.  Yes, it is gross, but its a sign that he's feeling good.  AND he's been inviting play with Kevin, so we're back to hosting Puppy Derby through the house.  The Preakness has nothing on these two dogs.  We're back to Day care later this week.

Maybe a new fridge isn't so important after all.  Having Rocky back to full health is all I need, and the Kitchen will come in time.  

But when it does come, look for Cookie to be wielding a sledge hammer and the walls come tumbling down.  



Wednesday, February 6, 2013

Dog Day Afternoon


Cookie could use some Carlos Ponce right now. 


Our day today did not go as planned.

Today I was going to take the dogs to doggy daycare, and then I was going to sand and paint a long overdue project.

However, when the husband returned from the dogs morning walks, our Rocky wasn't his normal bouncy happy in face self.  Rocky is, ew, a "licky" dog.  Rocky loves to lick me, husband and guests. He has a fondness for licking behind ears.  And most mornings are spent sitting strategically to prevent said lickiness.

But this morning, Rocky was, well, limp.  His tail was down and he wouldn't jump up on my lap.  He also was licking, or even attempting to lick even when offered.

I got concerned when I saw him swallow hard, and since we are up on our shots and see the vet at least twice a year just for a good look see, I called to have Rocky looked at.

He pepped up for a late morning walk, and lapped up some water from his bowl, a very good sign.  When a dog refuses to drink, that's a bad sign.  His eyes were bright, his tail was up, but something was off.

So we went to the vet, and Kevin decided he had to go as well, so I had his anal glands expressed - why waste a trip, right?

Rocky did well with the vet, all his vitals were good, but then the vet got to his mouth.  Rocky's tongue was burned and his throat was raw.  His tongue looked like raw meat in splotches.  I felt like a knife went through my heart.

Then the questions came forth.  Did he chew through an electrical cord? Did he lap up any household chemicals?  What about antifreeze?  I answered I didn't think so (he did that once as a puppy and never again after that shocking experience),  no and good God no!

I was horrified.  We pride ourselves on keeping a pet safe home.  We feed the dogs good food.  We interview their toys like the CIA interviews applicants. We even interviewed the vet and the daycare until they begged for mercy.

The only thing that we can guess is that he got something on a walk, quite possibly some sort of chloride product used to melt sidewalks.

So three hours after going there, we left with instructions, three prescriptions and a television appearance for Kevin - I'll let you know when the little ham will be on TV.

So Rocky is eating and drinking, and thankfully we only have to pill him once a day.

And we are watching where we walk him like a hawk.

We were scheduled to fly to Boston this weekend, but with the Noreaster coming in for Friday, that trip is off.  Instead you'll find us snuggling with our Rocky, and Kevin, too.  Of course.

Dreams and nightmares



I have been haunted by dreams and nightmares of late.

Last night's dream was that we were back in our old house and:

1) My former boss Danny took it upon himself to install a toilet in my kitchen.
2) I did not want the toilet in my kitchen, and I was called ungrateful.
3) Danny's friends re-did my kitchen, but put tiny small counter-tops in.
4) When I asked why, they said they ate all my food.
5) After they left, man used our old driveway as a street.  He stopped and looked at my Oldsmobile.
6) People started showing up thinking that I was having a yard sale.
7) My pants disappeared, but my shirt was now a nightshirt.
8) After I got rid of the people at the yard sale, my living room was full of old friends.
9) Some friends - they left the door open and the dogs got out.
10) I got the dogs back.
11) My friend Trella wanted to serve a giant Jelly (Jell-O).
12) My friend Kate appeared with some man who looked familiar but I did not know his name.
13) My friends left.

And then I woke up.

I hate dreams like this.

Now, please decode this dream.

Sunday, February 3, 2013

DHTiSH Nostalgia: Terminal Tower


I found this on Tumblr and it evidently comes from Shorpy's blog.  This is a wonderful view of Cleveland's often overlooked Terminal Tower in 1930.  The building on the right is long gone and was replaced with the Illuminating Company tower in the late 1950s/early 1960s.  I always thought that was my most romantic name for a utility - The Illuminating Company.  Today, all the utility names of old have yielded to generic names like AEP, BGE, First This and Power that.  But look at those lights on that tower and the street lamps below - illuminating.

The building on the right holds special memories for me.  Cookie's father had his law office in that building, which is 77 Public Square.  A stout, early 20th Century skyscraper, was better known as the Union Commerce Bank Building, no to be confused with THE Union Commerce Bank Building up on Euclid & Ninth Avenue, which is where the bank had its headquarters.

77 Public Square was mostly lawyers and accountants.  It is an old school building, no nonsense like atrium  escalators or the like.  What it did have was Cleveland's first installation of electronic touch film for an elevator control.  Today we take these pads that you just touch and it lights up for granted, but in Cookie's childhood - the zenith of the mechanical button age, it was very cool and better yet, mysterious.

Terminal Tower itself is a real DHTiSH thing because it was build by the Van Sweringen brothers.  The brother was odd ducks.  They never married and were at each others side constantly for their entire lives.  They built a huge estate up in Hunting Valley, named Daisy Hill with more bedrooms than a Sheraton, but they shared the same bedroom for their entire lives. They were also the creators of Cleveland Heights,  Shaker Heights and Hunting Valley.

They started making it big as real estate developers.  When they started Shaker Heights, it was so far away from downtown that professionals balked at buying homes up there because of the amount of time it took to go downtown. Housewives hated the idea because all the shopping was downtown, too, and no way for them to get there, either.

So the Vans decided to build a "rapid transit system" of interurbans to move people from out there into Cleveland.   But there were a couple problems with this plan - namely rights of way.  To start from scratch would have taken decades to buy land, grade it and that would have been expensive.  So they did the next best thing - they bought the Nickle Plate Railroad since it had the right of way.

But the Nickle Plate made to much money to scrap it, so they bought ANOTHER railroad to use that right away for the Nickle Plate.  And before you knew it the brothers, were just developers controlled a huge chunk of the America rail system in the midwest - all to sell some land east of Cleveland.

Then they had a second problem - Cleveland's chief rail system on the lake front, and that meant rail cars blocked city streets.  It was a real clusterfuck.

So the brothers agreed to buy up the SW corner of Public Square and build a rail terminal and Union Station.   "The land drops off into the Cuyahoga River Valley!"  the people all laughed.

But the Vans saw the river valley as the perfect way to get trains into and out of downtown without impeding traffic.

And to make the terminal pay for itself, they built a modern, first class hotel on one side, and a department store on the other side of the terminal, that was mostly underground. Then above the terminal, they built a fifty story skyscraper that would generate office rental income. And this building would be the tallest building in the United States east of New York City.  Smart, huh?

Then the stock market crashed and before you can say "On Board" the Van's investments, which were heavily mortgaged started to flounder.  M.J. Van Sweringen died first in 1934, his health ravaged by the stress of their financial predicament, and his brother O.P. died lees than two years later.

But the Terminal survives, a noble monument to two brothers who just wanted to build some houses in a place called Shaker Heights.

Saturday, February 2, 2013

Madness



So, we find ourselves living in Baltimore, on the eve of the Super Bowl, and the Baltimore Ravens are the underdog in the Super Bowl XLVII.

I had forgotten what it was like being in a Super Bowl team city.

We are at once thrilled for the city and its people, and appalled by the behavior of the great unwashed.

On the good side, people are are wearing their Purple and Gold best.  Men have been wearing suit and tie to work in the downtown offices, over which they wear their jerseys.  Mother on buses and mothers in Lexii are share the same thing in common as all are wearing Raven's jerseys.   The groceries are bulging with purple foods.

Then there are things that appall Cookie and the Husband.

The grocery store lots have become Baltimore's version of dodgem. Men and women are driving like maniacs to get into the grocery stores.  They are fighting over parking spaces.  I had one woman yell at another woman over a bag of Doritos.

Seriously.  Adults yelling over who is going to get the last bag of Doritos while a pudgy Giant Food employee is pulling a pallet full of other Doritos bags to refill the shelves.

This isn't nuclear aftermath and these were not the last bags of powdered nacho cheese goodness that all mankind will ever have.  Its a Football game.

Build a bridge.  Walk over it.  

Last Monday was a Soup Night, monthly event in which one neighbor opens their house to all the other people who live in neighborhood.  The hosts provide two or three hearty soups and baguette.  Guests bring their own beverage (or booze).  Dress is causal, and a good time is had by all.

When Cookie RSVP'd to said event, I checked the box on the e-vite that said "Keep me up to date with who is coming."

Cookie was appalled at some of the neighbors who declined the invitation used the Super Bowl as their excuse, and we're not talking about people who were actually going to the Super Bowl.

No, instead people responded by saying things like:

"We'd love to be there but we are too excited about the Super Bowl to be there!"

"We'll be at our favorite bar celebrating the Ravens!" - and the most appalling reason:

"Can't be there - have to plan my "Souper Bowl" party menu!"

You can share a bowl of soup and a glass of wine with your neighbors because you're throwing a party of your own IN A FREAKING WEEK?  You're too fucking busy planning your own party that you can't come to attend a week before your own?

At the function, a small group of us were discussing the "the reasons" provided for the decline.

"Milo and Mike were going to be here, but then Milo got tickets and they drove down and spending the week with Mike's aunt," said Bubbly Brenda.

"Can't people just say," said Chatty Cathy as we kibitzed about the woman who sent that last reply, "sorry, can't make it, period?  I mean Amy Vanderbilt would tell you to be short and sweet.  Is there any more Merlot?"

"And," said Dutch Colonial Nell, "she's a Quaker!"

Quakers? The hosts were dissed by Quakers.  Keep your mouth shut and you learn things.

Tomorrow night, one of two things will happen:

1) The Ravens win and everyone celebrates.

2) The Ravens lose, and the sun comes up the next day.

We hope they win.  Otherwise there will be no sleep in our house, as we are sure we'll be kept up all night with moans of the faithful jumping out of their basement windows in their grief.

Take heart, as a life long Cleveland Fan, there is always next year.

You know what today is the Cookie Calender?


{{via}}

Today is Groundhog Day.

And for those of us who suffer from Seasonal Affective Depression Disorder (SADD), this is about the time that the fog of winter begins to lift.

It is also the day that Cookie feels real winter is over.  Yes, we know that February and March can be brutal.  But face it: snow won't linger on the ground for weeks on end from this point forward.  At most a few days.

I think the latest bad storm that I can recall is the April snowstorm that Columbus had back in either 88 or 89.  We got clobbered with two feet of snow, and then it was gone in two days. Never had enough time to pack down and get stubborn.

And know that we are on the east coast, we are excited at the prospect of being four planting zones ahead of Columbus, which gives us a month more in the growing season.

So whether you pay heed to Punxsutawney Phil or not, time marches on and the days of being hotter than Melba are coming.