Good riddance, 2010

If only 2010 had been as entertaining and attractive as our friend here.

On the down side, and there were many, 2010 will go down in my life annus horribilis.  That is to say that in 48 years of ups and downs, 2010 wasn't simply a bad year, it was the worst year I have existed throughout.

2010 started out with a bang with a gall bladder attack that landed me in the hospital twice.  On the second encounter, as I lay on the operating room, drugged out of my mind, my last thoughts were about Mr. Peenee (that was good) and how unlike this room  - where they were about to fillet me - was like the glamorous operating rooms on Grey's Anatomy. 

In April, I had to make decision to put my beloved JRT, Bertie down after seventeen years of love and fun.

In August we found out that my mother was keeping her medical condition from us, and that she had advance pancreatic cancer that had spread to her neck, her lungs, her stomach and ultimately, her brain.  September was spent in constant motion as we rushed between home, work, the hospital, the rehab facility, doctors offices and radiation, not to mention the struggle to keep her focused, manage her care and make medical decisions.

In October we got her home, which was her wish, but her cancer spread and her mental state declined.

She died in November, leaving me, leaving us.  I summoned the courage to be there for her, and was at peace when she left, but I miss her every day.

Through out it all, three things kept me chugging away. First, I allowed myself the luxury of taking charge and found comfort in making decisions that were difficult, but right to choose.  Second, my wonderful, wonderful husband was at my side supporting me.  Three, I have wonderful friends around me, in person and on-line.

Frankly my dears, I would never have made it through this year without you.

So as we close out 2010, I wish you and yours the very best for the coming year; may 2011 be a year of wondrous things for you and yours, that good fortune and good health envelope you, and most of all, that we keep our sense of humor.

But we do care, Mitzi!

From the 1953 bio-pic of Eva Tanguay, The I Don't Care Girl starring Mitzi Gaynor

Wicked Wednesday

By day: Cheesy fashion designer strung out on polyester designs.

By night, sexually confused fetistist whipped into submission by Polly and Esther...and liking it!

Norma Desmond is right, but the prize goes to Jason, Part Two

Jason, honey, your guess may not have have been correct, but you win the prize.  One behalf of all of us who laughed silly at your guess, I have tried to make it come true:

I simply don't know how Jason nails these contests as he does, but he is dead center and right in identifying our most recent Mystery Guest, the talented 1960s comedienne, Gidget Cameltoe.

"Born in Anita Pudenda in Upper Falls, North Dakota, she was discovered by a photographer from LIFE magazine while walking with her friends on summer afternoon.  The picture of the three young women, wearing skin tight jeans, caused a sensation, and soon Hollywood came knocking.  Metronome Pictures changed her name to Gidget Cameltoe shortly after she arrived in the Movie Capital of the World.

"After playing supporting roles in such films as "That Darned Cat" and with Bob Hope in "I'd Walk a Mile For A Camel", she was offered the starring role in "Read My Lips" with Paul Lynde and Phyllis Diller.  Her next film, Mooseknuckle Mary, proved to be the biggest box office hit in Canada in 1968.

"Shown here is her second film as the beloved girl with something extra, Mooseknuckle Mary Goes to Hollywood, costarring George Saunders as her agent and Jack Palance as her retarded man-child brother Hooter. 

"Gidget Cameltoe retired from film making after discovering Jesus in a Ben Franklin Store in Escondido, California and she announced that the .25 cent dashboard statue directed her to a life of cloistered prayer as a nun in a Bulgaria Abbey."

Norma Desmond is right, but the prize goes to Jason, Part One

Once again, Norma Desmond is correct - Our mystery guest is in fact, quite out of character in that disturbing image of a crazyed hillbilly parading about in a piece of dark, wet nylon.  Arlene Golunka, an attractive and talented actress made the rounds in Hollywood in the 1960s and early 1970s.  Is is best remember as Ken Berry's girlfriend, Millie the waitress, on Mayberry RFD, the shortlived successor to the Andy Griffith show.

Who am I?

Can anyone name this 1960s starlet?  (Pay no attention to her not so secret lady part...)

Happy Boxing Day

{{via}}

Well, did you get it? Did you get what you wanted?

We're sure you have seen this, but...

I know its been shared to death, but I like it. Merry Christmas Eve to you all!

And now, A Christmas Message From Catherine Zeta Jones

Have yourself a childless, Disney Style Christmas

Yes, this is how Disney envisioned Christmas in one of their 1960s styled tableaux: modern furniture, kitsch and uncomfortable seating.  BAH Humbug on you, Walt.

My mother always said...

..."if it seems like a good idea, it is most likely not a good idea." 

Take the picture above.  It probably seemed like a good idea at the time.  However, in reflection, mmm, not so much.  So much it violates another tennant of my dear sainted mother:

"Never, under any circumstances, ever, allow someone to take your picture when you are wearing something that you will some day regret being photographed in."

Makes me wonder - and just who did this manchild give this photo to?  His mother?  That's a trip to the psychiatrist right there.  His father?  Doubtful.  Well then it must be for grandma!

And what, one day in the future (say 20 years old so) will his children say when they find this?  "This is so totally gross!" his daughter will say rolling her eyes. 

"Like, you didn't show this to anyone, have you?" his son will ask in sheer embarrassment.

And when did it become chic to have Ralph Wiggum hair?

Don't let this happen to you

There is a such a thing as too many doughnuts, and too much leopard print..

Damita Jo "Silver Dollar"

An unhinged woman from Carol Stream Illinois went off on me today...

...when I called regarding an outstanding balance on my mother's only credit card.


Mom had this Elder-Beerman Department Store credit card that she used when she would buy things for herself, or for the Husband and I for Christmas. The card had a balance of $1.75. That is right, $1.75.

But, as we all know, "mighty oaks, from tiny acorns grow," especially from legal issues.

As Executor, I have to contact all creditors and ask for a final bill and handle the matter, or I am liable for the potential shitstorm that occur. And in today’s third party collection crazed world, I don't want to come home from work in a year or so and find out that I am in breach of my Fiduciary duty and in Dutch with the probate court.

So I called the number listed, which took me to HSBC - the company that bought out the credit accounts for EB's parent company, The Bon Ton.

After hopping through the telephone maze, I get a woman, and I explain to her what has happened and that as executor, I am the one responsible for dealing with this account - so what do they need to do issue a final bill and send the statement to me?

"I can't do that unless you provide a power of attorney," she says. I tell her that in Ohio, POA's are only issued for people who are living, dead people get executors.  Since I'm the executor, I have that document and will send it to her if she tells me where to mail the envelope to.

"I can't do that unless you provide a power of attorney," she says, again.

Again, I go through my spiel.

This time she goes off script and starts screaming that she needs to have a POWER OF ATTORNEY but then she starts in on me, informing me that I'm being difficult and that they don’t care about the $1.75 – “WE’RE JUST GOING TO WRITE IT OFF!”

Alright then. I thank her and complete the call. Bitch.

Now if that was what they were going do, why didn't she simply say "Let me look at the account and figure out what the next step is?"

Just as mighty oaks grow from tiny acorns, pennies make dollars.  No wonder HSBC has one of the worst reputations in the consumer finance industry when it comes to customer service.

I hope she feels better. Really I do. It must be Hell to work with her.  It was certainly Hell dealing her, the Bitch.

Come all ye grifters

Mom has been gone a month and I have been appointed executor of the estate, which means its my job to take care of the bills, dispose of the property and distribute the estate.

It also means that I have to deal with the medical bills, and the bill collectors that come with them.

Because of HIPPA, no one connected with her medical care can talk to anyone regarding her medical condition. Because of financial privacy laws, no one would talk to me about the hospital bills. So for the past three months, NOTHING has gotten paid because no one would decipher her medical billing. Well, now that she's dead, they all want paid, immediately.

I suspect that most of the bills are legitimate, there are some "suspect charges" that the hospitals are going to have to prove to me that she legitimately owes. 

Like the $25 from 2001 that "Christina" Ohio Health claims Mom owes.

"Really," I said. "You are trying to tell me that she owes you $25 from 2001? For what?"

"I don't know sir. Perhaps you could ask your mother what services she received in 2001," said Christina.

After I explained that Mom died in their facility, I also pointed out that 1) Christina should be able to look this matter up and tell me what the charge is for and 2) Christina should also know that the only way for me to contact mother at the moment is via Ouija board.

"Are you trying to be sacastic?" she asked - which in and of itself was truly sarcastic, I pointed out.

"Look, our records don't go that far back," she said dryly.

Neither do Mom's, I replied. So I guess we are at an impasse.

My point is that unless they can provide me with proof of service, the $25 is to me the same as being scammed by a grifter. They expect me just to pay an amount simply because they want it? Come on, people, evidence – where is the evidence?

The other thing that I am waiting for now that the will has been entered into probate are the people coming forward and holding out their hands. Under Ohio law, they have six months to file their claims against the estate. So if some goof ball cut her yard in 2005, he/she/it would have to submit their bill and then I have to take action against it.

Thankfully, because I’m the keeper of the family “kennel” papers, I don’t have to worry about whether or not someone who shows up on the door step claiming to be a long lost niece, nephew, forgotten child, etc. I know who belongs, who doesn’t and where all the family skeletons hang. And trust me, and I say this to anyone thinking of slipping anything past me,  the family closet was cleaned out, long ago.  And I made sure they were completly cleaned out.

Oh Christmas Tree?

Arlene Francis gushes all over Charles Eames

The Terror of Tiny Town

I think it was the only all midget western in Hollywood. Of course the humor came from watching these rambunction tiny cowboys and their wee-women struggle with full sized props - that kept things perversly "cute" instead of just letting them act.

If you have never seen it (or the equally bizarre Little Cigars) then I suggest that you do so one of these cold winters nights.

Donna Lethal's newest book...

I always wondered what Nancy Drew would get into when she went off to college.

"Oh!" thought Coventry College Co-Ed Nan Drew.  "Why that wasn't what I thought that Professor Derrick Cockenlocker meant when he suggested that I apply myself to a little extra credit," as she rubbed the aching muscle in her jaw.  Nan was right; there was nothing little about Dr. Cockenlocker's "assignment."

She straightened her peasant skirt, but there was no getting around not being able to wear her silk hose, which lay limp in her hand.  A wave of dread enveloped her.

"I hope that no one sees me out at night, walking home with my hose in hand," she said to herself.  "Why, they could get the wrong idea about me!"  But little did Nan know that she was being watched, and that her every activity was being recorded by the shadowy figure standing besides the Animal Husbandry building in the distance...

According to the publisher, the book was suppossed to be called "Nan Drew and the Case of the Extra Credit Assignment" but they couldn't fit the title on the book.

Look for this at Barnes & Noble near you soon...