Why oh why do people (and organizations) do the things they do?

First this message is for Hillary Clinton: What on earth are you thinking of, woman? I got a robo call from you last night and I just couldn't believe you are so out of the loop that you don't get it.

People hate robo calls.

We detest them. It is bad enough to run for the phone, stub your toe, slosh wine on the sofa as you hurry to find out who's calling and get a real person with a real call, but imagine how pissed off you make people when you wake their babies up, disturb their dinner, get them dripping from the shower or make them hurry into the house, dropping their keys and groceries on the way to the ringing demon to find a robo Hillary yacking at you.

Hillary, unless you want to take yourself out of this race, stop with the robo calls immediately!

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My somewhat local bank People's Bank has changed and is now People's United Bank. So far, all I can see that's changed is the online banking has gone down hill, customer service seems worse, but I expect those kinds of changes when a somewhat little bank turns into a somewhat large bank. What I don't expect is that with that name change you have made yourself the laughing stock of bank institutions. People's United Bank translates to P. U. Bank. Didn't anyone think of that before the grand name change?

P.U. Bank is not a good moniker. Think of P.U. - we all know what comes next. You Stink!

I would bet People's paid some youngun with a fancy suit a bit of money to come up with the new and improved name. But, apparently no one put any thought into the initials or how hard it is not to think of a new ad campaign for the new bank.

P.U. Bank -- A stinky bank for your filthy lucre!

P.U. Bank -- We rank

P.U. Bank -- A fetid financial organization

P.U. Bank -- We smell, you can bank on it

P.U. Bank -- We reek, week after week.

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I sit here at my computer, often spending more time than I should, offering up my opinions on all things great and small, you'd think banks changing names and political candidates would check with me before they do something so stupid. I'm here and willing to tell it straight.

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Oh, to the Connecticut Post, think about hiring a proof reader. I do get a chuckle out of the paper because so many words are spelled wrong that it isn't even difficult to find the first error - I can usually do it in about 4 seconds. Yesterday's paper had an article about people handing out wet wash clothes to hot construction workers. It was written down twice and each time I pictured these poor beleaguered construction workers, red-faced and sweaty, being handed a basket of laundry to dry.

Come on guys, let's put our thinking caps on.

Snip Snip


I got my haircut. A non severe Victoria Beckham style cut and I actually like it which means that the person who cut it, Susan, will be:

A) leaving the country to live in Europe
B) entering into a witness protection program
C) changing professions and taking up dog grooming
D) acquiring carpal tunnel syndrome or
E) all of the above

No way can this happen that I'm happy to have a good hair cut and that in 6 weeks that same stylist will cut this same style upon this same head.

The "I found and lost a great hairdresser" has been the story of my life.

My last wonderful hairdresser had a double hip replacement, just so he wouldn't have to cut my hair again. His name was Dimitri and he was an artiste. He'd grab the scissors and start slashing away while pushing my head around as if my neck were on a spring. You had to be brave to go to Dimitri as he never spoke, just used his scissors as if he were fencing with my tresses. I'm surprised that at the end of a haircut he didn't shout out:Touché

Once I thought I saw him working in a barber shop 30 miles from where I live. The car was going fast and I just caught a glimpse of a profile and some scissor slashing that reminded me of my Dimitri. I didn't ask the driver to stop and still wonder if Dimitri lied about the double hip replacement and moved away, just so he wouldn't have to cut my hair.

The type face has changed in case you didn't notice.

I could, I suppose, try to fix this but I'd rather just keep slashing away at the keyboard. And remember, dear readers, even if I don't write often, I promise not to do A) B) C) D) or E) as mentioned above.

What a great day outside, sunshine, warm breeze, chirping birds and nary a lawnmower motor to be heard.

I picked a pound of green beans yesterday from the garden and I know there'll be a pound to pick today as the bushes are loaded with beans. Beans are funny, they seem to grow inches in an hour. Although I hate "harvesting", this year I seem to be more amenable to doing it because I seem to want to eat more vegetables lately.

Finbar has been carrying around a bean for a day now. He plucked one from the basket and ran off with it. It's his current favorite toy.

My lawn guy came yesterday with his girlfriend. Whenever she accompanies him, I know it will take hours to get the lawn done. Makes me wish I was fluent in Spanish, because the minute he seems to be ready to fire up the mower, she has something to say to him that makes him come back to the truck and talk to her.

I thought they'd never leave yesterday and most of the time was taken up with the cooing and wooing between my lawn guy and his lady. He's about 4 feet 10 inches and she's about 5 feet 10 inches. He weighs about 130 pounds and she weighs about 230 pounds. They make quite the couple, but attraction to another isn't always about looks, but feelings.

She either makes him feel good or she just plain feels good.

ttfn

A Question on the YouTube Debate

I missed the first part, but did Hillary ever get called on to speak?

The leading candidate seemed ignored to me.

?????

Disturbed Cat: Another Fly

Even huge paws could not get the damned fly. The buzz sound made Finbar crazy. The flying part of a fly was more than he could take. He is now sleeping with one eye open just in case the fly appears again. What good are huge paws if you can't take down a fly? Those ears indicate emotional disturbance and impending insanity.


Oh my, Finbar's blog has been selected today as a Diary Pick on Catster. Go here to see his blog:

Stalling

It's one thing if your car stalls or a weather system stalls, but it stinks when a sinus infection stalls and day after day you feel as if homunculi are hammering away at parts of your brain, jaw bone and optic nerve.

Aw, it isn't that bad, but I do feel like I'm only half with it most of the time and I've taken so much Excedrin, I think I'll bleed to death if I get a paper cut.

This morning there was a fly in the house -- not a big deal, but the ramifications of having a fly in my house are the following:

Dish with fresh cut peaches is knocked onto the floor and shards of blue willow and sticky peaches are strewn all over the floor.

Violet by the window is knocked over.

Adorable white vase on the window sill is sent flying but lands unharmed.

Creeping fig is knocked over onto the counter.

Tablecloth is yanked off the dining room table.

Two forks and three spoons are sent crashing into the sink.

This is all before I have my first cup of coffee.

The whirling dervish doing the damage is none other than our beloved Finbar who apparently goes apeshit when a fly is in the house. He has never done so much damage so quickly before, but he too was attempting to fly and snatch the bugger from midair, losing sense of where he was landing or how he was landing turning the kitchen into total mess in seconds.

I shall return now to my couch and even though misery loves company, I hope everyone's sinuses are healthy and happy.

Wouldn't you know, I invoked the name of Osama bin Laden and sure enough he shows his ugly head and says this, according to reports:

"Octavia Nasr, CNN’s senior editor for Arab affairs, said bin Laden appears in only a 50-second portion of the video in which he asserts the Prophet Mohammed had wanted to be a martyr.

What is this status that the best of mankind wished for himself?” CNN said bin Laden asked rhetorically. “He wished to be a martyr. He himself said: ’By Him in whose hands my life is! I would love to attack and be martyred.

“This glorious prophet who was inspired by God summarized this entire life by these words. He wished upon himself this status. Happy is one who was chosen by God as a martyr,” bin Laden said, according to the CNN translation of his remarks."

I say, Osama you show us the glory of killing oneself by killing yourself! God just told me that you were chosen by him to be a martyr, honest. Cross my heart and hope to die...ooops! Didn't mean that, I wasn't chosen to be a martyr but you Osama were... god's calling you to do this, he told me personally today on my front porch.

Or are you saying Osama that your god wanted to be a martyr but couldn't cut it? Don't gods get their way? Seems to me, Osama, if you want to be a martyr there's lots of ways to make that happen.

Like Nike says in their ads, just do it!

Go Osama go, show us the glory of martyrdom by doing it. (For a truly spectacular death, Nike will give you 367 more wives, 19 pairs of Nike sneakers and a case of Margarita mix --on rainbow bridge of course and not before!!)

(Notice how the big shots never kill themselves, whether the prophet or Osama - they stay alive, get lots of wives and then find some teenagers who'll do the deed. Or American politicans who vote for a war that they'd never allow themselves or their children to "attend.")

If it's such hot shit to be a martyr then show us Osama -- get your video camera up and running and do the deed.

Let's see some old guy blow himself up instead of kids for a change.
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And I say the same thing regarding all the current wars Americans are paying for (how many of them are we in now?) Let's see the old guys and gals go to war for a change and let the young, males and females stay home.

Round up the dried up old politicians who think war is so nice and strap
some bombs on them and give them some guns and mace and nail files and "turned" strawberry preserves and drop them in the middle of Iraq.

I'm so sick of the world I live in. ( SCREAM!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

Okay I feel better now. Phew, calming down now.

And how was your day?

I was into my archives and found this: I still feel the same way only more so.

Friday, September 16, 2005

Osama Bin Laden -- where are you?

You have not been found yet. In fact, we don’t hear much about you anymore. There was a time when we were told that troops were closing in on you and you’d be found in a matter of days. But then that talk stopped.

Everyone who flies now has to walk around in their stocking feet, little children are patted down by airport security, and the Patriot Act has kept us Americans right under the thumb and eye of the government-- but we aren’t the ones that masterminded 911 – it was you, and you’re still out there eating bonbons and having back rubs.

Sometimes when I’m drinking my morning coffee (like today) I think about you and wonder if you are snuggled up all comfy and cozy in a feather bed or if you are dining on your favorite foods or making love to one of your many wives and it makes me sick to my stomach.

Why are you such a needle in a haystack? I could recognize you in a second if you were in my town. So how is it our prez promised to find you and bring you to justice but nothing has happened? Why are you invisible?

We’ve gone to war in Iraq because of you, in fact, the current prez might very well have been elected from the effects of your egregious deeds and his promise to protect us from you and your ilk.

Because of you, a single squirrel on a power line causing a 15 minute blackout can cause people’s blood to curdle and shoot our blood pressure up to astronomically high numbers.

Because of you we have a constant terror alert on our news channels and of course, in our minds.

So where the hell are you and is anybody still looking for you?

I’ve heard more about Natalee Holloway, Jennifer Wilkens (runaway bride aka mourning dove) Lacy Peterson and numerous other people missing…but you seem to be receding from the news with each passing day.

Anyhow, Osama, I’m still looking for you and thinking about you and you should be very thankful I am not the president, because if I were, all the manpower and money going into the Iraq war would be used for tracking down your sorry ass, Buster.

I got a dress for the wedding. Surprise it's black. I don't know why, but the nice dresses always come in black - I would have loved red as I have these great red sandals with doable heels and when you wear them the red stones that keep your feet situated in the shoe almost look like a string of jeweled toe rings. (I just read what I wrote and the shoes sound awful --not the case. They are quite adorable, not tacky and comfortable. There's only a thin strip that keeps the shoe on; the rest is bare feet.) See here's a picture, cute, aren't they?

I have been told I have nice feet. Once when I was having a pedicure (maybe the only pedicure I ever got in my life) the woman said to me: Your feet are amazing! You have no callouses; your skin is so soft; even your heels are soft.

Wow, lots of compliments on my feet. But, being the me I am I replied: Do you know why that is?

She said no, why?

I said because they've hardly been used.

I thought I was hilarious but she didn't get it.

Anyhow, even though I would have preferred something other than black,I'm happy. It's a long black slinky dress with straps that crisscross in the back. I love the back and I love how the dress fits, looks and the price was right.

I can never get the pictures where I want them. Anyhow, I do have black strappy sandals to go with it and unfortunately the picture just doesn't show how cute the dress actually is.

I am in good shape for the wedding now. Present sent, outfit set - bring on the bride and groom!

Cheers!

The Magic 8-Ball

The Magic 8-Ball

... is the meme Irina tagged me with, and which may or may not reveal 8 interesting facts about me to my readers!

Each player lists 8 facts/habits about themselves. The rules of the game are posted at the beginning before those facts/habits are listed. At the end of the post, the player then tags 8 people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves them a comment, letting them know that they have been tagged and asking them to read your blog.

I) I once rode from Alabama to Connecticut on the bitch seat of a Harley.

2) I once was a model for a Connecticut magazine photo shoot, portraying a Colonial serving wench, complete with tankards of beer, a ruffled dust cap and mucho décolleté .

3) I am addicted to Butterfingers candy bars.

4) My favorite dressing for a salad is half French half Blue Cheese.

5) I hate talking on the telephone.

6) I was a teenaged mother at 19 years old.

7) I was married on my 18th birthday.

8) I once taught myself to play Rhapsody in Blue on the piano (poorly --but it was an accomplishment as I had to learn one measure at a time and it took quite a while.)


Now I must tag 8 people and I apologize in advance. I am supposed to let you know you are tagged but if I did that, you'd feel obligated to respond. So I've tagged you but if you don't find out, or want to pretend you didin't know you were tagged, I won't mind at all.

Finbar has already answered his questions. Good boy, Finbar.

I tag:

Nicole

Lauren

Ilanna

Gavin

Paintergirl

Marko

Linda, Bradley's mom

Finbar

Happy Birthday Finbar! So far he's had a great day looking out the window and chewing the curtain tie back ribbon. I can't believe he's one year old now. My kitten is growing up! I do hope his tail has ceased growing. As you can see from the photos, it is mighty long.