My Purpose: Entertain, Inspire, Be Happy, Free Hugs!
 

My Butt Has Fallen And It Won't Get Up.

What Do You Call A Dinasour With A Stressed Rump? Mega Sore Ass. First off, if you call me a dinasour you gonna get word-whipped. Second, even though it's not technically a middle-age birthday for me on May 24th (I hope, and, thank you), some days I do feel old. And, third, yes, I am going to talk about my ass again. (This was written a few weeks ago, but then my mom's butt took centre stage. Let's pretend this occurred just the other day ...) How sore is my ass? My ass is sooo sore ... Speaking of butt, we interrupt this blog to bring you ... Farting Fellow aka Gassy Guy aka Dude's Gotta Poo aka The...

Shit Happens. And Then Sometimes It Doesn't.

Well, darlings, even though I'm not scheduled to depart this La La Land of debauchery for another couple weeks, I'm already in the mindset of meandering north. Back "home." Where is home to a searching gypsy-hearted soul? Not only don't I have a nest of my own to go back to—despite desperately searching MLS listings for heritage homes (read: dilapidated fixer-uppers with vermiculite) offering quick possession—but also, in the two months since I left Canada, my sister and brother-in-law decided to sell their place—where I had been staying—and are moving before I even get back. I'm just not sure four adults, two foster kids and a dog can fit in a three-bedroom townhouse. I could live in my...

Ms. Jenner aka No More BJ(s)

Mr./Ms.? How Do You Address A Transgender Person Who Hasn't Transitioned Yet? I didn't watch the Diane Sawyer interview because I don't have TV. Also, I only have limited Wi-Fi at home. One of these days, I'll go to the library and watch it, but for now I already know all I need. Jenner has a limited amount of time to run around totally topless before s/he's got to get on board with the rest of us females and fight for—or flee from—airing our areolas in public (see #freethenipple blog). Though, I feel that if s/he were to trapeze around bare-chested now, it would already be breaking the law. Not only has s/he acknowledged that s/he is transgender but also...

I Had a Dream … But You Don’t Have To.

Quick recap: Back in my small town in Canada I was a somebody. I had a high profile career and was very successful at it. After 20 years, many of the last of which were living in burnt out bitterness, I needed to make a change. But, I’d built up such an expectation of excellence within the community who knew me and a reputation built on ego and acclaim (and a closet full of expensive shoes), that leaving that life—and identity—wasn’t as easy as I’d thought: other people didn’t want me to (other professionals, clients).I burned out and wanted to fade away.All that time, energy and investment building up a career and community image only to want to escape it....

And Then There Was One ... As in: Me, As in: Single, Single Here! (As in: Sad sigh.)

After taking a FaceBreak for a month, I go back on social media hub central. As I’m not so inclined to browse through a month’s worth of newsfeed for ‘my closest 400+ best friends,’ I simply jump back in mid-stream.Interestingly, it is true that no one does miss you (me) when you (I) leave the FB party. The real—not virtual—friends and I have stayed in contact outside of social media. Two of my closest friends aren’t even on FB.Nonetheless, coming clean, I am self-publishing a memoir in the coming months, and the book marketing course I took last summer was all “social media, social media!” There are other ways to procure purchases, but they’re slower going and a lot more...

Today I’m Kind of Sad. And Fat.

The highlight of my week is the Wednesday Santa Monica Farmers’ Market. It’s really the only place my budget allows me to buy unabashedly; after all, I need to eat, right? Numerous vendors sell everything from chocolate mint to persimmons and to fresh-baked artisan breads, from all manner of cattle (beef, bison, pork) to the most colourful array of produce; my favourite is the green, yellow, red, purple and almost black heirloom tomatoes—oh, my Golly, they’re like candy! I’ve taken to blending my breakfast. Mermaid, my housemate, has a Blendtec, which is a professional grade food pulverizer. Some argue that the Vitamix is the best. I’ve used both and prefer the former, though our friend, Tango (he dances), swears by...

Silver Lining Syndrome and The Art of Acceptance OR Hiking with Strange Men

So I’m thinking to myself, “Is this guy a serial killer?” as we travel along the Pacific Coast Highway presumably to a remote (in my mind) hiking destination, me and this man who I just met. Did I mention I’m in the passenger seat of an older van with no windows, no back seats, padded ceiling with rips and brown stains and Texas plates? Blink blink—is that sea bass I smell?—blink. Okay, so before I scare the crap out of you (too late?), I should probably note that I met “High Risk” (his pseudonym) at a coffee shop—of course—and he was with a few (normal seeming) friends—though not all serial killers are reclusive or anti-social. Then a few...

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