Here Comes the Judge

I was very upset when I heard that Judge Judy was rushed to the hospital yesterday.  I’m now happy to report that she is feeling well and being released today.

I didn’t always like Judge Judy.  I remember my Aunt Theresa watching the show.  I would shake my head and laugh at my silly old aunt.  I had never actually watched the show but didn't understand how a smart person like Aunt T could watch “that crap."   

My Aunt Theresa

One day last year I was on the couch watching Dr. Phil and couldn’t find the remote.  Judge Judy’s show follows, and  I was too lazy to get off my fat ass to search for the remote control.  I am now addicted to the show and adore that crazy old woman.  Aunt T, wherever you are, now I get it!

 Did you know that the bailiff's name is Petri Hawkins-Byrd?  She calls him Byrd.  I bet you think his name is Burt -- yep, me too.  Byrd has a degree in criminal justice from John Jay College, and is a real bailiff. 

When Judge Judy was offered her show in 1996, he wrote her a congratulatory note saying “if you ever need a bailiff, I still look good in a uniform.”  She called him at home to accept his proposal, and he’s been her bailiff ever since. 

The moral?  Grandma was right -- don’t underestimate a nice handwritten note.

Judge Wapner, the original People’s Court judge – the grandfather of all court shows – doesn't care for Judge Judy.  He stated:

She is a disgrace to the profession. She does things I don't think a judge should do. She tells people to shut up. She's rude. She's arrogant. She demeans people.

YES!  YES!  YES! 

That’s why we LOVE her!

Listen, if you’re a drunk and your boyfriend is a nasty, angry SOB, your kids were taken away by CPS, but your neighbor took care of your kids while you were in detox and your prince was in jail – would you go on Judge Judy and sue that neighbor for the return of a computer?

Was Judge Judy rude, arrogant and demeaning?  Of course!  She’s been on the air since 1996, you know what you’re getting yourself into!

Picture it:  you have a small claims court and someone says

"hey, I have a great idea!  Take this case to the Judge Judy show.  They’ll fly you out to California, put you up in a nice hotel, and win or lose you’ll get paid about $250, plus you get your 15 minutes of fame on t.v.”

I wouldn’t have to give it a second thought.  I’d say HELL NO!   She scares the bejeezes out of me and I don't want to go through life with people whispering behind my back:

"Look, that's the woman Judge Judy made

pee her pants on national t.v."

 

HERE COMES THE JUDGE, HERE COMES THE JUDGE

There are so many court shows on television, most suck, but some have their moments. 

Judge Lynn Toler of Divorce Court has better one-liners than Matthew Perry’s new show, Mr. Sunshine.  A man was complaining that his wife started talking to ghosts and that the ghosts told her to paint the kitchen blood red.

Judge Lynn turns to the woman and deadpans, "Mrs. Taylor are you taking decorating tips from the deceased?"

Judge Karen Mills once said to a plaintiff “you’re suing this woman for not telling you your boyfriend was a scumbag and it seems to me that you should have known your boyfriend was a scumbag.”

I wonder what Judge Wapner thinks of Judge Mills’ language!

Then there's Judge Herman Munster.  Okay, so he's really Judge Alex, but really -- I can't see the difference.

 JUDGE JUDY LITE

Judge Marilyn Milian of The People’s Court is my absolute favorite judge.  She’s one hot Latina Tamale, but won’t burn you new asshole…  unless you piss her off!

THANK YOU!   dogs who bite people. 

THANK YOU!   people who don't pay their rent. 


And a special thank you to all you stupid girls out there.  All you ladies out there with that wonderful man with no job who "deserves" that cell phone, tire rims, bail,  back child support payment money, or whatever.  Thank you for loaning him the money that he now says is a gift.

It makes me laugh and talk to you through the t.v.  I say

"Ah yes, that's some mighty expensive peen."

Keep it coming people .....

Hello, my name is Annie and I’m a compulsive overeater!

That’s how I had to introduce myself during a 1990 stint in an eating disorder clinic.  This facility housed all sorts of addicts – food, drugs, and alcohol. 

Every Friday night we had one big “anonymous” meeting where all us addicts discussed our particular obsession.  The facility psychologists had us introduce ourselves with our specific label.  For some people, the label was obvious.

Like the poor little anorexics.  When you’re a 27 year old adult and weigh only 78 pounds, you’re either living in a poverty stricken third world country – or an anorexic.

The hardcore alcoholic was easy to find because of the bulbous red nose.  It’s called Rhinophyma.  They say alcoholism doesn’t cause it – but it certainly aggravates it!

The worst example I’ve ever seen was a professional brandy tester.  If you can handle it, click here. 

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/picturegalleries/picturesoftheday/6536846/Pictures-of-the-day-10-November-2009.html?image=2

Go ahead, I dare ya!

Anyway since I have no neck and my fat little face sits directly on my shoulders, it was very obvious that that I was a compulsive overeater.  Ergo my label

“Hello my name is Annie and I’m a compulsive overeater.” 

During the daily group therapy sessions with my fellow COs, anorexics and bulimics we were asked not only about our food issues, but about any alcohol or drug use.  When I was younger I enjoyed drugs on a recreational basis.  By the time I entered the facility I hadn’t smoked or snorted anything in quite some time so I don’t know why I felt compelled to share my HILARIOUS hooligan stories with my new friends.

… the time we smoked pot, ate cereal,  and watched Bugs Bunny …

… the time we got so drunk and went dancing at Studio 54 …

Lesson learned – psychologists won’t find your “we drank a bottle of Yago Sangria,  did a hit of mescaline and took the F train to Rockefeller Center to check out the Christmas lights” story as funny as you do. 

The last Friday “anonymous” meeting I attended before I was released, I had to introduce myself

“Hi, my name is Annie.  I’m a compulsive overeater,

alcoholic, drug addict, addicted to nicotine.”

I still enjoy an occasional glass of wine, or martini, or mojito, but I haven’t done drugs in about 25 years, and  I finally quit smoking in January 2008.

But oh, how I love my food.  An open box is an empty box, I say.   I’ve already told you about the Oreo cookie incident.  (The time I ate so many Oreo cookies that the next morning I crapped black and thought I was bleeding internally).

Through the years I’ve gained weight, lost weight and gained it back again.  I’ve been on Weight Watchers, Atkins, liquid proteins, and most every diet known to man.  It’s a struggle that I will have to endure for the rest of my life.  Some days are better than others and I know that even if I were to reach my goal weight, I would always struggle.  This is my fact of life.

I am an addict and FOOD is my drug of choice! 

HOWEVER!!          I REPEAT        HOWEVER!!

I pray that if I ever got so friggin fat and couldn't get out of a chair to take a shit my family and friends would say

“ENOUGH”

 

Carol Yager (1960 - 1994)

Don't let me die in bed like 1000 pound Carol Yager. 

Don't let me end up like the morbidly obese man in Ohio who was found unconscious yesterday and had to be cut out of a chair.  His skin had fused to the fabric because he sat there for two years, sitting in his own filth, covered in maggots.** 

http://www.nydailynews.com/news/national/2011/03/30/2011-03-30_obese_man_stuck_in_chair_for_2_years_skin_fused_with_fabric.html

His roommate and girlfriend fed him, since he was unable to get up to feed himself.  Shame on them! 

    **The update to this since I started writing this post, is that he has died.

ATTENTION PLEASE

If I ever call and say

“Hey, how ya doing?  Yeah, listen, I know I’m so fat that I can’t get out of bed, but I’m really craving a few boxes of Ring Dings, a bucket of KFC chicken and a pizza.  Would you mind bringing them over?”

JUST SAY NO!!!

When you’re so fat you can’t get out of a bed or a chair to crap, bathe and feed yourself … it’s time to stop eating! 

Or you could always get married ....

Forgive me for the gratuitous pictures of food....  Oh and I found this Oprah cake -- how freaky is this?

Tools, Carpenters and the Irish Curse

THE TOOL

Whenever the conversation at the kitchen table turns to the size of penises (no, it’s not unusual for my family to discuss penis size) my mother has always stated with authority

“it’s not the tool, it’s the carpenter”

Every head nods in agreement because mothers are always right.  Of course my brothers are going to agree.  They’re a gang of Irish Americans with wee willie winkies. 

I love to torture them about “the Irish curse.”  The Irish curse, for those of you who don’t know, is the stereotypical joke that Irish men have small weenies.

But what you might not have known – and yes, that’s why Aunt Annie is here, to teach you new things – is that it can also refer to the combination of small weenie/large testicles.

And this combo is also known as ALL POTATOES, LITTLE MEAT

It has been said that the original meaning of the Irish Curse refers to the fact that Irish men drink to excess.  They stay at the pub a few pints too long and go home to make love to their wives.  The Irish Curse sets in – their tools are as useless as a rubber drill.



Irish Curse, a/k/a "Whiskey Dick"



SORRY MA!

Unlike my brothers, I don't have a male ego that hinges on the tool/carpenter theory.  My parents started dating at 13 and got married at 20, so ...

What the hell does she know about tools?   

And I don’t care what kind of master carpenter he may be, unless my father is sporting some kind of magical tool, the Swiss Army knife of penises, she has no idea what the hell she’s talking about. 

I’m 53, single and never married.  I have been shopping at the Penis Home Depot. 

You know what? 

Sorry Ma, sometimes ... IT'S THE TOOL!

How could I NOT include a dancing weenie?

Game Show Contestants

There are only two game shows I enjoy -- Jeopardy and The Price is Right.  I'll occasionally watch Wheel of Fortune against my will only because I'm too lazy to search for the remote when Jeopardy ends.  I have contempt for stupid game show contestants, that's why I shy away from Wheel of Fortune -- too many dim-wits.

TPIR, as it's known to us cool "in the know" people, is one of the longest running game shows.  It's been around so long it has reached cult status.  I remember watching it as a kid when I was home from school sick with asthma, wheezing and puffing on my inhaler. 

THE PRICE IS RIGHT 

The Clock Game 

The game is one of the easiest games on TPIR.  This is the game I would want to play if I was ever a contestant on the show.  It's also one of the first games invented for the show.  I found a clip of a woman playing for a $600 microwave and a $6,700 brand new Pontiac.  Bob Barker is young with brown hair.  The woman played the game almost to perfection and ended up winning both prizes.  It's over 3 minutes, but if you're so inclined, this is how the game should be played.

Fast forward 30 years.  Microwaves cost $80, there's no such thing as Pontiac, and white-haired Bob Barker looks like he died two months ago and forgot to lie down. 

You would think that by now people would know how to play the game. 

JEOPARDY!

Jeopardy contestants are smart.  Oh sure, every now and then a moron sneaks through and that's when I get to yell at the t.v.

 

"Not so smart now, huh big shot?"

"Who'd you pay off to get on the show?"

But let's face it, most of the Jeopardy contestants are more like that IBM Watson computer than they are human beings.  And if you don't believe me, just listen to the interview segment next time the show is on.  They are either very boring or very wierd.

Ken Jennings is a funny humanoid!

Game Show Contestants I Hate, In No Particular Order

Let's face it.  There are some people you automatically dislike for no particular reason.  Well, I feel that way about game show contestants.  There are some people I dislike immediately and it makes me happy when they lose.   I know that sounds petty, but I don't give a crap.

 The person on Wheel of Fortune who has over $10K, knows the puzzle and spins again.  You Greedy Bastard. 

It makes me yell, once again at the t.v.

"BANKRUPT, BANKRUPT, BANKRUPT"



When they hit Bankrupt I hoot and holler like I’m at a rodeo.  And I know you do too!!

The unattractive woman on TPIR who thinks she’s sexy and makes pouty faces at the camera instead of paying attention to the game.  You aren’t pretty, you’re making an ass out of yourself, and I want to smack the crap out of you.  Just play the freaking game.

 The doofus who makes it up on stage on TPIR and can't make a single decision without looking out at the people he came with for help.

There was a girl on just the other day.  Cute kid.  I liked her, I actually wanted her to win.  Oh, don't be so shocked!  I did want her to win.

But would she listen to me?  Noooooo! 

There I am yelling at her

"LOWER!  LOWER!" 

But instead she listened to the geniuses she came with and ended up not winning the car.

Then, when she was spinning the wheel to see if she would be in the showcase showdown, Drew says “who would you like to say hello to?” 

She says “my friends and family in the audience.  Woo Hoo, I love you guys!”

I’m like “really?  You mean those losers who just cost you a 2011 Hyundai Sonata?

 

  

The stupidest moment on game show history, for me, was an episode of Family Feud. 

The question was:  Name an animal that begins with the letter R

Brother # 1                   Rabbit

Brother # 2                   Raccoon             

Brother # 3                   Rhododendron

Rhododendron -- a PLANT!

And what do Brothers 1 and 2 say?  “Good answer, good answer.”

No, it's NOT a good answer!

You stupid, stupid people!

 

If that was me and my brothers that episode would have gone a completely different way.

First the censors would have had to step in:

"Rhododendron?  Rhododendron?  It's a fu*king plant! 

What are you?  A fu*king moron?"

Then security would step in as the brawl starts.

Nope, we don't like stupid game show contestants, even if it's in the family.

Wanted: Sugar Daddy

I didn’t plan for these in-between years -- too young to cash in on retirement funds; too old to get myself a Sugar Daddy.

I’m out of work.  Apparently the legal secretary profession has gone the way of travel agents, switchboard operators and newspaper writers – a dying profession.

I have supported myself as a legal secretary since I was 19 years old.  I’ve treated myself to wonderful vacations in exotic locations; and live in a comfortable apartment with nice furniture.  I own way too many martini glasses for one person. 

When I was in my late 30’s I met a man who liked to fish.  I tell you that so I can explain his nickname.  I called him Slappy after comedienne Elayne Boosler’s hilarious bit about Slappy the bait shop guy.  It fit.  Slappy moved in, and we split the bills.

The first six months were great – we were in looooooove. 

The next year and a half were comfortable.  

The last two years we were polite and respectful to each other, but we weren’t in love, so we parted ways. 

I like living alone.  Some people don’t understand this concept.  They say “aren’t you lonely, living alone?”

The truth of the matter is that I am alone, not lonely.  There is nothing lonelier than lying in bed night after night with someone after the love has gone away – that’s lonely.  I am just alone – huge difference.   

When Slappy left, so did his half of the bill money.  I was used to being financially responsible for myself, so I sucked it up and went on.

What a Schmuck! 

I still had some good years left.  I should have gotten myself a Sugar Daddy.  I could kick myself in the ass.  Oh no, I was independent.  I don’t need a man to take care of me, I don’t want to answer to any man.  Blah, blah, blah.  I guess I read one too many “Ms.” magazines!

I didn't see what was coming down the road.  In my late 30’s, early 40’s it wouldn’t have been so bad.  I still had hormones to get into the mood, could have snagged myself a 60-something Sugar Daddy. 

Hell, I was happily giving it away for free back then.  Sure, Slappy paid half the rent, but he really didn’t have to – Wink! Wink!  

I’m 53!  I can’t get a Sugar Daddy now – he’d have to be at least 85 and half blind.   

Plus, these days moving my leg an inch in the wrong direction can mean a Charlie Horse from Hell!  There’s nothing sexy about me screaming

“Ow, ow, OUCH!”

“My leg, my leg, my leg,!”

“Get off me Asshole!”



For Couples with Neck and Back Pain

 http://comfortablesex.wordpress.com/2009/10/24/the-joy-of-comfortable-sex-a-guide-for-couples-with-back-or-neck-pain-by-dr-pierre-angier/

 I have always prided myself on being the type of employee that when asked to perform a job, I perform that job to the best of my ability.  So the last thing I need is some 85 year old fart with nose hairs and a three-month prescription for Viagra. 

Oh goodie, the rent bill was just delivered -- hey Big Guy, do you offer dental?.  

Cell Phones How I Loathe Thee

As anyone who reads my Aunt Annie blog knows, I am a big fan of technology.  I computize, Googlize and do the facebook fandango.  It’s a thrill that technology allows me to discover new worlds and learn new information. 

To learn something new each day is to stay young at heart.  Well, that and a sense of humor, because without a sense of humor you may as well just dig the hole and cover yourself with dirt right now.

However, there is one thing I avoid as much as possible – the cell phone. 

It has nothing to do with all the warnings about brain tumors that they can or cannot prove, depending on who you believe.  Let the younger generation worry about brain tumors.  At 53, thinking about the onset of senility keeps me awake at night; I don’t need to also worry about brain tumors.

I hate cell phones! 

I’m not going to argue that a cell phone isn't a good thing to have.  Like if I’m on the LIE at 2:00 a.m. and need help -- yeah sure.  But I think the bigger problem is what the HELL am I doing on the LIE at 2:00 in the morning?



Great website for for any "on board" sign.  You can even design your own.



http://www.iwantthatsign.com/epages/BT4029.sf/en_GB/?ObjectPath=/Shops/BT4029/Categories/Ladies_Signs

The only other plus of a cell phone is the ability to let someone know if you are running late for an appointment.

But in each scenario, the call is less than five minutes.

PEOPLE WHO CALL MY HOME NUMBER AND THEN CALL MY CELL

I am not sitting here waiting for your call.  Sometimes I use the bathroom.  When you know I'm home and you leave a message on my home phone, why do you then call my cell phone? 

Maybe I’m ignoring you!

Okay, I admit I’m guilty of this one.  But only with my parents because they're in their late 70’s, and when they don’t answer the home phone I worry.

First I call my mother’s cell, then my father’s.  If they don’t answer, my brain goes into worst case scenario mode.  They’re battered and bleeding, lying in a ditch somewhere (even though I don’t think ditches are much of a problem on Long Island). 

I call my brothers and their wives -- home phones, cell phones, even work numbers – I’m relentless until I find out where my parents are.

Turns out Mama and Papa were at Wal-Mart for the fourth time this week and forgot to turn on their cell phones. 



Not my parents

http://www.peopleofwalmart.com/

PEOPLE WHO AUTOMATICALLY CALL THE CELL WHEN THEY KNOW I’M HOME

It’s 7:30 at night.  Wheel of Fortune is on t.v.  I’m in an online poker tournament, about to go all in with pocket aces.  My cell phone is in my pocketbook, about 10 feet away. 

You have my home number but you’re too lazy to get off your ass to look it up in your phonebook.  So you just sit there, search your contact list and hit send. 

That means when I hear that annoying Latin tune, Sunny Day (which I have no idea how to get rid of), I have to get off MY ass, walk the 10 feet and start fishing around in the bottom of my pocketbook.  By the time I find it you’re no longer on the other end.

I sit down to continue my poker tournament and the cell phone starts to beep.  It’s the voice mail you left for me.  I retrieve it, and you know what it says? 

“Why don’t you answer your cell phone?”

Are you kidding me?  I have a land line.  Do a Google search of "cell phone" and Wikipedia shows up with a definition of mobile phone!

The first mobile phone

A mobile phone (also called mobile, cellular telephone, or cell phone) is an electronic device used to make mobile telephone calls across a wide geographic area. Mobile phones are different from cordless telephones, which only offer telephone service within a limited range of a fixed land line, for example within a home or an office.

So when I’m sitting at my computer, losing chips to some jerk in Argentina who catches a straight against my pocket aces, I am not mobile, I’m just pissed off, and how do I stop that damn Latin tune?!!!

Follow this link and click on the arrow to hear the song.  Play it over and over and over again to understand angst:  http://www.tehkseven.net/ringtone/65640/samsung-sunny-day-mp3-ringtone.html

TEXT MESSAGES

I do enjoy communicating via email.  It’s convenient for all parties.  I write to you when I’m free.  You respond to me when you’re free.  Easy.  Some people say it’s impersonal, yeah maybe.  But I'm lucky to have many friends in my life that I want to keep up with -- who has to time to chat on the phone with all these people?  

Impersonal is the text message.  I understand the quick text when you’re meeting a friend for Mojitos at 6:00.  You’ve already discussed this soiree on the phone or via email.  Then a text the day of is fine. 

cu@6 … woo hoo

My brother and sister-in-law have taken impersonal communication to a whole new level.  Everything is text messages. 

Deb bday cake Thur @7:30

herd u got fired – sry tht sux

had 2 put dog down today L

TELEPHONE, I HATE YOU

The telephone was one of the greatest inventions ever.  It was the grandfather of instant communication.  It has evolved and reinvented itself as much as Madonna.  Bravo!

I got my own phone when I turned 16.  It was a princess model.  I never chatted much.  I do not like talking on a phone.  Until the cordless came out I felt trapped and it hurt my ear.  Now I have a cordless, I'm no longer so trapped, but it still hurts my ear.   

I was telling my 9 year old niece about the rotary phone and she couldn’t get a mental picture of it.  She kept saying “what do you mean; you stick your finger in a hole?”

Today I have four girlfriends that I will speak to on the phone for longer than ten minutes.  Two because it's months in between chats and two because they won’t shut the hell up -- and

YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE!