I LOVE GOOGLE

I love everything about the internet.  When I had no idea what was happening to the ice in the ice cube trays I typed “disappearing ice cubes,” and Google offered me a variety of links.  Like magic! 

http://www.wonderquest.com/ice-sublime.htm

This one informed me that ice cubes can shrink by a process called sublimation.  Not only is this a fascinating scientific fact, it proves that I am not slowly going insane.

HELP ME GOOGLE!

What’s your question?  What’s your problem?  The all powerful GOOGLE has your answer.

facebook friend writes “SMH” -- what does this mean?

GOOGLE!        SMH = shake my head

facebook friend refers to “meme” – what’s a meme?

GOOGLE!  The term Internet meme (pronounced /ˈmiːm/, rhyming with "cream"^[1]) is used to describe a concept that spreads via the Internet

My nephew just bought a new home in Gibsonton, Florida.  What kind of town is it?

      

GOOGLE!

Gibsonton was famous as a sideshow wintering town, where various carnival "freaks" would spend the off season. It was home to Percilla the Monkey girl, the Anatomical Wonder, and the Lobster Boy. Siamese twin sisters ran a fruit stand here. At one time, it was the only post office with a counter for dwarves.  Aside from the agreeable winter climate, Gibsonton offered unique circus zoning laws that allowed residents to keep elephants and circus trailers on their front lawns.



Isn't that fascinating?  Who knew carnival freaks "wintered."  I’m sure my nephew will fit right in.  Cartoon Boy.  I call him that because he’s covered in so many bright tattoos.  One day he’ll be Mayor!

Okay, this isn't my nephew, but holy crap!

Anyway, I just assumed that everyone in my age group shared my enthusiasm for computers, the internet and endless information.  I was so wrong.  There’s a whole population of my AARP comrades who are intimidated by it. 

I found a video for senior citizens who want to learn about computers.  It's hilarious because the narrator forgets he's talking to people who just happen to be older and want to learn about the computer.  He thinks he's speaking to the mentally challenged.  My mother would kick this guy in the ass.

My friend Carmella is 53 years old and doesn’t have an email account and knows nothing about it.  She has never used a computer.  Okay, I get it – you never used a computer at work, fine.  But it’s the 21^st Century, aren’t you a little curious?  See what the hubbub is all about!! 

You may find your own Lobster Boy!


Grady Stiles, the Lobster Boy

The best is the contempt in their voices when they say “I don’t use computers.” You’re waiting for them to add “that new fandangled contraption?  It’ll never last.  Give me an encyclopedia any day.” 

I’m sure their parents were like "you'll see, that television is just a fad.  Radio, that's where it's at!"

The facebook Reconnection Effect

Just because they are technologically challenged doesn’t mean these technophobes aren’t curious and feeling a bit melancholy.  Especially when they have friends who computize, Googlize and do the facebook fandango.  They talk about all the people they have reconnected with after all these years.  The technophobe feels a stirring -- ah, yes, the good old days.

What happens when you have a facebook friend who has a technophobe friend who used to be more than a friend so many years ago? 

The old bastard finds your telephone number and calls you on the friggin phone!  And if you are involved in playing online poker and just pick up the phone without checking, you might hear a voice that you haven't heard in over 20 years. 

It opens up a whole other can of worms because I can ignore you on facebook, but I don't always wear my reading glasses when the phone rings .... well, now I do.

I hate the phone, but that’s another post for another day.

The Obesity Epidemic

According to a new Gallup-Healthways poll, West Virginia is the most obese state in the nation, edging out Mississippi by a mere .5%.  The Center for Disease Control sent scientists to West Virginia to find out why they are so obese.  The CDC hasn’t heard from the scientists yet.  Maybe they were eaten.

Colorado is the least obese state, but don’t pack your bags yet, “least obese” is still one out of every five people. 

America – we’re fat!

It was the early 2000’s when I first heard the term “obesity epidemic.”  I thought it was a bit overdramatic.  I even talked about it in my stand-up routine: 

                           Obesity epidemic?  Epidemic?  Oh No!! Fat people running

                                 amok in the streets!  Okay, so they’re waddling, whatever! 

        Enter the Obesity Police

I walked into McDonald’s and ordered my usual, the crispy chicken sandwich with fries (the number 7.)  It came on a whole wheat roll.  

Listen, Ronald, I'm in McDonald's.  Apparently I'm not too fussy about what's going into my body right now.  I do not want my 600 calorie crispy chicken sandwich on whole wheat.  If I wanted “healthy” I’d have stayed home and munched on a carrot. 

The Obesity Police have gained more and more power.  Now they’re everywhere.  They’ve taken away trans-fats, they want to tax soda, and they have a HUGE problem with breakfast cereal cartoon characters.

Kelloggs quickly caved to the pressure.  No more commercials featuring beloved childhood cereal mascots. 

Think about it, when was the last time you saw that adorable Toucan Sam of Fruit Loops fame?  He was the first casualty. 

The new Fruit Loops commercial has a kid playing doctor telling his friend “Fruit Loops is good for your tummy because of all the fiber.”  Yawn!  

Playing "Doctor" was a lot more exciting when I was a kid.  Not only are kids these days fatter than us, they don't even know that a game of "doctor" is really "show me yours I'll show you mine."

 THE END OF THE GNOMES

 The unthinkable happened -- after 74 years the most famous gay gnomes of all time, Snap Crackle and Pop, vanished from the airwaves.  They even appeared on The Howdy Doody Show back in the 60’s.  Three harmless little chaps who enjoyed a bowl of Rice Krispies together.  Yes I said gay.  Think about it -- crazy hats, bright shirts and ascots -- ascots! -- need I say more?  

Yet even with all these new rules and regulations obesity is on the rise!  Look around, stand on line in a bank.  Go to Applebee's.  Even our animals are obese.  Check out how many diet dog food products are on the market.

Zoos in China have put pandas on exercise programs because they’re too fat to mate.  How do panda bears get so obese that they can’t mate?  Don’t they eat bamboo?  Isn’t bamboo a vegetable?  Whose sneaking Twinkies to Ling Ling?

Donna Simpson is a 600 pound New Jersey woman whose goal is to weigh 1000 pounds.  She doesn’t care about the obesity epidemic.  She makes money by posting pictures and videos on a website.  People pay to watch her eat and do household chores. 

I repeat:  People PAY to watch her eat! 

Courtesy NY Post.com

Fans send her food and coupons for fast food joints.  She lists one of her hobbies as having someone feed her. Personally, I like to paint flowers, but hey, how great is her hobby?

Maybe we should take a tip from Donna Simpson.  Putting aside heart disease, diabetes and needing a Jazzy Scooter to get around, she might be on to something.  She doesn’t stress about eating. 

Stress makes us fat! 

The new medical research has concluded that cortisol, a stress hormone, is making us fat.  

http://www.medicinenet.com/script/main/art.asp?articlekey=53304

It makes so much sense -- think about it ...

the anxiety you felt the last time you went off your diet;
the self-loathing as you ate that slice of cheesecake;
the mea culpa as you devoured so many Oreo cookies the next day you crapped black (um, okay maybe that was just me).

It’s STRESS that’s making you fat!! 

So eat those Ring Dings with a glass of milk and a smile.  And if you think you have a problem, just go visit Donna and her friends. 

http://www.supersizedbombshells.com/

To see the original Post article on Donna Simpson:

http://www.nypost.com/p/news/local/nj_woman_attempting_to_become_world_pco3O4qPWiCg3yjEWaxx9N

To see the Gallup poll and article:

http://www.gallup.com/poll/146534/obesity-lowest-colorado-highest-west-virginia.aspx

To Slice or Not to Slice, that is the Question

Okay, so I turn on The Doctors this morning and they are in the middle of a very heated debate about a proposed ban on circumcision in San Francisco.  Dr. Sears, the pediatrician, is so violently arguing against circumcision that he brings up “female circumcision” and how it was outlawed. 

Listen, I don’t care which side of the debate you fall on, but Dr. Sears?  That procedure is so barbaric it isn’t called circumcision -- it’s called female genital mutilation.  Dr. Sears sounded like a turtleneck sporting misogynist.

mi·sog·y·nist (m -s j -n st). n. One who hates women. adj. Of or characterized by a hatred of women.

The Turtleneck vs. The German Helmet

To slice or not to slice, that is the question.  It used to be for religious reasons that Jews and Muslims donned the German Helmet.  Gentiles sported the Turtleneck look until about the 1940’s when the foreskin chop became the fad here in the United States.

These days more and more parents are opting out of the baby boy nip/tuck, and there is a whole world of people out there so dedicated to the turtleneck that they have websites and hold demonstrations. 

THE WHOLE PEEN AND NOTHING BUT THE PEEN

http://www.thewholenetwork.org/ is a site in support of the turtleneck.  It also has another 13 links which means you could spend a whole day surfing the internet and read about nothing but peen.  Not a bad way to spend a rainy day, but today’s a sunny day, so I'll leave the surfing to you.

On March 30^th there’s a march on Washington.  They say they have all the banners and signs so you don’t have to bring anything – well except for your proud Turtleneck or regretful German Helmet.

Apparently Mario Lopez took a pro-turtleneck stand. 

It doesn’t say whether he sports one, just that he supports one.  They even have a form letter that you can fill out to thank him for his support.

Savingpenises.org

This is one of the links I visited because the name cracks me up.  I don’t care where you stand on the debate, but isn’t “saving a penis” a bit of an overstatement?  It’s just a little bit of skin, you’ve got a whole other 6 inches, more or less (depending on whether you’re celebrating St. Patty’s Day today).

Save the Whale!

Save the Dolphin!

Save the Penis!



Come on, How could I NOT put this dick's picture here!



You can buy your little baby boy turtleneck a bib



available at http://www.savingpenises.org/



AUNT ANNIE'S OPINION

I think circumcision gives the penis a personality -- a face, if you will.  And the slicing is baby’s first face lift.  At least you know what you’re getting with the German Helmet. 

It says “hi there, what you see is what you get.  How can I be of service?” 

The turtleneck has been known to be sneaky – what lurks behind that foreskin? 

Smegma? 

A scary clown face?   

Jimmy Hoffa?

And for those German Helmets out there who are missing your Turtleneck, I found this for you --  a wonderful tribute ….

I asked Antonio, the pet monkey what he has to say about circumcision

And to all my wee little Irish peens out there today,-- Happy St. Patrick's Day to ya lads. 

facebook, how I love thee

FACEBOOK was invented for college kids, it was not intended for the older generation, but we’re loving it.  The good news is that I have connected with people I lost track of years ago.  The bad news is that I have connected with people I lost track of years ago. 

I have facebook “friends” that were never my friends.  But how do you not friend a friend who is a friend of a friend?  Huh?

Okay, so I’m friends with Judy and post witty tidbits on her wall every day. Betsy sees my posts on Judy’s wall and wants to be my friend.  I don’t like Betsy, I never liked Betsy.  Betsy was a snob who made fun of my eczema and stole my boyfriend in the 6^th grade.  I despise Betsy.  But she’s Judy’s friend -- how can I not accept her friend request?  FBD! (facebook dilemma).

I took on one of these “friends” recently and was rewarded by her finding something I posted on my wall offensive.  She reported me to facebook. 

I cropped this picture so as not to offend any cry babies.  In my original post, you could see his hairy hiney.  My opinion is that this doesn't count as naked because it's well covered by fur.

I now have a disclaimer that I copy and paste into a private message whenever someone requests my friendship.

I’m happy to be your facebook friend.  Please be warned that I will post hilariously inappropriate and tasteless links, videos, and pictures.  If you are easily offended please block me from your newsfeed or defriend me at your earliest opportunity.  My feelings will not be hurt.

 

facebook Pet Peeves

It’s raining and I'm a wee bit cranky.  Let's talk about my fb pet peeves:

News friends – I appreciate offbeat morsels of information from unknown Australian magazines.  Fascinating.  But when you post news items from CNN or the NY Times about current news events such as the horror that is going on in Japan it makes me feel like you think I’m a moron.  I get it, you’re smart.  But I can read and watch the news.

Diary friends – “Shower/gym/lunch/nap/dinner/bar with bffs” may be scintillating information in your mind, but every other person in FB Land could care less about every little detail of your daily routine.  Listen, I have my own routine that I could post: “FB/shower/FB/People’s Court/FB/The Price is Right/FB/lunch/nap/FB/Judge Judy/dinner/FB/primetime t.v./ playing with Antonio The Pet Monkey/bed.” 

Let’s make a deal – I won’t bore you if you don’t bore me.

FourSquare Friends – if you’re not buying me a turkey sandwich at that deli, I don’t need to know you’re there.

Farmville Friends -- ah, never mind -- I've blocked your stupid cows and pigs from my newsfeed.

And finally, to all my friends whose kids made the honor roll, and those who travel the world, climb mountains, ski, surf, or meet celebrities, blah, blah, blah  -- alright already, I get it -- you're life is f*%king wonderful.  I'm so f*&king happy for YOU!!! 

Sorry, I woke up with a very bad case of FBE (facebook envy). 

Have a nice day. 

And now a word from Antonio the Pet Monkey

Healthy Friends – I know you feel wonderful about going to the gym.  That workout gets your endorphins all revved up.  Good for you.  But when you tell me about it every friggin day I get to thinking that perhaps you’re just bragging and think you’re better than me.  Kiss my lazy fat ass as it lays on the couch eating Doritos.

I Love a Parade

The song goes “I love a parade, the tramping of feet, I love every beat I hear of a drum…”  This wonderful song has been a part of Americana since the 1930’s when it was written.  I myself have hummed it from time to time in my life.  The Lawrence Welk singers:

Yesterday I realized that I have a black spot on my soul, a character flaw my subconscious has known for years but could never admit -- I do not like parades.

I live about 50 miles outside New York City in a small town.  Most residents never travel off Long Island for any kind of entertainment, have never been to the Empire State Building and wouldn't even think of attending the St. Patrick's Day parade.  I have friends who have not been to Manhattan since the fifth grade class trip to the Museum of Natural History.

In 1981 I started working on Madison Avenue and 49^th Street.  The first St. Patrick’s Day I could see the parade one block over on Fifth Avenue from the high floor on which I worked.  I could hear the cheering.  At lunch time I was drawn to it with every beat of the drum, which I could feel within the very core of my being. 

What a sight!  A sea of firemen, police, and military, and the non-stop music of marching bands and bagpipes.  It was exhilarating – for about 15 minutes. 

Every year I put in my 15 minutes, the required amount of time so I could honestly say “I went to the St. Patty’s Day parade in the city,” which impressed my family and friends because everyone loves a parade, right? 

Even though I now readily admit that I do not like parades, as far as parades go, this one is among the very best.

My little home town has its own parade.  My brothers, their wives and kids, and my friends all go to this parade.  They are true "parade people."  They get there two hours early, wearing funny green hats and shamrock painted faces.  They bring corned beef sandwiches and coolers of beer.  I went the first year or two but after that I played the role of parade snob.  "Oh please, I go to the real parade." 



My Irish Papa



I no longer work in midtown and haven't been to the parade in years.  My family and friends assure me that the local parade gets better each year.  Yesterday was a bright, sunny day, I figured why not.   

My home town is part middle class/part white trash reality show.  The parades I attended years ago lasted about half an hour and consisted of nothing more than a few fire engines with blaring sirens, assorted girl scout and boy scout troops, two bagpipe groups imported from Brooklyn and a whole mess of flatbed trucks dressed up as floats. 

The floats are sponsored by the local bars and taverns and are filled with a dozen or so drunks throwing candy at the crowd.  My brother Wally ended up with a welt on his forehead from a double-bubble.



Wally



I am assuming that anyone willing to pay a few bucks to the town can march in this “parade.”  Besides every boy scout and girl scout troop on Long Island, there were Lacrosse teams and karate kids handing out flyers for the local karate school. 

Edible Arrangements and an bug exterminator had vans in the middle of the parade, along with various auto body shops and driveway paving companies.  From time to time a group of people would appear, walking and waving -- no costumes, no flags, no musical instruments.  I think they just felt like taking a walk on a sunny day in the middle of the road.

The good news is that they imported more bagpipe bands and another marching band.  There were a total of 12 musical numbers mixed in with all the useless marchers.  So the hour and a half the parade lasted, we got about 10 minutes of music. 

The best addition in my book, and really, nothing says Happy St. Patrick's Day more than the addition of

The Second Truck

not one, but TWO cesspool trucks.  This picture was taken with my cell phone because I didn't remember to bring my camera to this spectacular parade.  I didn't react in time to get a picture of the first truck, whose side had a paper shamrock pasted on the side, just above it's slogan:

Your #2 Made us #1

Makes me proud to be Irish in my home town!

Who Doesn't Want to be a Millionaire?

I have been in love with Television for over 40 years.  Because of my devotion to Television, I once took the written test for the game show Who Wants to be a Millionaire.  Not the regular one, I am fully aware of my intelligence limitations, but the special week where all the questions they ask are about television shows.  Out of about 40 questions I got two wrong. 

When you pass the written test you are immediately interviewed by one of the young assistants.  The girl who interviewed me was young enough to be my daughter.  We were getting along great -- I was charming and amusing her with my self-deprecating wit about my age; she was laughing and nodding her head. 

I was in!!!!  Oh yes, I was writing my life in my head -- during taping, Meredith Viera and I are hitting it off.  We're joking and laughing, becoming fast friends.  We're lunching at Mesa Grill.  Meredith is telling me she wants to introduce me to a single friend who she thinks will love me ...



My Future Husband
George Clooney



And then it happened.  The little girl asks me "do you tape shows and make notations about them?”  I love Television more than most people, but the only person who would answer “yes” to that question is that creepy kid with the pimples in the junior high A/V club.

“I love t.v. but I’m not a nerd,” I blurt out to the girl, who I realize for the first time, IS a nerd.  Everything about her screams NERD.  From her mousy brown hair pushed back behind her larger than normal ears that stick out a little, to her nerdy glasses and nerdy clothes.”

People have always told me that my facial expressions give me away.  My face ratted me out.  It said "Oh yes, oops, sorry.  I now see you are indeed a very nerdy little girl."  It then went on to giggle and sing-song:

"Nerdy nerdy nerd girl

makes all the boys want to hurl"

Velma of Scooby Doo Fame

And if my face wasn’t enough, I sealed my fate of never becoming Mrs. George Clooney by saying "not that there’s anything wrong with that.” 

Damn you Seinfeld episodes that are always in my head!

Kids! You Can't Eat 'Em!

I found this picture in an old family photo album the other day.  My mother and father in the early 50's.  Two teenagers in love and too stupid to understand that kids will drive you crazy. 

At one point in 1970 my mother got so close to the brink of insanity that my father loaded me and my four brothers into the station wagon and drove to the music store and bought her an organ.  Someone at work had convinced him that playing the organ would keep her from killing her children.

She loved it!  While me and my brothers ran around the house beating the crap out of each other, she played "Lady of Spain" like a demented Phantom of the Opera. 

On rainy days it was like living in the roller rink.

I told my friend Jenny this story.  Jenny topped that story with her own "crazy mother" story.  She told me that when she was a kid and her mother got angry, she'd say "I should have eaten you when your bones were still soft."  I was horrified by this.  I mean, what kind of card do you get this woman for Mother's Day?

My bones are now hard, and your bones are shrinking,
You get sick, I pull the plug, that's what I'm thinking;
A mom is pure love, so pure and so rich,
enjoy the nursing home you miserable bitch.

Yes, my mother was crazy, but at least she didn't threaten us with cannibalism.