What's with all the friggin' hoarding? I can understand that people are freaked out
over the coronavirus, but come on, be considerate of one another. We all have to wipe our asses, right? We all have
to eat, right? And in my case, where I'm
a diabetic, I have to test my blood sugar. And because I have to test my blood sugar, I have
to use alcohol swabs. But guess what I can't find anywhere? Okay, I can make do
without them. I'll just wash my hands before testing with hot, soapy water. No
big deal. But it irks me that I have to
make do without them because people have needlessly stockpiled alcohol swabs
and have caused a shortage. Although I guess I'm rather used to that sort of
thing because I live in Florida and during hurricane season people lose their
mind every year. Try buying a loaf of bread, a battery, a bottle of water, a
generator or anything else if a storm is anywhere near Florida. But as Trumplethinskin, our fearless and quite
sagely leader says this too shall pass, but only when it when it gets hot
outside, remember? Heat is supposed to kill the virus according to Trump. Just where does he get his info? FOX News? Wait! It is hot! It was 80 degrees here today! Sigh...a HUGE sigh and I'll be so glad when
November passes. Please tell me that HUGE overgrown orange pompous boobette will be living
somewhere other than in Washington DC after next January....PLEASE! Oh no! That’s
right! He moved his official residence to fucking Florida! He doesn’t live in New York anymore. I’m
going to cry. People that’s not funny on any level. So stop laughing! I can
hear you snickering over there in the corner. I see you! Mildred sees EVERYTHING!
Now, for the big news of the day. Old Mildred got tested for
coronavirus early this morning and while it wasn't on my bucket list of things
to do, I did it because I have a 92-year-old mother living under the same roof
as I do and well you see, Martha and I got exposed to the nasty "HOAX" Chinese virus
somewhere in our travels and the Health Department tracked Martha down to let
her know. That was so kind of them to do and that was so snarky of me to say :)
Anyway, the nasal swab didn't bother me too much even though it felt like they
were probing for lost brain cells from my misspent youth. Martha claimed she cried when they swabbed
her and she couldn't see immediately afterwards. They must have hit her G-spot.
So, everyone living under both roofs are officially
QUARANTINED until we get our results in 4 or 5 days. It sucks to be us!
Wednesday, April 01, 2020
Tuesday, March 31, 2020
Monday, March 23, 2020
My Golden Shower
Like most women of a certain age or those who have given birth, "peeing" at times can be a quite precarious situation to say the least (sneezing, laughing, running and jumping are all on the endangered list.) Over a week ago I woke up in the morning with the overpowering urge to "tinkle,” so I jumped out of my bed and in my bare feet I started to scurry off to use the bathroom. When my bare feet hit the cold floor, I start to dribble a little. No big deal, right? By the time I reached the cold ceramic tiles in the hallway the great flood started to happen. I hurried! I really did! But the more I hurried the faster I dribbled and when I reached the hallway, those damn slippery ceramic dribbled on tiles and the damn gravity took me out in one swift swoop. My feet came out from under me and I tried to grab the door jamb to no avail. All I did was crack my knuckles and bang my elbow. When my ass hit the floor, it made a heavy thud. That thud caused a quick flood like a swift tsunami. Initially, I laid there to assess if I had broken anything and then old Mildred flailed like a beached fish in the hallway trying to get up in a puddle of piss. Unfortunately, I have nothing in the hallway to grab ahold of to help me get up so I had to slither along drenched in urine all the way to the bathroom so I could pull myself up using the vanity in the bathroom. What a mess! I did laugh at myself when I thought about the asshole whoever first coined the phrase "the golden years"... Golden, my ass! The only golden thing about this was the golden shower I got on the floor of my hallway. My youngest adult son says it's time for Depends at bedtime. OMG! Say it isn't so! Say growing older is more dignified and graceful than having to wear diapers at night. Here's your chance to lie to me and blow smoke up my ass. Mildred needs some comforting lies!
Now, for the rest of the story...why is there always the rest of the story with me? This little escapade resulted in something that felt like whiplash and a severely bruised butt from where I fell. Oh, it still hurts to sit down. I know it could have been much worse and I feel thankful I didn't break anything. When I had my X-rays done it made me acutely aware of the high anxiety people are feeling just from looking at their faces. People are worried about this damn pandemic. People need to be reassured. People need to be tested. People need to be treated. We need a vaccine and most of all we need a leader. We need someone who doesn't lie whenever they open their mouth. We need someone who puts the American people first. Tell me how I went from peeing all over myself to the American public needing a leader? That's a far stretch on connecting the dots, isn't it? lol
Now, for the rest of the story...why is there always the rest of the story with me? This little escapade resulted in something that felt like whiplash and a severely bruised butt from where I fell. Oh, it still hurts to sit down. I know it could have been much worse and I feel thankful I didn't break anything. When I had my X-rays done it made me acutely aware of the high anxiety people are feeling just from looking at their faces. People are worried about this damn pandemic. People need to be reassured. People need to be tested. People need to be treated. We need a vaccine and most of all we need a leader. We need someone who doesn't lie whenever they open their mouth. We need someone who puts the American people first. Tell me how I went from peeing all over myself to the American public needing a leader? That's a far stretch on connecting the dots, isn't it? lol
Thursday, February 06, 2020
FLAGPOLE LICKERS ANONYMOUS
I truly was a Poster Child for birth control when I was a lot younger. My mother tells me that birth control pills came out a few years AFTER I was born. Phew! I think by the look in her eyes when she tells me stuff like that I should interpret it as meaning that if the FDA had been a little speedier on their approval of The Pill old Mildred might not be here today. Imagine that! A world without Mildred!
Anyone who knows me well knows that I am and have always been that person who always does what they're warned not to do just because I can. Having someone tell me that I can't do something only makes me want to do it. I'm sure there's probably some psychiatric diagnosis to explain that "I'll show you" type of behavior! And to think they claimed I would eventually grow out of it! ha! I do, however resist the urge to touch something that has a WET PAINT sign on it now. Maybe now that I'm older, I do less things that can be considered questionable, but as a child I was in high gear and in my glory. Okay, so my glory days lasted a little longer than just my childhood. What can I say? Mildred is a mess and no, I didn't grow out of it...well, not completely anyways, but I act okay most of the time.
For example, when I was younger I wanted to know what it felt like to touch a bare wire and get zapped by electricity. I can tell you that it really tingles! But it was a hard sell to get anyone else to try it. Maybe those other kids were just more pragmatic than Iwas am. Hey, it wasn't like I touched a high voltage wire. I cut the cord from an old lamp so that the plug was still attached. Then I exposed the electrical wires so that I could touch them. After plugging the cord in, I grabbed a hold of the bare wires. Yes, it tingles and that's all I have to say about it. I satisfied my curiosity and never intentionally messed around with electricity again. My next zap was much more powerful and was done accidentally. But that's another story for another time.
When I was in elementary school, during the winter it was a rite of passage to stick your tongue on the flagpole. Sign me up! You see, I was good at doing risky stuff no matter how small and petty it may be considered. There's an art to flagpole licking and I knew just how long I could put my tongue on the flagpole without having it stick there. Other kids weren't so well versed in the mechanics of flagpole licking in the middle of winter. I know I must have gotten my tongue stuck a time or two, but if I had, I don't remember the incident. Obviously, it didn't deter me from doing such a stupid stunt again and again.
Now, I think about all the poor teachers who used to have to come out from their warm classroom to get another idiot unstuck. Teachers have to put up with so many shenanigans from young fools. I actually feel sorry for them and nowadays, I'm sure that the stunts I used to pull would be considered pretty lame. But back in the day, Mildred was da bomb. If it became a thought and if that thought piqued my interest or brought a smile to my face then the deed was going to be done. I just had to figure it out and they say practice makes perfect!
For those of you who don't live in an area where winter means snow, ice and sub-zero temperatures, sticking your tongue on a flagpole in the dead of winter usually means that your tongue freezes to the metal quickly. If you're stupid enough to get your tongue frozen to a metal flagpole, trying to pull it free is definitely the wrong thing to do. I've seen kids pull flesh off their tongue trying to free themselves. I can understand freaking out once you realize your tongue is stuck, but in any risky situation, you have to go in with a back-up plan. You know, just in case things don't go as planned. Every kid knew that a teacher would eventually come with a cup of warm water to free them, but most would panic before the teacher got there. And you know what panic in any situation means. It usually means someone is going to get hurt and that someone usually is you if you don't wait for the teacher. Duh! Keeping your wits about you and not panicking when placed in any type of jeopardy is a difficult thing to do, but if you have the balls to do something risky, you have to be willing to pay the consequences if all doesn't go as planned. To all those kids who got frozen to the flagpole and ended up leaving a little something behind...it sucks to be you!
My oldest brother once told me I'm a selfless person. Who me? Damn it! I can't have people running around making wild accusations like that about me! After all I have a certain reputation to uphold. He claimed I was the type of person who would run into a burning building to save someone without thinking of my own safety. When he told me that I thought he was crazy. I guess we rarely see ourselves as others see us. I think he might have overstated my selflessness a bit, but I was a firefighter for a period of time so maybe he's right after all, but that's another story for another time. I think maybe he was reading my willingness to do something heroic as being selfless whereas I would see it as part to my overall risk-taking behavior. The final result may be seen as selfless, but the motivation for the action was more deeply rooted. I've always liked the feeling of being on the edge with one foot dangling into the abyss. For the longest time after I was no longer on the fire department, any time I heard the siren from a fire truck, it would trigger an adrenaline rush. That was the weirdest feeling to have adrenaline surging through me and have no outlet for it. Like a Dalmatian dog you see in cartoons running after the fire truck, that's what I wanted to do, but I was afraid if I ran after it, I'd also start chasing garbage trucks, barking at the mailman and peeing on fire hydrants, too.
Anyone who knows me well knows that I am and have always been that person who always does what they're warned not to do just because I can. Having someone tell me that I can't do something only makes me want to do it. I'm sure there's probably some psychiatric diagnosis to explain that "I'll show you" type of behavior! And to think they claimed I would eventually grow out of it! ha! I do, however resist the urge to touch something that has a WET PAINT sign on it now. Maybe now that I'm older, I do less things that can be considered questionable, but as a child I was in high gear and in my glory. Okay, so my glory days lasted a little longer than just my childhood. What can I say? Mildred is a mess and no, I didn't grow out of it...well, not completely anyways, but I act okay most of the time.
For example, when I was younger I wanted to know what it felt like to touch a bare wire and get zapped by electricity. I can tell you that it really tingles! But it was a hard sell to get anyone else to try it. Maybe those other kids were just more pragmatic than I
When I was in elementary school, during the winter it was a rite of passage to stick your tongue on the flagpole. Sign me up! You see, I was good at doing risky stuff no matter how small and petty it may be considered. There's an art to flagpole licking and I knew just how long I could put my tongue on the flagpole without having it stick there. Other kids weren't so well versed in the mechanics of flagpole licking in the middle of winter. I know I must have gotten my tongue stuck a time or two, but if I had, I don't remember the incident. Obviously, it didn't deter me from doing such a stupid stunt again and again.
Now, I think about all the poor teachers who used to have to come out from their warm classroom to get another idiot unstuck. Teachers have to put up with so many shenanigans from young fools. I actually feel sorry for them and nowadays, I'm sure that the stunts I used to pull would be considered pretty lame. But back in the day, Mildred was da bomb. If it became a thought and if that thought piqued my interest or brought a smile to my face then the deed was going to be done. I just had to figure it out and they say practice makes perfect!
For those of you who don't live in an area where winter means snow, ice and sub-zero temperatures, sticking your tongue on a flagpole in the dead of winter usually means that your tongue freezes to the metal quickly. If you're stupid enough to get your tongue frozen to a metal flagpole, trying to pull it free is definitely the wrong thing to do. I've seen kids pull flesh off their tongue trying to free themselves. I can understand freaking out once you realize your tongue is stuck, but in any risky situation, you have to go in with a back-up plan. You know, just in case things don't go as planned. Every kid knew that a teacher would eventually come with a cup of warm water to free them, but most would panic before the teacher got there. And you know what panic in any situation means. It usually means someone is going to get hurt and that someone usually is you if you don't wait for the teacher. Duh! Keeping your wits about you and not panicking when placed in any type of jeopardy is a difficult thing to do, but if you have the balls to do something risky, you have to be willing to pay the consequences if all doesn't go as planned. To all those kids who got frozen to the flagpole and ended up leaving a little something behind...it sucks to be you!
My oldest brother once told me I'm a selfless person. Who me? Damn it! I can't have people running around making wild accusations like that about me! After all I have a certain reputation to uphold. He claimed I was the type of person who would run into a burning building to save someone without thinking of my own safety. When he told me that I thought he was crazy. I guess we rarely see ourselves as others see us. I think he might have overstated my selflessness a bit, but I was a firefighter for a period of time so maybe he's right after all, but that's another story for another time. I think maybe he was reading my willingness to do something heroic as being selfless whereas I would see it as part to my overall risk-taking behavior. The final result may be seen as selfless, but the motivation for the action was more deeply rooted. I've always liked the feeling of being on the edge with one foot dangling into the abyss. For the longest time after I was no longer on the fire department, any time I heard the siren from a fire truck, it would trigger an adrenaline rush. That was the weirdest feeling to have adrenaline surging through me and have no outlet for it. Like a Dalmatian dog you see in cartoons running after the fire truck, that's what I wanted to do, but I was afraid if I ran after it, I'd also start chasing garbage trucks, barking at the mailman and peeing on fire hydrants, too.
Saturday, February 01, 2020
I Changed My Mind
I must be going through something, but I'm too old to be having a mid-life crisis. I'm usually not quite this fickle and disjointed, but after careful consideration I've decided to scrap that last project. In fact, I think I need to put many things on hold. Whatever this is, it just doesn't feel right anymore to ramble on about myself like a silly little trollop. Oh well!
Tuesday, January 28, 2020
AND NOW FOR THE REST OF THE STORY
Ha! Wasn't that what Paul Harvey would famously say as he would put his unique twist on a story? My unique twist goes something like this...
So you read about my middle name debacle. No big deal, right? It could be worse. They could have named me after my paternal grandmother, Asenath Hedeen. How's that for a name? My maternal grandmother was Marjorie Avis. A little better, but I guess in the grand scheme of things Karen isn't too bad. I'll keep it even though every Karen I know seems to belong to a very special group of damaged individuals. We rock! If we ever rise up and unite, you better watch out! And now the name Karen has a huge stigma attached to it. We're all are depicted as obnoxious, angry, entitled, and often racist white women who uses our privilege to get our way. Another suggestion is that it comes from a 2005 bit by Dane Cook called “The Friend Nobody Likes.”
Fast forward 25 or so years: I've always heard paybacks are hell and revenge is always sweeter when served cold, so how much colder can it be to name my dog after my mother. Oh yes I did! What makes it a beautiful thing is that I was an adult and she couldn't torture me. Hooray! lol My mother hates her middle name. You see, her mother (my sweet, sweet Nana) stuck her with her mother's first name as a middle name. God, I love it! She just about cringes whenever she has to give her middle name to anyone. Personally, I don't think it's that bad, but who am I to judge middle names? Remember I don't have one!
When my daughter was just a little girl we got a lovely German Shepherd and we named her Montie. I think my mother's hair actually used to stand on end whenever I would go to visit and when it came time to call for Montie to come inside from the fenced-in backyard. I'd take great pleasure hollering out that glorious name. Say it loud and say it proud! Mother, are you listening?
So you read about my middle name debacle. No big deal, right? It could be worse. They could have named me after my paternal grandmother, Asenath Hedeen. How's that for a name? My maternal grandmother was Marjorie Avis. A little better, but I guess in the grand scheme of things Karen isn't too bad. I'll keep it even though every Karen I know seems to belong to a very special group of damaged individuals. We rock! If we ever rise up and unite, you better watch out! And now the name Karen has a huge stigma attached to it. We're all are depicted as obnoxious, angry, entitled, and often racist white women who uses our privilege to get our way. Another suggestion is that it comes from a 2005 bit by Dane Cook called “The Friend Nobody Likes.”
Fast forward 25 or so years: I've always heard paybacks are hell and revenge is always sweeter when served cold, so how much colder can it be to name my dog after my mother. Oh yes I did! What makes it a beautiful thing is that I was an adult and she couldn't torture me. Hooray! lol My mother hates her middle name. You see, her mother (my sweet, sweet Nana) stuck her with her mother's first name as a middle name. God, I love it! She just about cringes whenever she has to give her middle name to anyone. Personally, I don't think it's that bad, but who am I to judge middle names? Remember I don't have one!
When my daughter was just a little girl we got a lovely German Shepherd and we named her Montie. I think my mother's hair actually used to stand on end whenever I would go to visit and when it came time to call for Montie to come inside from the fenced-in backyard. I'd take great pleasure hollering out that glorious name. Say it loud and say it proud! Mother, are you listening?
Come on, M-O-N-T-I-E. It's time to go home. Montie's such a good girl. Here's a treat from Grandma.
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