Pfunksfoolosophy

After my sister died and I had the job of raising her children, I never considered that one day I would be a grandma.

Grandmas in my mind have always been chubby bundles of G-d-filled light and love. They baked pies and attended prayer meetings. They were married for over 40 years to the same man with whom they had raised their children.

They nurtured and guided with love and tenderness. Grandmas were always kind and gracious.

I am none of these things. While I do bake, love to cook and I suppose I’ve done my share of nurturing, I’m in no way wholesome.

I drink spirits. I swear  like a sailor on liberty.  The one thing that I have in common with my grandmother is that I love my grandchild completely, unconditionally and without limit.

My grandson is the brightest star in the constellation of our family. He is funny, inquisitive, preternaturally intelligent…he is the best child I have ever met.

I say this knowing  full well that there are people out there who say the same thing about their own children and grandchildren. They are wrong, poor dears.

See, when you become a grandparent (technically, I am a great-aunt) you lose all of your tact, you become insane and while you don’t notice this  intitially, you come to embrace  the foolish manner with which you comport yourself.

You tell everyone within earshot about your grandchild’s milestones. No child ever walked before your grandchild. No child ever turned a cute phrase the way yours does. There was no sunshine, I am quite sure of this, before my grandson came into the world.

Yes, I am completely, madly, deeply in love with this wonder of nature. It was love at first sight and I pray that the enchantment is never broken.

He is a blessing to me and he is making  his mother crazy.
THIS is the bonus.

He is in the ‘terrible twos’ stage in his development and has embraced  it with a vigor that I’ve seldom seen. He is naturally curious, he is a daredevil,  and this causes his mother to run after him all day long. This makes me happy.

In recent weeks he has overturned the contents of her powder box, run his mother ragged around the neighborhood, tried to cut his mother’s hair and upon escaping her reach, fallen asleep in his toy box.

He’s too cute. My advice to her is simple. Get in shape, he’s going to be even more active.

Thankfully, he is also good natured and calls his ‘Bubbe’ (me) without his mother’s knowledge or consent. He’s figured out the speed dial on her mobile phone.

See? A genius. Einstein would be proud. I know that I am.

If you’re an information junkie like me, the internet is like crack.

Serbian geologists discovered a new mineral. Kryptonite. Yep, Superman’s geological nemesis is right here on planet Earth. It’s not green and it doesn’t emit radiation (although, I’m cool with that bit),but  it matches the description of kryptonite that was printed on a box containing it in the the movie ‘Superman Returns’: sodium lithium boron silicate hydroxide with fluorine.

Pretty neat, huh? I have no idea what that means for humanity, but I’m stoked that if Superman messes with me, I’ve got a defense.

(but I’m not a villain, I am a crime fighter)

Here’s the thing: I like being single. I like having a boyfriend. I want to have both. I want to have a boyfriend chiefly because I likes mens, but to be frank I like the companionship. BUT, I don’t want to see him all the time-only when I want to see him. This makes for some real dating challenges.

Most men think that what I am talking about is something known as ‘friends with benefits’. I usually don’t want to make out with my friends. I want to make out with my boyfriend, however. Tricky, huh?
So, what to do?
Join an online dating scam…er site? Too expensive and too…expensive…plus, I don’t have the patience to fill out those online survey things. I also have a sneaking suspicion that people lie on those things, so you’re probably getting a guy who is good on paper, but when you take him out into the daylight he immolates like Count Dracula at sunrise.I could be wrong. Not willing to take the chance. Is it wrong that I ate half a brownie that could possibly be over a week old that I just found in the fridge? I mean, I made it…but it was all the way in the back. And  I don’t remember when I made them. Tasted like the fridge…you know, like cold plastic and chocolate. I needed to eat something because my milk was going to go bad.

My friend has been telling me and telling  me to write a blog (could be because she’s sick of hearing me rant). She’s actually not the only person to tell me  this, she’s just the  only one who knows what she’s  talking about.

Her blog http://plus1.rainbowofwords.com  is filled with cool links, interesting recipes, fun ideas and how she’s dealing with suddenly being a single parent.

She’s even got a girly section which is cute.  There’s something for everyone  and she’s also in Florida so if you’re  wondering what life is like down there, she’s your go-to gal.
I’ll tell you this  much: she’s honest and funny…she’s genuine and she’s an information junkie just like me.

Check  her out, you’ll be glad that you did.

She didn’t really threaten me at pezpoint, but I suspect she might  have…if she had a pez dispenser.

My First Post—I’m bursting with fruit flavor!

Well, as you probably know from reading the ‘About Me’ section of this blog,  I am single and I am a performer. It’s not as exciting as it sounds due to the fact that I am mainly unemployed. My chosen vocation pays the big money when you get a big deal. The big deal is eluding me and just out of spite, I am eluding IT.

See how it likes THAT!
I do freelance work, which pays the bills but I’m looking for a sugar daddy.

Ideally, he will be a sickly older man who has no children or living relatives.

He will have a deep and abiding love—nay, passion for me.

He will not expect me to go all the way with him unless I am sufficiently drugged or drunk. This will cost him extra in the long run, so I think he would be better served by adhering to a few small rules.

The first of which is: Look but don’t touch. Unless it is to hand me cash, then you’ve got a little window of opportunity.

 I’ll get to the rest of the rules later. That one just needs to be out there.

Truth is, I am not equipped to Anna Nicole some poor sap. I guess when all is said and done you do reap what you sow. Karma already has me on speed dial; I don’t need any courtroom hijinx.

I’m thinking that this blog will cover just about everything I can think of about dating, love, sex, kids, music, people watching and possibly the occasional epiphany.

They’re underrated, epiphanies.

We should have more of them and we should speak about them.

They’re like finding a twenty dollar  bill in a pair of jeans right before you wash them.

What a feeling.