Pfunksfoolosophy

Hey gang…

As you probably know, I had adopted a soldier. His name is Daryl and I only sent  him  one card. I had JUST gotten a care package together for him and today, I received a phone call from the director of Soldier’s Angels.

Daryl was killed in action. That’s it. Killed in action. My heart sank. My stomach turned. I had never met Daryl, but I wanted so very much for him to remain safe and do his job while remaining positive. Many of the soldiers are simply doing their job. They’re being put in harm’s way because of cirmcumstances out of their control and many of them don’t agree with the war. BUT, they’re soldiers. They didn’t sign up without the knowledge of one day possibly seeing ‘action’.
I want them home  now. I don’t care about an exit strategy. I don’t care if they run away like school girls and the entire world thinks us foolish for leaving without so much as a word. I don’t care. I want  them home. I want them to be with their families.

Sure, that’s completely unreasonable, but I have a son. I have a daughter and they’re relatively safe. If you’re reading this and you have a family member or a friend over there,  do more for their families stateside. Write to the soldiers.  Let them know that they  matter to you and that, while you don’t agree with the war, you support THEM.

I’m going to move forward and adopt another soldier. It’s the price of a stamp. That’s all it takes to boost someone’s morale.

Daryl is finally safe. It’s a shame that it had to be this way.

Get yourselves a cup of coffee and a snack ’cause this is pretty good.
Last evening, after work I had to go to Duane Reade for a couple of things and there was a bit of commotion…you’ll never guess what it was. NEVER.

I’m waiting…nope it wasn’t a penis book BUT a penis was involved! That’s right, this guy beeped when he  ENTERED the store (drunkenly) and BEEPED as he tried to exit. Let me set the scene for you: He was about the height of a 6th grader and was wearing the dirtiest, filthiest clothing I have ever seen…and I’ve seen some filth in my day. His hair was the mad scientist meets  nutty professor variety and he was riproarin’ drunk. Need I tell you that he was unshaven? I think not. Okay, anyway… one of the crack security team for the store pounces on the guy. (the security guy was about 5′ nothin’ btw) There is a scuffle. I move forward in line because I don’t want to be a gawker. Well, sir…they drag him past me to the front of the store. His trousers were around his ankles. He was NOT wearing underpants. The kids standing behind me were Asian and didn’t speak much English, but I had to turn around for confirmation. I gave them the ‘did you get a load of that?’ look.

They totally got it and shook their heads. They tried to communicate with me and it was brilliant. We shared the humor in Chinese and English. But wait–it gets better. I check out and split, but it had started raining to beat the band since I’d entered the store. Needed an umbrella. Went back in. The security guy—let’s call him ‘inch high private eye’, was berating the poor drunken half nekkid shoplifter.

“Pull your pants UP!”

Drunken guy to his credit, said nothing. He staggered to an upright position and commenced to hitching his pants up. Then, ‘inch high private eye’ really went after him.

“You don’t steal from my store! Sit down and shut up!”
Now, I just told you that he wasn’t speaking, right? Yeah. Inch high was suffering from short man’s disease…total Napoleon complex. Too bad.

These Middle Eastern kids were behind me in line (kids…they were easily in their  20s) and one of them objected to how inch high was treating Nekkid Shoplifter. He said something like, ‘Just call the cops and stop speaking to him like that’.

WELL, Inch High came rushing over to tell Peacelover to ’shut up’, totally forgetting that Duane Reade is a business and that people can complain online and he could very well lose his job if enough people complain about him…Peacenik says, ‘Hey, I am just letting you know that you don’t have to subject your customers to this. We’re all getting very nervous about the way you’re speaking to that man’

In truth, I was NOT nervous…I was watching it like an episode of ‘Cops’. You know, Peacenik had a point…there’s never a time when it’s okay to strip someone of their dignity. Sure, Nekkid Shoplifter was in the wrong for stealing…and for not having underpants on…you don’t even want to know….I quote Ophelia from “Hamlet”…”Woe is me to see what I have seen–to see what I see” Whoo, Nellie. Put me off my feed for a couple of hours.

Where was I? Yeah…even if the guy was a shoplifter, there was no reason to treat him and speak to him like an animal. I was also glad that a kid who is probably racially profiled every day due to him being Sikh had the presence of mind to SPEAK his mind, regardless of what others may think of him. I told him as much as we both walked out into the rainy night. You know what he said?  “That’s the way G-d wants us all to be”

Hmm. Food for thought. We’re all one. I keep saying that, huh?

Today has been fairly eventful. I met a nice gentleman on my way to work and he seemed to be a real gem. We chatted and found that we had an awful lot in common…including an attraction to dark haired men. Yep, he was as gay as the first day of Spring…but he was so sweet. Maybe I can be his beard at an event. We exchanged numbers, but I have to tell ya, I ain’t callin’.

He was too pretty. It would look like I won him in a raffle or something. Poor kid. Hope he gets home okay.

I’ll fill you in on the details tomorrow. I want you to tune in.

I just went over to Roberta’s blog to check in and I discovered a lovely surprise!
She’s tagged me as a girl blogger who rocks!
How cool is that?     

Okay, so I have no idea how to create tags or anything…but I’m learning. It’s so cool that my blog is getting out there and folks are enjoying it.

Thanks, Roberta. Guys, if you haven’t read her blog yet, get over there and take a look. You’ll be glad that you did.

First, I have to thank all of you–especially Sassy, for keeping a good thought about my mishap with the acai berry juice. My computer works. The keys are a bit sticky, but the bad boy is running like a champ. I am truly blessed.

Now, on to Angie and why she’s one of my favorite people. She’s been a friend for a mighty long time and it’s because she’s just one of the kindest, smartest, funniest people I know. She’s got some challenges in her life, but she’s got the time to talk me down when I’m just about to shoot my face off  and laugh with me about the silly stuff. Yesterday, after I spilled the juice, she got online and did some quick research to help me.

She discovered that there is a product called ‘Tuner Cleaner’ available at places like Radio Shack that will help me unstick my keyboard. It’s around 10 dollah and I don’t have to know anything about computers, I just have to go pick it up. What a lifesaver, right?
She’s also helping me with this blogging biz. Now, bear in mind that she’s got school, a toddler and dealing with being a single parent. Does she need to hear from her idiot pal when the ‘emergency’ is a result in bad habits gone haywire? Nope, but she stepped up to the plate and helped a sistah out. I guess it could be that she was basking in the glow of another Steve Zahn fantasy or the fact that my ‘husband’ JMV isn’t in her backyard doing naked Pilates…I dunno.

All I know is that I am plenty glad that I have Angie  in my life. She’s a peach and I love her.

So there.

So, I finish my last post and reach for my juice. It was next to the computer. Why was it next to the computer when you and I both know that I’m a moron?
Who knows? G-d is having a slow day. Anyway, you guessed it–spilled about 2 -4 T of juice (which I had cut with water, but still) onto my keyboard. I have a laptop. Do the math. Yep. It’s currently drying out.
Here’s the irony or just  bad luck….read the post about gratitude. Can I remain thankful? Heh…man, that’s some funny shit, right?

Called my pal and she talked me off the ledge. I almost started crying but I thought about the post…I’m thankful I have a computer…then I spill a liquid (of a sticky nature) onto the keyboard–essentially the computer’s delicate underparts as well. Why do I think it’s funny? BECAUSE I AM A COMPLETE DOOFUS.

Angie (who might as well just have a permanent post in her honor) from suncoast scribe and Plus 1 and girly things and…anyhow, she went online for me and told me about this stuff you can use to clean it out. You can get it at Radio Shack. I’ve since forgotten what it’s called because I have had about 3 coffees.  I’m like a fly right now.  If you don’t mind…keep a good thought. (seriously, I want to shoot my face off)

Yeah, Alannis Morrisette…THIS is irony. Dumbass.

heh.

I still think it’s funny. What is wrong with me? ‘Oh, Pollyanna…’

No, I’m NOT gonna get home okay Professor Marvel.

Heh.

Dude.

It seems my blog is attracting a different kind of person. My regular readers are folks who probably didn’t find my blog by searching for  ‘multiple penises’.  You know, I don’t even know what that means, ‘multiple penises’???
Then, you’ve got the folks who were searching for circumcision stories. Don’t know about that either. My blog mentioned and will continue to mention that I’ve received penis photos in my email because,well…when you post an ad on craigslist, somehow the men who are proud of their reproductive organs are prone to send  the yearbook picture…it’s funny to me, but it’s also disturbing.
What is really funny to me is that my blog is bringing the penis searchers in. Are they staying, I wonder? Hmm.
Aw, heck…I hope they are…and I hope they start leaving comments. I’m curious about them. No judgement…just a couple of questions and off I’ll go.

Be my friend for five minutes, already.

Lately, I’ve been crabbing about things and that’s just not my style so today, I thought I would write about some techniques that I use to get myself out of the pity party and back into being the happy go lucky idiot that I enjoy being…well…idiot is taking a little too far, but you get me.

The first thing I do is make a ‘gratitude list’. This can be just about anything. Currently, I am thankful that I have access to my computer, food in my cupboard and a reasonably functioning brain. Sure, it’s small potatoes when you consider that MOST folks have those things and take very little notice of them. Let’s add that I’m thankful that I’m aware. So far, so good. I’m on a roll.

Next, I assess whether or not I have any part in my current predicament. If it’s circumstances beyond my control, if my choices have NOT brought me to that state of depression, I’ve still got choices to bring myself around.

You know, life is so incredibly short that it I feel compelled to remind myself that life could be a lot worse and if I dwell on the negative, I’m going to waste a whole lot of time that would be better spent laughing and appreciating the world. I can’t abide negativity. Am I perpetually optimisitic? No, not really. I’d like to think that I’m a realist who possesses the ability to put a positive spin on most of what happens in my life. There’s folks who can’t seem to get past what they don’t have. They’re looking in someone else’s  backyard for their answers. What purpose does that serve? I’ve never understood with the ‘keeping up with the Joneses’ mentality. Who wants to live someone else’s life?
You might not have all of the material things that you want, but if you’re reading this…you have the material things that you need. I can almost guarantee it. See, you don’t ‘need’ a computer and internet access. Well, you might be reading this in the library while searching for employment  online, but chances are, if you’re reading this on a borrowed computer, you probably don’t need to read my blabbing. On second thought, maybe you do.

Maybe there are no mistakes in the universe. Maybe there is a great big plan especially for you out there and it requires your unique qualitites. Maybe you don’t have a movie star’s body, looks or income, but you’ve got something within you that makes you special and vital to this planet. We’re all here to love and be loved. Some of us were dealt a tough hand for a reason. How will you play your cards? Will you fold right away, or will you keep raising the stakes, bluffing your way to the top?
You can ask the dealer for a couple of new cards, but what if you keep drawing the same hand? Is there a lesson for you that just keeps repeating itself? Could be that you’re missing the message. Listen to your soul and maybe you’ll move forward with a bit more confidence.

I do like the cards I’ve got and I’m going to sit at the table as long as I can. The players change, but I’m sure that I can make a good go of it without sacrificing my truth.
Today is a brand new chance for me to do something positive–to be effective in my communication, to interact with others in a meaningful way. Could be that I could change someone’s outlook. Could be that there is someone  who is reading this right now who may very well need to hear that they’re valuable and that they’re loved.
Well, if you’re reading this know that I DO value your place on this planet. If you can remain positive, if you can help lift others up without losing your identity, if you understand how wonderfully simple it is to just let go and be honest and walk in your truth, you already know that you make a difference.

I’m proud of ya. And it’s possible we’ve never met.

Cool, huh?

Some of you know by now that I am a 6 year old masquerading as an adult. Some of you know that I am sillier than Robin Williams on nitrous. Well, a LOT of you probably don’t know this: I can’t have hard candy without being seated. Why is that? Well, it’s because it makes me a little ‘juicy’ and then I start choking. The fear usually reserved for parents of a toddler is still in play for me because I have no idea how to control my ‘juiciness’. So, imagine my surprise when I discovered that I CAN eat a hard candy while walking down the street.
Here’s what happened: I went to Duane Reade (a local pharmacy chain in NYC…kinda like CVS) and they had those huge Lifesavers on sale so I bought some for the ‘office’. Some patrons have dragon breath and sometimes I KNOW I do…anyway, I couldn’t wait-such was my mania about those HUGE wintergreen flavored treats that I tore the bag open and popped one into my mouth, completely forgetting about the juice factor.

Well, I walked…even spoke on my mobile phone and I learned to control my saliva! That may not seem like a big deal to you, but I feel as if a great weight has been lifted. I’m a BIG GIRL NOW! Soon, I’ll be able to go to a public restroom unaccompanied.

Yep, I’m an idiot. Send help.

I can hear you saying it, ‘Poor kid. Hope she gets home okay’

Thanks for the support.

Dude, seriously…I think it’s the hole in it that gives me a chance to catch my breath, if you will.

Hmmm…one day, I’ll be a real girl… just like Pinocchio. But not like Lampwick, who we all know as Matt Damon. That’s a blog entry for another day.

I’m off to have another Lifesaver. Maybe I’m pressing my luck.

I’ve been looking through some old notebooks, in an attempt to restore some order to my room and my life and I came across a series of exchanges between  a former paramour and me. It’s pretty funny. He and I were writing notes to one another as we sat in a bar. It was his way of flirting with me while still maintaining contact with his pals while we were drinking. It reads like note passing in high school. He started by asking me if I thought he was cute. He included little boxes marked ‘yes’, ‘no’, ‘ewww, you’re gross’ and ‘ask me after a couple more drinks’. I had written in another box ‘i’m old enough to be your really cool, really hot babysitter’. The next thing he wrote was, ‘all of my babysitters were old ladies’. I wrote, ‘well, there you have it’. THEN, things got hot, let me tell you…he wrote, ‘but you’re not old, you’re a hottie’. That made my heart flutter. A young, goodlooking single  male found me ‘hot’. I wrote him as much and included a valentine heart in full throb.

This went on for several pages, the handwriting growing increasingly illegible and as I recall, we sealed the deal with a passionate, messy kiss. We dated for about 2 weeks. When you’re a woman of middle age and you embark on a romantic adventure with a man nto quite half your age, you set yourself up for disappointment. Your points of reference are but a history lesson for your lover. The bloom leaves the rose fairly quickly, but fortunately no harm comes to either party.

There are plenty of land mines when you date out of your age range. You like what is now termed ‘Classic Rock’, they like ‘alt-rock’. You don’t even know what that means. That’s just the tip of the iceberg. Still, the guy is cute and energetic and he’s willing to learn. This makes you stay long after you know that you have absolutely no future. Lust can take you a long way, my friends.

I know what you’re thinking: What about love? (don’t start singing that song by ‘Heart’) Well, love has a place to be sure, but the biological imperative takes a strong hold…Maybe by dating younger men, I’m avoiding any real emotional commitment. Perhaps I’m clinging to my youth by allowing myself to be pursued by the younger bucks in the herd. Who knows? I don’t have the extra cash for therapy and it’s not really much of a bother. Plus, men my age are dating much younger women and have little need for me. I told one of my friends that he should have a bumper sticker that reads, ‘My girlfriend is an Honor Roll Student at P.S. 127′. He didn’t find the humor.