Goop LaMange

Often, when I sit down to blog I have a specific agenda.  But other times, like this morning, I roll out of bed at 5:30, let the dog out back to pee, feed the cat, and sit down and just start typing.  Inspirational, huh?

That often results in a mish-mosh of various thoughts and suggestions which I will now dispense, as Lilith put it so well, “from my psychiatric Pez dispenser”.

You have to guess what that reference is from, and the title as well.  If you’re one of the 18 people who read my book, then you already know the first.

It’s been a sweltering summer.  Good for us because we’re fortunate enough to have an in ground pool.  Why is it, that when people reach a specific age, they stop swimming?  I mean I can count on one hand, the number of people we know over 55 who simply won’t swim anymore.  Do we really suffer from that level of body shame?  Sure everything has shifted.  Parts of us are now in different zip codes.  Our skin resembles a dirty rag that fell under the work bench in the shed…in 1994.  And the…oh, crap, I had better put the pool cover on for the season.

Not far behind are the people, after a certain age, who no longer go to the movies.  Except of course to the Bryn Mawr Film Institute, where on any given Saturday evening, the average age of the moviegoer is 84 years, 6 months and 5 days.  And oh, the colors of the wardrobe.

I just put on my two new bumper stickers.  Number one is “Make Racism wrong again.  Unfit to serve.  Unfit for humanity”.  The second reads, “Some say we need a Revolution.  I’d settle for a little evolution”.  I urge all of you to go to the “Make Stickers” website and order your own version of protest.  And if you’re like me, they also help to cover up unwanted rust stains.  I wonder if we could use those on our bodies?  Hmm, there’s an idea, body bumper stickers?  They already have them you nitwit, they’re called tattoos.

Shouldn’t we have a greater distinction between the guy (or gal)  who operates on us and those who clean the floors in the hospital?  I mean, I’m at my local Wawa in the morning, across from Bryn Mawr Hospital, and everyone is wearing scrubs.  But the same scrubs.  Shouldn’t it be like Star Trek?  A different color for each pay grade?  Doctors wear blue, nurses orange, custodians red?

If you’re like me, and let’s face it none of you are, you’re disgusted with the deluge of cancer commercials and drug commercials.  Whatever happened to the age old adage of, “Suffering in Silence”?  I get it, it’s good to have awareness, to bring people out of the shadows, have them seek treatment and be healthier.  But if I have to see Cyndi Lauper and her skin-diseased friends one more time I’m gonna put my foot threw the television.

Now there’s a saying we rarely hear anymore.  Back in, “the day”, all TV’s were consoles, and they all sat on the floor.  So, in theory, it didn’t take much to put your foot through the TV.  Except that the glass was about two inches thick.  Now, at my age, in order to put my foot through the TV, like if I’m somewhere that has Fox News on, first I have to get it off of the wall, onto the floor, and…well, it’s just not worth it, right?  I’m too tired.

I’ve recently turned 59 and…well, that’s so nice of you to say, I’ don’t look anywhere near that old.  I’m proud to admit that I still read the funnies.  You know, the comics (for those of you under 40).  You know, you know, those funny blurbs in the newspaper.  You know, those things they still print that tells you what’s going on in the world.  Oh, just forget it…go back to your Kindle.

Isn’t it nice, after someone has a yard sale, that they then have a large pile of crap sitting on their curb, with a well-fashioned sign, in scribbly magic marker reading, “Free Junk”.  What they’re actually telling you is, “Here, we have a bunch of crap leftover that we don’t want to lug back into the house.  And we certainly don’t want to pay for a dumpster or to have anyone come and haul away our trash.  Would anyone be so kind as to do it for us…free of charge?”  Why is it, that when something is free, it suddenly becomes more appealing?  “I dunno honey, I think if I fill that crack with putty, add a fourth leg and re-stain it, this end table might be worth saving”.

Do you think St. Patrick authorized the morphed version of, “St. Pattys Day”?  St. Patrick was a guy, right?  So, how many Patrick’s do you know that like to be called Patty?  And for brevity sake, it’s still the same number of syllables.  I mean, no one say’s “St. Pat’s Day”.  I realize its all a bunch of malarkey anyway.  Now there’s a word we don’t use nearly enough.  Anyway, I wish there was a modern day St. Pat around to drive all of the snakes out of this country.  And take their hate and their beat up pick up trucks with them.

Okay, it’s 6:15…time to grab coffee at Wawa for the Mrs and get started on my day.  Whatever your day looks like, and this is the epitome of Lifetime channel speak, make it a good day.  Compliment someone.  Grab a newspaper and spit on Trump’s photo (hey that always give’s my spirits a boost, although it freaks out the clerks at Wawa).  Order an anti-anything bumper sticker.  Write an op-ed piece to your local paper.  And don’t seek happiness.  Be happy.

Okay, the title is from the Odd Couple (TV version) and Lilith, of course, from season one of Fraiser.