I Owe You an Apology, Jeff

So, I wrote you a few scathing letters last week, but I think I may be the “me” in this “mea culpa.”

See, I’ve been thinking you were The Head Honcho/The Big Cheese/The “Bill Gates” of Google, YouTube, G-mail, and all other Google apps (yes, that’s you Blogger, refusing to talk to WordPress or vice-versa; I don’t know which of you isn’t playing well with the other.)

Anyway, it just occurred to me today that I was SO WRONG! You’re not the G-note who is responsible for my Current Family-Discord: you’re the A-note!

You just sent me that wireless mouse; the one I purchased expressly because 1) it was wireless and 2) it came with its own doogle.

Only it doesn’t come with it’s own doogle, as both box and product listing proclaim. My now-problem with you, Jeff, is that I was so certain you would never betray me beyond your ability to “un-betray” me, I didn’t bother to open the mousebox for 32 days. Even though lately you’ve been charging me $35 for earbuds and mailing me $2.99 ball caps instead. “Accidentally.” You know, Jeff: I simply abhorr conspiracy theories, but a common thread you find in all of them is: “Look at the Money.” I’ll say “COVID-19” and leave it there. Which also makes me think: “BIG PHARMA.” DISNEY, NETFLIX, SONY.

I’M SORRY, I JUST COULDN’T STOP‼️, Besides, I 💯 % subscribe to the theory that Global Pandemics Deserve Global Providers❣️ So don’t get mad at me when I’m still mad at you, okay?

Global companies for a Global pandemic. But like I said: I don’t believe in conspiracy theories.

Especially since I’ve been dealing with excruciatingly painful dental problems all month. Sending my mouth into the hands of no less than 15 different men and women across the entire San Antonio Metropolitan Area. Including once last week as well as yesterday into the more expensive hands of an oral surgeon (ca-ching!); a former navy seal (ca-double-ching!) who volunteers for Dentists for Humanity (I don’t think I meet the requirements) working on Veterans’ Day (triple-caching!) while paying an assistant administer the “full-sedation package” (a non-negotiable).

So: do I have your attention now, Jeff? Am I speaking in dollars you can finally comprehend?

You see: my 30 Day Nightmare of Dental Torture finally ended yesterday morning, beginning a 10-Month Nightmare of Financial Torture; simply to restore me to simple dental health while simultaneously destroying both my mental and financial health.

Honestly: it’s a tradeoff worthy of serious contemplation. What finally convinced me to Go Large was The Vanity Involved. I can’t imagine living, loving, and being fully human without my trademark winning smile. No, Jeff, not even a man of your Means, Jeans, Teams, Queens, whose Living the Dream can steal that from me! (Kinda “rapt” towards the end there).

The ribbon-cutting procedure to This New Adventure, and hopefully the closing ceremony on The Worst of the Pain was a very expensive, highly unplanned, surgically oral extraction of tooth #19, along with the insertion of a “bone graft” at 10:00am yesterday morning. Thursday.

Veteran’s Day. RIP, #19. Until we get the fake one, it was a pleasure living with you for the first 52 years. I can’t say the same for the last 2.

I guess, Jeff, both my hopes and my fears were realized yesterday. My hopes because I felt “better-enough” to to do some blogging on my old blog, Blogger; which required me to grasp for the Chrome-cast I bought to satisfy Whoever Owns Google, so that I can maintain my YouTube channel with an iota of professionalism).

That Chromecast has a terrible keyboard, Jeff; a fact I never learned from poring over [YOUR] site reviews for tens of hours before I spent hundreds of dollars on the many electronic devices you sold me last month so that I could create content on the apps you gave me for free. Years and years of content ago. But again: I don’t believe in price-fixing or other conspiracy theories.

Sadly, I’ve been in too much dental pain to use these electronic devices very much. Which is why I didn’t get around to opening the wireless mouse until yesterday, after your return window had closed. I wasn’t worried: it’s not like you were Steve Jobs or Jeff Bezos or anything!!

Anyway, after trying to type on the Chromecast “touch-ignore” for 60 seconds, I reached for the mouse.

Only to find my mouse’s doogle had been removed.

If I had wanted a female mouse, Jeff, don’t you think I would have ordered one? If I had a mouse with a doogle, I wouldn’t have purchased the specific make, model, and package I researched with a ruthlessness I’m quite sure would have impressed you

My point here, Jeff, is this: I felt sorry for about 10 seconds since I [technically] “incorrectly” vented about you on my little blog of self-expression, confusing you with the Owner of the G-Men.

But then you went and pissed me off after an expensive, painful dental procedure, and that just wasn’t smart. Especially since I can get so obsessive about the goods and services I tend to stockpile from you. I have been known to seek greener pastures, and combined with my laziness in general, makes me very profitable to you. I suggest you you remember that.

Dear Prince Charming

I have a question for you:

WHY DID YOU:

1. Feel compelled to

2. So that you could

3. In order to

4. While simultaneously

5. And refusing to compromise about

6. Only to THEN

7. And STILL insist you “had no choice but to”?

NO, DON’T ANSWER. It’ll probably just piss me off. Why?

1. I happen to think you’re a smug

2. Self-satisfied

3. [Yet] ultimately unsatisfying

4. Judgmental

5. Prick

6. Because

7. You are.

Thank you, Afif Khasuna, for the pboto.

•Miss SmartyHearts and Miss LonelyPants•

Effective immediately: I have officially “put out a shingle” with my latest career effort. Since it won’t bring in a dime, my motivation may be inconsistent, but I’m wiling to put my best foot forward…at least initially.

I have officially begun an “Agony Advice”/“Miss Lonelyhearts”/“Dr. Ruth”/“Erma Bombeck”/“Miss [Dating and Relationship] Manners” column which will be penned by two contributors: Miss SmartyHearts (for natters of the heart) and Miss LonelyPants (for matters of the body).

I’m advising you in advance that this advice of which I will be advising you will be from an unequally rare and rarefied point of view: that of a once-highly intelligent, well-travelled and -educated woman who is now equal parts:

1) Old, 2) Out of Touch, and 3) Immature.

But with good hair & nails and a lovely complexion (if I do say so myself). And of course, a winning enthusiasm and eagerness to advise you of my advice to your queries!

On the rare occasion I do not feel qualified to answer your question with my personal wisdom alone, I will conduct primary research in the form of: first person interviews, mall/bar/date/karaoke “intercepts,” video surveillance, long and irritating telephone surveys, and if necessary, “transferential experience.

TE (copywrite) is a technique I developed after many years of serving in my capacity as a highly-esteemed market research professional (actually one of the best in the business, just ask 3 people I knew in 1996).

TE basically means: if all else fails, and I still don’t know the answer: I will go find out for myself!

And then share My Lessons Learned with all of my Beloved Readers! Because I possess bountiful generosity. Which will drive my desire to provide you with my best advice birthed from 1) my experiences, told from my 2) [again] uniquely qualified, broken down perspective. Always with my signature spunk and stubborn unwillingness to learn from my mistakes❣️

So, feel free to start addressing your queries regarding “matters of the heart” to Miss SmartyHeart and matters of the physical body to Miss Lonelypants (who will try to draw from her long-term memory, so no promises about anatomical accuracy). I only ask that you specify in the Re: line which Expert Miss is the recipient for your inquiry (because these can easily get blurred, difficult to read, and then who knows what kind of answer you’ll get?)

The Misses are also a bit jealous of each other, so if you have a preference, you should ask. If not, those old harpies might both answer your questions!]

And I’ve got to advise you of one last bit of advice:

Begin submitting your burning questions immediately because Miss SmartyHearts and Miss LonelyPants could begin sending letters to each other; and I honestly can’t predict what that might look like.

So you’ve been warned. And, my pledge: I will always bring my 💯 % authentic self and former work ethic to this incredibly humbling responsibility I am agreeing to undertake on your behalf.

Lastly: MEN❣️ You are also welcome to write to the Misses with your burning queries. I will change all names to protect the innocentboth yours, my beloved readers, and all research assistants, interviewees, and participants.

I would suggest you get your money’s worth [especially since it’s free]!

#MissSmartyHeart #MisLonelyPants

My First Post on My [Short-Lived] Blog, May 2010

11 and a half years ago, I “caught a wild hair” and started this thing called a BLOG while recovering from gallbladder removal surgery at aged 43 (I know – I just keep winning the genetic lottery!) Anyway, my virgin post is linked below. It made me laugh to realize I haven’t really changed that much – except for my new, single-minded dedication to blogging! It was a relief to discover I hadn’t “lost myself” as much as I thought. And to RE-discover I’ve always been a Geek, a Goofbeauxll, a flagrant flouter of conventional grammatical rules, and a serial repeat offender of “Exclampo Abuse!!”

http://deeporshallowthoughts.blogspot.com/2010/05/putting-pancreatitis-to-rest.html

Photo: 2010 (the Goldilocks years)

“This is My Story and I’m Sticking to It”

by Just Jennifer

I grew up a conflicted people-pleaser, swapped back and forth between parents. I learned that the only way to be “seen” was to be “good” – because my older sister had already taken the role of “bad” and got yelled at for it. I’ve always been highly adaptable like that. I learned that the best way to feel the kind of love that felt good I probably needed to get good grades or say something clever first.

I was treated like a princess with my mom during her rare inter-husband periods and dismissed as too-sensitive by my much-more-financially-comfortable father. There were multiple marriages on both sides with lots of joinings and new family members and disjoining of families and family members. At a very minimum, I’d describe my childhood with one word: Goodbye.

You understand that the earlier this happens, the greater the psychological impact, right? The process began to me when I was 18 months old.

In my life, I’ve been the Heroine, the Victim, the Golden Girl, the Failure, the Loser, the Tragic Figure, the Cautionary Tale, as well as both Goldilocks and Cinderella.

This once “one in a million” girl has finally dropped down to a “one in one” girl, because I’m happy to just be myself. For the very first time in my whole entire life.

I’m actually happy to be:

Just Jennifer.

The Girlfriends’ Guide to Healing a Broken Heart

If you’re dealing with a broken heart, I suggest this mini-manual (monograph, really). It is broken into several sections.

I. SUGGESTIONS:

1. Cry a bunch of sloppy wet tears. Make sure to put Kleenex on your Amazon Subscribe & Save list. You’ll need them. And you might want to buy some extra mascara or false eyelashes; just in case your current supply gives out.

2. Listen to a bunch of Toni Braxton songs (loop “He Wasn’t Man Enough For Me”; it’ll make you feel better). At least it did me. I listened to it over and over again, along with lots of what my younger friends call “Emo” music, or something like that. No one’s ever been able to explain the actual time period that defines it, so I’m just going off my own personal understanding of “Emo Music” here. I think its Poster Child is Alanis Morisette. So that would be what, the ‘90s? Okay, enough about her.

3. Tell at least one person the whole ugly story, soup to nuts. You have to get that shame out of you, sister! It helps if you have a “help-you-bury-the-body-and-give you-an-alibi” friend like my friend Gina. Who I met on Bumble Friends of all places! Can you even believe that? I find these kinds of conversations often require a solid stomach with some greasy Mexican food and frozen margaritas coating it. That’s your stomach and the conversation: they’re both better with margaritas. Unless you have too many, and then you’ll have a hard time with tequila, and you definitely don’t need an adverse relationship with tequila if you’ve got a broken heart.

4. Try to go out with your oldest and dearest friends, but you might want to make some new ones, too. I’m just saying that “Sometimes new friends ask really good new questions.” And can provide a whole new outlook on you and your “situation.” They can also gently force you out of your comfort zone in brand new, buttery soft kid gloves. The kind that never ever go on sale at Macy’s. They just don’t, and neither does the crystal or china. I can understand why with the china because people are always getting married, but surely there’s an off season for gloves in San Antonio, Texas?!

5. Also, try to do something you haven’t done in a really long time. The activity should be something you used to do easily as a child or adolescent. This is to help you avoid too much over-thinking. And you know how easily we can do that when somebody dumps us! I personally have a tendency to sit around and obsess about what I did wrong, but I’m sure as shit getting sick of that song and dance (and you know how I love the combination of song and dance). Especially since I have been getting therapy every single week for the last two years, so I don’t think it’s all about me. But whatever. You can’t fix everybody. Okay, so we were trying to get you to stop overthinking by avoiding activities which require overthinking in the first place. It’s got to be something you can lose yourself in on a visceral level. Like riding a bike, going swimming, miming if that’s your thing and you’ve been doing it long enough that you can honestly say you’re on autopilot when you’re miming and NOT over-thinking it. In fact, shoot for an activity which requires no analytical thinking whatsoever. For me, this state is achieved through immersion in music; music I have loved forever as well as new [to me] music. And a teeny tiny little bit of marijuana in moderation, but I really do have PTSD, okay? So let’s go ahead and stay away from that topic: I’m most certainly not advocating lawlessness here! But Girlfriend, there isn’t a Heartbreak Alive without a soundtrack! And if yours doesn’t have one, you need to get one yesterday, so go ahead and sign up for Spotify now. Trust me: you’re going to need it. It’s only $10.81 per month and you can cancel at any time. You’ll also need a decent pair of earbuds if music is also going to be your “visceral thing” (a good soundtrack is a fluid concept, so you’ll need to be listening to it practically 24/7). Just remember to take the earbuds out before you shower or go to sleep, as I had two ENT appointments in as many months because those plastic ear cover thingies came off and got stuck deep down in my ear canal. Yikes! The same ear both times, because I always sleep on my left side. Isn’t that so gross? Not to mention it felt like the guy was poking an icepick into my ear both times to fish them back out. Not to mention, I even had to take antibiotics, I shit you not! But if YOU are willing to be responsible with your earbuds, you won’t need to spend more than $35.99 [in my humble opinion, okay, and this is just my opinion!] for a decent and relatively durable pair. Especially if you’re an Amazon Prime Member ($10.99/month). Plus, if you add an Audible membership ($16.99/month), the earbuds practically pay for themselves. Except for the fact the analogy doesn’t work because you’re getting nothing back, but Amazon ($0) always offers rebates and sales on earbuds, so that’s where I recommend you start. And REMEMBER: these are merely investments towards your recovery, so garbage-in/garbage-out❣️ Or is that FIFO vs. LIFO? I can never remember the difference.

6. Okay, we’re upping the ante and hitting our crescendo now, so buckle in, girls. Do one thing – just one tiny little thing – that you’ve never ever done before. Just to say you did. And to see what happens. For me it was Actually Going To A Bar By Myself. I’m 54 years old (I know I don’t look it), and I literally had to talk myself into it 4 times [out loud, that’s why I said “literally”] in my car before I was able to Walk. Through. That. Front. Door. I had to psych myself up for it like the worst session of arachnophobia de-sensitization training ever! But what’s really important is that I did it❣️ And guess which bar I chose for This Little Experiment? I chose the karaoke bar down the street. I chose it because it was [like I said] down the street, next to the sushi place I always go to (literally always because I’ve been there 25 times in 2 months), and the parking was and is extensive and “up close” (think 7-11 vs. Kroger). Which is important if you’ve shellacked your hair and makeup in preparation for your Terrifying New Adventure and you live in San Antonio (aka “Little Hades”), Texas. The windows were blacked out so I googled it first to make sure it wasn’t a “gentleman’s club” for my first-ever “Looking for Mr. Goodbar” experience. Yes, some people and a throuple-in-waiting gave off a weird vibe, but the female bartender made sure nobody slipped roofies into my drink. And the miracle of the whole night is that I had such a wonderful time! I got up for my virgin karaoke performance on my virgin “night to a bar by myself” and belted out, in my terrible voice, Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap by AC/DC. I found my muse in Karaoke and She is Me! A fellow female patron videotaped my performance, and I can tell you that empirically and undeniably, it is SOLID! Nothing like what I’m capable of now, but it was A Night of Two Firsts, so I couldn’t be prouder. Not to mention, I looked totally hot (or at least that’s what a grubby looking guy at the bar said).

<<put your finger to your tongue, get it slightly (just slightly!) wet, put it back up in the air, and make a sizzling sound; yes, that gesture>>.

7. Take solace in familiar comforts which have soothed your abrasions in the past (because those comfortable things are indeed comforting), but also:

8. Make the decision to spice up your heartbreak this go around. Be willing to switch things up a little bit. At the very least, be willing to just do one or two things differently. C’mon, let’s say it together: We can and will heal our hearts better/quicker/deeper this time❣️

II. PRESCRIPTION:

If I were your Official Love Doctor (that’s an OLD, so you know I’m highly qualified), I’d write you a prescription for “Karaoke On an Off-Night”. Which is the perfect time to practice for an “On-Night.” And look: what started out as a new Guilty Pleasure for me has now turned into my very own YouTube channel called Karaoke Konnection with 15 captivate-ated subscribers to prove it! I like to go to MY “local karaoke place” as often as I’m able (anywhere from 0 to 2 nights per week) to video-capture both talented and artistic local Karaoke performances. I don’t know what differentiates the two, only that no one would mistake my karaoke performances for either one. But the Big Picture here is that now I’m starting to envision myself as the Restaurant Critic of the Karaoke Industry: the one who’s known for spotting the hidden gems. Kind of like social media’s version of American Idol. With me hosting❣️ My mission will be: To travel the world in search of the Best Karaoke Performances. I’m fully aware there’s a decent chance I’ll get picked up by the networks, but I know it probably isn’t likely. As in 100% guaranteed. But at the very least, I have a good reason to go to ALL karaoke bars by myself now❣️ And I make sure someone videotapes me when I get up there to conduct my performances. Then, as the channel’s Founder and Visionary, I get to bury my videos among the videos of the truly talented and artistic. Don’t let anybody tell you the company you keep isn’t important! At the end of the day, my last heartbreak just might be responsible for revolutionizing Global Popular Music. It’s an indisputable win for humanity❣️ And that makes me feel personally fulfilled in a whole new way. I know it can happen to you as well. Dreams really can come true at any age. ❤️

III. Q & A:

Question:  You don’t think you ever stand up and sing in front of a room full of strangers.
Answer: “Where better to find out?”
Question:  You’re worried you’ll make an complete and utter ass out of yourself.
Answer: “Where better to find out?”

IV. PARTING WORDS:

No one will care [too much] if your voice is horrible when you go out and do this New-Old Thing. Mine certainly is! In fact, I have objective proof that one Karaoke Jockey [referred to as a “K.J.” by those of us in the Biz] in particular always turns off the mic when it’s my turn to sing. And I don’t blame him! He’s working for tips, after all. And for me: it’s all about the “dancing and prancing in front of a crowd” [gerund] for me, anyway.

But regarding YOUR Passion Process To Be: continuing with our Karaoke metaphor (you didn’t realize it had become a metaphor yet because it hadn’t before now), don’t forget that you’re PAYing to PLAY the rock star in this fantasy, so why not maximize your investment?

Oh, wait, I do have one final piece of advice for you before you all head out to your local Karaoke bars tonight, all alone and by yourself: Don’t try to sing any of The Dark Child’s songs yourself because then you just will be making a total ass out of myself. I’d suggest avoiding songs by Beyoncé as well. Let’s start with the low-hanging fruit, shall we?

#DarkChild #LoveMeSomeToniBraxton #HeartsHeal #BabySteps #Don’tJudgeABookByIt’sCover #MoreStallsInWomens’Bathrooms! #MissSmartyHearts #MissLonelyPants #KaraokeKonnection

What the Enneagram has Taught ME About ME

After binging on videos, audiobooks, and other digital media about All Things Enneagram, I’ve come to a few revelations about myself. And all I can say is: THANK GOD FOR MY TRAUMAS!!

Because:

1. I’m so charming and relatable and [was once so incredibly] accomplished

2. That I could easily become narcissistic, shallow and depraved, especially since I also

3. Look to others to provide me with my sense of self-worth, while still feeling like

4. A misunderstood and highly-individualized person, who can get tired of suppressing who I am for millions of years, to the extent that

5. If I become too unhealthy, I could turn into one of the most ruthless, depraved, and sadistic mass murderers the world has ever known.

Yeah, lite read.

So let’s all break out the bubbly that I’ve been so severely traumatized, my flesh and blood flayed and then bathed in acid, leaving only a skeletal husk to commemorate my existence.

Daniel Day-Lewis and Other Writers

I want to ask a question of The Writers here on WordPress. I don’t qualify as one because I only play one on TV, and even that’s just over on my own YouTube Channel with only 15 concrete [but who knows how many potential and therefore relentlessly harassed!] subscribers. (?)

So my question is this (and I already know you’re going to catch me in multiple “grammar fails” throughout the duration of this, so I’m just gonna save us both some time by going ahead and copping to it):

When YOU write, do you prefer the dark to the light, the pain to the joy, the HEAVY to the LIGHT-AS-A-FEATHER? Because it all comes down to just being human, doesn’t it?

And what’s our alternative to THAT, even with all the “slings and arrows” that come with said territory? We can’t become dolphins, after all. And honestly we probably wouldn’t want to: it’s terrible what happens to them when they get tangled up in nets and the next thing they know, they’re all cut up and part of your tunafish sandwich. So think about that for 1 or 2 seconds!

#startingtomaybeunderstandthis”kharma”biznessbutnotsureI’mthereyet

Anyway, I ask all of this of you because lately – and at a not-young age – I’ve noticed that ditching my feelings of shame and [reasonable? unreasonable?] guilt by writing about them on my blog has led to some strange feelings of nearly-unbearable lightness.

In fact, for my younger writers, there’s actually a movie about that very same topic from the early ‘90s featuring a SMOKING HOT 🔥 Daniel-Day Lewis. His name is Tomás in the movie, and he WILL try your patience, I can assure you!

I’ve never really understood what the movie’s about, though. And I’ve even read the book predating the movie by Milan Kundera. A couple of hundred of times!

I think it’s about LIFE getting so bad for the characters that they become “lite” as a way to cope. Or that everyone responds that way when they’re exposed to seemingly-unsurvivable suffering. Like I said: I honestly can’t remember! I was probably just looking at Daniel Day-Lewis, anyway. 🤷🏼‍♀️

So anyway, my point is I don’t know what Your Muse looks like. As for me and Mine, we kind of feel like we’ve [maybe? possibly? hopefully? please?] just finished 15-20 years of all that pain. And all that “seemingly-unsurvivable suffering”. All the time, or as I’m fond of saying: 25/8/9,162.

So I just kind of feel like it’s finally my time to be Lite in all Matters of Mind, Body, Heart, Soul, and Spirit.

And I’m having so much fun I can hardly stand it❣️ There’s something very inspirational in The Unbearable Lightness of Being.

“When Solitaire’s The Only Game in Town“ 🎼:

My Summer as a Big Girl in Austin, TX., circa summer of 2021

———————————————————————————

Okay, you folks didn’t ask, but I can’t not tell. So here’s what Cooper and I really got up to in Austin in July….

I’ll try to tell it in “categories”, which makes perfect sense to me:

A. WHAT I TOOK WITH ME:

Enough Said

B. THE DRIVE UP THERE:

Was horrific, as All Time Served on Highway 35 is horrific. Particularly about halfway between San Antonio and Austin in this little town called New Braunfels. Why? Because The Powers That Be decided that 6:00pm on the Thursday before July 4th weekend would be a good time to take I-35’s 8 lanes down to 1 for construction. So technically, Cooper and I spent our first night parked on 35 in New Braunfels. Which made us so happy to arrive at our new home❣️

It was looooong.

C. WHERE I STAYED:

A 500 square foot “college apartment” as I like to call it. One I wouldn’t have even considered living in for a month in my 30s but positively adored in my [very] early 50s (why does it always hurt to say that, even after all these years?).

Anyway, aside from being on the second floor, which neither Cooper nor I liked much, everything else was fabulous❣️ Okay, and the parking did kind of suck, but why are we quibbling when I had such a good time??!!

Anyway, there was a bathroom with a bathtub (thank you!), a galley kitchen (all I needed with Amazon Fresh and Uber Eats), a TV (with free Netflix- score again!), and most importantly to me, a bed (any bed). Because that’s where I intended to spend most of my time.

I told you where I spent most of my time!

D. ALL THE NEW PEOPLE I MET:

I met plenty of boys, but I’ll just tell you about the one named Lucas. Lucas was 7-years-old back then (3 months ago), and I’m pretty sure he still is. Despite his young age, Lucas became my friend. He was the older son of my Airbnb hostess, and she was a single-by-choice mom of two kids. At my age, people! I think that’s pretty badass. She was really open about the fact that she got this wonderful guy to donate his sperm to her and about another couple hundred women for the purposes of making intelligent, charming, and beautiful babies no matter who’s X was attached to his Y. And Lucas was – is – all of those things: intelligent, charming, and beautiful.

Anyway, the 3 of us (me, Lucas, and Lucas’s mom) struck up a little deal. Since they lived a few houses away from my apartment, since my apartment was on the second floor, and since it was hot outside (more about that last irritant below), Lucas came over every couple of days to take Cooper for a quick walk. Then, he “literally” (good way to use it for a change) had to stay and talk with me while we waited for his mom to pick him up. The only wisdom I shared with him all that time was about the correct use of the word “literally.” Then I quizzed him about 5 different ways to make sure his understanding was comprehensive, and I was gratified to hear it was. I got a dog-walker, a friend, and a captive (I mean “student”) to listen to my interesting lectures for the bargain price of $2 a visit❣️ Best money I’ve spent in a long time!

Cooper, thriving in the fresh air of dog urine. It was good for me to get out in the sunshine, too, because we literally both got to talk to at least 5 dogs on each walk.

E. THE RESTAURANTS I ATTENDED:

My Apartment, Truluck’s, and this typically-pretentiously-Austin restaurant called “Hestia.” Details are below, and hey, I’m doing them a solid with the viral exposure I’m giving them for free, so don’t worry about them! Plus, at the prices they charge, they’re laughing all the way to those crypto-currency sites.

Anyway, I think this was the vibe they were going for: something along the lines of “Quick Dirt-to-Table Time” or somesuch nonsense like that. The guy in the tight mauve velvet suit who spoke with an unplaceable accent (and people: I’ve seen the world!) got really excited when he started explaining this concept, but I fell asleep about 3 hours in. Fortunately (and there are several “fortunatelies” to this tale), I came to as the cocktails arrived. Good thing at $20 a pop. And then there were something like 48 miniature courses, all of them explaining that concept I told you about that I was fortunately (there’s another one!) able to snooze through. But I woke up when those expensive drinks hit the table! And can I say that the courses just kept on coming? I mean, like loooong after I’d taken the Uber back home, brushed my teeth, and fallen back asleep. Fortunately (!), my friend Julie watched my dog Cooper so his separation anxiety wouldn’t get separated when I left for this meal from The Early Roman Orgy Period. You know: the ones that lasted Forever And A Day?

The final fortunately of this particular evening, and it’s the biggest one of all folks, is that I was not required to pay a dime towards all this “Beautiful People in Velvet Suits” luxury.

And am I ever grateful for that! Because I saw the prices and was awake for at least 5 of those courses, so I’m absolutely certain the bill was somewhere in the middle 300s. Damn! Was I ever glad to escape that one!

Here are Hestia’s details because the food really was very good.

Plus, the Uber driver on the way up there was very friendly and talkative and when I told him the exact year I had been born in Austin (19XX, and that’s all I’m saying publicly; he’d become a friend by then). Anyway, what he said – as he looked at me through the rear-view mirror – was “Well, don’t worry; you don’t look anywhere near that old.” Which in Austin qualifies as a “fortunately”: trust me, it was a compliment! And I take them whenever and wherever I can. I’m particularly fond of forcing them out of captives, though the Uber driver swore up and down he was being truthful about it. And that it had absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with his tip. I’m inclined to believe him, aren’t you?

I totally forgot where I was going with this post again! Menopause is really hitting me hard, Friends❣️ I think I’m getting wiser all the time, but I’ve got all this teenage angst and vanity hitting me up at the time, and I’ve got to say: it’s really magnified in a youth-centric town like Austin.

(I’m doing it again! I keep forgetting Austin is no longer a town!).

I know, it was the last “category” on my list: What I Did. So here you go:

F. WHAT I DID (while there, a little ironic this chapter comes with a grade of “F”, since I think I finally mastered it):

Absolutely nothing!! And it was so wonderful! No one there to collect my trash 25/8, no real worries (other than my standard ones), and my freedom. YES‼️ My FREEDOM‼️ 🎉🇺🇸🇹🇴🇬🇧 (I tried to choose flags from known supposedly-free countries to reflect my point).

Anyway, all I really wanted to do was Whatever I Wanted To Do Whenever I Wanted To Do It. Is that really so much to ask? I mean, is it?? Was it excessive? Because aside from the Amazon Fresh deliveries, I thought I kept this whole adventure pretty frugal and peace-loving: sort of like a summer in an old VW bus.

The ultimate luxury? Keeping the thermostat on 65 degrees! With only 500 feet of living place, it cooled down in a real jiffy! And let’s face it: this was South Central Texas in July. I’ve repeatedly confessed to some rather vexing hormone imbalances that often show up in unbearably hot ways.

But again I digress! I must be a Digressor. I’m also a Preparor. I had my hair coiffed, nails painted, and waxing waxed beforehand. Because you know those people are hard to find in a new town! And I fully intended to look gorgeous every single day! I actually refused not to. So even though I was referred to as “middle-aged” in that police report I told you guys about earlier, I knew I was killing it.

At least my little brush with the law had nothing to do with my marijuana consumption (which I always think of as “recent,” but if I’m painfully honest with myself, “recent” is about the last 3 years). Please don’t tell the cops about that, okay? I did say “What happened in Austin stays in Austin”: I just need to amend that to include “especially if the Austin Police Department are involved.”

No need to get specific here.
I can’t explain the Def Leppard, either. But the audiobook pretty much took up the entire month, so I don’t get why everyone’s saying I was so lazy up there.

So between Lucas helping me out with my Cooper walks and my Determination To Do Nothing, I pretty much accomplished my goals! Not to mention, I really sharpened up my Solitaire game while I was up there. Do you see how well I did in that screenshot below? Do you have any idea how many games it takes to land on one you could potentially totally dominate? Let’s just say y’all would’ve been mpressed by my determination (there’s that inner determination showing up again!)

Anyway. I won’t say anymore about my score (we all know how impressive it is), but I will say that I am a member of the Fewest Moves school of thought. And I’m a very deep thinker. I know some people just want to get it all over with as quickly as possible, but I actually prefer Perfection to Speed. Honestly, it’s a mystery to me why Everyone’s always in such a rush!

And I’m not even addressing the “Quality vs. Quantity” debate here, let me make that perfectly clear. I’m just fine with Quantity – in fact I’m quite the fan. But never, and I repeat never, at the expense of Quality. I didn’t go all the way to Austin just to eat McDonald’s, now did I?

Or to play so much Solitaire, for that matter. Because let’s be honest, we all know that’s why I went up there in the first place! I will never [purposely] mislead you here. Because I’m very transparent and honest and value those qualities in others. Unless they’re opposing me on Solitaire or have apparently become so offended by my parking that they felt the need to call the Austin Fucking Police Department about it! Let’s just stay away from this whole topic, okay? I’m starting to get a little uncomfortable.

Anyway, deep breath taken and we’re back to the topic of Why I Love Solitaire So Much. One: it’s both consistent AND reliable. Two: I don’t have to put on that insufferable magnetic eyeliner just to play with it. Three (and these aren’t in any order of importance): as long as my iPhone has juice, so does my Solitaire.

Which was always very comforting to me when I’d go [back to] bed, iPhone next to me charging all night.

Along with all of my other electronic devices.

Nobody Wanted to Know about Austin, but I Just Can’t Help Myself…

July 6, 2021

I’m in Austin for the month of July and will be back during the month of December and January or Just January (San Antonio in between). Anyway, my dog, Cooper, and I are on the second floor – the first second floor in Cooper’s entire life! I’ve got to say that – it’s now been a week into our “staycation” – and he’s been a real champ with those outdoor stairs. Up and down twice or three times a day in addition to walks on top of it… and let’s just say I’ve learned over the last week:

BOTH of us old dogs over here can learn new tricks!

A Woman of a Certain Age

In July, up in Austin, I was highly offended when the police record over a minor parking dispute referred to me [the perpetrator in this isolated incident] as a “middle-aged woman.”

By the last week of October, for reasons as yet unknown to me, I’d started referring to myself as a “middle-aged woman.

At which point the person to whom I’d provided the reference said to me:

“What, do you expect to live to 102?”

At first, I was so relieved that he didn’t say “108” that it took me a week to ask myself the following question:

How did I go from outrage to gratitude in 3 months?

Or is it 4?

Cathexis and [no] other Malapropisms

So I found out I’ve been using a word I like incorrectly for donkeys’ years now.

Turns out it’s cathexis and its numerous grammatical iterations.

So, colloquially it means “to invest energy in or stimulate” (or its infinitive version is for the grammocrats). But I’m not sure that’s what it started out meaning.

Back in the day, and I could have this wrong based on atrophy of my gray matter (or green matter for that matter; I can’t remember which color matters in matters of brain matter), it meant something else entirely.

Mostly because of two books that I wouldn’t classify as “pop psychology” because they were much deeper than that, but they did have a huge influence on the masses in the ‘70s (that’s of the 1900s).

These books were called “The Road Less Traveled” and something like “The Drama of the Gifted Child” and yes, I read them both. Not in the 70s of course because I was a small child then and wouldn’t have known the meaning of words like “cathexis.”

So anyhoo (that’s the second time I’ve used that term today; it’s not looking great for my green matter), I honestly can’t remember which of the two books addressed the all-encompassing issue of cathexis. Which apparently made such a strong impression on me that I’ve been using the term incorrectly all these years.

See, I thought it meant to love and attach to your caregivers and vice versa, and if it doesn’t happen, you’ll grow up to get really upset when someone drops an ice cream cone on the ground. Or something like that?

If any of my 21 subscribers have read either book or happen to be mental health professionals, elucidation would be greatly appreciated.

Because I’m going to quit “cathecting” to the wrong right things, and I’m going to start cathecting with the right wrong things. Or quit eating ice cream altogether.

Maybe I’m not going crazy after all

In spite of the fact I owe Spotify an apology and in fact am not the devil, I have been contemplating all things insanity and the ways it might manifest in later life. I started searching for an overview of the early warning signs over on YouTube (where I have been getting in fights lately!! Even instigating them!!)

Anyway, since I have A.D.D., I had to stop to get in a few good fights over on the true crime channels. Side note: I usually am the most vociferous judge of the “evil psychopaths” and poor innocent victims in every story. Wouldn’t they just love to know that the snarky bitch who calls herself “Karaoke Konnection” blabs about her own inner evil over in WordPressLand!!??

So again, I got sidetracked. Side note number two: why do I always get sidetracked?

Anyhoo, up pops my feed after my “cyber-altercations.” And I feel the Universe must be trying to get me away from all that Cosmic Aggression. Side note number three: it can get really toxic over there, people! You wouldn’t believe the bitchy people who will pick fights with you! But y’all would have been proud of me: I started protecting myself by refusing to allow anyone to ever draw first blood again. So I’m finally sticking up for myself against those cyber-bullies!

Where was I? Oh yes!! So like I felt The Man or The Force pull me out of that pit of vipers and return me to The Light.

By bringing my vision-distorted eyes to the videos about inner healing and, when I really need an ego boost, the Myers-Briggs and Personality Type videos. And the reason they’re all so personally gratifying is no matter when I take them, I always come out as THE COOLEST TYPE! It doesn’t matter which test it is, it literally is a Test I Cannot Fail, so strong is my charisma!

Yes, it can be a burden having to be so exceptionally charming all the time, but I’ve learned to live with it. As all good ENFP-T, Enneagram 4-3s must!

What can I say that isn’t said below? We are the unicorns of which I write and it’s our planet the rest of you inhabit! We just let you lease our space.

By the way, if y’all get directed over to YouTubeVille, tell ‘em Karaoke Konnection sent you. My people will keep an eye out for you.

My Impending Divorce

Dear Spotify:

Did you not read my post yesterday about how You were one of the Last Heroes of Smartphone Integrity in these days of “Technology Rape?”

Simply for allowing us to listen to our music on your app while actually simultaneously DOING SOMETHING PRODUCTIVE, like paying bills on other apps?

You don’t like being a Hero much, do you?

Because, as of this morning, this one quality – this one thing that made you [somewhat] special – is now officially gone. Erased by Hal (of Space Odyssey notoriety, youngsters) during my “download” last night. You know: the one that goes into that Matrix port in my brain while I’m sleeping?

I’d like to think it was an accident, or something silly like “Operator Error.” Only this Operator isn’t stupid and didn’t turn stupid overnight.

Do you honestly think I have nothing better to do than listen to your music while simultaneously staring at your boring static app?

Maybe I don’t really need your answer to that last question. The more egregious fallout of your betrayal is what you’re literally forcing me to do here.

Which is sending me into the cold, hard, made-of-85karat-gold arms of Jeff Bezos. You know that, don’t you? And after I publicly stated he’s been relentlessly pursuing me for the last few months?

I do not want to be embraced by those arms! Maybe by Any Other Living Arms, but not his.

So what was it they did in the Old Testament? I think it was speaking these words out loud:

“I Divorce You, I Divorce You, I Divorce You!”

-Leviticus or one of the other “First Five”

I’m pretty sure witnesses weren’t required, so I’m just providing y’all with a front row seat to my Impending Divorce.

And damnit, but I’ve had to go through a lot of divorces lately! Not to mention the Two Before.

You know the part I hate the most about Divorce? [I am an undisputed expert, so please do listen well]…

It’s all the crap you have to do (or, The Four “F’s”, as I like to call them):

  1. Fucking Pack up all your shit (*see note below)
  2. Find alternate services
  3. Fill out all that godforsaken paperwork – even if it is digital, it still should be done away with under The Paperwork Reduction Act (**see second note)
  4. And probably most importantly: Figure out how to get your needs met by the new guy (***see third note)

*Theres nothing I hate more than assembling those loathsome wardrobe boxes from U-Haul. And you know I’m going to need about 14, you greedy motherfucker! I’d almost stay with you to avoid this whole process, but I’m starting to get ANGRY now, and trust me: nobody needs to see that. So I’m coming for you, Confounding Tape Dispenser with Teeth! We’re about to renew our relationship.

**Why doesn’t The Paperwork Reduction Act address Paperwork In General? Because it’s high time we got rid of it all! Collectively decided to wipe it from The Face of The Earth! I’ll even use my monthly $10.81 (x 60 months, don’t lose sight of that!) Spotify payment to contribute to that cause.

***Regarding #4: Really? Next to assembling wardrobe boxes, you know how I despise breaking in a “new guy.” After years of cultivating playlists that actually have personal significance to me, you’re forcing me to do it all over again. With a newbie.

I just don’t get it, Spotify. Other than that one time in 2018, did I ever miss a payment? No, I did not. So then…Why? Because you know what? I was actually thankful for the Music you brought into my Toneless Life. I enjoyed adding a soundtrack to my daily life. I even enjoyed that karaoke playlist that I used to prepare for my shitty little performances. Maudlin of me, I know.

Besides, how can I put on a decent performance if I can’t look at the lyrics from Jeff’s sight while listening to said songs? As a matter of fact: your petty jealousy is preventing me from realizing my dreams of becoming The Next Karaoke Sensation. I will personally blame you if my dreams [so fresh and new after having none for so long] never reach fruition.

I thought you loved me, but you just married me for my money.

The truth hurts, but I can’t live with all of you ruthless capitalists anymore! I’m going to join a fringe group like the Peace Corps or something equally radical because like I said: I’m really starting to get pissed off here.

Did I not just advise you to Never Underestimate Me?

What’s that expression again?

“Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”

-Not sure

Well, can I just say that this woman is feeling both scorned and furious right now?

So if you’ve done me wrong, I suggest you start implementing counter-surveillance maneuvers and change your locks. Also, you might want to park that Ferrari somewhere with controlled access. I know you’ll just get it fixed, but my keys are really sharp and I can’t help that they start vibrating in my hand when I see your fleet of luxury automobiles in my pot-hole-riddled parking lot.