The True Meaning of Procrastinate

For definitions I always turn to my favorite linguist, Daniel Webster’s wife, Merriam. Here’s the way she defines the word in question: pro– forward + crastinus of tomorrow: to put off intentionally and habitually something that should be done.

My own multi-linguist definition begins with the “pro” at the beginning of the word. “Pro” implies that the person professing to procrastinate is a professional (say that three times fast). In other words, it takes a professional to be very good at putting things off. Amateurs need to “work” on their procrastinating skills, thus eliminating themselves from the group.

Procrastinators start early and stay up late. To truly become an expert one must do it all day. This involves sacrifice. You can’t go out, you shouldn’t get dressed or bathe. Brushing your teeth is optional. Lastly, ordering Chinese is the mark of a true professional.

By definition procrastinators can’t have a goal, but if they did, it would be to forget everything they have to do so they can relax and take time off.  And remember the procrastinators slogan: Procrastinate spelled backwards spells etanitsarcorp, which sounds like “ain’t it a sack of crap.”


Bad Face Day?

Sometimes I wish I was invisible. It happens when I’m tired, relaxing in my pajamas, and have totally neglected my grooming for a day or two. Have you ever done that? As long as no one sees you (husbands excepted), you’re okay, but what if you suddenly have to go out? What can you do to disguise your bad face day?

Suddenly you realize you’re out of something vital such as milk, coffee, ice cream or donuts, or another item that is necessary to your survival on the planet. Maybe your prescription needs refilled. Maybe your son needs a ride to kick-boxing class, or perhaps you left your driver’s license at the market.

Whatever emergency has occurred, you must leave the house. How can you disguise yourself quickly in case you see someone you know? What if they see you?

I’ve got just the remedy for a BAD FACE DAY, and it can be accomplished in five minutes. I timed it.

  1. Immediately put on a maid’s uniform. This has been known to fool many friends and neighbors, but not all. Don’t forget clunky shoes. You need to look like you’ve been cleaning the kitchen floor all day.
  2. Quickly smear WHITE OUT  all over your face. I recommend having at least a gallon of this cover-up ready for use.
  3. Plop a wig on your head. The wig must be a different color than your hair, so people will think you are someone else.
  4. Put a hat or scarf over the wig.
  5. Put on a pair of sunglasses.

By this time you should be disguised enough to fool your neighbors and friends. Move quickly once you’ve left the house. Get to your car immediately and jump in and shut the door. If you move really fast the neighbors can’t get a good look at you and will think you have hired a maid.

Movie stars have the hardest time being invisible. Every time they walk out the door some photographer is ready and waiting to get a picture of them. I can’t imagine a worse fate. If someone snaps a photo of them, a tabloid editor may decide to run the photo in an article called, “Bad Face Days for the Stars,” or “Who’s the Ugliest?” How do they handle it?

They follow the above instructions and remember to move quickly once they’re outside the house. Any photographs that are taken will probably be blurred and the tabloids can’t use them. Ha ha!

There is one drawback to this plan, so watch out for it. You will forget you look terrible and see yourself in a mirror. Inexperienced women have been known to scream. After going to so much trouble to disguise yourself, try not to be frightened by the maid in the mirror.


Angus T. Jones is a Whole Man

The teenage star who plays Jake on Two and a Half Men has proved that sometimes a half a man is more than a whole. Angus T. Jones debased the show yesterday in a video, calling it “filth.” I applaud the stand this young man has taken against the “crap” that is sometimes broadcast on television, not just the show he works with. Do you agree?

We stopped watching Two and a Half Men more than a year ago because of the “smutty” remarks and continual references to and portrayals of  sinful sexual activity. I am in complete agreement with Jones, in telling my friends, “Don’t watch it.”

I would also like to go on record that a show doesn’t need to put in dirty words every two minutes in order to keep an audience. There is a lot of funny material that has no reference to sex at all. I would like to see a lot less sex on TV, and definitely less reference to “private parts!” What do you think?

Turkeys Queuing up for Badminton

I have to admit I was ignorant about the abilities of turkeys. There have been so many jokes about these birds I just figured they must be as stupid as people say. However, last spring I had the most amazing experience. I saw a flock of turkeys walking across our backyard, and I ran to get my camera. I got the shot of the birds, never even noticing they were headed for the badminton net.

Later on, I looked out and I was astounded when the turkeys began gathering around the net. From out of nowhere they produced racquets and birdies. They separated into two teams, males and females and began volleying the birdies across the net. It was amazing how good they were. Who would’ve thought? And you wouldn’t believe the noisy gobbling!

The female turkeys won three games to two. They celebrated by pecking the male turkeys all the way home to their nests in the woods. Unfortunately, none of the pictures of the turkeys playing badminton turned out, but I have this one to prove that turkeys will line up to play.

Do you have any anecdotes involving turkeys that you’d like to share?

Are you an Oxy Moron?

Is the expression “just plain crazy” an oxymoron? I am nominating it, because people are either plain or they’re crazy. How can someone be both? If you’re crazy you will automatically do many things that show that you are not plain: such as stopping in the middle of the sidewalk or the mall and turning around quickly and going the other way. Plain people don’t do that. They continue on for a few feet, pretend to stop at a store window and then slowly meander back the way they came. In other words, they are just as insane as the crazy people, but they know how to cover it up.

Perhaps all plain people are crazy people who know how to “act” plain.

How about people who talk to themselves? The plain people only do that when they are at home by themselves, so no one can hear them. Crazy people do it whenever they feel like it. That way they can hash out any type of inner argument from any angle. I’m sure lawyers must do this a lot when they are preparing for a court case. At least I would. Or course, I’m not a lawyer, I’m a crazy person.

Actually I once learned that it is healthy to talk to yourself when you’re alone, because part of your brain is listening and figuring out if what you’re saying is true or not. How many of us believe that one?

Another sign of being crazy is sharing way too much personal information at the first meeting. A plain person waits until the second or third meeting and then blows their new friend away with a whooper. I believe the term is TMI, too much information.

How about the person behind you in the check out line who gets too close? Are they oxy morons or just plain crazy? I have learned several defenses against these people who are  breathing down my neck.

1. I turn slightly and stick my elbow out so they can only get as close as the end of my elbow. Ha!

2. Leaving my groceries where they are on the conveyer belt, I move up to the front of my cart and let them hover around the back. That’ll teach them.

3. If the just plain crazy person still comes up behind me I turn around and glare at them. If I had more courage I’d say something like “Back off lady.” (These boundary breakers are usually women, aren’t they?)

Actually I would never have the nerve to say that to anyone. They might hit me. Glaring is about as violent as I get, oxy morons or not.

The Blog-O-Meter

The Blog-O-Meter was recently developed by Dr.  Seribe Rul Cortext of Weir Leary Labs in Berkeley. You can measure your blog progress with this unique chart. What’s your Blog-O-Meter reading?

How many wrongs make a right?

Has anyone else been bothered all summer by phone calls from political figures or parties? I made a mistake about a year ago and answered a questionnaire from a political organization and they must have given my address and phone number to all the other politicians. I have been getting two to four unwanted phone calls a day, plus more questionnaires and letters begging for money.

I have filled out so many questionnaires that I’ve lost my ability to tell right from wrong. This must be what happens to politicians. It’s not that they purposely make wrong decisions, it’s just that they have been in the political arena for so long, and filled out so many questionnaires, that they can’t tell right from wrong.

What is wrong with that picture? Do two wrongs make a right? Do two rights make a politician? Are we wrong to think that certain rights are right? Are we right to believe that certain wrongs are really quite wrong?

As far as the questionnaires go, I have decided to save them for the cold weather and use them as kindling in my fireplace. I think they will do more good there than returned to the senders, which causes more work for the mailmen and the underpaid secretaries. They could also be shredded and used for packing gifts or items to be returned to gift catalogs.

Are the Democrats right or are the Republicans right? Perhaps I should send out a questionnaire asking my friends and neighbors what they think about filling out questionnaires.

My feelings are summed up in one word:  BALDERDASH!

Scientists Discover Funny Bone

Recently, two scientists from Weir Leary Research Labs in Berkeley, California were found rolling on the floor of their laboratory giggling and laughing out loud. They professed to have found a picture of a funny bone on their x-ray screen, and they could hear it laughing. See below.

The scientists, Morton Jibberish and Phemius Phullhardy received a million dollar grant in 2012, to explore their hypothesis that the funny bone exists in many humans, but is entirely missing in others. When present in the human body, the bone is located between the true ribs and the false ribs, and has been named the mockternal articulation. A third scientist, Alred E. Gone, who worked with Jibberish and Phullhardy for several years, has been admitted for treatment to Shaky Grounds, the local mental hospital.

The Wedding Beefcake and The Beef

Women love weddings. We plan for years for the perfect wedding for ourselves and our daughters and spend large fortunes on dresses, food, cake, flowers, reception halls, a band, and invitations. Why do we do this?

Because we love it! It’s our dream day, the one day in our lives when we can let it all out and do exactly what we want. That is, of course unless the groom disagrees. The groom should be told from the get-go that he has no say whatsoever on anything that happens at the wedding, except when he finally says “I do” at the right time.

I think all women love weddings, even those who aren’t related to the people getting married. We get all sweet and gushy when we see a man who is finally giving up his freedom to take care of a woman because he loves her. Unfortunately, to witness this event, we really need to be accompanied by a man.

Have you ever noticed that more women attend weddings as guests than men? Think about it. When was the last time you saw a group of men telling jokes, drinking beer and throwing peanut shells in the back row of the church during a wedding? Honestly now, never! Men would much rather stay home dressed in their sweats than actually sweat it out in a suit in a church. I know there are exceptions to playing wedding hooky, such as pastors who must be in suits in church every week and don’t seem to mind. But in general, I believe men like to avoid getting dressed up and going to weddings.

What we women need to do is begin early in the season to prepare our man for his eventual attendance at a wedding. That’s why the invitations have those little cards you return, telling the bride who will be attending. Once your man has stood by and agreed to attend, and you have sent back your acceptance card, there is no wedding hooky permitted. It’s now compulsory.

At night while he is sleeping speak to his subconscious about it.

“How wonderful it’s going to be to see Megan walk down the aisle in June.”

He manages to wake up enough to mumble, “Who’s Megan?”

“You know the beautiful blond daughter of Jim and Carol.” During this nightly brainwashing be sure to stress how beautiful the bride will be. You know how men like to see pretty women.

A few nights later, tell his subconscious about the food.

“I hear they’re serving filet mignon at Megan and Chad’s wedding in June.”

“Who’s Megan?”

“You know, the beautiful blond daughter of Jim and Carol. She’s marrying Chad.”

“Who’s Chad?”

“Your friend, the groom, who is very fond of cocktails and steak.” In this case use beef and alcohol as the subconscious prize for attending the wedding.

During the pre-wedding brainwashing be sure to stress the beefcake and the beef! Subconsciously you are implanting the idea that the wedding will be a very gratuitous experience for your husband. Finally when the day of the wedding comes and your husband begins his pre-wedding whining you can remain firm in the thought that he will not be playing wedding hooky. Jim and Carol are counting on him to be there for the beef and the beefcake, and he witnessed you filling out the acceptance card.

This subconscious brainwashing should work unless your married to a man like my husband, who simply says, “I ain’t goin,” and tells you to go by yourself.

I’d love your opinion on this issue. Do women love weddings, while men try to avoid them?

Reblogged from June, 2012


A Childish Alter in Monterey

Proper English for Elves

Finally the telecommunications industry has come up with a great new invention, caller announce. I am a big fan. I try to enjoy the evening hours relaxing with my husband, watching TV. A phone call, especially from a telemarketer, is a bothersome interruption. Instead of relaxing, I jump up and down answering the phone.

With caller announce, I can sit still and not move a muscle, pretending the phone is not ringing. A weird voice will eventually tell me whose calling. The only problem is that the voice doesn’t know how to speak English. Yesterday the phone rang, and I was told the call was from Ben T. Bone, and I almost didn’t answer. Who is Ben T-Bone? Finally, my curiosity got to me and when I did answer, it turned out to be my good friend, Betty Bond. Go figure!

The phone doesn’t know how to pronounce the language. To solve this problem, perhaps the manufacturers could buy Rosetta Stone to teach the phone proper pronunciation. Or perhaps the phone company could give a class on understanding the caller announce feature. This is a bad idea: we know they’ll charge umpteen dollars to take the class.

I believe the answer to this conundrum is in genetic engineering. We need to raise a few very small people, elves, to learn English and live inside our telephones to tell us who is calling. The phone would need to be a little bigger in order to have space for a tiny apartment. We’d probably need to have tiny plumbing installed too. The elves could go to a special school to learn proper pronunciation of the English language.

Just now, I received a call from Washington DC. The phone actually knows how to pronounce Washington, but, how can a city call you? Is there a big central telephone somewhere near the capital building that picks up phone numbers from the ether and mysteriously dials the number? Does that mean that some politician or political organization needs money or votes to continue messing up our lives? I didn’t answer.

I must confess, sitting down in the evening and not answering the phone gives me a feeling of power. I have the power to sit still and not talk to anyone, if that’s what I want. I am the Goddess of Silence, the Queen of Incommunicato, as I sit upon the Lounge of Lassitude. I’ll let the elves do it.

What’s the most annoying idiomatic expression?

Continuing my rant on idiotisms, one of the most annoying idiotisms today is “where the rubber meets the road.” Tires aren’t simply made of rubber any more. To be a ‘smartism’ we would have to say:

“Where the styrene-butadiene co-polymer sheet, compounded with additives such as carbon black, silica and antioxidants in an extruded component impacts the layered concrete and asphalt lane for automobile traffic.”

I admit it, no one but the Michelin Man and his boss would say that. But, wait a minute, is one of additive to a tire antioxidants? Aren’t we supposed to be taking extra antioxidants with our vitamins? Why are we putting them in our tires? Does the Michelin Man need antioxidants to function properly?

Obviously we have gone ‘over the edge’, and we are being ambushed my another idiotism. Where does over the edge take us? Are we driving our new healthy tires over the edge of the layered concrete and asphalt lane for automobile traffic, or simply thinking so much that we are driven out of our minds?

In my case it’s the second answer. I went over the edge years ago and am now living permanently in that location. It’s between the styrene-butadiene co-polymer sheet and one card shy of a full deck!

Tell me, in your opinion, what’s the most irritating idiomatic expression?

Idiomatic Expressions

Whenever I hear a word that begins with the letter ‘idio’, I get suspicious. For instance, take the word ‘idiom‘. Daniel Webster defines that word as “an expression in the usage of a language that is peculiar to itself grammatically or in having a meaning that cannot be derived from the conjoined meaning of its elements.” What? Even the definition is impossible to understand.

Thankfully, most of us know from general usage it means a slang expression used and defined by the general public. If you read on in the dictionary, you’ll find the word ‘idiotism’ means the same as ‘idiom’. Thus, when I complain about idiomatic expressions I am complaining about ‘idiotisms‘. I like that word better, it makes me feel smart.

What’s your choice for the most annoying idiotism in the English language?

Here’s mine:

Your husband is driving you along the highway and he points out a car in front of you that’s anchored in the passing lane. He wants to pass, but he can’t.

“Women drivers” he says emphatically, moving over to the right lane to pass and honking the horn at the other car. Despite the fact that I’m happy we are getting around the car in front of us,  I take offense in behalf of all women, some of whom are good drivers.

I think if Mr. Webster had taken a few more minutes to listen to his wife Merriam, and allowed her to drive more often, some of these mind bloggleing idiotisms could have been avoided.


The word ‘certifiable’ is defined by Webster as “to attest officially to the insanity of” someone. It is used to refer to someone who is definitely crazy, not just a little impaired.

I wonder how crazy I am. Am I certifiable? If I’m certifiable now, how will anyone know when I actually become certified? What will I be after I’m certified (besides crazy)?

There must be a big office building somewhere (probably in Washington DC, where they need it most) that has a big stamp, and if you get sent there, they stamp “certified” on your forehead. Of course they use indelible ink so the stamp never comes off and everyone you meet after that knows you are a nutcase. The question is, why haven’t we seen anyone wearing this stamp? Surely everyone now and then comes upon someone who is certifiable and has been certified.

Obviously the men in white coats must be the ones who decide who is certifiable and who is not. Who gives the test? Can we study for the test, if we don’t want to be certified? Since Sigmund Freud and Carl Jung are dead, look out for Dr. Phil. He may secretly have the stamp hidden in his desk drawer and if he thinks you need it, Bam, you’re certified!

However, if this were true, some of the people on his show would surely have this stamp on their forehead. Why haven’t we seen it? Health professionals and accountants get certified, but are they ‘certifiable’ before that? Which comes first, being certifiable or being certified? There is a lot of confusion on this topic. Kind of makes you crazy doesn’t it?’


Usually I am the happy smiling wife, waiting for my husband to come home in the evening.  Besides being a writer and going out several days a week to line dancing class, I am the quintessential tidy housekeeper. I have always been compulsive about keeping the house clean and spotless.

Lately, however, I’ve been slipping, falling short in my efforts to dislodge June Cleaver from her throne as the perfect wife and mother.

Today, when my husband came home from work, I didn’t greet him at the door with a smile in my cleaned and starched apron (which I take off immediately so I don’t get it dirty). He came in and the lights were out and I was no where to be found. However, he found a clean pie pan sitting on the counter with a towel in it, as though it was half dried. I’m so embarrassed. He finally found me, in the study, in my lounge chair taking a nap. I was wearing what he calls my bat-girl mask (which is just an ordinary sleep mask),  and my mouth was hanging open. I’m so embarrassed.

I think I have a bad case of napapnea. It has caused me to fail once again to be the perfect wife. What will become of me? Will I lose my thirty-third bid for housewife of the year? Will I ever dust again? Do we have enough TP? These little details keep me staggering along the path of obsessive-compulsive disorder. And they make me tired.

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