April 23, 2009 - Posted by amazingzipperedwoman- 0 Comments
Every person in the world collects something - even if it’s just memories. I’m a huge collector. (I don’t mean I’m huge - just that I’m hugely into collecting.) I have many collections; mirrors, antique jewelry, and, in the last few years, all things heart-shaped or adorned. Tom also is a collector. He has an amazing assortment of guns, but probably his most impressive collection is what I refer to as his “garage collection.” This includes anything and everything that can possibly be shoved, stacked, wedged, hung, tied to, or otherwise placed in our garage. Our children have inherited our propensity to collect. Meghann collects panda bears. Katie collects music boxes and pigs. Patrick collects small, insignificant scraps of paper that are totally meaningless to the rest of the world.
Dear Readers, how many of you are aware that April is “Collections Month.” (I just made that up because I needed lead-in to the main part of this post.) Anyway, in honor of fake Collections Month, I have decided to start a new collection.
TOILET PICTURES
This is an ancient toilet. It gives new meaning to ”group activity.”
This toilet was constructed just for the Olympics in China. I wonder if it’s “bugged.”
This is a baby toilet.
This is a toilet in India. That guy in the window kills you if you don’t pay.
This is a desert toilet. Notice the scorpion going in the door.
This type of toilet can be found in many European countries. Be aware of the “Splash Factor.”
A golden toilet - for the person who has everything.
A hiking toilet. The view is not included.
This is a high tech toilet. It also plucks your eyebrows and flosses your teeth. For an extra charge it will floss your eyebrows and pluck your teeth.
This is a human toilet. Warning: Sparkling cleanliness not typical.
These are man toilets. They don’t look very comfortable for “sh*” oops “sitting.”
This is a “Go-on-The” “On-the Go” toilet. Can be moved to wherever the action is.
This is called a “pissoir.” I wonder why.
And my personal favorite - the remote control toilet. Push the red button once - your pants fall down. If you push it twice - your zipper unzips. It takes the guesswork out of gender identification.
Tomorrow I’m starting yet another collection. I’m going to save address labels from magazines and junk mail.
April 16, 2009 - Posted by amazingzipperedwoman- 3 Comments
It’s over !!! Norm Coleman needs a huge reality check. Because of Coleman’s inability to admit that Al Franken legitimately won the election for one of Minnesota’s Senate seats, over 5,000,000 Minnesotans have been denied full representation in Congress. Almost 56,000 citizens of this state have become unemployed and 9,000 families have lost their homes. These people deserve to have their voices heard by TWO elected senators. But Norm the Worm still can’t manage to see the writing on the wall.
Norm ran against Franken in the election, AND HE LOST. Norm demanded a recount, AND HE LOST. Norm demanded yet another recount, AND HE LOST. Norm insisted that he have his day in court, AND HE LOST. In both recounts, Al actually gained votes. How many times and in how many ways must Norm be told, AL FRANKEN IS THE NEXT SENATOR FROM MINNESOTA.
Norm Coleman has filed an appeal to the Court’s decision. Everyone in the country knows that Coleman has no chance. Leaders of the Republican party in Minnesota admit that Coleman’s only goal is to deny Democrats their 59th seat in the United State’s Senate. National Republican bigwigs who are encouraging Norm to continue his useless appeals, know that refusing to allow Franken to be seated helps deny President Obama his change agenda. Unfortunately their refusal also denies Minnesota voters their constitutional right to fair representation, strictly for partisan gain.
I’m fed up, and so are millions and millions of other American voters - from both parties. We are frustrated with the endless appeals. It’s time for Coleman to summon whatever small degree of dignity and self respect he has left and concede to Franken. Norm, it’s truly, finally and completely over.
April 10, 2009 - Posted by amazingzipperedwoman- 3 Comments
You bet my pants are traveling - right up my butt crack. You see, I’ve gotten so fat that my pants have become excruciatingly tight and this in turn causes me to have a severe case of “Apache Pants Syndrome.” (APS defined: A syndrome in which your pants ride up and wipe you out.) I’ve learned that there are actually some places where loose-fitting, stretchy yoga pants aren’t appropriate - weddings and funerals for example. It’s also not okay to wear yoga pants and a bejeweled sweater to your husband’s office party. I really thought the fancy-pants sweater combined with gaudy, huge jewelry would take the focus off the yoga pants.
It dawned on me last week that I give new meaning to the term ”rolling out of bed” in the morning. Soooooo, Weight Watchers has once again become my major form of entertainment. (So sad.) When I restarted my online membership, I discovered that WW has a whole new program. I guess THE
FLEX PLAN from last year has been replaced with THE MOMENTUM PLAN. I’m really disappointed. I was so looking forward to being “flexible.” Now I have to be satisfied with building “momentum.” But what kind of momentum; weight loss momentum, eating faster momentum, or rolling out of bed momentum that will allow me to continue rolling into the hall and eventually down the stairs.
Of course none of last year’s diet materials will work. One can’t read flex books when one should be reading momentum books. I went to my local Weight Watcher’s store yesterday and purchased all necessary materials. The mandatory accouterments I will need to build MOMENTUM cost me $19,721,08. Do I smell a scam?
April 8, 2009 - Posted by amazingzipperedwoman- 1 Comment
Let me begin by stating that Weimaraners are wonderful dogs. Esther manifests several of this breed’s best qualities. She is very smart, super affectionate and her loyalty to her humans cannot be questioned. But she is also desperately needy and could be considered medically fragile. She has a sensitive tummy and must be fed outrageously expensive food on a raised platform. She gets hot spots in her armpits during hot weather. (I personally think that she is shaving her underarms with a razor that has seen sharper days.) By far her biggest ailment involves her bladder sphincter. Apparently it is floppy. She sometimes pees while asleep. (She is currently behind the couch wailing that I have ruined her reputation and that she can never show her face in public again.) Our vet is treating her floppiness with estrogen. I have also invented a system which is helping her to have more dry nights. She gets a cookie every time she pees outside. She gets two cookies for extra long peeing sessions. I also try to somewhat restrict her water intake after 6:00 in the evening. The combination of the hormones and the AZW SUREFIRE BED PEEING CONTROL SYSTEM has almost completely cured this cute little doggie daughter.
Yesterday we had an unusual experience. She had just earned a pee cookie and five minutes later asked to go outside again. Thinking she might want to chase rabbits or take a sunbath like normal dogs, I once again let her out. She immediately went to her favorite tinkle area and squatted for approximately one tenth of a second. She then raced into the house and stood by the cookie jar. I quietly explained that her squatting efforts must actually produce urine to earn a cookie. She acted a bit disgusted and went upstairs to take a shower.
The tinkle queen preparing for her shower.
This is what happens when she just towel dries instead of using the blow dryer and curling iron.
April 6, 2009 - Posted by amazingzipperedwoman- 2 Comments
We have a new neighbor. We’re not exactly sure when he moved in, but his presence has created quite a stir. Tom calls him “Spike” and I refer to him as “Yellah Fellah.” Another neighbor swears his name is “Dick.” You can draw your own conclusion.
Isn’t he a handsome dude?
He towers above the roof of our second story.
The plant that gave birth to our new friend is from the yucca family. Its species is talless erectus and its genus is fuzzy floweress maximus.
Unfortunately, giving birth proved to be too much for Mama Yucca. As you can see she is starting to die. When Spike dries up and moves on to an arrangement on our patio, Mama will need to be removed. She will receive a proper burial.
From a distance it’s hard to determine if Spike is fuzzy or lumpy. I took this close-up so that my Dear Readers can see that Spike is actually covered with small flowers and grass-like fringe. I risked life and limb to get this shot because Spike is covered in bees. Apparently the National Federation of Honey makers is having their national convention in our front yard this week. I’ve heard buzzing sounds of revelry late into the night. Wow - those bee guys sure know how to party.
I LOVE LIVING IN THE DESERT.
April 1, 2009 - Posted by amazingzipperedwoman- 5 Comments
On Friday, March 6, the Big Irishman and I drove to Long Beach for a visit with Mom and to attend a wedding reception for niece Charlotte and her new hubby AJ. Patrick and Jessica left earlier in the day and beat us to Long Beach. Our son was very excited for the California family to meet his Lady Love. I must say, all in attendance were very impressed with Jessica. Not only is she a wonderful young lady in her own right, but she certainly brings out the best in Patrick.
The beautiful bride and her handsome groom.
Patrick and Jessica.
Early Sunday morning I packed up and traveled south to Irvine. My van and I had been invited to assist Meghann and Scott as they packed up their belongings and moved to Moorpark. We power-packed all day Sunday and Monday, and as you can imagine, Roscoe was a huge help.
Chillaxin’ with Movy on the couch. (Please notice my breathtaking hair-style.)
Boxed and ready to rock and roll. Goodbye Irvine.
Tuesday morning dawned early and the movers arrived at 8:00 a.m. sharp. I was given the job of taking Roscoe to the park while the truck was loaded. The plan had just one slight glitch. Meghann didn’t provide me with clear directions, so I became hopelessly lost. I finally found my way - after two hours of wandering the streets of Irvine. At least Roscoe used the time to nap in his stroller. We caravaned to Moorpark and arrived without incident.
Scott carries his bride across the threshold of their new home.
“THE CREW.” Roscoe has just learned that he won’t receive union scale for his labor.
Meghann and I spent the rest of the week unpacking boxes and more boxes and still more boxes. Tom flew into Burbank on Friday, March 14th to check out the new digs. We returned to Long Beach on Saturday to attend Dan M*****’s 60th birthday party. Wow, we have old friends. On Sunday we returned to Arizona. Monday morning found me chained to my desk, frantically marathoning to finish our taxes. I felt as though I was racing the clock - expecting a call from Katie at any moment to announce Weezy’s imminent arrival. I slaved most of the week. (This might be an appropriate time to mention that I will be asking the Big Irishman for a raise.)
Sure enough, on Thursday night Katie called with the news that her water had broken. While she labored - Henry supported, Tom made reservations and I packed. I arrived in San Francisco on Friday morning after a sleepless night. But, I’m willing to bet that my night was more comfortable than Katie’s. Eloise Grewe Johnson arrived at 1:30 a.m. - after a six hour, fast and furious labor… WITHOUT ANY PAIN MEDICATION. Those Brennan women - built for bearing children.
Our New Granddaughter - Eloise Grewe Johnson.
Shortly after her birth.
Weezy meets her sisters.
Born to shop.
All dressed up to meet Grandpa. Opening both eyes is just too much work.
“Nambe Baby” or should I say ”Nambaby.”
Cousin Roscoe is my best friend.
Auntie Meghann thinks Weezy is beautiful.
My first bow.
Grandpa’s girl.
The Johnson Family.
