obama us and tattoos

5pm. The party starts. There is one guest--Maeve, my granddaughter. One hostess--me. Difference in age: vast. CENSORED. Difference in energy level: vast. Very vast. The most vast.



The entertainment varies from 101 Dalmatians (viewed approximately four times)


to How The Grinch Stole Christmas , viewed approximately 3 times. Enjoyment of the Grinch is enhanced at my house because my fiberoptic Christmas tree still stands in the den window. Maeve asked for it to be lit and so what the heck, I plugged it in. I wonder what passing motorists might have thought. There goes Motew, out of whack again, I suppose.

Anyway, I am an expert on these films now. If you have any questions at all, dear reader, feel free to ask . By the fourth Dalmatian viewing, I was wondering how the man and woman, owners of the dogs, supported themselves, since the husband did nothing from morning to night except sit in the attic and write music. They have a maid too! An amiably plump housekeeper who looks an awful lotlike the Bibbity Bobbity Boo godmother in Cinderella.
Don't you think I'm right, dear reader?

While we're at it, Cruella DeVil is supposed to be an old school chum of the wife's, but looks at least twenty years older with a big swath of gray hair.

Right? Am I right?

But whatever.

Who's counting and all that?

In the name of pre-school entertainment, we relax our analytical scrutiny.



We play Trivial Pursuit. Well, we throw the die from the Trivial Pursuit game and count the little pieces that are attached to the game. Some I fear may now be embedded into the carpet.

We eat dinner. Well, Grandma Becky eats, but Maeve ingests approximately one half of a Pepperidge Farm chocolate chip cookie.

Bedtime begins at 8pm. It is not successful. We come downstairs for one more viewing of 101 Dalmatians.

I can't exactly remember everything after that. I think there was snoring and kicking by hostess and guest. There was definitely sleep deprivation, from which I am still suffering.

Anyway, it was fun and I look forward to the next one. And, uh, I need to buy more movies.




A rivedercci con amore
A bientot,
becky

That's how much I would accept to view Avatar. I know, I know, I know. Everyone says it's great. That's why my fee is not a full thousand. But a) I already wear glasses and how stupid would those 3D spectacles look on my face? and b) I don't like sci-fi c)I don't like fantasy d) I don't like cartoons or any movie where the characters have wrinkly, weird-color, computer-enhanced faces. If I can't get a computer to enhance my own face, and wouldn't I love that, then forget it
There is something about a rampaging werewolf that bores me to tears. Can't I go to a zoo and see that? Can't I read National Geographic? I don't knowthe first thing about this film except the title. It's enough. $500.
Also for $500 I would grudgingly sit through the sequel to ALVIN AND THE CHIPMUNKS. I believe they have called it THE SQUEAKQUEL and I am gagging now. I can only imagine the bedraggled parents sitting there in the dark, wishing for death. Make this one $500 and a flask of blackberry brandy.

In other news, dear reader, it was Fashion Week in NYC last week and as usual, the styles were unfathomable, the models cadaverous (except see below), and the hype unwarranted.
Is this Derek Lam model wearing gloves? Is it an all-in-one sweater? I have never heard of that. How do you do dishes in this thing? How do you thumb through a book? There could be problems in all areas of your life. Our minds are racing.
This I think is kind of cool. I would wear this. I can only imagine the cost. By Narciso Rodriguez, and I love that first name.

May I speak for all of us? GOOD GRIEF. Pamela Anderson has combined with Richie Rich for some line of clothing and I think we all know that must have been an alcohol-fueled discussion . I think we owe it to Pam to lower our eyes. She's getting into Ru Paul territory if you ask me.
If Pam was standing in line at Hannaford's (dressed normally), I'm sure she would be quite slender next to everyone else. But here? At Fashion Week? She looks the size of two of the regular cadavers. She has enough breast tissue for three of them.


Nothing says "hope" like "pitchers and catchers report." I love that word "report." It has a military sound to it; it suggests regimen and discipline and a plan for the future. I love all of those things. Catchers shown here practicing their vaudeville finale. (thanks to Boston Globe for all pix)
A bientot, dear reader.
A rivedercci con amore,
becky



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Hi Guys, Celebrate Valentine, which is said by the day of LOVE, here by some tattoo design that presenting Luv, love, cinta, amor, hayam, liebe,amour, kaerlighed, upendo, ...




Once again, Happy Valentine :) Wish love always brighten everyday....

This is a true story.

Names have not been changed. No one is innocent.

Don't read on if you are squeamish or faint of heart, dear reader.



Every day I retrieve my black ski parka from the peg in the hallway.

It's an ugly garment but warm.

Every day I put it on along with gloves and a hat.

Every day I venture forth into the wide world and walk a couple of miles. This keeps me young. COUGH HACK CHOKE. This keeps me bitching and grousing for hours.

A winter walk is not like a summer walk.


It sucks more.










It reminds you more that you live in a godawful hellhole. NONONO, that is NOT true. I don't mean it.

But when I'm walking, I mean it.





Eventually I reach the halfway point.

So.

Okay.

Anyway.

Last week I was walking along and I felt this odd sense of movement in the front of my coat, sort of below my throat but veering off toward my armpit (I really hate saying armpit).

That was weird, I thought.

Was it a bracelet? Some stupid jewelry item? Bra strap?

A few minutes later it happened again.

Now this was plain creepy. I yanked off the right arm of my jacket and walked along that way for a while, one arm in and one arm out. Sort of the half-ass walking technique.

This is ridiculous, I thought. And freaking cold. So I took the jacket completely off and gave it a good hard shake and what do you think fell out?

A MOUSE! A LIVE MOUSE!

EEEEK! SHRIEK!!!!

I am still getting over it. In truth, I think it has happened to me in other years, but with a hat, which is worse in some ways.

So on that note, dear reader, you may have been wondering what happened to my coverage of the Vatican.

I will tell you. I didn't have my camera that day. I will also tell you that it was so incredibly crowded that I really thought someone could have been trampled.
I guess the highlight was in the Sistine Chapel when our very knowledgeable guide Greg directed our attention to the Michelangelo depiction of Adam and Eve and exactly where Eve is positioned in relation to Adam. Ahem. Cough.



I don't know how many other tour guides address the blowus jobbus subject while standing in the Sistine Chapel, but hey, whatever. No one drifts off, know what I'm sayin'?

Papers abound. Only one bloop so far: "My mother waited up for me till one in the mourning."
A rivedercci, dear reader.
love,
becky