Tag Archives: budget

Things I Hate…And a Few Things I Love


Well folks, today’s your lucky day. Today I answer the question which I know has been nagging at you. That’s right. I’m going to share with you some of the things I hate and a few of the things I love. But not just any old things. This is my public admission of the various stuff about which I seem to be on the fringe of society in my preference…things I hate that the rest of the world loves and vice versa.

Tune into my new Where Are My Glasses? podcast, guaranteed to tickle your funny bone. Each episode is independent and features my hilarious take on life. Yes, you read that right – they’re hilarious.  If you’ve ever considered taking extreme measures to escape your cell phone contract, googled the best ways to break up with your hairdresser, struggled with social media, or stressed out waiting in the longest line (ALWAYS) at the grocery store, I get it and manage to find humor in those mundane moments of life.

The short episodes are perfectly suited to fit a busy schedule. Who couldn’t use a pick-me-up during your commute to work, over a lunch break, or after a long day at the office? So what are you waiting for? Check out Where Are My Glasses Podcast, available for FREE (that’s right…FREE!!) download on your Podcast App. Oh, and don’t forget to SUBSCRIBE!  Too lazy to search? The following link will take you directly to my most recent episode on your smartphone: https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/where-are-my-glasses/id1187030125?mt=2&i=1000384276011

So what are you waiting for? Another way to listen?? Well then, today really IS your lucky day because you can also click on the link below to visit our website, which offers you a chance to listen to episodes AND leave comments, which I would love you forever if you would take the time to comment. Really I would. 🙂

Where Are My Glasses Podcast Website:http://www.wherearemyglassespodcast.com/?p=228


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And Another Thing…

My most recent podcast episode featured a rant about the things that drive me crazy on Facebook. Maybe they annoy you as well. But somehow, I failed to include the biggest thing that was currently grinding my gears at the time and was the inspiration for the episode to begin with. So, this post today is my addendum to that episode. And if you haven’t listened to it (or maybe you’re on of those people who haven’t listened to ANY of them, in which case, WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR??? HMMM…???) please tune in because it’s funny and we’ve shortened each episode to fit into your busy days. So…that means NO excuses, people. Check it out. You will be so happy you did. 🙂


How could I forget to include the MOST annoying post that is BLOWING UP my Facebook feed? It was the reason for my most recent podcast episode and yet, I failed to include it. In that last episode, I went on a bit of a rant (one of my favorite things to do) about the many…MANY things that drive me crazy on Facebook. But I completely omitted one of the things that currently has me screaming at my newsfeed: the live cams. O.M.G. STOP POSTING THESE THINGS PEOPLE. JUST STOP. I don’t care about the giraffe who apparently has been on the brink of delivering the first baby giraffe in a hundred years. Well, I’m assuming it’s been that long because people are going absolutely BESERK over it.

Last week, a Facebook “friend” (I’m definitely redefining that word), was in a frenzy of panic thinking she had missed the momentous occasion. “Oh nooooo, did I miss it?” Her despair over that possibility made me wonder if she spends all day staring at her computer just waiting…waiting…waiting. And I could only imagine that she might have needed to use the bathroom and in those fleeting minutes, MISSED the giraffe birth. Thank God, someone immediately soothed her growing panic by assuring her that, No, no nothing had happened. She hadn’t missed anything. The mom giraffe is still laying in the corner of her giraffe pen. We’re all still waiting. THANK GOD.

In addition to the (supposedly) impending birth, I am seeing random pictures of giraffes now, too, because people are now super enamored with them. Really?? I’m beginning to suspect there might be something more sinister afoot; possibly some giraffe lobby which has begun to fear that the general public was SOMEHOW losing interest in giraffes and SOMETHING had to be done to correct that.

But, I’ve learned that giraffes are not the only phenomenon the Facebook population seems obsessed with. The other live cam barrage I’m experiencing is the Eagle Nest. I’m not sure if it’s a particular nest we’re all watching or just eagles in general. I know eagles are pretty cool but I’m eagled-out not only because of the endless, relentless, unremitting, continuous, and interminable (yes, I consulted a thesaurus for emphasis) live-cam posts on my newsfeed, but I also happen to be the recipient of nonstop photographs of eagles by an insane FB eagle-photographing aficionado. I want SO badly to comment: OMG we GET it…you like eagles.

I could go on, but I’ll spare you until a future podcast episode. You’ve been warned…


You can find the podcast two super easy ways:

Click on the Podcast App  on your Smartphone and type in the Search Bar: where are my glasses

 Or by going to our website:   http://www.wherearemyglassespodcast.com/      

 Oh, and don’t forget to SUBSCRIBE!

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Five’ll Get Ya Ten…Whether Ya’ Want It Or Not


I hate coupons. I hate when I strategically choose a checkout line based on a carefully formed algorithm I’ve devised: number of people in said line, approximate number of item in carts, the gender of said shoppers (sorry, women take longer), and the checkout clerk on duty, only to find myself  behind someone sifting through her (yes, her) neatly sorted organizer. And this display always occurs after I’ve emptied my cart and several people are behind me in line. At this point, I come to the crushing realization that I’ve been deceived and am now trapped. Kill me now. Why? Because what will unfold next is as predictable as a made-for-TV movie. After a relentless search for one or more coupons for each item on the belt, there is ALWAYS an issue with one (or more) leading to an insistence on the part of the customer that, YES, this coupon IS good for .25 off the purchase of four Suave deodorants on top of the posted sale sign on the shelf and the helpless clerk responding that, sorry, it did not ring up at that sale price, all the while thinking “I hate my job.” This leads to the clerk sending out an SOS to anyone within earshot to please go check the deodorant shelf for confirmation. Slow motion the next five minutes (because apparently, I’m the only one who is ever in a hurry), the messenger returns with the sign clearly stating the sale was, in fact, for Secret deodorant. The indignant customer then accuses the store of deceptive marketing because the Suave and Secret deodorants are neighbors on the shelf and bear a remarkable resemblance, and as a result, the sale price should be honored on the grounds of pain and suffering she endured during the whole checking-out ordeal. Time to cue the manager and for me to roll my eyes, heave a huge sigh and play Candy Crush on my phone in a feeble attempt to keep my composure.

Who are the real victims here? That’s right: me and all the other poor schnooks who were tricked into thinking this would be a quick in and out trip to the store. Finally, my moment has arrived. After ringing up my items, the clerk asks the inevitable question: “Do you have any coupons? Would you like to become a member of our Savings Club? You could save 20% off your first purchase and receive offers for huge savings throughout the year.” NO! NO! I do NOT want to save money. I just want to pay a lot more for my stuff and get the hell out of here. That’s when I see the look of gratitude on the clerk’s face and my suffering line-mates. Their eyes say it all. Thank you. Thank you. I nod back in a show of solidarity and a silent encouragement that they, too, will get through this.

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Cellll-A-Brate Good Times…

champagne uncorked picThis week marks the first time, in over twenty-six years, that I’ve experienced no kids in the house. And, let me tell you, it has been  FANTASTIC. I love my kids and all, but, OMG, it’s been SO nice to not have them around. I mean I’ve fantasized about this for many, many years. Yes, many, many. People would tell me, “Oh that’s what you think now, but just wait. You’ll miss your kids. You’ll miss the noise. It will be too quiet.” To which I respond, “Are you on drugs or something?”

It is impossible to be too quiet. In fact, my husband, who is slavishly working at his computer until the wee hours, desperately trying to finish tax returns before the dreaded upcoming deadline, is kind of making too much noise for me. It’s becoming more and more difficult to concentrate on my reality shows when I find myself continually needing to increase the volume of the television to drown out his sighing and moaning.

This small window into Life Without Kids is only temporary, though. My daughter will be returning home in two days from a spring-break trip to Florida. And in a few short weeks, her brother will be moving back home from school for the summer. With all his stuff. Unless, that is, he manages to get a job in Iowa City. I’m working on that now. Those are my babies. I’m working on the assumption that the older ones are gone for good – confident the married one has seen the last of his bedroom in the basement and my number two son might return home after finishing graduate school, but that won’t be for another year or so, according to my calculations. (I can just see him now dry-heaving at the thought)

But, I do see a light at the end of this tunnel when, come next fall, if all goes as planned, everyone will be safely tucked away in some sort of living quarters that is not here with me. The key word in that sentence is “away.”  Apartment… dorm…hostel…public housing…wherever, it won’t be at home. And, then, let the good times roll… But for now, I’ve just received a text requesting that I pay our U-Bill so my boy can continue his college studies without suffering the stigma of restricted privileges. Back to real life…fantasizing about the day my dog no longer lives with me. Another thing I’ve been thinking about for many, many years.


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Spring Fakeout…Or Why I Hate Daylight Savings

funny sleepy face baby pic

This morning , as I was trying to talk myself into getting out of bed amid my  Daylight Savings darkened room, I was reminded again how much I dislike this rite of passage into Spring. What follows is a blog I wrote back in March 2013. The only reason I mention the date is because of a reference to the winter we endured a year ago as not being so bad. No matter where you live in this country, you felt the frigid effects of that seemingly never-ending winter. So now that I’ve cleared that up, read on and see if you agree with me that Daylight Saving is just plain awful…

Daylight savings time is here again. The dreaded calendar date loudly announcing our shared loss of one hour of sleep.  As one who absolutely detests winter, I know I should welcome this moment enthusiastically, as it heralds the return of spring and summer. But, I question the whole one hour of lost sleep. I know logically, that’s the way it works, But, since logic and I have never been on very friendly terms, I contend that we actually lose about two weeks of sleep. Am I alone in this assertion? And, when I say two weeks, I don’t mean that April suddenly is here, with crocuses peeking through what is left of the snow, mistakenly believing Spring has  arrived. Oh no, we still have to endure March, which is the loooongest month of the year. I know, technically, it’s 31 days, but, it feels like about, maybe 52 days. That’s because, even though, mentally (and meteorlogically) spring arrives on March 1st, I’m convinced that’s just a ploy to get our collective minds off of the depressing winter which refuses to go away and on to sunnier thoughts.

The truth we Chicagoans, and all Midwesterners, know is that we are far from the danger-zone of snow storms. I can already hear many of you shrieking at your computer screens as you read this, “Hey, this winter wasn’t bad at all and last winter hardly existed.” Yes, I can feel the hate just oozing as you outdoorsy types derisively call me a wimp.  “Stop your crabbing and get out already and enjoy the beautiful winter wonderland.” To you, I say, “Oh shut-up and leave me alone, all nice and warm under my cuddly blanket.”

So, with Daylight Saving Time here, I suppose I should rejoice, and, fret not…I will (was anyone fretting?)  It will just take me a couple of weeks to re-adjust to the return of dark mornings, even though only temporary, I know, and brighter, longer evenings. So, to my comrades in hibernation, allow me to raise a glass to the return of sun and warmth. After I emerge from winter dormancy under my comfy blanky. Winter, be gone.  Welcome back, Spring.     🙂


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Post-Oscar Rants And My Advice To Future Nominees

82nd Annual Academy Awards - "Meet The Oscars" New YorkAhhh, the day after the Academy Awards. It’s a day spent reliving the moments of the prior evening. A day to indulge our superiority by loudly voicing unsolicited opinions (my favorite kind) about everything from the often unfortunate choices of Oscar formal wear during the insufferable red-carpet interviews to our views on the caliber of hosting performed during the show (um…awesome? Just wish we could have seen more of Seth).

It’s a day spent in either utter indignation over the venerated trophy being awarded to some undeserving actor/movie/hack or vindication that, YES, Argo won. Good for Ben Affleck. And, as always, exercising the enormous amount of self-discipline required to keep ourselves (or is it just me?) from dry heaving at the Academy’s inevitable love affair with certain films that defy rational thought. Continue reading

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“The hell with the rules. If it looks right, then it is”…Or Why I Suddenly Like Eddie Van Halen

MLA picSo, what I want to know is: when did the rule change? I am referring, of course, to the change in the rule concerning how many entered spaces is proper after a period. Of course, that’s what I’m referring to. I don’t know what you thought I was referring to. Just go with me on this, okay? I know I’m pretty old-school when it comes to some (okay, probably a lot of) things, but I do remember being taught, admittedly a few decades ago, that after a sentence, or any period for that matter (colon, for example) two spaces must be entered. Two abutting sentences must never come in such close proximity as one space, or God forbid, no space. This was firmly embedded in my teenaged brain back in the days of typewriters. Being a product of Catholic schools my entire life (well, except I was a Public for kindergarten), this was an unquestioned canon pretty much right next to the Ten Commandments as far as important rules to follow.  So, naturally, when my kids would, in a fit of exasperation, beg me to STOP using two spaces in between sentences, that it wasn’t necessary, I paid no heed to their unfortunate ignorance, while simultaneously regretting the gobs of money obviously wasted on their collective educations. Continue reading


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Have Stick Bag…Will Travel

MjAxMi0yNDdhODY2MDczNjNjZDc5Here we go again…in a few short hours, Mary Kate will begin her odyssey. Today marks her first music audition. Every weekend throughout the month of February, will find her performing her awesome skills before heads of departments at various universities.

We’ve learned a thing or two after having gone through this process a few years ago with her brother. At least now, we know what to expect. Mary Kate has  had the opportunity to meet and have lessons with almost all of the professors for whom she will audition. We didn’t do that with Peter, mainly because we were too dumb to know that we should. Or that that was even a “thing.” Pete was really on his own, and, fortunately,  had the chops to prove himself. But, it sure would have been nice to have a little advance coaching to prepare him (and Mom and Dad) for the whole audition process.

So, MK has been able to benefit from Peter’s baptism by fire. I know she’s nervous. Who wouldn’t be? But, she is a very talented percussionist and hopefully, the powers that be will recognize the gem standing before them in her cute skirt, new scarf and totally cool boots.  Auditions are scheduled after a student has already been admitted into the university itself. They determine whether or not she will then be admitted into the music schools within the universities.

So, wish us (yes – us) luck. I know she’ll be great, and I’m going to try to control the urge to psych out the other candidates vying for the coveted 4-5 openings. But, I gotta’ say, I’m not making any promises in that department. I am, however, bringing my rosary… Good luck MK!!! I know you’ll rock 🙂


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Just Breathe…


My mom, like many women, battled breast cancer.  And, like many women, won that battle.  Several years after her victory, though, a malignant lesion was discovered on her lung.  Our first thought was that the breast cancer had reared its ugly head for a  rematch.  When a biopsy determined that the cancerous cells actually originated in the lungs, the diagnosis was one that shocked the entire family:  lung cancer.  Stage IV lung cancer.  My mom had never smoked a cigarette in her life.  She had never been exposed to second-hand smoke, as neither her parents nor my father ever smoked.  In fact, she detested being around smoke.  She was one of the statistics you hear about.

Continue reading


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A Guide To Reality TV For The Discerning Viewer…

honey-boo-boo-finagly-1030-600x558[1]Well, June, I’m not about all them big fenagly words, either.  In fact, I hate big fenalgy words.  I hate big, fenagly people, too. Although, I’ve found that I’m quite fond of commas.  Interesting, I know, but, not my point.  Anyway, back to the fenagly words.  By the way, in writing this post, I questioned whether that is actually the correct spelling of the word “fenagly”, but I couldn’t find it in the dictionary, so I’m just going with it.  Anyway,  in the spirit of the new year, I’ve decided to come clean with a confession :  I’m hooked on reality TV.  Wow, that felt so good.  Now, before you go gettin’ all fenagly on me, let me just say that I am discriminating in my voyeuristic drug of choice.   Okay, that was kind of a fenagly word. Continue reading

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