I have not had “good hair” since high school and I am not going say how long ago that was! Throughout my adult life, I have been a professional salon hopper…..I don’t consider myself that picky especially when it comes to my hair, but I just could never find the right mix….a mix of someone who could work wonders with my frizz mop and not expect too much conversation while I sat there for two or more hours through the whole cut and color ordeal….also, when I am paying mega bucks at a salon it is because I am assuming my stylist is the professional and can tell me what would look good and what is a “miss”….I have found that most are too noncommittal and default back to “what do you have in mind?”. It doesn’t matter what I have in mind or if I like Jennifer Aniston’s new do…what matters is what is going to look good on me….well, did I ever meet my match!!!
Tag Archives: humor
Dog Court
The following is an excerpt from our book, Living The Dream On A Box Wine Budget (Petrina Collins and Casey Quinn) now available for download on Kindle and Kindle apps for iPad, iPhone, iPod Touch, PC, Mac, Blackberry and Android-based devices ($2.99 at amazon.com).
PETS: PART II – DOG COURT
Irrational behavior is often blamed on the rollercoaster ride of hormones. Whether it is labeled as PMS or menopause, women have a built-in excuse for bad decisions. Tami had the good sense to opt for major surgery to end the monthly madness. I think there was probably some medical reason for the surgery, but I’m sure it paled in comparison with the other unquestionable benefits of the procedure. Naturally, I was wildly jealous of her seemingly simple solution.
One day, before Tami’s epiphany of life without the threat of pregnancy, exhausting mood swings, or periods (usually resulting in husband, Jim, asking incredulously, “Again?”), she fell under the evil spell of estrogen and made a decision that eventually landed her in dog court.
The day started like any other. The kids were unrelenting in their pleas for a companion for their golden retriever, Rookie, who had already begun receiving AARP newsletters. Truth be told, I don’t think Rookie really had any interest in cultivating new friendships at that point in his life. Hmmm…sounds familiar. Maybe Tami and Rookie had more in common than we thought. Anyway, she let her guard down and found herself driving down the road that dead-ended with Tami asking herself, “What have I done?” And in the blink of an eye, a new member was added to the family. Tami knew the instant Max entered the car for the drive home that she had made a huge mistake. He was a beagle puppy, and like all puppies, was lovable at first glance. That’s the evil part of the whole thing. Tami hadn’t had puppy experience, having adopted Rookie after he’d passed that stage. His worst habit was his penchant for take-out pizza. And he most certainly had the common decency to do his business outside the house. Max had a lot to learn and seemed absolutely unwilling to do so. Continue reading
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Take This Job And Shove It
What was your worst job? I have a couple that come to mind immediately. When I was thirteen years old, I got my first job (hear that, kids???) as a hat check girl in a neighborhood restaurant/banquet hall on the South Side of Chicago. I lied about my age, saying I was fifteen. I was just a dumb kid who didn’t know anything, which made it far too easy to be completely taken advantage of. My hourly pay was a whopping $1.25, but the icing on the cake was that I was allowed to keep ten percent of my tips. That’s right – ten percent of MY TIPS. And on occasion, two of us girls would be working which meant those tips were shared between us. This was back in the seventies when the average tip was twenty-five cents, so we’re not talking retirement money, but that’s not the point. My dad was furious when he found out that, at the end of each night, I was expected to bring my little tip bowl into the office for the manager to divvy up (1 for me, 9 for them). Since this restaurant was in my neighborhood, the guests were often friends of my parents, and they would often slip a dollar into the bowl for me. My father told me that when they did that, it was because they thought that money was going to me, not management. I learned at a very early age the art of pocketing my tips.
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Things We’re Really Thankful For (But Won’t Admit To)
Now that Thanksgiving is over, I boldly take on the topic of things we are truly thankful for, but rarely admit to in public. Yes, I will be speaking for all of us. Don’t try to pretend that you don’t secretly harbor these thoughts. Your facade of PBS viewing superiority is about to to be revealed. Don’t fight it. Embrace your true feelings. Welcome the liberation.
That said, speaking on behalf of all of you, I am thankful for
…elastic waist bands
…cosmetics
…caller ID
…alcohol
…teachers who get the difference between an elective class and a core class
…the Forever Lazy (don’t have one, yet, but think it’s prettttty awesome)
…people who don’t roll their eyes when they’re behind you in line at the store and your credit card gets declined
…Egyptian Cotton- fragranced linen spray
…Press-On Nails
…store-bought rotissiere chicken
…short masses (you Catholics know what I’m talkin’ about)
…The Real Housewives of Orange County, Beverly Hills and sometimes New York
…Quentin Tarantino movies
…alcohol
…White Castle crave case
…generic brands
…Stephen King books
… and, finally, I am thankful that the Iowa Hawkeye football season has, mercifully, come to an end.
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That Really Grinds My Gears
Just about every Saturday morning finds my husband (who has sworn me to absolute secrecy as to his identity, so for those of you who know me, you, too are sworn) and me leisurely walking down Third Street in downtown Geneva, IL with a cup of Caribou coffee. We look forward to these strolls as a nice way to welcome the weekend. But, we’ve noticed a particular habit of many people that has my husband fuming. Here’s the situation: when you’re walking on a sidewalk, and are approached by others walking towards you, the natural (or so we thought) thing to do is for each party to move aside, as needed. So, why is it, then, that we are the ONLY ones who EVER make the move, often ending up on the grass while the oncoming traffic completely monopolizes the walkway? Hmmmmm??????
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Oh Where For Art Thou (Residing) Kirk Ferentz?
For the last couple of years now, my husband and I have been on a mission to locate the home of Kirk Ferentz. Who, you might ask, is Kirk Ferentz? If so, then you obviously do not now, nor haven’t in recent years, had a child attending the University of Iowa. Kirk Ferentz is the dreamy (my words, not my husband’s) head football coach of the Iowa Hawkeyes. And, if you’re wondering, no I am not one of those raving lunatic football fans who think that football and athletics in general trump all else in life. Truth is, I really don’t care about football. Or basketball, or any other sport. I don’t have anything against the games or the athletes involved. I completely understand the excitement and fun surrounding a game and admire the incredible talent and dedication of the athletes. I’m just really not all that interested in the actual game. Having said that, my husband and I have traveled to Iowa City for almost every home game and are loyal fans of the Hawkeyes because the electricity in the air at a Big Ten football game is palpable and it’s a lot of fun being a part of that. This year, we’ve had the added excitement of our son, Peter, playing in the drum line of the Hawkeye Marching Band.
But, aside from the game-time lunacy, we have become slightly fanatical about a different aspect of the aura of Hawkeye football – learning more about our fearless leader, Kirk. Mainly, where does this guy live? Are we stalkers? If so, then we’re not very good ones, because we still are completely in the dark as to where he “hangs his hat”, as my dad used to say. His income is public knowledge, so based on that, we figure he must live in palatial luxury. And, while we haven’t searched the entire Iowa City limits, we have yet to locate any area that fits what we envision. But, we’ve just recently come up with the rather surprising possiblity that he may live in a modest home in a regular neighborhood. After the terrible news regarding the football staff at Penn State came out, Joe Paterno was seen peeking out from behind a draped window of his house, which was extremely modest and certainly not the kind of house we ever pictured our Kirk living in.
We looked at each other and almost in unison said, “Could it be we’ve been combing through the wrong neighborhoods all this time?” Maybe he does live in the house with the big Hawkeye mailbox or the one with the wooden silouettes of the gardeners bent over. Or maybe the one with the sign that reads “Back door friends are the best”. Hmmm…it was something to consider. We decided we needed to completely revamp our game plan on our next trip out. Of course, the reality is that we know we will never learn the location of his home, but it’s a lot of fun trying! Our new hobby has our kids a little nervous, though. Of course, our oldest son, Mike, responds as he seems to be doing with rather disturbing frequency, when he learns of questionable behavior by his parents, with his usual concerned voice that what we’re doing might be illegal. He’s becoming a bit of a broken record. I think they’re just worried that one night they’ll be the ones peeking out from behind drawn curtains when the Iowa City police nab us. Hey, at least we have common interests and enjoy doing things together. And after 26 years of marriage, that’s pretty good.
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Desperately Seeking Don: My Skunk Stripe Is Back!!
I have not had “good hair” since high school and I am not going say how long ago that was! Throughout my adult life, I have been a professional salon hopper…..I don’t consider myself that picky especially when it comes to my hair, but I just could never find the right mix….a mix of someone who could work wonders with my frizz mop and not expect too much conversation while I sat there for two or more hours through the whole cut and color ordeal….also, when I am paying mega bucks at a salon it is because I am assuming my stylist is the professional and can tell me what would look good and what is a “miss”….I have found that most are too noncommittal and default back to “what do you have in mind?”. It doesn’t matter what I have in mind or if I like Jennifer Aniston’s new do…what matters is what is going to look good on me….well, did I ever meet my match!!!
I was going through my usual “I need to go to someone new” routine when I stumbled upon Don, who billed himself as the “makeover king”… I immediately called for an appointment; and after what turned out to be a 30 minute phone interview, Don decided he liked me and agreed to give me an appointment for the following Saturday. I was warned by him to not even be 1 minute late or he would not see me!! He also didn’t want me coming any earlier than my 10:00 am appt or he wouldn’t see me– I was to come at exactly 10:00 am. Now since every clock/ watch/iPhone/ipad I own has a variance as to what the actual time is, I was very nervous about getting the timing right and getting to actually see Don ….luckily, I hit it right on the button and my appointment was underway…. Continue reading
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Feel The Burn, Wet The Whistle
I hate to exercise. There, I said it. And I really hate fitness snobs in their cute little outfits who act so superior about their workout regimens. Actually, the soreness that comes after a workout doesn’t usually bother me so much – in fact, it kind of makes me feel proud of myself. I think it’s the sweating that comes with working out that I really hate. And, I’m never really sure where to fit a workout into my day. Before work is out of the question. I’m just not that dedicated and am quite sure I don’t want to be around other people who are at that hour. But, I don’t want to do it after I’ve showered for the day, either. My husband (one of those fitness types) will take several showers during the course of a day. But, as I spoke of in a previous blog, the whole shower/shampoo thing is a major hassle to have to do more than once.
So, I usually meet my friend, Marge, a couple of days a week in the late afternoon at a nearby fitness center. Our exercise days are always Tuesdays and Thursdays, unless we absolutely cannot get together. For instance, if she’s stuck at work or I have a family commitment or she has a hair appointment or it’s too cold outside or we got there and didn’t see the other’s car so we left or we’re just not in the mood. And, no, we cannot work out alone. No. But, in our defense, we’ve actually come a long way since our first days of trying to get fit.
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A Hairy Situation
I recently learned about a new product on the market – a dry hair shampoo. Does anyone remember “Pssst”? I’m pretty sure that was the name of a similar product back in the seventies. That one didn’t last too long, but I understand this new version has real science to back up its claims. The introduction of this product validates womens’ complaints for years about what a pain it is to wash our hair. And I’m not just talking about waist-length hair, either. Men don’t get it because, for the most part, their entire hair shampoo/style may take up to one minute. Continue reading
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Close Encounters Of The Rabid Kind
My son recently had a frightening experience as he and his fiance were enjoying a leisurely walk along the lakefront on one of the beautiful fall days we’ve been having lately in Chicago. They noticed something on the ground and Laura wondered aloud what it was. Mike said it looked, at first, like a piece of garbage, but as they got closer, it appeared to be a dead bird. Just as they were passing it, the thing opened its mouth, exposing fangs, and hissed loudly for several seconds and then spread its wide wings. It was a bat. In order to understand Mike’s terror at that moment, I need to take you back many years to a warm summer day when I thought it would be fun to take my four young children for a walk along the Fox River.
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