Big Heads, Skinny Bodies

Okay, maybe it's just me.

In fact, it could really be just me. Most of the "gorgeous Hollywood stars" have very big heads.

I don't mean their heads are swollen with pride. I mean they have large craniums. I saw Farrah Fawcett in person once in the early 1990's when she was filming a movie in San Francisco.

Her head was huge and her body was tiny. I also saw Clint Eastwood at his "Hog's Breath Inn" restaurant in Carmel. Mr. Eastwood's head was way big for his tall skinny body, (in fact he had a huge forehead that never showed up in "Dirty Harry"). His big head did not keep my earrings from flying off when I first saw him and landing on the table next to ours, however.)

My daughter's earrings flew off when she encountered Roger Moore filming in Marin County. And my mother's earrings flew off when she rode an elevator with Clark Gable at Cedars of Lebanon Hospital in LA in the early 1940's. Obviously, earrings flying off ears runs in the family. Or maybe everyone who wears earrings sees something sort of amazing and their earrings fly off. I really don't know.

If you look at Megan Fox in this photo, notice that she has a normal sized head, but a tiny body. She has little toothpick legs along with her regular sized head.

I'm not picking on Megan in particular. She's beautiful. It's just that I can't help but wonder if big heads and tiny bodies photograph better than normal bodies and small heads. I have never seen a star who had a small head and a somewhat bigger body.

Another thing is that almost all of the Hollywood actors and actresses popular today have "Chicklet" teeth. They have bright white. very big, completely perfect teeth. They don't look like normal teeth at all, and they look too big for the people's mouths.

So if you have a kid with a big head and a little body and huge bright white teeth, get them in drama class and find them an agent. You'll probably get money out of it if you act as the kid's manager. Then you can pay for your other pinhead kids private school with all the money you make.

A Football Story

This is article was contributed by the noted Navajo scout and guide, Alex Manydogs.

In the summer of 2001, I was being sent to Prince Sultan Air Base, Saudi Arabia. At the time, I was attached to an Air National Guard Combat Communication squadron and was part of group that supported the “no-fly” zone aka Operation Southern Watch. The trip from home in Alameda, CA to Saudi involved a one night stay over in Baltimore.

Normally, if you have a flight out of Baltimore Washington International (BWI), you stay locally so as to not miss that all important military flight (missing your scheduled military flight will definitely cost you a stripe). Therefore, all military folks do the right thing and stay close to airport.

During my short stay, I wanted to make my way down to the Baltimore downtown area and have seafood for lunch. So, I tried to enlist other folks in my team go with me but they had rented a car and were heading to Washington DC. There was one lonely guy in the hotel lobby who didn’t have plans.

He was an active duty Air Force guy from Columbus Ohio named Jessie. He introduced himself as a Christian and told me that he was flying to Saudi Arabia for a short 3 month deployment. That’s cool, I’m Alex and I’m Pagan. Would you like to head into town and get lunch? He said that he would and asked how would we get there. I said that we would take the train. It’s cheap and shouldn’t take us too long. He agreed and we were on our way.

What I didn’t know is that the train from BWI to downtown Baltimore proper takes you through some of the hardest neighborhoods in Baltimore. And of course, a lot of the locals use the train to get to work.

Well, Jessie and I made our way to the train station and boarded the train that heads to downtown Baltimore. When we got aboard, we were the only two passengers. I’m talking to Jessie about home and family and he is doing the same. As we hit the first stop, 3 men get aboard. These dudes were hard looking but I can tell they were just working stiffs making their way to work. Jessie started to go quiet. His body language changed and started to look a bit worried. I continued to tell him about home and his responses were much shorter and volume much lower.

As we rode through a neighborhood called "Linthicum Heights", the train really started to fill up. Most (if not all) were African Americans and some looked pretty “hard”. We had guys in front of us, in back and our one side. No one spoke except me (and in a lower volume). The new passengers didn’t appear friendly. My new friend Jessie was getting extremely worried. He stopped talking. His face turned red and looked away as to not face any of the new passengers. I saw this as sign that things might turn sour. I did do a quick survey of the other passengers and they appeared to be talking to each about us. I wasn’t absolutely sure but it seemed that way.

Bottom line is, if we stayed on, death was likely. If we got off, we definitely would be dead because we were making our way through some tough neighborhoods.

So, I said to Jessie, “Do you know that Baltimore has one of the best NFL teams in the league? Shit these guys stomped on the New York Giants during the Super Bowl. They are simply awesome. And, they have an awesome stadium and an awesome fan base. People here love their Ravens”.

Jessie whispered an acknowledgment. I went on to say how awesome it was to watch the Raven defense get sacks and turnovers. Well I noticed that a few “ears” went up and expressions change. Then, one guy at front of the train says, “And did you see that one play where Duane Starks intercepted that ball and returned for a touchdown. Shit, we had Kerry Collins’ number”. And another guy said, “Shit, man that wasn’t the baddest play, it was the one where Jermaine Lewis returned the kickoff, that’s what got us started!!!”

Before too long the whole train was talking about the Ravens. Lots of laughs and memories of a kick-ass Super Bowl where the Ravens stuck it to the New York Giants and took XXXV championship.

As were making our way to our final destination, one of the passengers says, “Where you from?” I have a rule, if I need to look hard, I say Oakland!!! (with emphasis I might add). If I need to appear sophisticated, I say San Francisco. Well this was one of those moments. I said, “Oakland”. The guy says, “Oakland is my second favorite city and so are the Raiders. Where are you guys going anyhow?” I said were in search of that wonderful Baltimore seafood. Well we had 20 plus Baltimore visitor consultants all debating their favorite seafood restaurant (some of which they just heard of but never been to).

As we exited the train, hands were shaken, pats on the back and instructions on how to get to our destination and above all, places to avoid (else, you might end up dead, robbed or raped and not in order either).

We enjoyed our lunch and toasted our beers to the Baltimore Ravens.

Portrait of a Control Freak

Now, I know I look so sweet that I might melt if I was out in the rain.

I reached the stunning realization two days ago, that I am in fact not sweet at all. I am a control freak.

There! I've said it! It's like, "It's my way or the highway!" with me and always has been.

Toilet paper is supposed to be placed so it rolls forward, not backward. Why? Because I say it's wrong to do it the other way!

Parties are supposed to be planned and menus, flowers, and wines decided two days before the event at a minimum! Why? Because I say so.

The perfect "dinner party" includes no more than 8 people. Any more and it gets chaotic. Outdoor lunch with a bbq is fine for up to 10 people. Why ten? Because that is the correct number to have. Using paper plates, cups, or plastic utensils is wrong. Why? Because I say so that's why.

If I entertain, I pull out the linen cloths and napkins, the sterling flatware, and the good china and crystal. It's just how I roll. If I like you enough to invite you, I want it to be a perfect and aesthetic experience for you. I choose the music to play. Nothing is left to chance.

Everyone is not like me. When people are not like me and they do things "their way", I have trouble adjusting to it. My son in law wanted to have a birthday party for his wife at my house yesterday. I said fine, but because Alex is away, I told him that I would need his help. He said, "Don't worry, I'll take care of everything."

I was full of trepidation because my son in law and my daughter are people who do not plan. They like to say "we fly by the seat of our pants". I am a planner and an arranger, and as I mentioned, a control freak.

But this time I decided to just "let go". He and I spoke once and he told me there would be a total of about 16 people that he had invited for 1 PM on Sunday, September 12. I panicked and said to change it to 3 PM because I knew we would never have enough time to get things set up by noon or so. He agreed and told me he would be over by noon on Sunday to do whatever was needed.

The yard was sort of a mess with leaves, and tables needed to be hauled out and set, and grocery shopping done. I thought that my daughter had married a crazy man if he thought this would all come together in 3 hours. But I bit my tongue and said fine. (Relax. It's HIS party, not my party.)

He arrived with Cyrus, my 17 year old strapping grandson, and Arianna, my beautiful 14 year old grand daughter. They got brooms, swept the back yard, hosed down the bricks, pulled out and set up the tables and chairs, went to the grocery store and got everything done. They were late in showering and getting dressed (about 3:15) but most people weren't here until 3:30 anyway.

Wonder of wonders, it was a lovely party and everyone had a great time. And I can honestly say it was not "my way" at all.

I met A Man From Africa

I went to San Francisco today to take my darling Arianna to lunch for her 14th birthday.

On the way, I met a man from Africa. He was a good looking well dressed fellow. This man approached me and requested my help in navigating the BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit) system.

I was very pleased to help him. He was a beautiful man, with very prominent scars on his face. He had a very clipped British accent and told me he was from Britain. He had the pronounced facial scars that said his origins were in West Africa.

I have had numerous friends from Africa, and I recognized the scars. When I told him this, he smiled and asked me if I was also a medical doctor. He explained that he was a doctor here for a medical convention. I explained that I was far too stupid to be a medical doctor.

He assured me that as kind and beautiful as I was, I must be far from stupid. I love it when that happens!

He went his way and I went mine. Still, for a tiny second, I thought about spending the day with him. Then I realized Arianna would be disappointed. And I took the other escalator.

He went his way and I went mine.

There Are Just So Many Places To Place Blame

Terry Jones, a pastor at a small church in Florida has changed his mind and canceled "Burn a Quran Day".

Jones had received pleas from everyone including President Obama to cancel this stupid, dangerous, un-American, and insensitive event.

The cancellation was announced this afternoon. Jones says that he reached a deal by exchanging the "Burn A Quran" scheme for ensuring that the proposed New York Islamic Center will be moved completely away from Ground Zero. (Apparently, this is not accurate and no such agreement has been reached.)

Jones has a congregation of about 50 people, which is considered fairly small by church standards. I wondered why CNN was giving this guy Jones "face time" when I turned on the news last week. Watching the interview, it became apparent very quickly that Jones was not a learned man, nor an informed one.

If just the phrase "Book Burning" doesn't conjure up the ugliest images I can imagine, I don't know what does. I have trouble just blaming Jones, who is obviously lacking in intelligence and misguided. The media who turned Jones into a star shares some of the blame for this situation. Taking a non-story like this "mainstream" and international was irresponsible of the media.

There are preachers who are part of the lunatic fringe. They espouse everything from hatred of homosexuals to bombing abortion clinics. But why does the media choose one and not the other to put on camera. I can only assume the media chooses topics that will bring more viewers and ratings. But at what expense?

Frankly, I would prefer that people who spew hatred not be on television. I would let them and their followers self-destruct in privacy and isolation.

The Best Decison He Ever Made

Yes, I did wear a strapless leopard print bustier to my son John's wedding reception.

He married a young woman named Kate. At the time, I think I was hating to lose a son, and not realizing I was gaining a daughter.

In fact, it took me a few years to fully understand that I had gained more than I had lost. John and Kate have given me four of the most perfect and beautiful grandchildren ever. I have Hannah Rose, Emma Rose, Abigail Rose and Aidan Fitzgerald. It really does not get better than that!

Hannah, could leave home tomorrow, at the age of 16, join any army and be a General by the age of 20. Emma is also a stunningly beautiful girl and totally owns my heart. Abbey is a character and I adore her. Aidan is the most sensitive and intelligent little 9 year old boy who ever lived.

Back to my son's bride, Kate. She and I were "estranged" for years. I hated that but blamed her. What nonsense! I suffered from the normal "how could another female replace me!" syndrome.

Thank God it passed.

Life is so much better when you have love in it. Don't waste a moment of time on any other emotion. And they say, a son is a son till he takes a wife, a daughter is a daughter till the end of your life. Don't believe it!

My daughter-in-law, Kate, is the best thing that ever happened to me and my son. I adore her and I'm so glad she's mine!

A Catholic You Were Born

I had the good fortune (or misfortune) to be raised Catholic.

The early indoctrination was a mixed blessing to me. I think I was about 3 when I was baptized. By the age of 7, I was seriously thinking that I might have a calling to be a nun, or a bride of Christ if you prefer.

At the age of 12, I had a confirmation ceremony and I was really hooked. Two years later, I began to think it was pretty much bunk and that I had been sold a bill of goods by the nuns and by my parents.

I made up sins to confess until I was 14. Then I actually had sins and I conveniently exchanged them for other sins when I went to confession. I figured I was covering my bases.

I did the penance for being less than honest, but did not admit to stealing cigarettes from my mother, (in other words, one "Our Father" and 10 "Hail Marys").

A year later, I admitted to "impure thoughts" although the truth was I "proved my love" to a high school romeo and then more or less quit going to church.

I read where the Catholic Church (the Vatican) is trying to save a woman in Iran from being stoned to death for a charge of adultery. In the first place, shoot, if that's the law, that's the law. I'm sorry Girl, but you took your chances and lost. I would have done the same thing.

The Catholic Church seems awfully damned concerned about this woman's punishment. (Why only in Iran? Why not in Saudi Arabia too?) As far as I'm concerned why isn't the Catholic Church telling it's parishes to wrap up in a condom so they don't spread AIDS? Surely that's as important as one woman in Iran.

As long as the Catholic Church is encouraging "no contraception" for it's members, I have to take the whole thing a lot less seriously. We have seriously overpopulated the planet. Is that less a sin than using a rubber?

Sorry, but bullshit is bullshit!