The "Ho Bus"

My husband, Alex, and I went to a ballgame in San Francisco a few weeks ago with my daughter Sheila, her husband, and their 2 kids.

About 10 PM, we were walking back to the car after the game when I saw something that had not been on the radar when I lived in the City a few years ago.

There was a bus with a plexi-glass window going down the street right in front of us. In the bus window, there were two young ladies in g-strings gyrating their butts against the glass. Loud music came from the bus sound system.

I was somewhat amazed when the two girls moved aside and there was a third young woman working a stripper pole in between them. I asked my daughter, "What is that all about?" and she replied that it was the "Stripper Mobile" from Larry Flynt's Hustler Club up on Broadway. and the girls are "Hustler Honeys". Uh huh.

A lot of men ran out into traffic to get behind the bus. Cars swerved, and people (men mostly) catcalled out of car windows.

Arianna, my 14 year old granddaughter quickly corrected her mother by saying "Oh Mom, that's just the "Ho Bus"! We see it all the time."

The performers certainly had a crowd of people watching and trying to follow them. Now, since we have outlawed hand-held cell phone conversations and texting while driving, I guess that legislators feel these g-string clad strippers are not that much of a distraction.

I suppose that because it was at ten in the evening, I thought the "Ho Bus" was fine. But apparently they drive around during the day too which I think is a little strange. (It's kind of like the 7:30 AM hookers out trying to drum up some business before guys go to the office). I'm not interested in much of anything at 7:30 AM myself. In fact, nobody is supposed to talk to me or touch me until after 9 AM.

I think the "Stripper Mobile" sounds pretty cool, but so does the "Ho Bus". Call it what you will, I thought it was just amazing.

It's So Not My Season

I hate Fall.

I've always hated Fall. People can talk all they want about the leaves turning and "oh how beautiful", but people, those leaves are dying. They fall off the trees and at first they are red and gold, and then they turn into dead and decayed.

Leaves are falling like hookers on an icy slick sidewalk after too many tequila shots at a used car salesman's convention in Reno. But at least the hookers can usually get up again. Leaves can't.

Stupid squirrels are grabbing everything they can lay their grimy little rodent paws on and running everywhere leaving nuts and shells and acorns in their wake.

Also, the light is weird. It can be sunny, but it's a watery sunny. The skies can be blue, but it's a watery blue. Oh, and before long, it's dark when you get up, and it's dark way before you go to bed. There is only that puny watery light in between.

I had flowers and magnificent roses. What do I have now? Ugly bushes with no flowers, that's what I've got. The only thing I can count on is my oak tree. It never loses its leaves. Everything else gets brown and dead. What is pretty about everything dying in front of you? Or if not dying, going into a coma until next April.

Winter vegetables are coming! So what's so great about brussels sprouts and squash and apples? Okay, they are pretty good but still. I like strawberries and peaches! I like corn on the cob. I like summer vegetables and fruits.

Thanksgiving is right around the corner. If there is anything nastier than a big old dead naked turkey I don't know what it is! Ugh!

My daughter says Fall is her favorite time of the year. Uh huh. Look at all the wonderful turtleneck sweaters and patterned tights, wool trousers and boots you can wear. Great! Frankly, I hate turtleneck sweaters and I hate wool trousers and I don't like boots either. I like strappy high heel sandals, silk blouses, tank tops and skirts and capris.

I should have been born a bear. I could eat huge quantities of food and then hibernate until the world comes alive again in the Spring.

Winter bothers me less than Fall. Winter at least is honest about what it is. And the light improves a bit in Winter too. It's not as watery. Plus, Winter has Christmas and my birthday so I get presents. That makes it worth staying up for.

This Guy Walks Into A Bar

Alex and I went to dinner last night in Oakland at a pretty upscale place.

I pulled out a black and white Diane Von Furstenberg dress to wear and figured why not go all the way? I got a pair of sheer black nylons that have a silver anklet around one ankle. Very jazzy! I put on the 4" stilettos too since I knew I would not be walking that much.

Yeah, okay, I looked pretty good. We had a lovely dinner and decided to extend the evening with an after dinner drink at "Z's" in Alameda, about 6 blocks from home. Z's is a vampire bar but hey! You only live once, right?

I spotted two white haired men and avoided any eye contact with them because I knew they were vampires. Alex and I walked to the end of the bar and I took a seat. Alex said "I'll be right back. I have to go to the bathroom." What is it with my husband that he has to go to the bathroom every place we go? I never go to the bathroom anyplace but home, except if we are traveling. Then I go, of course, but only in our hotel room.

Anyway, I'm sitting there minding my own business and this guy walks into the bar. He spots me sitting alone at the end and comes over and takes a seat one stool away. He vaguely smiles in my direction and I vaguely smiled back at him. He seemed to be working up the courage to say something to me. About then, Alex walked back and took a seat next to me.

The guy got up and stretched and shook his head. The bartender took our orders. The guy stood walked up and down a few times while he waited for his drink. Alex looked at me with a quizzical expression on his face. I shrugged. (I'm cool like that.) Our drinks came and the guy drank his pretty fast and walked out. Alex asked me "What was that all about?" and I replied "Hell if I know." (Yeah, right.)

A few minutes later, the guy walked back into the bar and headed right for me. He mumbled something like "I know you from somewhere" and I shrugged a little. He handed me a piece of paper and said "please read this." I smiled (vaguely again) and put the paper in my bag.

Alex said "He just gave you his number!" and I said "I don't know what he gave me." (I told you I was cool.) Alex said "I can't believe you put that guy's phone number in your bag." I shrugged. (Damn I'm good.)

I waited until the vampires had left the bar and for anyone close enough to see what had transpired to move on. I opened my bag and took out the paper. I tore it into small pieces and wrapped it in a cocktail napkin and asked the bartender to throw it away for me.

It was time to go home.

Why I Won't Have A Face Lift

This is an example of what I think would be a good face lift.

This woman looks years younger, don't you think? Of course the hair is different too. And the glasses are gone.

Yeah, she looks pretty good. Still, I will never go "under the knife". Why?

If you started at my face, you'd have to go on to my neck. My boobs would also have to be "lifted" along with my butt. Hell, I think my arms would have to be lifted (particularly the little jiggly bits), and even my hands. I would need a thigh lift, a knee lift, and a tummy tuck while we are at it. Plus my ankles could be made tighter as well. We won't even go into the vaginal rejuvenation although it's also an option. I understand I can even be made a virgin again, if that's of interest to me. Imagine giving your husband an anniversary surprise like that!

I don't knock anyone who feels it would make them feel better to look younger. But frankly, I don't mind my outside matching my inside. I am in an age group where a lot of my friends have opted for "little cosmetic enhancements". Bless their hearts, that's great if it makes them feel good.

I don't mind being my age. I don't mind looking my age. I do mind the idea of someone cutting off my skin or giving me a chemical peel, or sucking out my fat! Ouch! If I have imperfections, (and I guess we all do), I don't mind them. In fact, I like them just fine. If my boobs are not as high because of the sag of maturity, I think that can be kind of sexy. If I've gotten a little "squishy" that's fine with me. I have all the markings of a woman who has lived life.

Frankly, I'd rather be who I am now than who I was when I was 30. I don't even mind the supposed ravages of age and gravity. You'll never "be" 20 years younger than you are. Getting older is not a curse. Fearing getting older is.

The Things You Do For Love

Today was the San Francisco Giant's Parade.

The Giants won the world series in San Francisco for the first time ever. The City of San Francisco hosted a major victory parade for the team and the fans.

Although I've been hobbling around for the last 4 days or so, (or lying flat on my back) there was no way I was going to miss this once in a lifetime event.

Did any of you see the movie "Frida" starring Salma Hayek? If you saw it, you may remember the opening scene that showed Frida being carried in her four poster bed to get to an show that was exhibiting her work. I think I may have pictured myself in somewhat the same situation. Frieda's art show was important for her. The Giant's parade was important for me. Frida was on her deathbed when she was carried to her show. I was merely suffering from a sprained lower back. No contest. I was going.

My husband took off work to go. My son took off work to go. The kids were allowed to miss school for the day. My daughter and her husband closed their company for the day. Their kids also missed school. It was that important.

I did my version of orange and black to emulate the Giant's uniforms. And put on my face, my platform shoes, and my lucky earrings. I was ready to go!

The first time I thought this was maybe not the best idea I've ever had was when I got out of bed this morning. My back spasm hit immediately and made me yelp. Not an auspicious beginning to my day. Getting into the car was somewhat painful, sort of like childbirth. And taking the train with people packed so tightly that at least you couldn't fall down if you had to, proved to not be the most soothing thing I've ever done.

Once off the train, we began the 1/2 mile walk to where we would view the parade. Challenging when you keep getting knives stuck in your back. Never mind. I can do this. We got to the pre-agreed upon spot and met up with the kids and the grandkids. Everybody was in very high spirits. We pushed ourselves into the crowd and got as close to the front as we could. It was splendid so far. The energy of the crowd, (estimated as 500,000 to over 1,000,000 people) was really very energizing.

I looked at my watch, and it was 10 AM, straight up. The parade was due to start at 11. Okay, now I stand here in one place for an hour. No room to move around. Close enough to a couple of people that I could have gotten pregnant by them right there and then. It was wonderful.

Standing there on my spot of concrete, I began to realize this romantic notion of love for my team might have been a dreadful mistake. I kept shifting from foot to foot and trying not to lock my legs. I did not want to lose my vantage point, so wandering any place to sit for a moment was not going to happen.

What was I thinking? Well, I tend to be a touch claustrophobic in the first place. Also, my back was not feeling all that great either. Nor were my legs. Nor were my feet for that matter. Still, I smiled and waved when the parade finally started! I cheered for my team while I considered what an idiot I am!

After the end of the parade, we walked another 1/2 mile (uphill this time) to find a pub for lunch. I really almost gave in to my grandson's offer to carry me. (Don't worry, he's big and strong.) Still, I soldiered on myself. Lunch was nice. Getting back home and into my nightgown and robe and lying flat on my back again was even nicer.

The things I've done for love are a lot worse than the things I've done for money.

The Hitchhiker

Looking out the windshield, we saw what looked like a leaf on the glass.

We were at a stop light and the light turned green about the time the "leaf" climbed up a little higher and grabbed on to the wiper blade. Since we were getting on to the freeway, stopping was not an option.

I saw a pair of bulging red eyes looking directly at me and I said "Oh my God, Alex! Look!" Thinking it was a leaf, Alex reached for the wiper blades and I screamed "No!".

We were going about 70 miles per hour on the freeway and pulling over was not an option, nor was slowing down much. The critter held on for dear life. I was imploring that Alex "do something" but there really was nothing to be done. We continued on down about 5 miles to our turn-off, and got off the freeway.

At least now we were going at a much more reasonable rate of speed for some poor critter holding on to the windshield wiper. I insisted that Alex pull over. We really couldn't expect this guy to hold on much longer. (If he had been blown off, he would have probably gotten hit by a car!)

We pulled over and Alex found a paper cup and got the critter into it. We named him James and he rode in the cup with me holding it all the way home. James was looking up at me in relief.

We got home and placed James on the hood of the car. He stayed there for a couple of hours because I kept checking on him. In the morning when I went to see if James was still there, he was gone. I hope he's okay. I think he was a cricket, but how would I know!

Oh My Aching Back!

I look nothing like this woman.

This woman has back pain but she's wearing clothes and lipstick and she has brushed her hair. Plus, this woman is skinny and I am not.

This woman is also sitting in what looks to be a neat and tidy room.

When my back goes "whap" I cannot put on clothes. I cannot walk. I cannot even breathe without pain.

It doesn't happen often, but when it happens, I am unable to move my legs without gasping in pain. I have these episodes about 3 or 4 times a year.

I'm very lucky to have a husband who understands this and does everything possible to make me more comfortable. Oh wait! I have a husband who travels all the frigging time so he's not here to make me comfortable. What was I thinking?

Did I expect someone to bring me water once in a while? Did I expect someone to feed me? Next thing, I'd be expecting someone to bring me hot wash cloths to wash my face or my dirty butt for that matter.

My house is in shambles. I cannot pick up stuff off the floor. The pizza box from last night is still on the kitchen table. Harry will probably pull it off to chew the cardboard before long. I can't load dishes in the dishwasher because that would involve standing and bending and I can do neither.

The cat has loaded up his kitty litter box and I can do nothing about it. The dogs are hungry and I can't get down to pick up their bowls to feed them. I'm eating crackers and cheese and sharing with the dogs for now. And the toilet lid is up so they are okay for water.

Hopefully, this will get better before we run out of cheese, crackers and toilet water. If not, you may not hear from me again as the dogs will have decided to eat me.

You could send me morphine if you have some laying around.