Proof of an alternate reality

Sharon also lives in an alternate reality. We're now best friends. We have the same hair.

If you were looking for proof that an alternate reality exists…you’ll find it right here. No need to subscribe to all those scientific journals or Google alerts. I have incontrovertible proof…100% proof.

Who knew there were two time zones in Florida?

Apparently not me and I didn’t discover this fact until Tuesday. We went for a drive last Saturday and came across Seaside, a planned community to the east of Destin, Florida. A bit too planned but lovely nonetheless with lots of younger people, kids and a strong showing by the stroller brigade. I came across a hair salon that looked like it had possibilities…most of the ones I checked out in Panama City Beach looked a bit sketchy. I was too late to go in to make an appointment so we drove back on Monday, got an appointment for Tuesday afternoon then spent an hour on the beach before the rain returned…again.

Fast track to Tuesday where the sun looked like it was going to show its face in between rain showers. My appointment was for 1pm and we left it a little late so we had to boot it up the coast and arrived with a few minutes to spare. The Mister dropped me off and headed off for a walk on the beach and I hit the salon.

I walked in, said hi and that I had a cut booked with Rebecca for 1pm. (It’s been 18  months and it was time.) The girl at reception said great and if I wanted to come back in an hour, Rebecca would be back from lunch. I said…”Wait…what!?!” She looked at me like she wasn’t sure if I was going to be a little problem or a big problem. She said, “Well, it’s noon and she’ll be back for an hour.”

I’m rarely at a loss for words…at least inside my own head…but this one stopped me cold. “Are you telling me we’ve spent the last week one hour ahead of everyone else? That explains so much!”

Turns out that Ft. Pierce is in the Eastern Time Zone. Panama City Beach is in the Central Time Zone. Since we arrived in PCB, we’ve been one hour ahead and never clued in. If I hadn’t decided to get my hair cut who knows how long before the penny dropped (if it ever.)

Getting up at 6am to make a coffee and sit on the balcony to see dawn (I’d say sunrise but no) and be sitting there an hour later and still pitch dark. Finding a beach-side restaurant around lunch-time and being told they were closed and to come back in half an hour. Wondering why stores were still closed when we went to the mall…the list goes on and on. This is the first time we’ve never known what the time (real time) was and it’s kind of freaky that it took so long for us to clue in…I blame it on delayed shock from the boat sale.

Somehow I managed to spot the Mister in the crowds before he made it to the beach, we grabbed a coffee and sat around thinking up all the things that seemed just a little off about the past 12 days. Then, I went and got my hair cut and it looks fab. Very edgy and way shorter but not as short as say…Michele Williams or Halle Berry. I say it looks fab but I’m not sure if after being on the boat that I’ll be willing to commit the time to make it look as good every day as it did coming out of the salon. (It’s a couple of days later and it still looks good…that’s because I haven’t washed it yet…continue reading to find out why.)

We had a good chuckle while driving back to the condo yesterday afternoon. It’s too bad you can’t capture those giggle moments in a jar for the times you need to find the funny side of a situation…like when we got back to the condo to find cockroaches in the bedroom. ON THE BED. Actually, ON THE BED.

Eww. Ick. OH. MY. GOD.

It’s family time in Panama City Beach!

My skin crawled, I screeched, and babbled incoherently for the Mister to come do something. He made a gallant effort to help the bug meet its maker but, sadly, failed miserably. He used my flip-flop instead of his Teva sandals and the little bugger just bounced and scurried under the bed.

We called the condo agent to let her know and to see what could be done. It didn’t really matter what she came back with…after we spent the night sleeping on the sofas in the living room, shivering and flinching, we woke the next morning and decided to bug out. I mean there was no way either of us would get one wink of sleep in that bedroom…and going into the adjoining bathroom and turning on the light…ick.  We left the light on all night. We’ve seen bugs…big bugs…in our travels, snakes, lizards and assorted other creepy critters but never once were we as freaked out as this. It’s because it’s inside, in a condo, in the bed, and you know where there is one, there are many.

Double eww.

Plus, the weather’s been crappy and more of the same was in the forecast. How many times can you wander the malls or watch really bad television? When we realized that friends were going to be in the Orlando area next week, we decided to head back to the east coast so we can go visit the Kennedy Space Center, do some sightseeing and meet up with them for a day before heading up to our next rental in Santa Fe Lake. (Hopefully bug-free.)

Yes, it will cost us a bit more but here we are in Tallahassee, the state capital (didn’t know that either) for the low, low price of $61. Today, we going to check things out and move on to Gainesville on tomorrow. Then, it’s on to Cape Canaveral to check out all things space and ending our little mini-tour next Tuesday in Kissimmee. We never made it to Key West because of what was going on with the boat but we’re really happy we’ll see the space center and it’s possible…just possible…we may see some sun.

This post is a bit more personal than my usual offerings but if I end up changing my avi, I didn’t want you to call the cyber police and send out an APB. It will still be me only better. The thing I’m most pleased about? This cut is going to cut my shampoo, conditioner and various styling products budget in half.

More money for shoes.
—

24 Comments
by Blogdramedy on February 23, 2012  •  Permalink
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Posted by Blogdramedy on February 23, 2012

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If 50 is the new magic number then I’m happy I flunked math

I’ve had this blog post percolating in the back of my brain since last fall. Well, it’s time to bring this sucker to a boil and see if we can’t skim off some of the fat.

Last September, I was looking through our automobile association’s newsletter (yes, it still comes in the mail) when an ad for AARP jumped out at me. It was talking about cheaper insurance and since I knew we’d be doing some serious driving over the winter, I decided to check out their website.

In the sidebar was a link to an article…”50 in the Rearview Mirror.” I liked the play on words so I clicked on over and took a read. I don’t know how old the author is but I’m guessing she’s over 50 and is no longer a size 8. Her basic premise (if you don’t want to click on the link and read for yourself) is that, once you turn 50, there are things you are forbidden to do.

Like wear skinny jeans.

Excuse me but…what?!

The day before you turn 50 you can slip on your skinny jeans, use the word “panties” and scoff down Jello-shots while singing karaoke and the day after you turn 50 you have to  slip into a ratty old sweater and polyester pants with an elastic waistband, drink Metamucil and only sing in the shower?

Is there some obscure biological protocol that kicks in after you hit that magic number? Do we suddenly lose all fashion sense and need an organization like AARP to come take a look in our closets and paw through our lingerie drawers?

What brought all this to mind was the brouhaha in the media over Madonna’s choice of attire for the Vanity Fair Oscars Party last February. There was another article on it this past week so I went and googled the original story. Apparently, Madonna’s 14-year-old daughter, Lourdes, was mortified that her mother would wear something so revealing out on the red carpet. I took a look at the photos and saw nothing to be ashamed of…except for the fishnet stockings. The only legs that ever looked good in fishnets were Betty Grable’s gams…and my own.

Madonna working it. Maybe a bit too much but hello? It's Madonna.

The one thing I would have done is switch out the hose for a pair of lace leggings and removed the skirt altogether. Not to say I’d ever actually WEAR an outfit like this myself living the life I do, but if I had her job, her career, her lifestyle and her butt…I just might. However, it’s not her best look but she can work it.

And who can forget Cher and her unique sense of style. This picture is from her memorable 1989 performance of “Turn Back Time” to the crew on the USS Missouri. Perhaps it’s not the epitome of style al la Anna Wintour but she’s in great shape and I really don’t think she’d wear this for a visit to the grocery store — but a pair of skinny jeans, a t-shirt and cowboy boots? I say hell, yeah!

Cher takes the saying "a close shave" to a whole other level.

Maybe what the article should have focused on is the inability of any teenager to think about anything other than their own needs and wants. What teen has made it through to adulthood without thinking their parents are too old to do anything even remotely fun. Like have sex. It’s hormonal to judge and dismiss your parents. But, it doesn’t help that the media jumped on this “anguishing” story and put Madonna instantly in the wrong.

Back to the AARP article.

There was a whole list of what not to wear, what not to say, and what not to do once you hit the miracle mile of 50. I take issue with the “thou shalt not” attitude. It’s like everything else in life. A bit of a bad thing can be good. Like red wine. Chocolate. Bacon (it’s the protein.)

Now, if the article had started with the words…”for those of you with no fashion sense whatsoever” or “if you look like you are wearing an inner tube around your waist when wearing a t-shirt” or “if you fall asleep before 7pm” then I could understand laying down some general guidelines for people of a “certain age.” Some of us do need gentle reminders that we’re not as young as we feel. It’s all about moderation.

Nicki Minaj, a 29-year-old rapper, clearly does not embrace the “less is more” philosophy. She’s under the age of 50 so would AARP approve of her ensemble as she promotes her new makeup line for Viva Glam for MAC? By their rules, the answer would be yes. You can be born with an innate sense of style…you can learn what looks good and what doesn’t…or you can embrace the clown in you. Only, I think you must have a sense of humor to carry off this look and from the interviews I’ve seen, Nicki does not amuse easily at her own expense.

What happens when you forget you're color blind.

Good taste never goes out of style…nor does it age. If you’ve got the wisdom to know what works and what doesn’t, then go out and rock those skinny jeans. Sing it proud. Sing it loud. And drown out your critics with Jello-shots and all the clunky gold jewelry you can (tastefully) fit around your arm.

Don’t let AARP take a bite out of life.  That’s up to you.

(Author’s Note: yes, the article was written with a dash of humor but with my tendency to focus on the negative, I would not have enjoyed writing this post quite as much if I pointed this out to you from the start.  So there.)

32 Comments
by Blogdramedy on February 20, 2012  •  Permalink
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Posted by Blogdramedy on February 20, 2012

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Being obscure doesn’t work if you’re obtuse…like a triangle

Don’t you just love it when someone gets you? Or better yet…when someone gets the obscure (or sometimes not so obscure) movie/song/person/whatever reference you add to a blog post?

Well, I usually try to add a little something to every post and yesterday (in my award-winning post about winning some MAJOR awards) one lone blogger (you could say she’s my lone read) picked up on my movie reference and this morning, in my email inbox, was a message from Hippie Cahier.

Hippie is not just some hippy, dippy chickie. She’s got amazing deductive skillz and she’s a MAJOR hipster. (She’s also had a visit from The Jolie from Oma-land, and I’m so jealous I could spit…which I would but I’d be afraid I’d shoot someone’s eye out.)

This hipster got my reference to “A Christmas Story” from yesterday’s post, “Fragile…that’s Italian for awesome” and in her email, she included two photos of a boat from her local Christmas Holiday Boat Parade.  I must meet these boat owners immediately so I can present them with their very own bowling balls.

Are these not awesome pictures? Taken with her very own cell phone while the boat was docked. Here are two pics taken by John Horm (Photography) during the sail past.

This is so neat I think I might pee in glee.

And you know what’s even better than all this? I commented on Hippie’s “A Valentine From You to Me” Valentine’s Day post and I was the 1000th commenter!!!

I feel like I’ve plunged into this return-to-blogging cornucopia quivering with desire and the ecstasy of unbridled avarice…to paraphrase Ralphie. I’m so jazzed by all this…I can’t put my arms down!

Thanks, Hippie. Looks like today I not only have to find space on my blog wall for these wicked awards…I need to welcome someone to my BlogdramedyRoll.

Don’t be a fothermucker…go check out Hippie Cahier now.

22 Comments
by Blogdramedy on February 18, 2012  •  Permalink
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Posted by Blogdramedy on February 18, 2012

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Fragile…that’s Italian for awesome

I won a MAJOR AWARD!

Make that three. That makes me awesome times three! I must get my gown to the dry cleaners before I win any more glittering orbs of goodness. And invest in some new deodorant.

The Diary of a Mad Gay Man must be working for the Acme Academy of the Gifted because he’s slapped three awards on me over the past few weeks. All while I was MIA from my blog. Even when I’m not here you all dream about me…what Freud would make of your dreams I have no idea (what with him being dead and all) but who am I to say The Diary of a Mad Gay Man is wrong? Not me. As an atheist, I’ll take all the praise I can get. I’m an equal-opportunity praise accepter.

Yesterday, I was informed I had received the MGM Award. It made me blush.

Shortly after posting this picture to my now award-winning blog, MGM informed me that he had been awarded a Kreativ Blogger Award and the Very Inspiring Blogger award (both much deserved if I may say so.) He was so verklempt at the news, he lost all notion of sanity and included Blogdramedy on his list of awardees.

Yes, Blogdramedy IS kreativ.

There’s this whole big thing about linking back to the person who gives you the Inspiring Blogger Award (done) and sharing seven things about yourself, then giving the award to 14 other bloggers. For the Kreativ Blogger Award, you have to share ten things about yourself then give the award to six other bloggers.

It's inspiring how inspiring I am!

As many of you know, math is not my strong suit. I’m more into tuxedos myself so I think I’ll be bagging that whole “rules” thing and just direct you to this page, which tells you all you need to know about me. However, some of the questions TMGM answered were interesting so…those I’ll answer in this post but with a bit of a twist.

Ahem.

  1. My favorite color is black. (It is so too a color.)
  2. My favorite number is 3. (Me. The Mister. Karl Urban.)
  3. My favorite food is a rare side of medium filet mignon with a serving of foie gras. (Meat two ways.)
  4. My favorite movie is Blade Runner. (Not the director’s cut.)
  5. My favorite movie star…needs to call me immediately. (Dammit Karl, just pick up the fucking phone! Okay?)
  6. My favorite piece of music is “I Have Dreamed” by Rodgers & Hammerstein. (You know the tune…from The American President with Michael  Douglas and Annette Bening when they dance at the White House.)
  7. My favorite superpower is…wait a minute. The cold war is over, people!
  8. The one thing I would die for in this world is equality. (Well, not actually DIE. I’d take a few punches and maybe a broken fingernail or two. And, yes, same answer as TMGM. My bad.)

Oh…I also won’t be passing on the award to 20 other bloggers. I don’t know that many. Plus, I’m not really into chains of any sort…other than the ones that come with a “safety” word. So I’ll pick a select few to pass on these awards to and they can choose to break the chain…or not. (I wonder if breaking the chain is anything like stepping on a crack and breaking someone’s back?)

And the Kreativ Award goes to:

Amy at Fix it or Deal (She knows about robots. And don’t even get her started on Zombies.)

Oma at Blurt (He can now spin his head around in a complete circle and he has an action figure doll who travels.)

Lisa at The Best Self-Help T-Shirt Catalog Ever! (For her truly creative take on the modern tee-shirt.)

Lily at Opinions Expressed May Be Incorrect (Her voice sounds just like me and she swears a lot on her blog. We’re like twins.)

The Very Inspiring Blogger Award is given to:

Tom at Shouts from the Abyss (Because without him, I’d be a pale, yet positive, reflection of myself.)

Steve at Stevil (He’s so frickin’ nice he inspires me to write nicer…nice thing I’ve got Tom to keep me balanced.)

Byron at The Byronic Man (He’s the first person to call me prolific…and once I figured out it was a compliment, we became BFFFE – best friends for fucking ever.)

Sarcasm Goddess at 4 the luv of writing (Come on…with a name like Sarcasm Goddess what’s not to adore?)

Well, unless anyone has any additional awards they’d like to bestow on me, I’ll go look at my blog real estate and find a place to hang my shiny new blogging awards.

This being famous is a piece of cake. I don’t know what all the fuss is about out there in Hollywood. Must be all the Botox…maybe it does more than smooth out facial lines. Maybe it changes you on a molecular level… Oh. My. God. Someone should let the Housewives know.

Not me, though. I’m busy playing with my new awards.

24 Comments
by Blogdramedy on February 17, 2012  •  Permalink
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Posted by Blogdramedy on February 17, 2012

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Someone loves me this I know…

…’cause The Mad Gay Man told me so.

How awesome is this? I won a MGM Award for my blog-fabulousness. I insist you go read all about me immediately.

And, yes, it’s all true. In this case, you CAN believe everything you read.

Blogdramedy is blushing...in all the right places.

4 Comments
by Blogdramedy on February 16, 2012  •  Permalink
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Posted by Blogdramedy on February 16, 2012

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Buddy, can you spare a dime?

It’s been a week now since we sold the boat and headed up to Panama City Beach in Florida’s panhandle. Getting all the stuff we wanted to keep off the boat and into the Mustang was an exercise in creative packing worthy of its own reality tv show.

Question: Is it called the panhandle because it’s shaped like the handle to a really weird-shaped frying pan or because people are sitting on the streets panhandling for change so they can catch a flight out of here to somewhere sunny? I’m going with option two.

This is the view the day we arrived.

27 miles of dry sandy beaches

And, this is the view every day since.

27 miles of wet sandy beaches

Right now there is a storm of epic proportions sweeping along the coast. I feel like I’m in a “lightning storm from space” (which is a really neat segue into a conversation about the new Chris Pine movie “This Means War” but that’s for another day.)

On the bright side, we’re not on the boat while this anomaly is happening. That would have been totally miserable. However, with a super wacky-themed miniature golf arcade every 100 feet along the main drag and tick-tacky shops waiting to be explored, this weather has ensured that Florida is forever off our travel list.

Once I got the wi-fi sorted (which took much complaining to the owner…so much that he finally caved and gave me the password to the OWNERS portal, not the wussy GUEST HOTZONE…which was tepid at best) I did some googling and found that this part of Florida gets the most rain out of the entire state. Especially in February. Yes, we could have gone somewhere else but this was the cheapest and one of the only available units anywhere. Just because we sold our boat doesn’t mean we are rolling in the moolah. That money is to fund some much needed renovations back home (for things like insulation, putting in a real shower and replacing the 35-year-old water pump to the well) and, if we plan it just right, a trip to Italy next year. Oh…and for something called “old age.”

Speaking of old age…one of the other reasons we booked this condo was with the hope (it does spring eternal) that we’d run into some slightly younger people. Imagine my disappointment when I found out there’s even more of the old buggers here than in Ft. Pierce…only with less money. And, because of the weather, extra cranky. We went out for a walk yesterday when the weather took a breather and not one smile. Just a lot of unusual color combinations and extra-white sneakers trudging up and down the beach. It’s kind of depressing. Not that I’m against old people…heck, I hope to be one someday. But, when that day comes, I’ll be flashing my dentures at everyone I meet, martini in hand…wearing really tight skinny jeans. (AARP says if you’re over fifty, you’re not allowed to wear skinny jeans. Or use the word “panties.” Just what are you supposed to call those things that cover your butt cheeks…granny pants? These are the same people who say you shouldn’t walk around with a toy dog of any breed in your purse…okay, I’m with them on that one.)

Maybe AARP was right and I should give up my thong.

In hindsight, we should have planned to be here during March Break, when the beach goes crazy with juiced up, bikini-clad university students (excuse me while I hand the Mister a tissue) and lots of little kids running buck-naked into the waves. Not that I’d be taking pictures of all that insanity since the lens on my Nikon seems to be on the fritz so I’m just using my iPod camera and the battery life on that thing is about a long as it’s taken me to write this post.

Has all this been negative enough for you? Yes? Then my job is done. Actually, I should give credit where credit is due. Now that I have a fast Internet connection, I’ve managed to catch up on Shouts from the Abyss and his backlog of posts. That guy is a negativity genius! I’ve found the snark and it feels good!

So, I’m back and will be blogging on a more regular basis. This blog break is over.

12 Comments
by Blogdramedy on February 16, 2012  •  Permalink
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Posted by Blogdramedy on February 16, 2012

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Are there any sweeter words?

I played around for the past ten minutes trying to decide if I just come right out and say it… or dangle a few clues in your general direction.

Since my attention span is about as long as the life of a fruit fly, I came down on the side of right now.

WE SOLD OUR BOAT!

Yes, it’s all very exciting. I’m still in shock and the Mister has been a bear to live with for the past week and a half. Because…

We had the offer arrive a week and a half ago but I made the Mister promise not to say nothing to nobody. The main reason I wanted him to stay mum is I had a bad feeling about the buyer and I didn’t want to let the kitty out until the cash was in the bank.

Well, the money was just wired 20 minutes ago and I was totally correct about the new owner. He’s an asshole.

To cut to the chase…he made an offer. We countered. He came up half-way and we said yes. There was a survey and a sea trial of the boat and then the dickering started. Turned out, for a boat that’s 27 years old, it was in great condition (the surveyor was impressed) except…there was some moisture in the hull (above the waterline) that was not structural, but that should to be repaired if the buyer was considering selling it at some future date. We had said all along that we would meet anyone half-way with reasonable repair costs and THIS WAS NOT STRUCTURAL. Our broker got a quote for the guy…$12,500. We told him we’d pay half. The buyer said na-hah. He wanted us to take off the total amount from the final price. But get this…the repair was quoted at $4,000 and the balance was to paint the entire side of the boat!

The repair patch is one foot square. Not a lot of real estate on a 42 foot boat. He could sail this boat around the world without a problem. But, no. He wanted to chisel us out of every penny he could.

Did I mention he’s an Aussie? Yep, floored me, too. Everyone I’ve met from Australia has been great fun and full of life. This guy is an obvious transplant to that country and his fellow Aussies must be mortally ashamed he has an accent like they do.

Anyway. We told our broker no flippin’ way and (after I had climbed down from the ceiling) asked for an hour to think about it. We called him back and offered to pay half the total quote. The fucker said no. We then told our broker we’d think about things overnight. We tallied up how much it would cost us to do the repair ourselves, how much to store, how much for boat insurance, and how much in case something went wrong between now and when another buyer showed up, and decided to ask our broker to get another quote. He did…and it came in at $10,000.

We offered to reduce the boat price by the amount of the repair and half the paint costs. The fucker said no.

At this point we realized we were dealing with someone who knew we wanted out and who was going to gouge us and you know what? We decided to agree to the 10K reduction. Just so we could get it over with, save the money we’d have to spend in the future and get the hell away from the marina and this vile specimen of a human being.

We both felt pretty good about the decision. I felt even better when I looked at the Mister and said…

“I am NOT leaving one single thing on this boat that is not included on the equipment list.
Not even a piece of toilet paper to wipe his ASS.”

And I didn’t. By the time I was done yesterday, the boat was clean and totally without dishes, silverware, pots & pans, linens, sockets, wrenches, tools, cleaning supplies, etc. I even took our espresso maker…and all 17 rolls of toilet paper.

I told the Mister that we’d probably get a phone call when he showed up today with the broker. We did. We reminded him that all that stuff was not on the list and that we had given it all away to charity. (Except for the express maker.) I feel kind of bad for our broker…I’m sure he took quite a lashing and we still haven’t talked to him. But as our broker said right for the start…he works for us, not the buyer. I think he may have earned his commission.

I have a pleaser personality. I want everyone to get along and believe that there is always a solution to any problem. But when this guy just keep pounding on us, I said screw it and gave a finger to the “Godfather.” This was not business…it was personal. And I was taking a gun.

So, we sit here a little bit in shock. It didn’t help that the person wiring the funds from our broker’s account to our account forgot to send the transfer at 10am but rather left it until 12:30pm because she’s in Seattle and “forgot” about the time difference and the money didn’t arrive until almost closing time at our bank.

Yes, we lost a bit of money on the deal but the stress is gone, the Mister can stop worry about every time he stepped onboard the boat that something would break and I’m feeling 100 per cent fine with my decision to make sure the first thing this guy did after moving on the boat was to go out, drop cash on a rental and go spend money on things he could have had for free.

If only he’d been willing to meet us half-way.

Loser.

I’m sure I’ll think of lots more to tell you about tomorrow but for now, I’ve got to go find a place that makes decent pizza and crack open a bottle of rather nice red wine that’s been waiting for this day for what feels like forever.

32 Comments
by Blogdramedy on February 8, 2012  •  Permalink
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Posted by Blogdramedy on February 8, 2012

http://blogdramedy.wordpress.com/2012/02/08/are-there-any-sweeter-words/

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