A lil Scrabble do ya

I love words; their ability to communicate the power of our emotions, to describe unbelievable beauty or deeply seated joy. So its no surprise that Scrabble is one of my all-time favorite ways to pass an evening. I have two friends with whom I play  most often, and, let me  tell you, we get intense.  When Eliza and I get into it over a rule or the spelling of a word, the people around us hide the kids, move the furniture, and place their bets. Eliza, who knows more words than anyone I've ever met, gets her talents naturally. I once placed Scrabble with Eliza and her 89 year old mother, Townsley.  That geriatric wordsmith wiped up the floor with me.

The last argument Eliza and I had was when I played the word "gonna."  Eliza said it is not a word. I said it is, citing the famous, award-winning movie, "I'm Gonna Git You, Sucka." I swear, sometime its hard to play Scrabble with white people.

Anyway, because I am a such a lovely person, and I had forgotten to bring any weapons that evening, I conceded. That time.But I still say that if the word is good enough to be in the title of a Wayans Brothers film, then, by golly, it is legitimate word.

We are a merciless crew.  One time, Kitty showed pity for me, and she has regretted ever since. Mature player that I am, I was  whining about how I only had low scoring letters and not enough vowels, and whatever, so Kitty threw me a Scrabble bone and gave me an opening to play a  quadruple-letter slot. I, of course, jumped on it, using all of my letters to play the word, "Chortle."  The  points, along with the bonus 50 points earned for using all of my letters, came to a whopping 130 points.

That made me chortle like a madwoman. Kitty did not chortle.  As a matter of fact, I don't believe she has chortled since.

Since I can't play Scrabble every single night, I suffice with playing "Words with Friends" with my friend, Jenn. By the way, did you know that I was the person with whom Alec Baldwin was playing WWF when he got kicked off the plane? Sure, Alec never revealed it was me, as we have a very psychologically complex stalker-stalkee relationship. Every time I see him in the courtroom, I wave a blow a kiss and he responds by doubling his security team. That Alec, he is a riot. 

Anyway,  Jenn was hesitant to begin playing with me, as she swore up and down that she was not good at spelling or vocabulary.  So I gave her my best playing tips (both of them!!) and now she is kicking my butt seven ways to Sunday. Note to self: Do NOT let Jenn talk you into playing poker with her.

So if any of y'all out there in blogger land want to do some intense Scrabble playing one night, let  me know. You bring the weapons, I'll bring the chortle. 

The Expatriate

Thinking about the upcoming winter has many people daydreaming about moving to a warmer, sunnier place. Before you go packing those bags, please let me share the story of Miss X.

Miss X, for reasons that I ...er, ah, she..will no longer admit to remembering, decided several  years ago to leave ol' Balmer for greener pastures. Her life needed  shaking up, she decided, a challenge. Miss X sold her house, quit her job, said goodbye to everyone and everything she ever knew, and just drove away one fine morning.

She chose a place where few people spoke English.

A place where there were only two types of weather:
dang, it's hot, and
dang, what's the name of today's hurricane?

A place that smelled like one thousand exploring cow farts.

A place with bugs...bugs that flew, crawled, slithered, or burrowed, all with the temperament of a pissed-off toddler.

Why, oh why, did Miss X choose Florida?

Miss X 's realtor found her a charming mo-bile home in what he described as a "quite little neighborhood."  That's how Miss X found herself right smack dab in the middle of the Senior Citizen belt, which stretch-marked from the "Welcome to Florida" sign all the way to the Keys.

The neighborhood was, indeed, quiet...at times...not, however,  at 6 am, the time when most of her neighbors liked to mow their lawns, release their barking dogs for some exercise, or just gather together and bitch about Eisenhower. But come the wee hours of 8:30 p.m., Miss X found herself on her lanai, alone in a silent, dark community.

There were entire days when Miss X's only human contact came from the daily obscene phone calls she received. Miss X couldn't ever prove those calls came from her pervy neighbor, but Mr. Calhoun gave himself away by stopping every few words to take a puff of his inhaler. Plus, the calls stopped around 8pm, the exact time it was lights out in the Calhoun residence. Coinky-dinky? Miss X thinks not.

High unemployment being what it was, Miss X found herself waiting tables at a very famous chain restaurant. (Rhymes with Spacker Sparell). Poor Miss X soon discovered one of the sad ironies of life--a college education means shit when you are trying to balance a tray full of hot food and cold drinks. She realized that she was, really and truly, the world's worst waitress. It didn't help that most of the  patrons were also her elderly neighbors, who, very conscious of money, left pittances for tips. Miss X understood; after all, the pay from So-So Security is way low, and the cost of inhalers and local obscene phone calls is way high.

Miss X had to admit the truth to herself:: she had made a mistake. She needed to get back to where she once belonged. Just six months after saying goodbye to Baltimore forever,  Miss X was back.The city was just as noisy, dirty, smelly  and crime ridden as always, but, to Miss X, it was a slice of heaven. It was home.

So, the moral of this little tale is : The grass ain't always greener. And, most importantly, STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM FLORIDA. 

Fifty Shades of Stupid

I admit it...I got caught up in all the hype for "Fifty Shades of Grey." For those of you smart enough to save you money, please allow the Grey-Haired Goddess to review this book for you.

College senior Anastacia Steele (her middle name must be Sheila, or Susan, or Samantha....trust me on this) meets handsome, multi-zillionaire Christian Grey. For reasons that are never clear, he falls immediately into lust for Anastacia. She rejects him because she is a dumbass woman who is already in a relationship, sort of.

She graduates from college, and Christian tries to assist her by setting up interviews for dream jobs with his colleagues. Anastacia refuses this because she is a dumbass woman who wants to make it on her own. 

Christian, seeing her need, buys her a new car and computer. She insists that she will not accept these gifts, but will use them as loans, because she is a dumbass woman of independence,  if not financial security. 

Anastacia flies from Oregon to somewhere down south to visit her mother and step-father. Christian pursues her in his private jet. At this point, any normal woman would have sensed some stalking danger, but Anastacia, because she is a dumbass, trusting soul, begins to think that maybe Christian is a good catch after all. 

Still with me? 

But Grey-Haired Goddess, you might ask, what about the hot parts? Ah, the hot parts. Hmmmm...in my opinion, the supposedly hot parts were more....tepid..room temperature....but perhaps you should decide for yourself:

Anastacia decides to give herself to Christian, and discovers his "kink" about sex. The first sex scene lasts about 2 paragraphs...talk about a quickie! The second sex scene is a little longer, but still as scorching as day-old oatmeal. 

After meeting her parents and his parents and getting all into each others lives and sexual preferences, Anastacia decides to leave Christian because she is a dumbass woman who thinks perhaps she needs to investigate life on her own.

The End. 

For any multi-zillionaries out there, please be aware that the Grey-Haired Goddess will be most happy to allow you to buy her new cars, computers, beach houses...oh, really, anything that you rich little heart would like. I am  sweet that way. 

In exchange, I promise not to snicker at any of your preferences, and ensure complete confidentiality. 

After all, I am not a dumbass.

Thou Shalt Not Gossip... Part Two

"No, no, not questioning...well,  maybe just a little. I mean, that no gossiping thing, well, its really gonna lose the chick vote, you know what I mean?"

"No, I don't, " God replied.

"You married? " Moses asked.

"No."

"Engaged?"

"No."

"Ever had a long-term......"

"No."

"Ah, you're not one of the Greek gods, are you?"

"NO!" God sputtered. 

"All I'm saying is, the girls, they like the gossip. It gives them something to do, besides having babies and fending off Roman soldiers."

"Hey, which one of us here is GOD?"

"Hey, which one of us here has ever gotten laid?" 

"Oy vey," God said.

"Just a suggestion. Why don't we..."

"We?"

"...we get rid of that don't gossip thing, and replace it with something nice for the ladies. My wife is always kvetching that nobody appreciates her, so how's about something like, "I command thee to be nice to your mother."

God thought about this for a moment and replied, "You know, that's not bad, kid. How about, "Thou shalt honor thy mother."

"I like that," Moses said, "Thou shalt honor thy mother and thy father."

"D'uh! Who said anything about fathers?"

"What? All your father has done for you, and you want to break his heart?"

"Okay, fine, " God said, proving that even God isn't immune to Jewish guilt. "Look, I'm outta here. You clear about your mission? Freeing your people then delivering the commandments?"

"Got it, Chief," Moses replied.

And off Moses went, and he did free his people, and he did deliver the commandments. And, for the remainder of his life, whenever he heard anyone gossiping,  Moses would beam at them and say,

"You're welcome."

Thou Shalt Not Gossip...NOT

One day, a long time ago, a simple shepherd named Moses was tending a flock. Suddenly, he noticed a burning bush to his right...a bush that seemed to be calling his name.

"Hey, Moses....yeah, you, c'mere," the bush commanded.

"I don't think so, " Moses replied. He wasn't in the habit of answering to talking bushes which were on fire.

"C'mon, kid. It's me...God. I have chosen you for a very special mission."

Intrigued, Moses sauntered over to the bush, his shepherding rod in hand just in case this was a practical joke his brother, Aaron, was playing. If it was, that long overdue smackdown was surely in Aaron's immediate future.

"Wassup?" Moses asked, suspiciously.

"Well, its about time. I have been burning here for about 2 hours trying to get your attention," God admonished Moses.

"Yeah, well.....you know, we're in a desert. It's like, a hundred degrees out here. If you really wanted to catch my attention, why didn't you show yourself as, I don't know, a snow cone, or a piece of ice? I would have come running for that."

"Look," God answered, "Can we just get down to business?"

"Or a big pitcher of cold beer. That definitely would have..."

"Moses!" God shouted, "Concentrate, okay? Here's the scoop: you have been chosen to lead your people out of slavery, then deliver the Ten Commandments to them so they have guidelines for living good and righteous lives. Got it?

"Okay, " Moses agreed, "but not tonight. I have bowling tonight. Hey, can I see those Ten Whatamacallit's?"

"Ten Commandments, " God corrected him, "Sure, take a look-see."

Out of the sky fell two large tablets, with Five Commandments written on each.  The tablets landed at Moses feet, and he stooped to retrieve them. After a few minutes of reading, Moses spoke up.

"Hey, God, listen....these are real good and all...."

"Thank you, " said God.

"Except for this one....Thou Shalt Not Gossip. Listen, bud, I don't think that one's gonna fly, "

"Are you serious, Moses? You are questioning the Lord, your God?" God really knew a lot about voice projection, and now his voice was booming.

Notes from the Greatest Spy in the Universe

Note:

The Can Opener is in a foul mood today.  First, she stayed in my condo ALL day, kvetching that it was too hot to go outside. Then she complained that I was taking up the entire couch and she had nowhere to sit. Who said she was allowed to sit?

Commander, how much longer will I be on this assignment? I clearly remember the conversation we had about me spying on the Can Openers and reporting back to you, and I swear I thought you said you'd be back for me before the Tuna Harvest. Remember that?

Note:

The Can Opener finally went out of the condo today. I didn't think she'd ever leave. I have three days worth of toilet-paper shredding, hair shedding, and fur-ball coughing-up to catch up on .  I am exhausted just thinking about it.

Note:

I was in a deep sleep, dreaming about home, when the Can Opener woke me up by warbling my cat name over and over.  Turns out she wanted  me to go into the bathroom and kill a spider. WTF? Like I was going to get off the couch just for that.

So, Commander, what's the hot skinny (two things the Can Opener is  NOT) on my transfer? Haven't heard from you in about a long time. I am beginning to get nervous.

Note:

I got some tuna fish today for breakfast. Woo-hoo! Normally, when there is tuna fish, the Can Opener will give me some pieces each morning till its all gone. So, Commander, I  can wait here a few more days. Lets make it mid-week, what do you say?

Note:

Tuna gone. No messages from the Mother Ship. I am having a Catfka-esque experience. I pray I do not wake up tomorrow as a cockroach.  If the Can Opener sees me, she will scream then try to kill me with her shoe. 

Note:

It has been a while since I have written. This whole planet of Can Openers like to do the same things over and over, and the worst annual event is coming up soon.  The Can Opener will celebrate this poor excuse for a holiday by robbing me of my dignity.  One year, she forced a "Superman" outfit on me, and cooed while she took a zillion pictures. If you have seen these pictures, note that I am NOT smiling.  

I have already seen this years humiliation while rummaging around in her closet.  It appears she plans to dress me as an Amish cat.  Commander, I am begging for you or Death to save me from this horror.

One thing I want to make clear: if anyone on the Mother Ship has seen these pictures, I implore you to destroy them before they are seen by others.  Marvin, this means you.  I know how you are.  You may be my sister's kitty daddy, but if I find out that you have circulated this pictures to the guys, I swear I will kill you dead 9 times. That's right.....9 times.

Note: 

Had a long growl with Jingles, the new cat next door.
Turns out he is one of us.
Turns out Marvin is now the Commander.
Turns out I am probably screwed. 

Also turns out that male cats are supposed to have balls. Jingles showed me. I used to have them, until one day when the Can Opener took me for a "nice ride." Things got blurry after that. All I know is, I woke up later in the Can-Opener's bed without my balls.  If it weren't for my three meals a day, daily brushing, four hundred cat toys, and my nightly num-nums, I don't know how I would go on.

Note: 

Since it appears that the Mother Ship has decided I am expendable, I have decided to forget what the Can Opener did to me. She does serve me well, I  will give her that.  

Marvin, dude, is this anyway to treat me? You slept with my sister. Remember that time I helped you to score some primo catnip? We are nearly family, for Cat 's sake.

Whatever you decide, I do want you to know that I forgive you.....NOT!!! I swear I will hunt you down and have my revenge, or my name isn't Mr. Boo Boo Fluffy Butt!!

The Grey-Haired Goddess Sees All

There is good reason for me to believe that when I pass from this life I am heading straight to h-e-double hockey sticks. I could list all of the 876,389 reasons why I think this, but let me illustrate with a recent example.

Dr. Lifesaver was out of the office, so I decided to take the down time and concentrate on two things I have avoided my entire life--the nitty and the gritty. Yes, that's right--the day was spent on technical reports involving numbers and stuff. Arrghh. Somebody save me from the details.

A friend, who also works at the hospital, called to inform me that Stan**(not his real name) was bring the new manager, Harry**(nope, not his real  name, either) around to introduce him. I was so bored out of my mind that I drew this conversation out as much as possible.

"Tell me all about Harry, " I begged, a little too chipper for believability.

"Ah, well, um...oh, yeah, he has a son in college. Pre-med, I believe..." she trailed off.

"Fascinating! What else?"

"Um,...what else?"

Clearly her level of boredom in this conversation had surpassed my overall boredom. Difference was, she actually had some interesting things to do and quickly got off the phone, leaving me to store this tiny bit of  Harry information into the back of my brain. It's where I keep other useless trivial, such as words to '70's television theme songs, best ways to lose weight, and other stupid shit.

About an hour later, Stan and Harry appeared at my office door.

"Hey, Grey-Haired Goddess," Stan greeted me as he entered with Harry. "This is Harry, the new clinic manager."

Harry extended his hand as a greeting.  A plan emerged in my little pea brain.

I grasped the hand of Harry and said, " Good to meet you." Then I closed my eyes, as if I had fallen into a trance, and said, real spooky-like, "I can feel you have a son."

Stan's jaw dropped. 

"How...how did you do that?" he asked. "No, really...how..."

I ignored him and continued, still clutching Harry's hand. "And your son, he's in college. Ah, pre-med."

Stan, literally, jumped backwards out of my office. "Nu-uh! How'd you know? Nu-uh." he shouted from the hallway.

Meanwhile, Harry looked like he didn't know whether to say a prayer or jump out the window. 

Stan reached into my office, grabbed Harry by the elbow and yanked him out of my office. Then they amscrayed. Really fast. Seriously, there are skid marks outside my office.

So, to all my friends who are perfectly law-abiding and straight and  narrow--and I know I have some friends like that, even though your names escape me at the moment--please remember me after we depart this life. Send me some cool ice water from time to time, if you would.

The rest of y'all...the seers and sinners, poets and problem children...those nearest and dearest to my black little heart...I will meet up with you at the burning gates.