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. 

ACHTUNG, BABY

Recently, my place of employment hosted a smart young researcher from Berlin, Germany. On her last day with us, a luncheon was given in her honor, because 1) she did an outstanding job and 2) any excuse for a gyro!

"Grey-Haired Goddess," said Berliner lamented to me at her farewell luncheon, "my school at home is a mess. So disorganized. Those administrators need someone like you to straighten them out."

"Did you hear that?" I  fairly screamed at Dr. Lifesaver, who was actually sitting right next to me. "I think you should sent me to Berlin." After all, telling others how to run their businesses, schools, and  lives is more than a hobby for me. More, even, than a vocation. It's a sacred calling.

Months have gone by, so I figured it was time to remind Dr. Lifesaver that neither I, nor Berlin, are getting any younger.  I burst into his office, where he is occupied with some X-Rays. You should see him look at those things, scrutinizing every single detail. You would think it was life or death or something.

"So, remember that researcher from Berlin?" I ask him. "Remember how I should go to Berlin and help them get organized? Yeah, let me know when I should start packing."

Dr. Lifesaver gave me that look, so I rewinded and quickly told him the story from the beginning, .

"Oh, yes, Berlin," he replied. "Hmmmm...Mrs. Dr. Lifesaver has always wanted to see Berlin."

Uh-oh. I don't like where this is going.

"So you...want me to make the reservations?" I ask. "You know, for me." I clarify.

"Ahhh....let me get back to you," he replied.

Dang. I know what that means. It means I am going to get another stupid postcard to add to my stupid postcard collection.

Last time I tell him my travel plans.

Dear Lottery

Dear Lottery,

Hi. How are  you?

I am fine, but a little unsettled. I keep buying your tickets, week after week, and it seems like...well,  it seems like you are ignoring me. None of my numbers ever come up...not one!

Hey, remember that scene in "Fatal Attraction" where the Glenn Close character warns the Michael Douglas character that, "I will not be ignored!" Then she boiled the bunny. Do any of you have pet bunnies? Hahahahah..just kidding.

My point is, I would appreciate it if you would throw a few numbers my way. I am not being selfish, seriously, I have reasons for it. Like:

1) my car. Oy, my car. To save money, I have recently been doing my own car repairs. Since I know shit about car maintenance, my repair instruments are: gum, plaster of Paris, and scotch tape. So far so good, but it doesn't appear that the gum/tape duo is holding the engine together as well as I had hoped. Plus, the plastic of Paris exhaust pipe is already exhausted. BTW...those repair instruments are the same ones I used for.....

2) physical maintenance. Which explains a lot of money going towards co-pays, etc.  That Plastic of Paris tooth that I created to replace the real tooth that fell out...believe it or not, not a great substitute. Every once in a while, the Plaster of Paris tooth falls out as well. And do you think the Tooth Fairy has reimbursed me for any of these errant teef's?  Ha! Cheap bitch.

3) cable TV. Ah, once upon a time, when a RED-Haired Goddess roamed the earth, sex, drugs, and rock and roll ruled. Now, however, the thing that gets my blood racing is....cable TV. Love me some "Mad Men." (OMG...did you see Sunday's episode? Poor Sally!) And with cable rates going up....Don't judge, Dear Lottery. Don't judge. 

So, as you can see, a few million extra dollars would certainly help me in leading a life in which I would like to become accustomed. To quote the late, great Dorothy Parker, "I've never been rich, but I just know I would be darling at it. "

In conclusion, dear Lottery, I will continue to buy your tickets in anticipation that you will smile upon me. I will smile back....just pretend you don't see those two plaster of Paris teeth right there up front. 

Sincerely,

The Grey-Haired Goddess