DEAR NETFLIX: PLEASE STOP TELLING ME I LIKE BOLLYWOOD MOVIES

The saying, “you get what you pay for” isn’t always true. I once won the low bid at a bachelor’s auction and can say with some measure of certainty — don’t judge a book by its cover, and good things come in small packages. IfyouknowwhatImean.

After being a Netflix subscriber for a while now, I’ve reached the conclusion I’d rather stand in line at the movie theater — freezing my ass off — casting the evil eye on nasty little line cutters and trying not to weep when the cashier tells me the price for two tickets. All that would be worth it because lately, Neflix has been letting me down.

Steve Martin Once Told A Joke

Steve Martin once stood upon the stage and declared that “Comedy is not pretty.” He said this after the audience started to suck their teeth and the chorus of a sea of boos was erupting in a pitched rise throughout the auditorium. He was telling a relationship joke. The setup to the joke was that he doesn’t understand women.

Hell, who does?

Not even women understand women.

Anyway, (in the joke) it just so happened that the woman in his life was telling him (Steve) that she felt like he didn’t respect her.

This is where Steve distorts his face in shock.  He then leans into the microphone and proclaims,

“What do you mean? You’re the best hog I ever had!”

Like I said in that opening paragraph, the audience turns ugly.

Back to life, back to reality

Good morrrrning, world! Blogdramedy here bringing it live from her slightly disorganized, closet-sized home studio in beautiful mumble-mumble on the shores of mumble-mumble Bay where the sun is shining, the coffee is grinding, and the eagles have landed.

Two words: chicken bones

It’s a new day. It’s a new week. Time to take my finger off the pause button and hit “play.”

This Day Is Not That Day

Do you ever wake up and think “this could be the best day ever” and then it’s not and you sink into depression and despair, with a little black cloud raining down on you, and your coffee maker goes on the fritz, the toast is burnt, your socks don’t match, you conditioned then shampooed, there’s no good news on the news because Mr. Trump is still running for POTUS, and then someone reminds you that it’s autumn and white skinny jeans are no longer acceptable out-in-public attire and they decide to judge you?

This day is not that day.

The Conversation

“I love you,” he said.
Out loud.
It’s been six months since I’ve heard those three words.

“You are my love,” he said.
Spoken. Overheard.
I stood still. Listening.

Your Partner Is Cheating In A Long-Distance Affair. Does That Make It Okay?

Sounds like the title for a trashy novel. Or a poorly scripted “Lifetime Movie.” Sadly, the story I’m about to share is not fiction. It’s real and it’s painful. I went back and forth about whether I wanted to put down in words what’s been happening in my life the past few months. My first reaction was to set this blog to private, close down my Facebook account, curl up and whimper.

But then I thought…why do I have to give up something that’s given me so much enjoyment over the years? What did I do that my first instinct was to shut down and hide like I’d done something wrong? That makes no sense but it was my response to the pain of betrayal.

Nearly Wordless Wednesday

I like words. A lot. Some words I like better than others. Some words I use every day. Some words only come out for special occasions. Some words I tire of easily.

I’m thinking of some one word in particular right now. 

And sometimes, words written by someone else? They totally float my canoe.

Got a quote that saw you through a tough time? Or made you laugh? I can use either or both. *grin*

Women Are Going Under The Knife For Better Toe Cleavage — It’s Time To Get A Foot Up On Body Dysmorphic Disorder

Feet. They carry us everywhere.

To work, to play, to the liquor store for vodka. To bed. To the bathroom. Into your lover’s arms. Away from the dentist chair.

Running, screaming, from your mother-in-law.

The size of your feet doesn’t matter. Or does it? If you suffer from body dysmorphic disorder (BDD), focusing on what’s wrong, instead of what’s right with your body, takes up most of your waking moments. There have been any number of articles written on body image issues. Too big, too small, too fat, too thin, too short, too tall. Pick a body part and I can guarantee there are women now looking in a mirror not liking what they see. The latest body part seems to be feet.

Not everyone is happy with the state of their two mobility devices and will try anything to improve on what nature gave them. We all agree that severe bunions or clawed toes can hamper our happy walk. There are surgical ways to ease those problems.

Tourists say the darndest things!

Blogdramedy here reporting “live” from the sunny east coast of Sicily. When did backpacks become the go-to travel accessory of over 65-year olds? Why do the packs never match what they are wearing? Do they know they’re all hunched over like Quasimodo?

It makes my brain hurt.

Against all odds, NWR (The Nudge Wink Report) management approved my travel request but, so far, are refusing to cover the cost of all this in-depth investigative snooping. I’m starting to think they just wanted me out of the office.

But forget that. Let’s run through the checklist:

Hung over? No.
Getting enough sleep? Yes.
Too much coffee? Never.
Freaking out about eruptions from Mount Etna? Ever so slightly.
Embarrassed by fellow tourists? Of course.

Learning to Relax

When the sun is out in Italy, everyone naps.

A sunny day.
A hot shower.
No makeup.
Sun-dried hair.
A good book.
A cappuccino. Or three.
Too much pasta.
A nap on the terrace.
A glass of Proseco.
A bowl of olives.
A chance to do nothing.

This has been my day.

What are you doing today?