Anticipating Winter without Insulation

I live in a rickety 100 year old plywood cottage tilting 30 degrees on peg legs. Around 20 years ago, my sister 'winterized' it, meaning someone blew something, perhaps halvah or lint, between the plywood walls and attic. She also invested in a propane gas heater that fills one side of the living room wall. For four years she lived there with two toddlers before she moved to an even colder place in Vermont.

Moving Day

Moving Day – A Quick and Dirty Review of Movers and all the Elements

Moving Van
Moving Day – A Review of Movers and all the Elements

The Probability of Getting Laid

I found that decision tree analysis was the most effective tool in determining the probability of getting laid again by a certain guy. Actually, I referred to him in an earlier post as "Monkey Boy."

Monkey Boy was a mercurial little monster. At that time, I had around 3 different lovers scattered around NYC and Astoria. And Monkey Boy tucked away upstate New York for those occasional weekend romps. Yes, I was a busy little bee. I was unusually attracted to him. Unusually in that nothing about the guy appealed to me. Except the sex. Even that came about in a convoluted way.

I met Monkey Boy through his friend, my very first boyfriend, Zippo.

This Magic Moment

One of my really close buds, Mich, shlepped up here a few Saturdays ago to spend the day with me.

Apolitical Aside

I apologize for being repetitive here for the frequent readers. To the new readers of this blog, I'm neurologically deaf meaning the sounds I hear tend to resemble Klingons singing their triumph over slaying the kibbles - distorted through a wad of cotton. As a result, I don't watch tv or listen to radio. Hell, I can't tolerate any sound whatsoever. In fact, I'm an audible mess.

In homage to my dear friend, Lucy Fishman 9/11/01

Written in 2012:

On 9-11, I was supposed to interview in a company in the WTC. It was a loosey-goosey kind of affair since I knew the principals involved. Instead, it being a beautiful day, I stayed upstate and drove to the hardware store where I heard the news.

Whiny, Puling Boy-Men

What happened to the wonderful men of yesteryear? Did they die off? Or did they get so self-absorbed in becoming too much in touch with their inner child they devolved?

WTF is wrong with men today? Why won't they grow up and grow a pair?

The Beauty of Being Underestimated

Possessing the face of the girl next door, a high pitched voice and a nice smile, I fall within the parameters of being underestimated. Or perhaps my self-denigrating sense of humor culled to perfection. Or my ability to let 99% of the shit around me roll off my back and not pass judgment. Until I break. Whatever it is, it never ceases to amaze me that people continually underestimate me, my intelligence and ability to do things.

Crazy Ass Story about Water... Water? WTF?

Around 8 years ago or so I contacted Helen Marshall, Queens County Borough President. The poor woman already had encounters from me years earlier when I fought against urban sprawl in Astoria. And won. That was a story in and of itself.

Fuck Yeah, I'm Back from Vacation Full of Piss and Vinegar about... Crazy People & UPDATE!

I’ve a huge tolerance for aberrant behavior. It must be, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to stomach the people or situations into which I chronically fall. Like a moth to a flame, I gravitate towards people who drop outside the bell curve of normal.

Never Thought of This!

A fan of my blog and books shot me an email this weekend: Are you all right? You haven't posted in your blog for a few days.