Help! I Forgot My Password!!!!

What???? I need to put in my password? Again? But I thought i just changed it!

I think I put it on a Post It. I need to get rid of all these Post Its. These little scraps are everywhere!!

Maybe I stored it on my phone (scratches head), but there’s so many of them stored in here, I DON’T KNOW WHICH ONE. Was it Pumpernickle4 ampersand? Damn I have to redo it. I keep trying and trying and it won’t take it!!!!! My god I need a cheese pizza stat! Where’s the bourbon?

I have been doing this for over three hours !!! I don’t want to call the help desk! It’ll be just like two days ago when I called. On hold for 1242 minutes and then someone near Botswana answered and said, “Un gabwa nutella?”

I could barely contain myself listening to his babbling!

“What country are you in? Can you SPEAK LOUDER? No speaka Englais?” I stammered forgetting English myself.

“Gabwa? Goo Ga Gabwa Bobka?” the person uttered.

What?? I laughed and cried.

“Do you know how long I have waited! Do you know how old I am?” I screamed as I heard a click on the line.

Disconnected yet again. I am losing my cool.

I have to try this over and over and over and I DO NOT REMEMBER MY PIN! Is it by the essentials? What are they? Where is my mask? Oh I still have it on! I see them strewn everywhere even in my dreams!

Darn where is my mind? Is it stored next to my forgotten pin? Now I can’t use my debit because the bank locked me out of my account again because I used the wrong code. They probably thought I was a robot (and oh why must I prove I am human by selecting pictures of taillights!)

I would just drive off but I am locked out of my car. I think I accidentally locked my keys in my safe. I DON’T REMEMBER THE COMBINATION!!!

I could just take off on my bike (if my bladder would cooperate). No it has a lock! Was it wholewheat5*?

On top of that debacle, this computer is not taking any of these password combinations!!! I wanted to bingewatch Andy Griffith not screw around with this!!! There’s a good Aunt Bea on right now!

Why does everywhere need my birthday? Why is everything encrypted and encoded and password protected…why do I use breads as my passwords with symbols I instantly forget like flaxwheat^7?

I am losing myself again in a daydream. It’s 1980 and I need to find a phone number. Why I’ll just use this handy phone book and look it up. I can always call information (411) on my landline (we are on land) and get a number and a nice person I can understand.

My bank balance? Why that’s right here in my stamped bank book.

A pin? That would be to hem. Password? A game show! How simple life is. Nothing is delivered to my door except Dominos.

Nothing is digital except a travel clock. I can get in anywhere I want without a code! Sharper Image was high tech. I was free!

Now I am back to reality, lost in a virtual maze of numbers and symbols and codes and numbers and symbols and codes and numbers and codes (I am stuck in here!!) and symbols and numbers and codes and passwords and pins and codes and numbers and symbols and codes and puns and pins and symbols and codes and passwords and pins and codes and passwords and codes and pins and passwords…

The world is closed. Lover’s Lane still open!

Oy the closures.  Stores closing everywhere.   Yet that anomoly called Lovers Lane is still open!  How is this possible?   

There's a dusty feather boa in the window near a pink and blue neon sign.  The interior is dark.  The lights don't work. 

 Maybe they have an ancient cash register with a middle aged hipster in neon plaid struggling to stay awake as he dusts over and over, the dust bunnies the size of Cadillacs flying in the air, while he watches an old Columbo episode starring Monte Markham.   He is now a fixture like the lights.  The good news is he can leave really early because there is no one there (including him).

Does the inventory change?  Is there any?  What is actually inside.  The last time I went by it looked like the front door opened and a bat flew out...

Do they have a tiny warehouse?

Nobody goes in.  Nobody comes out.  Of course I don't watch the place 24/7.

It may have opened in the 70's yet was it ever hip?  Packed with people, celebs?   They probably always sold a mask or two.  Maybe there was a groovy party in there with a hip vibe, cool jazz and those annoying jazz hands.

Unlikely.

Now there may be an old decrepit sex toy left in there somewhere surrounded by creepy mannequins.
Oh the stories they could tell (if  they could speak)!  Oh my God they do speak now!   

I think an 80 year old man stumbled in there last week never to be seen again.  And how would I know?   I don't watch the place.

I am perplexed.  Are they on Nasdaq?  Are they a front for something else (Amazon) something more lucrative than granny pants and battery powered mystery tools?

We may never know the answer as I am sure I am the only person who has ever and will ever ask the question.

The World is Scaring Me to Death!

  1. The World is scaring  me to death!  There are endless things that could kill or annoy me instantly…..at any time!

Like:   GMO foods, pharmaceutical drugs and even worse the commercials, air, water and land, cruise ships, hair spray, mimes (just because) spit, masks, costumes (flammable),  politics, guns and overlording, mosquitoes, Twinkies, lettuce, Helen Reddy songs, mouthwash, microwaves, Fox, CNN, Cable, Full House (the show), led lights, rhetoric, platitudes, attitudes, endless selfies, psychobabble, Twitter,  eh, po, mo, za being called Scrabble “words”, Instagram, and paint guns, nail polish remover, smoking, gambling, congregating,, hoediwns, line dancing, bunny hops,  debates, bad news looping all day, social distance (an oxymoron), disappointments and sorrow, job, no job, job, no job, Amazon, over Zooming, The Dump,  loud patterns, loud people, fumes, chemtrails, rap music,  loud noise at the 7-11 at 3 a.m, rat poison, rats and bats, big bugs, a masked person with a gun! (wait that’s my neighbor! [ think can”t tell]), reruns of Three’s Company,  “Real” Housewives,  Dobermans, pit bulls, a random elephant attack,  a plane crash, bus crash, just being on bus,  tripping on a rock, and hitting head, McDonalds “burgers”,  fries, shakes, sucrose, fructose, corn syrup, cooking oil,  Triscuits, biscuits, Senomyx,  trans fats, low fats, butterfat,   Vogue magazine (scary, is the model a man, woman, hybrid, clone) product a puzzle,  teens dressed like hookers,  the show T.J Hooker, young men with pants down, couture hats, Charles Nelson Reilly, shows with panels of judges , (enough I say, but who am I),  caffeine, jellybeans, polyester, radiium,  big box stores,  Starbucks “coffee”, radiation,  radio waves, cell phones, cell towers, 5g, “killer 5 g” coming (ad?),  g strings, onion rings,  hurricanes, candy canes, tornadoes, storms, a giant piece of hail, a bird attack, The Birds movie, any movie with Saw and Death in title,  brutality, insecticides, arsenic in my rice, Stove Top Stuffing (what’s in there), Giant chicken breast at Jewel, bigger than entire chicken, (what is it really? A buffalo breast?),  gangs, violence,  asbestos, baby powder,  a blowfish attack (politicians),, Dr Oz (really from there),  Cannon (tbe show), Barnaby Jones (the show), sharks, tidal waves, radio waves, spam on email or in can,  alien invasion, shock of seeing green alien in Walmart,  knives, swords, machetes, razor blades, bows and arrows,  boulders, gummy anything,  cancers,  sulffites, nitrates,  syringes filled with mystery fluid,  Jagermeister, diet coke,  nutrasweet, aspertame, Hostess cupcakes,  explosions, ibs, carbon monoxide, experts, kid actors, clowns, ecoli, raw meat, fake meat, mystery meat, plant (petroleum) meat, pollution,  poison in basically anything unless I grow it,  projectiles, sneezes, wheezes and geezers, spiders, snakes,  cannonballs, body fluids,  100 year olds driving cars into buildings, smoke, fires, catastrophes, apostrophes, calamities, Covid, bird flu, swine flu, H1N1, Zika, bat soup, Aids, basic flu, leukemia, diabetes, pneumonia, high blood pressure, militias, stampedes, centipedes,  sodium, fluoride,  margarine, I can’t believe it’s not butter (I can), anything in a can, metals, aluminum, plastics, fighting,  infighting, verbosity, pomposity, fake celebrities  deceptions and lies,  takeovers, lockups and downs, cakes and mud pies, plastic wrap, tin foil, hormones in fast “food”,over sanitizing,  suffocation, asphyxiation, lacerations, landslides, earthquakes, asteroid hitting earth,, the movie ‘The Shape of Water”, …The Edward Munch painting ‘The Scream”…..because I hate that painting and now I can relate to it!

My head is swarming with “experts”.  Authorities here there and everywhere.

I just can’t taket it!  I will just pray to God because I know this is Not what he envisioned.   I know he is not tuning in to Netflix and chowing down on Mcnuggets and yelling at news feeds.  Well maybe he is. (the news feeds) …but I trust his judgment.

My alarm is ringing…..why its another day in paradise!!!.  I push off the satn sheets in my cabana in Bora Bora, shake my long silky hair and thank God  profusely that was all a horrible horrible nightmare like the Dallas episode years ago.  Everybody us frolicking here in the sand and ocean eating mangoes and  coconuts, swimming in clear turquoise waters  getting along just swell.  A rainbow of people.  I see a taupe man,  a nagenta woman, no one here cares. The only device here is my hammock swaying in the warn breeze…..     Life is but a dream…..  If only…..

 

 

 

 

 

I’m Now a Flower Child or “A day in my life”

“Woke up, got out of bed

dragged a comb across the hair on my head

stared at my coffee cup

Knew I did not have to be up

Went back and went o sleep

Woke up the following week

Put on my mask and scrubs

And went out to watch the doves…”

Yes it’s a simpler time.  A time where I no longer have to even look at a clock.  A time when I need one outfit.  For a week. A time…but there is no time….no time……..no time…

Oh where am I?????   Apparently in the local park….surrounded by people wearing masks…is it October? Am I entering a period of early forgetfulness?

I am in a tree.  Yes I climbed in…It’s so nice in here…people drift by…do not have to sell them things.

I forget and ask a rakish man in a checkered smock and tam:

“Mr. do you need some polyester pants?  You’d rather have a Pepsi?”

“I see.  A Pepsi. I remember those.  But I do not have one..  I have a packet of saltines?  No?   No flautas either. But I do have a nice green leaf

You see I am one with this tree

Perhaps there never was. Perhaps I am whirling around Mars in a Nine West dress.clutching  a Betsy Johnson purse in the shape of a prune.

Instead  I am twirling in the grass in bare feet (in need of a pedicure if anyone cared to look at my feet) which they don’t. Just twirling….no cares until I step in sqish.. or.what appears to be dog poo…oh so sorry to offend…I think it’s in the Scrabble Dictionary….poo or is it po…

Aaaah, I am like a Dali painting…surreal, abstract, almost like Kahlo but I have two brows still.   Like Jackson Pollock I am simply spatter…Like Picasso’s muse I am geometric, one eyed and blue, out of joint, my hip on my toe….

I don’t talk to people.  I keep my distance and my promise to keep my distance and my promise, to keep my distance..wait!  I am not starring in a musical today!

I cannot sing…Remember “Making Love in my Chevy Van?”  Did they make a fortune from that song?  Am I digressing?

.I have become one…one with the earth, sky and sand…one with the birds…trees and  rocks.

I am one with the protons, electrons and neurons?  I am obviously miniscule and fast.

I am one…with that empty Gatorade bottle…I am one with the babbling lady in plaid, I am one with that daffodil., I am one with that Nissan Sentra,  I am one with that packet of Kleenex….which I need.

If there were time, it would be about 7 am.

I am Julie Christie in an abstract London  movie.

It’s 7:05 2020

Life is absolutely groovy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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I Hate Wearing a Mask…..

Before I write anything, this is not meant to offend the seriousness of the virus or the seriousness of hostile people.  But…

I HATE wearing a mask.

Everybody looks like they are about to be robbed or about to perform surgery.

I saw a man with a welders mask over a mask.  Is this not overkill?

I saw a young woman pushing a stiffly prone 120 year old woman in a mask in a wheelchair.  My question is: was this old woman still alive?

At 7-11 the young guy behind the counter, behind the sheet of plastic, swathed in plastic himself, covered in a mask could barely reply when I said hello.  He was like a human fruit roll up!

I had on the bikini of masks (just a piece of gingham) in comparison.

The mask, while great for Halloween or bank robberies is not so wonderful for everyday use.

I find myself pulling it down (like a sports bra) so my nose can get air.   I can smell my breath (minty) and my glasses fog up

I can’t see to buy an essential!

Where are the essentials?  I CANNOT SEE ESSENTIALS!

I already had to deal with bras and hair color.  Now masks!!!!!

Don’t get me started on sanitizers that stick to my skin and contain ingredients not grown on earth.

Could the sanitizers be a mask for something else?  Something that is, say, sanitary?

But I digress.

The mask does have benefits.

It keeps spit off my face.  It allows me not to wear lipstick (appropriately named).

When the wind blows, the mask holds my hair on my head hiding my bald spot.

I have no satin masks so I do not have to dress up

The mask hides my identity so I won’t be publicly stoned for writing this.

But I just hate wearing a mask.

PS.  What if someone sneezed into their arm and something escaped, flew through the air and went down my sock….  Could I still get it?

 

 

 

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No Bra on Face

I thought I had seen it all.  But these are unprecedented times

When I go out (while still allowed) I see doctors, nurses and surgeons…but wait….those are dish gloves, not surgical….and that’s not a surgical mask it’s a composite of socks and scarves made into a mask. And those are sweats, not scrubs

These are regular people in costume!

(Some of them look scary!)

I saw a wild eyed man in a mask just sauntering down the street.  In the old days I could just call 911.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“There’s a wild eyed man in a mask walking down the sidewalk and it’s only 9:30 am!

But looking like a criminal is the new normal.  Until today.

Today I saw a woman with a C cup plastered to her face! A half bra around her head!  I must need more coffee!  No, she is coning my way wearing half her bra on her head.

I almost sneezed (in my elbow), then laughed.

Staying alive now is a huge responsibility. I could kill someone just by breathing.

Was this in the Times too? “Woman inhales:  20 die.”

But I digress again. Please don’t startle me to death with undergarments on your face.

No jockey straps or bras please!

It does not look like a mask, except in some off color comedy that plays nowhere.

And is it sanitary? Really?

 

P.S.  No offense to anyone intended…

 

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My Mother and her Mysterious Papers

For 30 years, every day, my mother has exclaimed, “My papers!  Tomorrow, I will get through them tomorrow.”  Just like Scarlett O’Hara.

What are these papers?  They sound so important but I glimpsed the top of one pile and saw a coupon for Charmin. (That’s one paper you can toss.)

Now mom admitted to me that when she remarried she carted a full garbage bag of papers to her new home.  And then poured the papers on the floor.  Did she add water and stir?  No. She put them back in the bag and far away in a closet

Now after the marriage ended. my lovely mother moved the papers into a new home where they sprouted myriad baby piles of papers pertaining to God knows what.

I would call and ask, “What’s new mom?”

“Well I found a great pair of pants.  And I was going to get to my papers.  But maybe tomorrow.”

Now mom was very busy working as an office administrator.  It was a great position just filled with tasks full of papers.

The thing is, mom, though a whiz at her job, never actually liked papers

I never asked her but I think after retiring from her job she just cleaned out her office and brought the papers home.  And added them to other papers.

Where now they sit like skyscrapers. (Just kidding.)

Mom loves mysteries, so I ask of you mom, “What exactly are these papers…   When did they begin, and will you put them away?”

I am missing a pair of pants, and I wonder if somehow they aren’t’t submerged in a pile of papers.

I have a solution.  There’s no desk involved. We should just go through them and make 1000 paper hats

Then we could put them in bags and just give them to the Salvation Army.

But I digress as I always do.  As a child I was always afraid there was something hiding in my closet.

And now I know.  It was your bag of papers!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Butchering ain’t reserved for meat. Now it’s English. Eh?

Mcdonald’s new slogan brought me out of hibernation.  What is going on with ruining English?

Lovin’ beats hatin’.

That’s what they paid millions for?  Where’s the”g”?   Where is the beef?

Better yet, where’s the cash?

I had a Corgi who barked more intelligently.

I worked for ad agencies years ago.  I may have typed copy but it was a complete sentence I typed.  I think.

How many times is better for ya’ replacing you.  And is it?

Is dat all there is my friends?  Is dat it?

Don diss me.  Please.

I ain’t lovin’ it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My Jeans are Distressed! Help!

Okay jeans in general are upset.

First you cut off half their bottoms and made them skinny.   Then you took out cotton and strangled them in stretch. (I may as well wear Spanx out in public.)

Now you ripped them full of holes and try to sell them for hundreds of dollars.  They are not just distressed.  They are agitated.  They are aghast.  They hate their looks.

They may need psychiatric help

Personally I think they remember a simpler time when they were pulled together.  There was a time they had bells on.  Back then they were sew happy.

But now they are merely hanging on that display table by a thread.

Hang in there blue jeans.  It may seem tough now but it WILL get better.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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The Last Straw

“This is a strawless facility,” the charming cashier said when I asked for a straw.

What!  Did I hear that correctly?  A strawless facility?  Did you mean braless, because there are a lot less bras these days.

But getting rid of straws?  You are taking the fun out of sipping my drink.  Through a straw.

Wait, there is no strawhole  (new Scrabble word) in my cup!!!!   I repeat: there is no strawhole in my cup!!!!!!

I know we are going paperless, braless and now strawless!  This is an abomination!

Are straws offensive?  Is slurping through a straw any worse than listening to people on cellphones all day?

What’s next, no napkins or paper plates?   I know, I know.

What about straw hats?

I am still peeved about trying to get rid of landline as opposed to water submerged phones .

I lament the loss of the English language as in:  who dat?  Eh?

I cried when they stopped reruns of Dick Van Dyke

I threw a tantrum when they replaced mediums with extra smalls.

I became severely depressed when they stopped making Teaberry gum.

I itched like crazy when they got rid of real tomatoes and replaced them with fakes

But please if something else has gotta go can you get rid of  deconstructed food (foam) and keep the straws?  Thank you.