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.













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.











Hey, What’s My Gender?

It isn’t that hard to figure out. If, say, you do not know what gender you are, take a peek.

When did this confusion begin?

When I was in high school in the 70’s I do not recall one person who wasn’t sure what sex they were.  We knew! We knew because we looked!  At ourselves and each other!  There was not one boy with a vagina.  A girl with a penis?  Was it attached?  Run!!!!!!

There were confused teens however.  If I make a right at that stop sign will I hit the freeway??  If I smoke that pot will I end up like the girl in “Go Ask Alice?”  Does that top really go with those jeans?  Is that song about making love in a Chevy Van really good enough to be a top 10 hit?

Now the majority of people have no clue.  They have to identify as something.  What?  When did this “identify as” happen? This is like a multiple choice quiz with no right answer.

People are identifying as rabbits, hairdryers and lint brushes. They wake up one day and identify a butterfly and the next they identify as a butterfly?????

And do not dare call Erika Eric!

Has a space ship beamed thousands of binary? non binary creatures down to earth? Non-binary??? Are you critters serious?

It would make for a hit game show.

I can picture Chuck Woolery hosting “What’s My Gender.”

[Game Show music plays as Woolery saunters onstage.]

“Welcome to, “What’s My Gender” a great show where you guessed it, if you can, what is the gender of the contestant!”

“Our first contestant has never been sure until today….hails from New Jersey, has driven a forklift and worked in the Pillsbury test kitchen, likes lipstick and football, musicals and motorcycles….guys,  and dolls, snapchat, twitter and jdate.  Stilettos and birkenstocks, beards and birds.”

“The question is, He or She?”

The show was cancelled after one episode due to audience confusion.

As an aside, the pharmaceutical industry was overjoyed when it classified a new disorder, (WPO) or Weird People Overload and came out with a new drug Motaxisrostasis…..that numbs people to non binaries and pronouncing the name. Of course a stiff drink could do the same thing.

I blame all of this on Ken and Barbie….iconic dolls who HAD NO GENITALS!  It’s all Mattel’s fault….



The Snail Rail (or she’s got a ticket to ride if it moves)

Story of my life.  I have no car and am used to getting around by other means.

Now I am on Amtrak waiting, waiting, waiting to get outta town.   Of all the days I picked to leave, today they are not on track nor on schedule.

Another glitch in their switch.

I confess it’s been a looooooong time since I took this train.  When I sat down I looked for a seat belt!  I had to remind myself this is a train not a plane.  How I wish it were a plane gliding high above the clouds, whizzing me away from all cares, depositing me in a penthouse full of cash.  But I digress.

Instead I have a ticket to ride something that won’t budge.

They did pacify us with a mini cookie and a tiny bag of pretzels.

What is with everything so tiny?  It isn’t even real food!  Would it kill their bottom line to give us a few bags and a regular size bottle of water????

I could eat an entire lasagna with a glass of cabernet right now.  I am ready to eat the package the cookie came in!

There was just an announcement! They are waiting for a signal!!!! Hey Amtrak…I am giving you a big shout out!  Move!

P.S.  I did not make this up. The train is going. It had to switch tracks….but we are traveling BACKWARDS!!!!  The whole way!







I will make a crack about you

You. Yeah you.  You who came in at closing time to pick up his altered pants the other night.

When you tried them on you hated how the fabric draped across your tush.  And I had to stare at your crack as you pointed.

Then another salesperson had to stare at your crack and then we had to have two tailors stare at it.  Really?  Was this necessary?

Is your crack made of gold?  Is it diamond encrusted?

Let me ask you:  Is it really the pants?  Maybe you have crooked butt cheeks.  Did it dawn on you that your body is diagonal?

“I don’t want to keep all of you here late,” you said.  Really?  It’s dark.  They announced last call.  The doors are locked.   Everyone is home in their pj’s ordering stuff online with pizza and a beer.

And we are here.

Are you a narcissist?

There are people without homes, jobs and food.  People dying, people crying.   And we’re staring at how fabric drapes across your butt?

Isn’t something terribly wrong with this fissure?

I think it’s time you turned the other cheek for posteriority.






That’s Outta This World

“Look at this cheap coat…” he said.

“Wow is that a Ned Butcher? From London?”

“Yep But they are actually based in Poughkeepsie. Out of a stand at the side of the road.”

“Really!” I exclaimed.  “How exciting.  And what about these beige pants? What brand?”

“Oh those are Kotex.  Maxi.”

“Terrible, if you put them on your actually Inkotex…..get it?  Bad name for men’s pants…   Really bad… ”

“I had a customer that thought they were actually outta this world…”

“You mean like another planet??? Like these pants were put in a launcher and sent from Pluto?”

“Or my anus.(instead of Uranus) get it!!!!!” he roared like a lion with laughter   “ has me in stitches…, you know like my butt operation…”

“I really don’t want the visual thank you…..  But back to the pants….maybe they were beamed in like star trek…cause they sure aren’t’t selling!”

“C’mon those pants are to die for!”

“Oh I hate that saying!  Who wants to lay down their life for a cheap pair of beige pants!”

“Nobody, except maybe the cheap customer I had earlier…”

“Really is any pant or jacket or pair of socks to die for?  Really?”

If anyone has a problem they can always call Glenn Lerner, at 222-2222!


The Sore End






He’s the Rockstar (of the suit world)

It’s really ridiculous.  He can’t go anywhere without being mobbed.

He is always recognized.  He was a fixture (like a lamp) at an infamous men’s store on the North Shore, Marc Snail, which sadly closed after 200 years.

Everyone knows him. (People who don’t think they know him actually do know him.)

Like Bradley Cooper in “A Star is Born” he has to run out of the store and into his car before he gets accosted by another fan wanting a suit.  (Unlike Bradley he prefers a good cocktail shrimp to scotch.  He also eschews hats.)

I saw him in an advertisement for suits on the  side of the bus I was boarding for work!  I couldn’t’t believe it!  How can I sell a belt with this guy around?

People seem to like me until they see him.  “Isn’t that?????” they look at him in awe,  their eyes bulging..and I know for him, it’s more sales gold.  “Yes, it is him,” I say for the 100th time in ten minutes as I take off for yet another snack.  There is no point.

Next he’ll be filling arenas giving talks on pick stitching to screaming fans.  He’ll have a theme song, “These Suits are Made for Walking” as he walks onstage in his custom Hart Shaffner and Groucho Marx suit.

Elderly couples grasp at his lapel when he tries to just walk away.  I saw a woman faint at the sight of him…

At this point he can do whatever suits him….he has woven a spell around customers that I just cannot break.