Paris Goes to the Slammer: The Sequel

No sooner could you say "Lilo is out of rehab!" was Paris Hilton getting pulled over by Las Vegas Police with the odor of pot emanating from her car, and apparently a little cocaine on her person. An even bigger problem seems to be that Paris has managed to get herself arrested in a town whose slogan is: "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas". Not to mention that she is a bloody Hilton and they must own a good chunk of that town. Here is what Paris needs: ME!

Celebrities have people for everything -- stylists, publicists, agents, blah, blah, blah -- but what they do not seem to have is a person with any common sense. So, I have decided to suggest myself for filing this position. Shout-out to Paris and Lilo: You need me. I don't plan on doing much but laundry today any way, so Paris, Lilo feel free to call me to GET A CLUE! Maybe I can help you out between loads.



Here is just one thing about rich celebrities that never ceases to amaze me: Why the hell can't you HIRE somebody to carry your drugs for you? Have them follow you around in a car separate from your own and PAY them to take the rap for you if they get caught. What is the matter with you? Regular people HAVE to carry their own drugs because they can't afford all of the staff -- but not you! Stop blowing all your money on lawyers and funnel a little preventative cash into some good ol' fashioned pay-o-la. Stop proving over and over again that you do not have to be smart to be rich. It annoys the rest of us who are out here working hard and sacrificing, who have to BEG our doctors for LEGAL SUBSTANCES, and then hope by some act of God, our insurance plan will cover the costs and the copay won't be more than our weekly income. That's another thing: Every time one of you rich, spoiled bimbos OD's or winds-up in rehab (or dead) because of abusing PRESCRIPTION drugs, OUR doctors get all pissy about prescribing the good stuff. Frankly, we are sick of carrying your burden.



It seems to me you have a bunch of people around you who can tell you how to look cute in a mug shot, but not one with enough sense to keep you out of the pokey in the first place. Hire me and I swear I will give you sage advice like "Hire a driver.", "Lilo, wipe the coke off your shoes before heading out to the paparazzi!", "Put on some panties unless you WANT your hoo-hoo in the tabloids!" and "If you don't show-up to court, the judge is gonna' be really angry." You know -- the sort of stuff a good friend (or maybe even a parent) might tell us out here in the real world.

I am here and I am waiting.

Halloween Update

Halloween is almost upon!!! You need to get your Halloween stuff now while the getting is good -- which is NOW!!! Stores get a limited amount of primo Halloween goodness and you MUST jump on it when you see it. Just to help you a long, I am going to list some of my favorite haunts:



http://www.hancockfabrics.com/

At the time of this post, Hancock Fabrics has 36" wide white cheese cloth for an unheard of .33 cents per yard. I just ordered a pile of this stuff which vendors rip holes in and sell as "creepy cloth" for about $5.00 for a few yards. The white cheese cloth is fantastic for haunting the house outdoor and can be used from everything from spiderwebs to mummy bandages. Remember, the stuff you get at the fabric store isn't fire retardant like most of the prepackaged, pricey "creepy cloth", so do take proper precautions with it.



http://www.grandinroad.com/

I just purchased a five-foot poseable skeleton from the folks at Grandin Road. Poseable skeletons for under $100 are difficult to find, so I am hoping it is a good one. Grandin Road also carries Martha Stewarts line of Halloween stuff which is pretty cool. They are a little on the pricey side, but it has been my experience that their stuff is of good quality.



http://www.walmart.com/

Make sure you check-out Walmart online as they carry some great Halloween stuff that never seems to make it to our local Walmart. If you are in the market for an airblown yard decoration, make sure you check-out their site first as they carry Gemmy airblowns.



This is the same brand as Grandin Road carries and they usually want twice as much for theirs. I picked-up this beauty at Walmart online last year for less than half the price they wanted at Grandin Road. The selection varies, and they don't always carry the same thing, but when they do you can save a bundle. Last year the cheapest place to find "creepy cloth" of the flame retardant type was at our local Walmart.



If you prefer your holiday with a vintage spin, check-out the goods at Victorian Trading Company:

http://www.victoriantradingco.com/

Another vintage favorite is Traditions at:

http://christmastraditions.com/



They carry Lori Mitchell's charming trick-or-treat figurines, as well as an array of wonderful Halloween Vintage reproductions.



A wonderful site for all things Halloween and vintage is The Vintage Halloween Store:

http://www.vintagehalloween.com/vintagehalloweenstore.html

They a chock full of goodies, links to even more Halloween fabulousness and a wonderful blog!

If you like handmade goods, or like to DIY, check out the often very cool, very unique goods at:

http://www.etsy.com/



I made this snow globe and haunted Rolodex last year! Who knows what you might be inspired to do?







I can't guarantee that any of the items listed or pictured above -- not to mention the prices -- will be available at any of the above online retailers, especially if you don't hurry!!! So make sure you get the good stuff before these guys do!

One Freak Short of a Circus

I hate talk radio and talk T.V. Some pundit running his or her self-righteous mouth about what is wrong with the world just gives me a headache. Facts be damned!-- it's all about the sound-bites and sensationalism with these people. They spread misinformation like an STD at Woodstock; and twist the truth into a pretzel. Nine times out of ten these yo-yos are the biggest hypocrites on the block.

So, it was with no small amount of pleasure and amusement that I watched Dr. Laura Schlessinger's fall from grace this week. I just have to ask: What in the hell was she thinking? Not to mention what century is she living in? I pride myself in having a bit of a potty mouth, but even I have enough sense not to go near the "n-word". It's disgusting. I think if you're a white person the "n-word" just shouldn't be in your vocabulary PERIOD. If black people want to use it, they can discuss that issue amongst themselves, and white people just need to SHUT THE FUCK-UP about it. The "n-word" is a heinous, horrible awful word. Yet somehow, Dr. Laura's advice towards the guest calling in managed to be even worse. In case you missed it, the guest, an African-American woman in a mixed marriage called to ask Dr. Laura how to handle the racially insensitive remarks made by her husband's friends. Dr. Laura, Neanderthal-of-the-week that she is, stated something to the effect that if this caller was so sensitive then she shouldn't have married outside her race, and then the esteemed Dr. Laura proceeded to use the "n-word" -- REPEATEDLY. WTF and OMG???!!!!

Due to all the fallout and flack Dr. Laura has taken over this incident, she is quitting her thirty year talk show at the end of her contract in six months. Before you could say "Good riddance!", Dr. Laura was boo-hoo-hooing was whining about the violation of her Constitutional Rights. Was it any wonder that quicker than you can say "I can see Russia from my house", retreat and reload Sarah Palin was chiming in to support Dr. Laura.



What in the hell century are these women living in? What completely baffles me is that ANYBODY takes either of these two women seriously. What scares the crap out of me is that one of these women is considered to be a SERIOUS candidate for the office of president of the United States. Beam me up Scotty!




Not to be outdone for idiot-of-the-week, pretty soon Bill O'Reilly managed to flap his yap about something almost as stupid. Before I could completely emotionally process the bizarre, yet spookily approriate combination of Dr. Laura and Sarah Palin , that right-wing turd-bucket Bill O'Reilley was running his mouth about how Jennifer Aniston was somehow responsible for twelve-year olds running out and getting pregnant.



Jennifer Aniston? Are you kidding me?

These people scare the crap out of me because not only are they stupid, people actually listen to them. This foolishness is what passes for political debate. We have serious problems in this country and these are the morons people listen to. At best this is entertainment, at it's worst it is divisive and destructive. They have nothing to offer anybody as to real solutions, they are simply about sensationalism and self-promotion. Haven't we had enough?



Frankly, I don't think any of these people are remotely in touch with reality. To Bill O'Reilly I would like to relate the following which is from an actual conversation I had with an R.N. about a month ago:

"We had an eleven year-old give birth last week." she commented when I inquired about her job.

"Was it incest?" I asked.

"As a matter-of-fact it was." she replied.

What a shock! Jennifer Aniston had NOTHING to do with it.

Vintage Tupperware???

I love old stuff. The cheesier the better. I actually have a collection of the plastic moo-cow creamers you used to be able to purchase at truck stops throughout this great nation. As a friend once said: "If it collects dust, I collect it." Among my dazzling collections are (and just put "vintage" in front of any of these): Flour sifters, salt and pepper shakers, flamingos, pre-Disney Floridana, hammered aluminum, the aforementioned collection of moo-cow creamers, old advertising (if it's on metal it's better) and/or ANYTHING breathtakingly tasteless. Lately in my search for vintage weirdness, I have been pulling up A LOT of Tupperware. I just don't get it. I understand outfitting your kitchen storage needs with the stuff, but once that is over, Tupperware is just sort of, well TUPPERWARE. Although I am pleased that there FINALLY something I have no interest in collecting! I just don't get it.



Tupperware is just so damn FUNCTIONAL. I didn't realize that people have actually found some aesthetic value in something so, well, BORING. Not to mention that it is virtually indestructible so there are mountains of the Tupperware floating the thrifts, yard sales and flea markets. Maybe it's mass inexpensive availability is what makes it appealing as a collectible.



My big problem with it is that Tupperware is not even tasteless enough to be amusing. If you collect a huge wall of Tupperware, guests will just look at it an go: "My, you have a lot of Tupperware." and silently question your sanity.

Technology has also created a plethora of food storage technology that is just light years away from Tupperware. There is stuff you can microwave, shove carelessly into the dishwasher, freeze and drop from the top of a ten-story building without it spilling. My mother was always sort of particular about her Tupperware too, and reserved it as her "good" storage. For "everyday" storage, she utilized recycled Cool Whip bowls or a Parkay tub. Perhaps this perceived "special handling" has put me off of Tupperware's utilitarian value in favor of more indestructible product, but I don't understand why anybody would collect it.

Any ideas?

Complaint Department

The official complaint department of "Joannafesto". I guarantee this blog is filled with technical inaccuracies, misspellings, lies, improper grammar, syntax abuse and shit I just made-up. Isn't that what the internet is for?

Working Class Hero????

Face it: Most of us have had one shitty job or another where we desperately wanted to tell someone who desperately deserved it to fuck-off. Steven Slater saying "sayonara" to his job, deploying an escape slide and popping-open a brewski for the ride down spoke to many of us who have had to put up with the not-so-friendly public. I have to give Slater props for exiting with style. When vomiting into a toilet and yanking out some one's hair extensions passes as entertainment, this Slater showed some creativity and panache. The big question I have to everybody waving Slater's fed-up flag is: "Have you flown lately?"

I try really hard to be nice to people, even though it runs a little contrary to my nature, but flying ANYWHERE these days grates on my last nerve. Going through the airport and getting on a flight is akin to running some sort of stress-test gauntlet to see what airlines will do this time to test my last nerve.

A million years ago when I was young, I used to love to fly. Even flying coach was a happy experience where airport personnel were happy, helpful and downright pleasant. Things started to take a terrible turn when airlines started to compete for the lowest price by cutting back on services, and no doubt the nail-in-the-coffin of customer service occurred with the tragedies of 9/11/2001. I understand that airlines and airports had to increase security while keeping costs low, but when I have flown recently, the staff at many major airlines have been wrapped tighter than the proverbial airport sandwiches, if not downright rude. Instead of feeling like a customer, I feel like the enemy. In short, I hate flying.

On a flight to I forget where, I predetermined just how much and what size baggage I could carry. I carefully packed all of my stuff into two suitcases, under the limit set at that time. One regular sized bag to be checked, one to be used as a carry-on. To make matters simpler, I didn't even carry a purse, but put everything into one small carry-on. When I boarded the plane the flight attendant grabbed my bag without even asking saying it would have to be checked, because the plane was ALREADY filed to capacity with carry-ons. My response was probably not dripping with kindness because I had already been through security who pulled everything out of said carry-on, and made a rather huge production out of pulling each and every one of my medications out of the bag and holding it up to the light, and shaking the bottles. After having had my checked baggage lost or delayed more times than I can count, I was NOT going to allow a flight attendant to check my medications. I most likely said something like: "Hey, you can't have that. My meds are in there!", which was way more polite than "WTF???" which is what I was actually thinking. These pills regulate my heart and she just wasn't getting them. Then flight attendant got huffy with me and told me that the airlines could check "whatever baggage" I brought on the plane. I informed her that either the bag went with me, or I would get off of the plane. Wisely she let me bring my bag on board, although she wasn't exactly roses and sunshine to me for the rest of the flight. My solution to this problem is to ALWAYS carry my meds in a purse because NO ONE will grab a woman's purse and try to check it. In short, I now bring more luggage on the plane than I did before.

On a long flight from Florida to Salt Lake City we had a flight attendant who decided to make everyone buckle-up and stay in their seats because of "turbulence" -- of which there wasn't much, if any. We had to stay buckled into our seats and were not allowed to use the bathroom for most of the flight. When she finally did let us use the john, and a long line formed. After about two people had actually used the facilities, the flight attendant announced we would all have to go back into our seats and buckle ourselves in. Was I a bad customer because preferred disobeying her order to wetting myself? Maybe.

Having been a flunky to somebody most of my adult life, I get that airline service people are between a rock -- the company they work for-- and a hard place -- the consumer, but just exactly TO WHOM do I direct my complaints? I met a guy at a party who used to work in customer service for the airlines and his response to my very civil inquiry about airline problems was that I should find some other means of transportation, especially if I have health problems. WTF??? Although, I am pleased he is out of customer service, he still works for the airlines. (By the way, this dude makes WAY more money than I ever made in any of my flunky jobs and I had to put up with some serious stress and plenty of nasty attitude too.)

I get why Steven Slater did what he did. I am just not so sure that he is a working class hero. Everybody is under a lot of stress. My husband has been deployed more times than I can count since 9/11/2001. I understand the need for added security at airports and on planes. However, I think the airline industry has given customer service the boot in favor of the bottom line and I really don't like being treated like excess baggage when I fly. Some of the hostility people express towards airline personnel is because airlines have created a very stressful atmosphere in which to travel. Yes, people can be assholes, but when you treat them like they are already assholes, should you be surprised when they act that way?

Youth Is Overrated

There is an entire industry, probably several if you want to get right down to it, dedicated to making people feel like crap about getting old. As an official member of AARP and the over-fifty gang I would like to say this: Youth is overrated. Somebody needed to say it and today that someone is ME!

O.K., "stuff" on my body has fallen and it doesn't seem to want to get back up. My health isn't all that great and that sort of sucks. The older generation is passing away and it is sad. But being young wasn't all that swell either. Everyone keeps telling me it is downhill from here. When I used to go bicycling as a kid I always LIKED going downhill, so maybe downhill isn't so bad. Here are a few things about getting old that are pretty cool:

1. Older people have more money. Sure, you can't fit into the stuff you wanted to buy when you were twenty and couldn't afford, but big whoop. Have you taken a gander at pictures of stylish people of the 1980's? A lot of them look pretty damned ridiculous so consider yourself fortunate you did not blow your money on such stupidity. Plus, when you are old you need the money because you should have "people" to do as much for you as possible.

2. Older people can terrorize younger people. This can be a lot of fun when you are out shopping and you feel the need to command a little servitude. I try to be careful about not getting too carried away with this one (because I could), but damn it is fun! Watching fresh-faced youth scramble to do your bidding is just so fulfilling. When I was in my twenties and got cranky with somebody, I was being snotty or had PMS, now they take me seriously. Who knew that age would equal authority? Oh, yes, this ROCKS!

3. You can give up trying to be cool. Middle-age people who try to be cool are just sad. They are the guys with hair implants and Ed Hardy t-shirt thinking they are still thin because instead of buying jeans that fit, they just plunk the beer belly over the top of their pants. Those Housewives of Whatever on T.V. who have been tanned, lifted and botoxed look embalmed and are not fooling anybody about their age. There isn't that much you can do about aging that doesn't look sort of pitiful, so just put on some stretchy pants, comfortable shoes and go terrorize some young people. You'll feel better. I promise.

4. The child-bearing years are OVER! O.K., I am NOT a big kiddie person, but I KNEW at the age of eight when they were telling me the facts of life, that women were getting the short-end-of-the-stick. Try as I may I could not find ANYTHING good about getting your period, much less having babies. Frankly, it seemed like a real rip-off and kind of unfair. The other little girls were all excited about getting their periods, having babies, and to me the whole thing just looked like a big old con job. I was right. Having a hysterectomy a few years ago was awesome. I HIGHLY recommend it.

5. I am so grateful that I have found my wonderful husband, and I hope I NEVER HAVE TO DATE AGAIN. That was a freak show. To any of you out there who are still dating, you have my deepest respect and sympathy. You will understand why.

Sure, I wish I could still fit into the size I wore back then. I wish I knew then what I now know -- but you couldn't pay me enough to relive my twenties. Getting old has a real down side, but it isn't all bad: You get those swell senior citizen discounts and there is a lot to be said for an Early Bird Special.

Gibsonton, Florida

gibsonton, florida, originally uploaded by a nameless yeast.

I grew up in Illinois, but we moved to Sarasota, Florida when I was 17. It was in 1976 and reminders that Sarasota was a circus town were easy to find. Flipping through the phonebook I found a listing for for the famed circus clown Emmett Kelly. It was not at all unusual to see a trapeze a people in someones backyard. After all, the town's high school was home to the "Sailor Circus" and people took this legacy seriously. Our neighbor's parents had owned a circus in Canada and her household pets were a team of performing poodles, with one teeny, tiny Yorkie who would climb on top of the pyramid they used to form. Retired to sunny Sarasota, the poodles eventually died off, leaving the Yorkie as the last survivor of the act. In time, like so much of Florida, he too passed away.

There were the more obvious circus landmarks in Sarasota, such as the John Ringling's home and the Ringling museum. A little more obscure, just up the road toward Bradenton there was a cemetary where many past circus performers are buried.

If you were to travel even farther north, but not quite to Tampa, you would run into a curious little town called Gibsonton, also known as "Showtown U.S.A.".



In the circus pecking order sideshows and carnies were on the lowest rung, and Gibsonton became their curious winter home. "Gibton" is what the locals call it. It isn't a very big place, in fact if it wasn't for the tilt-a-whirls and carnival trailers lining the road you could pretty much blink and miss it.



It is one of those curious bits of Floridana slowly fading away. I think Gibton is more likely to rust than fade, but as real estate prices climbed, wealth and so-called taste prevailed, little bits of Florida-past become more difficult to find.

gibsonton, florida, originally uploaded by a nameless yeast.

Traveling south from Tampa along U.S. 41 (the Tamiami Trail), you would cross the Alafia river and there would be the sign advertising Giants Camp Restuarant. It was, of course, owned by a giant, Al Tomani, who stood over eight-feet tall and his wife, Jeanie, also known as "half-woman" because she was only two-and-a-half feet tall. The bought the place back in the 1940's, rented out a few places out back, and soon Gibton would become a winter haven for carnival and sideshow people. Sadly, the restaurant closed down in 2006, but for better or for worse, Gibton lingers on.

It is not unusual to see a pile of circus junk in somebody's yard in Gibton. Where other communities form neighborhood associations to regulate and restrict their subdivisions, in Gibton there is civic pride in having a tilt-a-whirl in your front yard. At its best, Gibton is pretty seedy. If that sort of thing bothers you, you may want to pass on through.



Strangely enough though, it is the part of Florida I miss the most.

Media Whores of the Week: The Salahis

Tareq Salahi, originally uploaded by victorfosterono.

Those wretched Salahis are back trying to squeeze a little more time out of their fifteen minutes of fame. If you don't remember them these were the two idiots who crashed a White House state dinner and for some reason are not in JAIL. Just like the proverbial bad penny these two media whores are back to suck a little more life out of their fleeting fifteen. Television has seriously sucked this last week, but nothing could make me watch these two grifters on "The Real Housewives of Washington D.C.". Now Michaele Salahi is boo-hoo-hooing about how Whoopi Goldberg treated her on "The View".

Whoopi wasn't as nice to Michaele as Michaele THOUGHT she should be to her. For somebody who crashes state functions and then whores herself out for a T.V. gig, Michaele is very sensitive. I watched the replay of Whoopi's on camera interaction and all Whoopi did was touch her and request that she change the subject. I guess the encounter continued back stage where Whoopi used some colorful language on the highly insulted Michaele Salahi. Good for Whoopi. If ever a pair needed to be told to "Fuck you!" it is these two self-inflated scumbags. I don't know why these two have been REWARDED for their egregious behavior at the White House last year, but if it were up to me they would be in the slammer.

The past few weeks on "The Real Housewives of New Jersey" and "The Jersey Shore" there have been several scuffles that have involved police intervention. This makes for good television, but at what point are T.V. executives responsible for encouraging illegal behavior? In real life, hitting another person is a violation of the law. On reality T.V., if the police are called out, the ratings are higher. Who is paying for all of this? Don't the people producing these shows have some responsibility for their stars' behavior when they know they are setting-up, if not actually encouraging, illegal behavior? Don't they have some moral, ethical and financial responsibility for the illegal activities that occur on their shows? Is this how we want our system of jurisprudence utilized? Of course a lot of this stuff is as phony as a three-dollar bill and entirely scripted, but some of this stuff seems to be the real deal.

Then there is FAKE celebrity Michaele Salahi boo-hoo-hooing that REAL celebrity Whoopi Goldberg has somehow abused her. Gag me! Salahi is always such a victim. When she and her husband crashed a state dinner they were NOT invited to, they expressed such a lack of respect for the office of the President of the United States and the President's safety, we should all be insulted. I am not encouraging anything, but I kinda' wish Whoopi had slugged her.

How Does It Feel to Breed One of the Beautiful People?

The picture you see to the left is NOT a picture of Greg Hodge the U.S. Managing director of www.beautifulpeople.com. I couldn't find a copyright free picture of this bozo to share with you. You see Greg has a problem. It seems Greg, and the people like him at www.beautifulpeople.com, are so damn pretty people want their sperm. He was bitching about this on CNN's "The Joy Behar Show": http://joybehar.blogs.cnn.com/2010/07/28/beautiful-sperm-for-sale/). Apparently this is a big problem, and Greg and his people have come up with a solution and that is to graciously share their pretty eggs and sperm with the less fortunate. Once I picked myself up off the floor from laughing so hard, I made it my mission to go to: http://www.beautifulpeople.com/ site to get the skinny and bring it back here. This is the kind of shit I live for. What a huge disappointment that they are currently not allowing "visitors" because of "recent publicity" on the site. Apparently, A LOT of uglies are in need of spermatozoa!

So, I will have to discuss these people without having access to their site, as I am both happily married, and not in the market for sperm or eggs. Denied access I will have to resort to making a few observations about these narcissistic benefactors of beautiful off-spring. First of all, they take themselves REALLY seriously. Being pretty is really hard and fairly humorless. Secondly, before you can say "Lebensborn" we (The average-to-ugly set. If you are reading this and are one of the "beautiful people", you will know because you are moving your lips.) need to wake-up and realize that being one of them is just better.

I have always made it a policy to never date a guy who was prettier than me. Not that my husband, the Bulldog isn't absolutely adorable, but I am vain and there is nothing worse than fighting some guy for space in front of the mirror. It's just SO unmanly. I was raised with stupid ideas like "Beauty is only skin deep", "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder" or "Beauty fades, dumb is forever". (You know -- all the stuff they tell ugly people to help them get over it.) My parents clearly missed the boat on this one, and once again, were remiss in preparing me to complete in the real world. So not only did I learn to appreciate good-looking people I was taught to find beauty in other things such as talent, brains, humor, compassion, courage, ethics, honor, virtue and the ability to make farty noises with your arm-pit. Seriously, when we think of people we truly, truly love, is the first thing that pops into our head is whether or not they are physically beautiful? My husband is currently a deployed soldier, and right now I can't imagine a face more beautiful than his.

We all appreciate beauty, but there is so much that can be considered beautiful. Francis Bacon once said: "There is no beauty without some strangeness in the proportion." Ain't it the truth?

Are We Addicted to Addiction?

Maybe it is because of all the fuss with Lilo, Mel Gibson and the BP Oil Spill, but I am getting tired of EVERYTHING being referred to as an addiction. The "addicted to oil" phrase being the number one offender. I have said it before and I will say it again: I am not addicted to oil -- my car is.

Morning T.V. just loves an addiction. Need to fill some time? Bring in an addiction expert. Apparently we are addicted to drugs, oil, alcohol, caffine, shopping, cats, dogs, clutter, bargains, computers, computer games, sex, online sex, food, junk food, make-up, exercise, not exercising, My Space, Facebook, Twitter, Ebay, blogging, texting, cell phones -- you name it, they have an addiction for it. My issue with calling everything we do on a repeated basis an "addiction" is that it implies there is some chemical dependency upon the object of our addiction. O.K., I suppose there could be some "chemical" alteration of our brains that occurs from playing too much "Farmville". However, playing too much "Farmville" seems to be a far cry being a crackhead. My so-called "addiction to oil" is pretty much a social norm. I am not personally sticking with oil because of some physical need my body has to go huff gas fumes. My car runs on gas. (Incidentally my car is a 2002 Isuzu Trooper we HAD to buy because Montana didn't plow their roads and we NEEDED a four-wheel drive SUV so I could see the cardiologist in St.Louis in the dead of winter. I continue to drive it because IT IS NOW PAID FOR. Hello?) Face it, we are ALL addicted to food. If we don't eat, we'll die. Some of us eat too much and get fat. Some of us eat the same amount we always ate and get fat. This is cruel and is known as middle-age. Calling every little thing an "addiction" sort of negates the power of an actual addiction, which is no longer referred to as "addiction" but chemical dependency. All of this makes my head hurt.

My point is -- and I am really starting to doubt whether or not I have one -- is that we are addicted to addiction. We LOVE addiction. T.V. in particular LOVES addiction. It gives us something to do, something to improve, something to judge other people about, something to talk about, something we can relate to, and most importantly -- something to broadcast on a slow news day.

...and don't let the door hit you in the ass on your way out.

After a reported 1 Million Pound (that's WAY more than dollars) and a half-a-million pound yearly pension, Tony "Turd-Bucket" Hayward has resigned as president of BP. If you haven't guessed, I hate this guy. That he gets this kind of money from BP to QUIT is just mind-boggling. If it were up to me, this guy would be out with a bucket and sand shovel scooping-up his own fucking mess. The company he heads up loses $17.5 million and he gets a milllion pounds and a hefty pension. Son-of-a-bitch, I am in the wrong line of work. What this guy did was criminal, and he gets off with this HUGE settlement. THIS is why we get so excited when some over-privileged, entitled brat like Lilo actually gets sent to the slammer.

Before BP royally fucked-up and flooded the Gulf with oil, I thought maybe if it decreased our dependence on foreign oil, off-shore oil drilling might be O.K. PROVIDED it was done RESPONSIBLY. What a naive moron I was -- corporate and responsible are just two words that don't seem to mix. BP has successfully proven to me that off-shore drilling is ALWAYS a bad idea because corporations cannot be trusted to do the legal, morally-responsible thing. Ask me about off-shore drilling today (or tomorrow, for that matter) and you will get a big: "Hell no!"

All those Americans on the Gulf coast trying to earn and honest living dependent upon the Gulf, already having had the crap knocked out of them by Hurricane Katrina, now having their livelihoods and their futures destroyed by this company are having to BEG for money -- and Tony Hayward gets a freaking bonus??? Where is my form to resign from the human race? I am filling it out today.

Making Peace With Martha

Those of you who know me know that I used to have long standing issues with Martha Stewart. Her pretentious bitch attitude truly conflicted with my own. She was the only person who could make raising chickens sound lah-de-dah. Chickens are filthy, dirty stinky beasts, and unless they are of the grilled variety, I don't want them in my backyard. Martha was just annoyingly full of information on how to do freakin' EVERYTHING better than you. Of course, we all knew she had a big 'ol staff doing the work for her. Her do-yourself, free-range attitude when what she did required a cast of hundreds just annoyed the hell out me. This woman had never even tried Cool Whip. WTF?

Then Martha went to the slammer. Back then I would have said it served her right for even suggesting I have time (or the inclination) to shell my own freshly grown peas. However something I did not see coming happened to Martha while in jail. She seemed to take serious stock of her life and actually became a better person! When she got out it, was as if the three ghosts of past, present and future had come to visit her at the Federal Penitentiary in Alderson. We always hope that a stint in a federal prison might give someone the attitude adjustment they need (hint, hint) but it rarely ever does. Most people emerge from the poky pretty much the same as when they went in, or worse. Not Martha, though. She came out wearing a poncho one of the inmates made her and seemed to be somewhat humbled. Martha was so truly remorseful that Donald Trump stopped being her friend because she wouldn't be mean enough on her reality show. The core of Martha's personality remained the rooty-snooty-tooty-booty that could say "Alderson" like it was Vassar, but she seemed nicer. Martha she even seemed to develop a sense of humor. The old Martha was still there, but I could tolerate seeing her on T.V. without reaching for the remote. It was sort of amazing.

Then I started noticing something else about Martha Stewart: Nobody does Halloween quite as well as "Martha Stewart Living". They are a little on the tasteful side given my streak of kitsch-adore, but damn, Marth and her people have got some seriously good Halloween stuff (Or should I say "good things"?) No sooner had she lured me into her world with fabulous Halloween goodies, she launched a craft line that featured the best damn border punches I have ever used or seen. At first Michael's Craft Store was a little snooty and over-priced about this line. But no sooner could you say "Martha has craft supplies at Wal-mart", the prices dropped.

I may not arrange my schedule around when Martha's T.V. show is on, or subscribed to "Living", but Martha is nowhere near as irritating as she was before she went to the slammer. And that's a good thing. (Then there is Lilo...)

Fur Pants for Fall?

Before you can say "Chewbacca" Winter 2010 will be upon us. The August issue of "In Style" magazine included a Chanel ad featuring fur pants. At first I wasn't sure if they were pants or chaps, but upon further inspection they are indeed pants. Whew -- what a relief! Fur chaps would be silly. Apparently, it is ALL about Inuit Chic for Fall. The fashionistas have outdone themselves on this one: They have FINALLY found a look that is universally unflattering on everyone, except maybe Tickle-Me-Elmo. Designer Karl Lagerfeld assures us that the pants are strictly faux fur, as Chanel would never do anything so tacky as using real fur. Thank goodness for this, because I would NEVER wear REAL fur pants! (I wonder if they are machine wash/tumble dry, too?) Lagerfeld goes on to explain that the use of REAL ice icebergs as a back drop for the models in this collection is a statement on global warming. I guess that is why he always has that fan. I thought maybe he was menopausal. This show was Spring 2010, which was before the big BP Oil Spill in the Gulf, so now I can't wait to see what he comes up with using that for inspiration!

Leggings are starting to look better and better.

Honk If Your Blog Sucks!

I love Google Analytics. How else would I know that "Joannafesto" has received hits from over thirty-six different countries? This blog has even received a hit from Krygyzstan, a country which is so poor they can barely afford real vowels! Wow! Through Google Analytics I have determined that this blog has a steady stream of regular visitors, and for some odd reason, is really big in Austin, Texas. Go figure. (I looked up Austin and it is a city where the small business organization has chosen the phrase "Keep Austin Weird" as its motto. I may have to more there.) So upon the anniversary of writing this, my 101st blog, I decided to figure-out how I stack-up against the rest of the blogosphere. Yes, I Googled "blog improvement".

Bloody hell if that wasn't depressing. According to the blog expert I read that the average time spent on my blog is only 47 seconds is a complete disaster. I thought it was just because "Joannafesto" was not what they were looking for when they ran their search. We have all Googled something like "tassels" when we were looking for drapery items and pulled up something totally different. I figured people just landed on my blog through some misguided search attempt. However, according to this article, my blog is so bad because people cannot even stand to look at it for more than 47 seconds. How can somebody spend 47 seconds on my blog and even have a clue as to whether or not it is any good? It takes me longer than that to sneeze. The average reader also only reads 1.25 pages per visit, which given the 47 second average time spent rate, pretty much makes them speed readers, too. According to my stats and the article I read: My blog sucks, I suck, my cats suck, my writing sucks, it all SUCKS. It's SUCKTACULAR!

"Why, why, why???" I cried out to no one in particular.

The article answered it was because I was doing something wrong. I needed to run contests, participate more on other blogger's blogs and write about more topical issues. For instance: What was my most popular article? Most popular search term? I looked it up: "Toddlers and Tiaras". The more I thought about this, the more disturbing it became. Maybe that my blog is being read by a pack of pedophiles would explain why they're disappointed and lose interest within 47 seconds! (But isn't that really a good thing?) According to the article, I needed to write on more topical issues, pop culture, things people are actually interested in besides the unpopular crap I am currently addressing. I will admit it, when I write about pop culture stuff I do get more traffic, but does the blogosphere really need more commentary on Lindsay Lohan? Don't get me wrong, I could write all day about HRH ("Her Royal Huffiness"), but hasn't that been done to death? Won't it just get lost in the piles of blogs already written about HRH?

Then the article went on to tell me how to optimize search terms by using labels for my posts. Even though I had been using these from the beginning, I was starting to get tired of seeing the string of words at the bottom of my blog generally cluttering-up the whole look and feel of my blog. "Hey," I thought. "Maybe THAT is the whole problem!" So I deleted ALL them, which is counter productive according to this build a better blog guy, but frankly I found that his use of highlighting key words in the body of his blog freaking irritating. Okay, I can see how highlighting key words and linking them so your reader can click on them and go deeper into your blog will boosts you stats, but isn't the point to get them to read the blog? This whole article was about how to boost Google statistics, but said NOTHING about how to actually improve my blog.

I read the rest of the article and if I wanted any more information I could pay a fee to learn how to improve my blog. Curiously, this is how many blog improvement articles read. They tear you down then offer you the sales pitch. No thanks. This guy could boost my stats, but I doubt he could improve my blog.

Home Improvement is for Chumps

Back when my husband and I were first married and lived in the dinky apartment from hell, I used to dream of all the DIY projects I would do once we owned a home of our own. I was Suzy Freakin' Homemaker with a tool belt in my head. Imaginary me was hammering, painting and reupholstering the universe and saving money to boot! I was living in a fool's world. Here's the problem with home improvement: The whole damn world is both figuratively and metaphorically about a half-inch off.

I should have seen the writing on the wall when living in the dinky apartment and I took it upon myself to replace two knobs on a dresser. There were two holes, two screws, two knobs -- what could be a simpler fix? Quickly I discovered that the wood on the dresser was too thick for the screws that came with the knobs. Looked like this was going to take a little more effort then I had anticipated. After a trip to the hardware store, I learned that the screws in the new knobs were metric, and after much ado the clerk produced the only screws he could find that would fit. I purchased them and upon returning home, showed them to my husband, the Bulldog. He took one look at them and said:

"Why did they give you masonry screws?"

"They were the only ones that fit." I replied.

Convinced that I had been had by the hardware store for at least a $1.50, the Bulldog decided he could find the proper screws. He took the masonry screws back to the hardware store and since they were still the only ones that fit, returned them because they were the wrong kind. We spent the better part of that Sunday going from hardware store, to hardware store searching for those elusive screws. After failure at the final hardware store, even the Bulldog realized it was a lost cause. He had to go back to the original hardware store to get the wrong masonry screws. Interestingly enough, when the Bulldog went to attach the knobs he noticed that part of the wood where the knobs attached had been chiseled away in what appears to have been a previous attempt to replace the missing knob by Bulldog's grandfather. We had to put a couple washers to get the knob to be level where the wood had been chipped away. To this day those knobs are held on with those same masonry screws and backed with washers. No one has ever noticed.

After fifteen-bazillion moves, and one life-altering heart-surgery later, I finally figured-out that the path of least resistance was to purchase a newer home with standard EVERYTHING. NO FUNNY BUSINESS. No quirks that other people mistake for character that are so often found in the older homes that I so dearly love. Screw character, I want simple and it works, damnit. I don't want to have to paint, paper, plaster and repair to have my husband come home and announce: "I don't know how to tell you this, but the Army is moving me (as in US) again." I don't know how much of my life has been spent trying to find curtains to fit weird-ass windows, but it has been a considerable portion and I am now focused on cutting my losses. Home improvement? I am officially OVER IT!!! You can KEEP your quaint 100 year-old farmhouses, I want new and improved and easy-peasy, damn it. If I want character I will provide by the sheer force of my winsome personality.

Still, I can get sucked into the simplest of home improvement projects, which are NEVER, EVER SIMPLE! Several months ago I purchased the E-Z Wrap Deco Cornices for my windows. They are guaranteed a simple no-sew project any four year-old can put together. First, I ordered some fabric off Ebay that I really didn't like in the room once I got it. I carted the foam valance forms and fabric out to the back of my car and fully intended to take them over to the Salvation Army Thrift Store. Then I had an idea. As I was cleaning my studio, it occurred to me that black and white fabric that matched the accoutrements (stuff) I already had in that room would be fabulous. I retrieved the foam cornice forms from my car. I ordered five yards of fabric off of Ebay again. This promised to be plently, given the project instructions which, incidentally, I actually read. Then I got the fabric. Damnit if the print wasn't one-directional and I needed the fabric to be 52" wide for a one directional print to fit over the cornice, and the fabric is only 45" wide. Sonofabitch! THIS is how home improvement ALWAYS turns-out. Always, always, always. No matter how hard I try, some snafu raises it's ugly-assed head and turns the simplest home improvement into a freakin' PROJECT. This is why I try to avoid this crap. Once again, I am kicking myself for getting sucked into trying to a DIY project.

It could be worse. We once had a neighbor, the home improvement type, who bought plenty of paint all at once like you are supposed to. After painting the hall and entryway she was delighted that the paint covered everything with one coat. However, after the paint dried she noticed a little streaking and a few missed spots. She cracked open the remaining can of paint that was supposed to be the same color to touch-up the first coat. After all, she purchased all of it at the same time. Soon she was knocking at my door:

"I need your opinion on this project." she said.

We went over to her house and she showed me the hall and entryway.

"I tried to touch it up. I think the new can is a different color. Can you tell?"

Oh, dear. How could I break this to her gently:

"Um, kinda." I replied, everyone knows I have a extremely low level of standards for this sort of thing. If I notice, it's bad.

"Auugghhh!!! I was afraid of that." She had to do the whole thing over. I just hope she had enough paint.

When considering home improvement it pays to remember that nothing is EVER easier than you think it is going to be. No matter how well you plan, measure and prep SOMETHING you didn't see coming will rear its ugly head. Some people look to this as a challenge; and some people look to the "Yellow Pages" under "contractors". Guess which one I am?

Toddlers and Tiaras, Little Miss Perfect: Talking the Talk

debbie, originally uploaded by ishatter.

How do you top three weeks which included a gravel-voiced beauty queen terror-toddler, a pageant organizer skipping town with the pageant prize money, and a thirty-one year old woman who decides to make her pageant return via the "...age ten and up division"??? You can't and after three weeks of spell-binding programing, "Toddlers and Tiaras" has been a little tame the past couple of weeks. Don't get me wrong: Waxing a kid's eyebrows is still seriously freaky business, but we've seen it before, and I have gotten a little numb to the shock factor of watching toddlers get spray-tanned and plucked. Too much reality T.V. sort of raises one's tolerance for that which one defines as normal.

I remember when I first started to view the child beauty pageant shows "Toddlers and Tiaras" and "Little Miss Perfect". Back then, they were a jaw-dropping view into a parallel universe. Even if half the time I didn't know what the hell they were talking about. So, as a public service to those of you who are new to the pageant lingo, here are a few definitions guaranteed to improve your viewing enjoyment.

1. Facial Beauty: Whew! I was TOTALLY relieved when I heard one of the mothers explain that the children in the pageants were mostly judged on "facial beauty". The creep factor of imagining the judges voting for 3 year-old Kylee because she had a "swell rack and great gams" would have been a little too much for all of us. I am not sure how the mothers explain to the losers that the other little girl just had more "facial beauty" without permanently damaging the kid's self-esteem, but that may be why I have cats instead of children. (That, and you can't leave four children under the age of five at home by themselves with bowls of water and food on the floor.)

2. Full Glitz: Full fake. This look requires fake hair, fake tan, fake nails, fake eyelashes and plenty of glitter. If you can still find a child under all of this crap, you haven't loaded on enough stuff. Get out the Be-Dazzler and get crackin'!

3. Natural Beauty: Highly-overrated. Budget pageant. Cheap parents. Can afford the pageant entrance fee, but not the stuff to truly tart-up their kids. This pageant, from what I can tell, is set up to weed the "wheat from the chaff". The "wheat" being the the parents who will eventually blow their life savings on frou-frou dresses and spray tans; from the "chaff" which would be the (cheap) parents who think spray tanning a kid is sort of silly and decide to spend their money for useless things like mortgages and college educations. Good riddance to them! If they aren't willing to invest a butt load of cash into their kid, then they lack the sort of commitment it takes for a girl to be " The Full Package".

4. The Full Package (also: "The Total Package", "The Entire Package", "The Whole Package"): Full Glitz with no behavioral issues. Has learned to walk like a prissy little robot. Has perfected more poses than Tyra Banks.

5. "Sparkle, Baby!": This is a phrase often shouted by pageant moms to their little girls. I am glad no one shouted this at me when I was four or I probably would have tried to shoot gemstones out my behind. What I think this phrase means is to furiously bat your eyes at the judges, like the sparklies from your full glitz dress have made you so dazzling you might blind even yourself, or something like that.

6. Flirt: Suck-up to the judges.

7. Beauty Walk (also Prissy Walk): A slow, stiff walk in a short sparkly dress with lots of "sparkling" and "flirting". This usually requires a special coach. Apparently, there may be some danger involved. I dunno. Wear a short dress. They may say it's about facial beauty, but there is a name for girls who wear long dresses: Loser.

8. Pull-Out: O.K., I was pretty concerned when I first heard this term being batted around by the pageant moms. It does not pertain to what the slutty girls in high school were promised by the guys who got them pregnant. (Big "Whew!" there, huh?) Instead it has to do with the complicated pageant award system which, if I am not mistaken, seems to be set-up so the girls who are losers don't really realize they are losers until they get home. By then it is too late for their parents to realize they have been had and demand a refund of their pageant fees. This also appears to be a part of placating the newbies' parents into thinking that "Princess Best Hair" is actually a good prize and there is hope for their child in future pageants. When a girl "pulls-out" it means she has been selected for a higher title, usually something like "Ultimate Grand Supreme", which I think sounds like a dessert and usually makes me hungry.

Any questions?

Arturo's New Hairdo

BEFORE


AFTER

My cats are assholes. Make that three of my cats are assholes. Little Arturo (Fuente), an adorable nine-month old kitten, was having a few issues grooming his butt. This led to a series of unfortunate mats. At first I tried clipping them out, but they started to multiply like dust bunnies during shedding season. Arty was also getting just a little miffed with my persistent attempts to brush his behind. In an attempt to maintain my peaceful kingdom and make life easier for myself I decided to take Arty to the groomer to get a lion cut.

I carted him over to the groomer early Friday morning. When I returned home sans Arturo, the other cats looked somewhat anxious as to what had happened to Arty. Lew (Rothman), Arturo's brother seemed the most concerned. He parked himself in front of the door waiting, I supposed, for his brother's return. "How sweet!" I thought. "He already misses his brother."

However, when I brought Arturo home with his new hairdo, all hell broke loose. First Eddy got a little huffy with Arty. Eddy is not smart, so this wasn't much of a surprise. Her response to just about any change is to hiss first and ask questions later. Patsy just sort of ignored him and hissed only when Arturo tried to rub-up against her. Lew, ARTURO'S OWN BROTHER, was the nastiest of all. Growling, hissing and raising a fuss generally reserved for shows like "When Animals Attack" instead of living rooms in suburban Atlanta. What I thought was a simple haircut has escalated into an all out turf war. Nobody is happy at Kelleywood. Least of all yours truly. No matter how much I try telling them "Change Is Good", the cats are not having any part of it.

Poor, poor Arty. Ostracised for being different. I had no idea that a new hairdo would send my household into this much of a panic. I feel sort of guilty, but I believe there is room for diversity at Kelleywood. The cats, however, are not having ANY part of it. Do you think they could be Republicans?

Deborah Harry is a FREAKIN' GODDESS.

That's it. That is my entire blog for today.

Halloween in July in Which I Announce the Kelleywood Halloween Theme 2010!

It's already July and that time of the year when the bone melting heat reminds me that Halloween is just around the corner. Here's the deal: Stores are not nearly as dedicated to Halloween as they are to Christmas, so it bee hooves one to get ready early and to POUNCE on the good stuff the minute it hits the store shelves, or in in my case EBay.

Last year, I took a tumble down the porch steps in my magic witch boots. I landed at the foot of the stairs in front of a group of startled trick-or-treaters. Bravely I cried-out to the Bulldog: "I'm O.K., I'm O.K. Pass out the candy." (It still makes me tear-up a little when I think about how courageous I was -- with no thought for myself, thinking only of the little trick-or-treaters staring down at the fifty-something woman laying in a witchy heap at their feet with confused and startled expressions on their painted faces which seemed to say: "Is this supposed to be a part of Halloween?" Caring nothing for myself -- only that Halloween must go on -- I bravely ignored my own pain -- and I am at that age where breaking a hip is becoming a serious concern -- I thought only of the children and their need for candy!!!) At that moment I swore I was getting too old for this crap and next year it was a t-shirt and jeans por moi. But the minute the Fourth of July comes to an end, it hits me: Now what? HALLOWEEN!!!! Joy, joy, joy. Goodie, goodie gumdrop!!!! Then I take it upon myself to dazzle the neighborhood once again.



Last year the weather so cruelly did not cooperate and it rained so much I was more concerned about boring grown-up shit like the basement flooding, than getting Halloween crap out. Two weeks before Halloween, there was still no sign of Halloween at Kelleywood. Neighbors started to come by to ask when I was going to put my stuff up. In these days of economic downturn they depended upon me to bring a little joy du jour to the humble hood. I realized I could not disappoint them. Then near tragedy occurred when the garage got hit by lightening and knocked the power out to the front porch. I had to get electricians out stat (as they say on the hospital shows) to repair everything just two weeks before the big day. For awhile it seemed as if the lights would be out in Kelleywood for Halloween. A team of electricians (O.K., a guy named Jose from "Mr. Sparky") came out to restore electricity to the front yard at Kelleywood. Still, it continued to rain. I couldn't put out most of my electrical stuff because the ground was so saturated. Fortunately, due to my genius for planning ahead, I had acquired a spooktacular Halloween airblown which alone could dazzle any neighborhood (Provided it was not entirely populated by gay men. That sort of goes without saying, doesn't it?): A horse drawn pumpkin hearse, with lights,and a skeleton which cried: "Ha.Ha.Ha. You're next!!!". It was a huge hit. I saved Halloween once again.

Now Halloween 2010 is almost upon us. Every year it is the same two problems: Budgetary restraints and topping last year's display. I paid way to much for the airblown-that-saved-Halloween to not use it in this year's display. How could I possibly incorporate my last year's Halloween motif into this year's razzle-dazzle? I needed a theme. (I'm from Florida, after all, we do LOVE a theme.) So, after not nearly enough fanfare given its fabulousity, the Kelleywood Halloween Theme 2010 is ZOMBIE PROM!!! I ask you: What theme could be more perfect in a town famous for having been used as a film set for the movie "Zombieland"? AND what could fulfill my adolescent need for glamour and adulation better, while being a rocking back drop for trick-or-treaters than making MYSELF ZOMBIE PROM QUEEN??? Best of all: It requires a tiara!!! That's right: Suddenly I realized that there was no need to be elected prom queen. I could just throw my own prom and make MYSELF prom queen!!! Hot damn! Halloween is starting to look downright cathartic. All that adolescent angst swept away by a bloody axe in the head and a tiara. I'm even thinking of developing a software program where you can take your old high school year book and make yourself president of every club and queen of every prom. Say "Bye-Bye" to teen trauma and rewrite your youth.

Oh yes, I am certainly on to something FABULOUS!!! Stay tuned to "Joannafesto" for updates on "Zombie Prom 2010"!!!