Paula Deen, My Oh My !

paula deen cake

paula deen cake (Photo credit: bunchofpants)

I surprise myself sometimes. Or maybe I just confuse myself. WHY have I not written about Mrs. Deen yet? Did I forget about her?  Or have I just been consumed reading and watching all the media about her that I forgot to write my own article?. Forgive me. That seems to be the only reason that could explain my lack of posting about dear Paula.  Well, that is over so here we are with Mrs. Deen, I get the impression she would not love being called Ms. Deen. Right, y’all?

I have to admit I’ve had my eye on Paula Deen ever since we found out that she had Diabetes (I call it the Diabetes Deception) and was still serving up her fat ridden, butter ladled, sugar filled, cream covered, artery blocking meals. Oh wait, did I forget to mention that once she had been found out she just happened to become a spokesperson for a drug company associated with a Diabetes drug? Not gonna lie, I thought it was, excuse the pun, cheesy. I didn’t like it then and I still don’t like it now but who knew that was just the tip of the little ol iceberg, right Paula honey?

Now, I’m not saying you are guilty of allegedly saying incredibly racist/ homophobic (or was that your brother?) language , oh wait, YOU ARE GUILTY you admitted this on tape, under oath, I’m sorry. (I’m just waiting for anti-semitic comments to come in any moment) Should I alert the United Jewish Agency? I’m keeping my opinion out of this because, that’s what I think I should do. Oh hell, when have I ever done that before? I’m not Barbara Walters here, there’s journalism and then there’s me, Pop Cop. I dish. (pun intended.)

A lot has happened in less than a week, hasn’t it? Paula’s empire has gone down, way down. She apparently, allegedly, used despicable words and admitted to them, ON TAPE. What was she thinking, not about admitting to them but about using those words and don’t give me this crap about you being Southern and old-fashioned. Please. Nothing gives you the right to degrade anyone.. Really, Paula get a grip. Oh, wait, too late.

So, a bunch of your sponsors have dropped you. Food Network, Target, Home Depot, your new book deal and your pharmaceutical firm, and plenty more. Last I heard there were 12 sponsors all together who dropped you like a double butter and sour cream hot potato. All I have to say is: Good. And yes, a bunch of your fans have supported you and that’s good for you because what else do you have? Now, I heard that the diabetes company has thrown you out on your bottom and does not want you to be their spokesperson anymore. Ouch. Even I feel bad for you and that does say something.

Paula, I watched your show a few times, just watching your show I felt the pounds adhering to my thighs and butt. Sure, fried anything is great for a treat once a year, and I love cake but other than my birthday I don’t go around making cream filled, butter based, artery clogging delicacies all the time and I am known for my sweet tooth. Sure, a little here and there is fine, everyone knows about moderation.Well, most of us do. But, if I was diagnosed with Diabetes, would I still flaunt these high fat, high sugary, high cholesterol foods? Of course not, that’s not only lying it’s deception.

Take a break, Paula. A long one. You better decide it is what you want because at this point people have already decided for you. Think about your ways, Paula Deen and how you treat people. Treat ALL people with respect, maybe then you will have a fighting chance. But, for now, I doubt it.

Playing “Punch Buggy” Alone Really Isn’t That Much Fun

Volkswagen Beetle

Volkswagen Beetle (Photo credit: stephenhanafin)

On the way to Target by pure instinct alone, I call out “Punch Buggy” when I see a Volkswagon Beetle. I KNOW it’s stupid, I KNOW no one else is in the car but still, I do it. While I get a teeny tiny bit of pleasure, it isn’t as much fun as when my husband is there and we both call it and then childishly say “but we are not playing.” You have to like us if not love us, it’s the little things that matter; we’ve been married almost 24 years, so we must be doing something right. You have to reinvent yourselves with silly, childish games and you know what, it seems to work.

While at Target, I still go to the first two discount aisles where they have little kids things on sale for a dollar each. My children are eighteen years old and twenty. Come on, don’t I know that by now? I am certainly not buying beer magnets or obnoxious T-shits (okay, I did that once) but generally I have good judgment. However, according to my kids I am ridiculously old-fashioned and the fact that I dislike every type of alcohol known to humanity (except for the occasional mimosa when my in-laws are in town) is beyond uncool, it’s just plain wrong. Why am I still looking at the dollar aisle, do I think they need little presents for their “goodie bags?” My children are allowed to vote. Move on, mom.

I still go to the teen boy aisle where they have the obnoxious boy T-shirts that my son used to live for, when he was about ten. Why do I still go there? HE wouldn’t be could dead wearing something stupid now. He has even passed the entire T-shirt phase altogether. He wears button downed shirts, with his sleeves rolled up, maybe a plain, white T-shirt underneath. He likes to look nicer now. Where happened to my son? Who did he learn his new style from or for whom did he learn his new style?

My daughter has had her own sense of style since she was just about born. As soon as she was old enough to dress herself, she did. What I put out for her was replaced by whatever color/ stripe combination or completely purple outfit that she wanted. I never fought with her, except for one school picture and after that traumatic experience and glum expression I let her choose what she wanted to wear any and every day. I lovingly remember her wearing her sky blue, long, Cinderella dress to her nursery school graduation, with my parents and husband in attendance. She felt like a princess (always) and dressed accordingly. To this day, she gives me advice and when she asks me my opinion on something I feel honored. A friend of the family went over to our daughter, when she was 3 or 3 1/2 and said “You look so pretty in that dress” and our daughter’s response was “I know dat.” Meet our girl.

There were times when both kids were living at home and my husband was here all the time that I would long for a day of alone time, peace and harmony. Today was that day. My husband was visiting his parents and both kids are now in college. I could do whatever I wanted to do and you know what? For the first time, I missed my husband. I hate to admit it but I didn’t like eating my crummy slice of tasteless pizza by myself. It was a chore and it wasn’t relaxing. The entire day seemed lonely when before I craved the quiet like a crystal meth addict craves her drug. Times change, people change, be open to it, new things will always happen and surprise you. In time, you will always adjust. You have no other choice.

Carry on Tuesday: All the world’s a stage

Dorm Room

Hey, it’s me, Jeff, in my dorm room and I’m in a weird ass mood. Don’t know what’s going on with me but I feel sad and strange. Like yesterday I was sitting in the student lounge with my friend, Ericka, and like everyone else was being so damn pretentious. I hate that. It’s like they were kinda showing off to each other but not in an overt way, more subtle. The girls with their short skirts pretending not to care how they looked, the guys in their fancy striped shirts, mostly unbuttoned, they all think they are so cool. Cool? Dude, they were smoking cigarettes and blowing smoke into each others faces and second-hand smoke into mine. Am I supposed to like that? Hell, no. I can’t help it, not everyone is happy.

I had my guitar and I was playing songs and Ericka was singing along and they looked at us like we were the uncool kids. So not right. I mean I kinda like college, I think, but I just don’t like those stupid cliques, that is way too high school for me. I know it’s just my freshman year but I thought college would be so much better, more grown up but it’s the same old shit, just different place. My mom and dad say to “give it a chance” and you know, I am trying, but it’s not helping. Plus, gotta say I really miss my dog, Denver. That stupid dog followed me everywhere and he knew what I was feeling better than most people. What if he forgets me while I am up here? I don’t think I could take that, I really don’t. Am I like the only person that misses their dog and stuff?

All the kids talk about is how much beer they drank and how many times they threw up. Like it’s an accomplishment or something. I don’t fit in, least not yet. I tell my parents that I am mostly happy which is kinda a lie. I don’t tell them about the really bad grades I’ve gotten. The teachers here they take themselves so damn seriously, Dr. this and Dr. that. Big deal, they have a Ph.d it’s not like they found the cure to cancer or anything.

In my English Lit. class the professor starts quoting “All the world’s a stage” like I haven’t heard that one a million times before; dude, like I am living it. Hell,  I pretend to be happy and well-adjusted but I just don’t feel right here, maybe I’m not ready. Maybe I should have taken a gap year and worked, I kinda think my mom was right but I can’t tell her that. Ericka feels the same way that I do, she misses home a lot too. Hey, maybe we can leave on the same day if we both go home, but I gotta say, I would miss Ericka, and her house is like four hours away from mine.

People assume that once high school is over everyone will go to college with their new shit from Target and be happy. Okay, for real? Not gonna lie, I don’t like it here. Jeez, I wish I did. I’m gonna try to get my grades up, cuz I can’t bear to think of the shit I will get from my parents when I get home and fail like most everything except for Philosophy which I just aced. Yeah, like that. I will “give it a chance” which my parents tell me on every text or phone call. I know what I feel.  I just kinda miss the way things used to be, my old pals, my town, yeah, even my stupid younger sister. Here, I just hang around alone or with Ericka because everyone else is just partying  and doing dumb shit. I’m giving it a chance, I really am, but I swear, if I’m not totally happy here in like two to four weeks, I am so going home.

Mama Can’t Hide

Pumpkin Spice Latte
Logo of Target, US-based retail chain

Image via Wikipedia

Stuffed Animals

Even when I need a time out from my teenagers or husband or just some alone time, I take the car keys, hop into my car and go. However, there’s no real mystery involved. Everyone in my family knows that if I need to get away, I will end up at Target. I have no true hiding place, they assume that I will be there and they are absolutely right. What is it about Target that makes me feel so good?

I can disappear in many different aisles, I can look at every toothpaste and deodorant that one can buy and there are hundreds of choices. I can look for inexpensive clothing or books, art supplies or Halloween candy. I can pretend I have a five-year old and look at stuffed animals even though I am always tempted to buy one for myself. I can buy trash magazines or just read them while I am waiting on-line. I can even have a cup of Starbucks coffee. Who could ask for more than that? In our Target store there is a Starbucks mini-store; I’m not convinced that the coffee is just as strong as the original Starbucks but it is reassuring to me that it’s there and available. At Starbucks I can also get my latest passion which is the Pumpkin Spice (skim) Latte, limited edition of course.

When I walk through the aisles I see things that I can’t imagine I have lived without before. The new Swifter combo package? A must have. Shampoo and conditioner as a value pack? We all need to wash our hair and it MUST be less costly if they are packaged together!  I buy birthday cards in advance and usually misplace them right before a birthday card is needed so I go back and buy some more.

I disappear in the arts and craft section buying pens and sketch notepads.  I love pens and flashlights and Raisinettes. There are some things you need to keep with you in case of an emergency. Rasinettes are my safety item.

While I may not be able to hide from my family, it’s still fun to be away and close enough just in case they need me.

Customer Service Winners and Losers

Nordstrom at Washington Square (Oregon)

Image via Wikipedia

You Get What You Pay For?

This is a SNAP! Hands down, best customer service goes to Nordstrom’s which is a bit of a shame because they are so expensive I never get to shop there. Worst? a tie between Kohl’s and Target, for lack of anything to do about customer service. It seems that employees seems to disappear when I shop at Kohl’s or Target. I know it’s a hard job to work for either of those companies but stop being so grumpy!! All you need is a smile, go to Nordstrom’s and learn their tips.

p.s. @Nordstrom: those sailboat shirts for men are to die for!

Powered by Plinky

How Target Saved My Sanity

It was one of THOSE days. One of those days that I knew I had to get out of my very small house that was threatening to eat me up alive. Our little cozy  cottage was filled with my husband, two bored teenagers home for February break, our yawning dog and me.  I needed to get out and drive somewhere and I needed a destination. I was looking for someplace where I could walk indoors and get away from the 22 degree temperature and howling winds. I loathe winter. The snow has been piled up for months and I felt claustrophobic and depressed and all the problems (unemployment for my husband, chronic pain for me) were feeling insurmountable.  I wanted to see different things, admire vibrant colors, and more importantly see people I didn’t know; people of all shapes and sizes, colors, width and height; speaking different languages, interesting strangers.

I headed  to Target and it was terribly crowded but I didn’t mind; I weaved  in and out of the store  using their bright, red carriage for support. As soon as I saw the clothing and shoes section I immediately felt happier. SUMMER!!!  All the clothes were short-sleeved and summery, and the textures were light, like a softly worn handkerchief. The colors bloomed throughout the store like daffodils: yellow, pink, rose, white, aqua, baby blue.  The shoes were flimsy flip-flops and sandals; not a muddy brown winter boot in sight! I honestly felt relieved and joyful when I saw that the aisles had been cleared away of all the winter gear and the store was telling me, that yes, winter REALLY will be over and  summer is not just a fantasy.

On the way home though, I felt blue once again, worrying about things I can’t control, fretting about things I shouldn’t fret about. With tears streaming down my frozen face I started feeling miserable again, especially when I heard the forecast and an additional 6 inches of snow was on its way. I crawled into bed, to try to relieve my aches and pains and I gently put the covers back over my face and sighed. Sleeping is very good therapy for me.

When I woke up I felt much better, perspective restored. I got out of bed, headed down the stairs with my brown, white and red Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer slippers to the kitchen.  I made a piece of multi-grain toast with butter and honey. Honey is one of the world’s loveliest foods. To me, it is a delicacy, delicious and beautiful in every  shape or form. The color of honey in itself is a work of art, like a beautiful painting about warmth and the sun and love.  Honey is comforting, it’s deliciously lovely, it soothes and calms.  While Target got me out of the house, honey, saved my spirit and welcomed me back home.