Yakasses on a Plane? Say it Ain’t So!

airplaneWe’re less than a week away from the busiest time of the year in air travel – the Christmas holiday season.  According to the American Air Trade Industry, between December 17 and January 6, 15 million people will line up for their pre-flight TSA grope.  And if the FCC gives the green light, those 15 million people will probably be talking on their cell phones. 

Right next to your head.

I’d be less alarmed if Samuel L. “Snakes On A Plane” Jackson was wrestling a pit viper out of the overhead bin at 15C.

As if the holidays weren’t stressful enough, getting there may now involve your melon being bookended by a couple of Droids.  Especially if you drew the short straw of airline travel known as the middle seat. 

Give me a screaming baby any day.  For all I care, that baby could whip an unfiltered Camel out of his diaper for a few puffs to calm his frazzled nerves.  I’d rather have Junior blow smoke rings in my face.  Because I could deal with that more gracefully than having a Yakass two inches from my noggin for the duration of my cross-country flight. [Read more…]

The Last Best Place – But Not For Haters


greenmanI’ve lived in Bozeman a long time.  One of the things I’ve always appreciated about this community is how welcoming it is – to everyone.  It reminds me of my Southern home where when company comes, we roll out the red carpet to show folks we’re glad you’re visiting.  We throw a little extra supper on the stove and invite our guests to stay awhile longer, just because.

Today, Bozeman, we have company coming.  Between you and me, I’m not feeling all that hospitable.

Members of the Westboro Baptist Church are coming to town.

My first inclination is to do what my crotchety Great Aunt Willadean would do when unwanted guests showed up on her doorstep – pretend nobody’s home.  You can knock all you want WBC, but Bozeman will just ignore you.

But I don’t think that’s the answer.  That might give them the crazy idea that our indifference legitimizes their message.

They’ve got enough crazy ideas as it is. [Read more…]

What To Do When The Snorchestra Begins

snoring man

I took off my glasses and turned off the light.  I pulled the covers up, rolled on my side and closed my eyes.

That’s when it started.

Snick. Snick. Snick.

It was like the sound my car made when the alternator died.  But unlike the noise that stopped once I realized turning the key with greater frequency would not revive the lifeless battery, this sound continued.


The cacophony, which I feared would rattle my glasses off the nightstand, jeopardized not only my martial bliss, but my pre-menopausal ability to catch some Zzzzs without sucking on an Ambien.

The Husband was asleep on his back, which meant – he was snoring.

He denies that his supine slumber treats me to the occasionally nasal symphony.  But that night, I stared Eyes Wide Open into the dark listening to his mournful Call of the Loud that sounded like the guttural musings of a small wounded rhino.  [Read more…]

When The Girls Go South

I’ve been spending time playing with paint, paper and scissors which will play hell with my upcoming deadline. Because Facebook, Twitter and Pinterest aren’t big enough Time Sucks in my life.

So before I throw myself into a Writing on Deadline Frenzy, here’s what I’ve been working on. It was inspired by a column about the not-so-subtle body changes that occur for women at midlife.

It’s really starting to piss me off.

Like the day you no longer need Victoria’s Sexy Secret Embrace Bra. Because when the girls start their trek to your personal southern hemisphere, you’ll need Victoria’s new Mid-Life Bra, sporting secret dual hydraulic jacks. And sadly, you’ll never be able to pull off that Madonna bra again.

Still Holding On – and Holding

It was a simple question.  It should have been on the website.  It wasn’t.  So it should have been a quick and easy phone call.  Forty-seven minutes later, I realized I was in hell – that tortured no man’s land of a customer service phone call known as On Hold.

So it was only fitting that the purgatory playlist included Johnny Cash singing Ring of Fire.

But just getting to that loop of music is a herculean task in the customer service Olympics.  Because before you can even to listen to the Bee Gee’s Stayin’ Alive you have to talk to the automated lady who rarely understands whatever words are coming from your lips, regardless of the volume or tone in which you speak.

She starts out nice enough.  “Your call is important to us,” she says sweetly.  Robo Lady tells me to listen carefully because the menu options have changed suggesting that I might have the interest and brain capacity available to have this memorized for reference.

Robo Lady seems committed to getting my call to the proper destination and offers up a detailed array of menu options.  “If you’re calling about warranty questions, say warranty,” she says.  I say, “Warranty.”  “You said technical support, right?” she continues. “Please say yes or no.”  “No, warranty,” I tell her.  “Sorry, I didn’t get that. You said technical support, right?” she says starting to sound annoyed with me.  “NO. NO. NO! WAR-RAN-TEE,” I enunciate slowly and carefully like I’m auditioning for The Actor’s Studio.  “That is not a valid option. Please hold while I transfer you to the next available customer service representative,” she admonishes me now morphing from her once helpful persona into a cranky, peri-menopausal broad with passive-aggressive issues.

[Read more…]

A Letter to My Hacker

Dear Sir,

We haven’t met personally, so normally I would take a moment to introduce myself.  Although I don’t know you, it’s clear you already know me.  In fact, you could say we’re almost like the same person.

That’s because you stole my identity, you Cyber Scum.

Now I’m racking my brain trying to figure out how you did it.  So I did a little research about how scoundrels like you operate.

I already knew about your phony phishing schemes.  Don’t think I’ll ever wire you money for the taxes to claim my big win in the foreign lottery.  You can’t fool me with your offers to Work-at-Home.

If you paid any attention, you Hack, you’d already know I do that. [Read more…]

Glitchy, Glitchy

Just when you think you’ve got your technological poop in a group – a glitch arises.  Moving this blog to wordpress was a real pain in the ass an adventure.  The software that was supposed to transfer the whole shootin’ match over with ease simply didn’t work.  This meant I had to move every post and every comment one at a time.  That was where the pain in the ass adventure part came in.  Now I discover that almost all the photos, which were there before I cancelled my other blog account, have vanished.  So I’ll have to somehow track those down and re-post.

As much as I love technology and now can’t imagine life without it – today I want to use my computer for target practice.

Under Construction

I am learning that reconstructing your computer life after a serious crash is a lot more work than I imagined.

Moral of the story, kids, back up your computer.  Really.


his has been an extremely crappy week regarding all things technology.

Logging into my computer, I noticed my background was different.  Then a pop-up announces – “Welcome to your new Dell!”

Beg pardon?

My computer thinks it is new.  I’m confused.  Apparently, so was my computer.

I ignore all this and head straight into my documents to get started on a draft column I’ve been writing.  Except my computer says This Folder Is Empty.

Excuse me?  This is not possible, I was working on it yesterday.  I have hundreds of documents.

Now curious, and ever-so slightly panicked, I click on Pictures. The computer says this folder is equally empty.

This is not good.

Music? Gone.  Videos? Gone.  iTunes? Kaput. QuickBooks? Vanished.

Time to reboot, the computer’s gone crazy.

After rebooting, which usually makes everything alright, I get a “Welcome To Your New Dell!” screen again.

It may not have been the Blue Screen of Death that I experienced when my laptop died a slow and painful death, but it was pretty close.

Restore point! I’ll go back in time and create my restore point to yesterday when I knew it worked.

Fail.  It won’t let me.

My computer is possessed.

I am not a happy camper.

Fortunately, I have everything backed up on my external hard drive.  Or at least I think I do.  But now that’s a little wiggy too.


I am not a computer savvy person.  Everything computer related is by the seat of my pants and if I hit enough buttons I can make it work.  So I click on the C drive and notice it has the same amount of memory space used as usual, even though so much appears to be missing.  After clicking on lots of folders within that, I locate documents, pictures, music – miraculously – in a strange User folder.  I have no idea how I found it.  But it’s there.  So I painstakingly save each and every individual document and picture folder as well as music.  It takes me the better part of the day but have to at least try before the Blue Screen of Death really does show up.

My poor computer is at the doctor now, hopefully getting debugged from all manner of Ebola-like infections.

This isn’t going to be cheap, I fear.

Then there’s the other techno issue that I’m really cheesed about:  Older Boy’s iPod touch went missing in the school locker room after track practice where he left it sitting on the bench.  In the twelve minutes it took for him to realize he’d left it and for me to drive back to school, it had vanished. I assumed it was picked up by a coach or a friend to give back to him.

Didn’t happen.

To whomever took it: I hope you get a very itchy, oozing, leprosy-like, dermatological condition that causes severe disfigurement.  I also hope is not covered by insurance and it will take you years, if ever, to get over.  Don’t forget about the laws of karma while you are listening to my kid’s iPod.  You have just set in motion some very, very bad juju for yourself.  I hope you get everything that’s coming to you which I personally hope includes jail time.  I used to be a prosecutor, my friend, so I’m big on jail time for those who steal other people’s stuff.  And like Tom Petty, I Won’t Back Down.  Oh yeah, good luck with that leprosy.

Ban This!

Fox and ABC found this commercial too racy and deemed it inappropriate to air. It is now banned:


They pulled the commercial from its spot during Dancing With The Stars which I find ironic given some of the costumes that appear on that show. And don’t even get me started on the inappropriate story lines that they air on some of the shows. But I also believe if you don’t like what you see on a particular channel, your tv has an off button. Use it.

What I’d really like them to explain is how the Lane Bryant commerical differs significantly from this one:

Oh right, the size 16 woman in the Lane Bryant ad has curves like the majority of us. So it makes you wonder what all the fuss is about?

It’s not like I need any more reason to dislike the asshats over at Fox (okay, it’s mainly Fox News that makes me grit my teeth). And ABC, now you’re on my list too. Get real people.

In fact, I’m sending them message. Fox and ABC, listen up. Until you change your ways, YOU are banned in my house because you simply don’t get it. I know they don’t give a shit but it sure makes me feel better.

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