Dis. Dat. And de Uddder.

Last night’s Dream Report:

I was on a posh tour bus in Hilton Head, SC and was being wooed heavily by both Bob Crane (aka Col. Hogan) and Alec Baldwin.

In case you were wondering – Alec won. Rowr. Like there was ever a question. I love him. But you knew that already.

Underlying meaning: I watch waaaay too much classic telly.


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Seen on the way to take Will to school today: two trannie hookers nursing some Starbucks. Apparently everyone needs a little caffeine to get the day started.

Gotta put the zip in the doo-dah, so to speak.


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Seen while walking Will in to school today: a mom wearing a leopard print caftan (from the Totie Fields collection, no doubt) and fur bedroom slippers.

Never again will I worry about wearing my workout clothes when doing the drop-off.

SO boring in comparison.


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Seen on the way to pick up Will from school today: A man, riding a bike – coaster breaks, little basket on front. One more thing – he was also using a big white/red-tipped cane. Blind guy on bike. Doing well, I might add. Roll on, my friend.

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My front yard has become a danger zone. There is a SNAKE in residence at the moment. I’m told it’s a little “harmless” black racer. Pffffft. He is snake so he is evil in my book. ‘Bout passed out on my front stoop yesterday when I walked out the front door and there he was. I’m also told that he was probably as scared of me as I was of him. Doubtful.

From now on, ventures into the yard will involve shoes and a wary eye.

Back off Snake (whom I’ve named Oswald) – I’m on to you.

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Celebrity Crush of the Week: Bob Harper from The Biggest Loser. Rowrrrrrrrr again.

Have you seen those abs?

Yes, I realize he wore sparkly spandex pants a couple of shows ago. Have you seen those abs?

Yes, I know that this is one of my more ridiculous crushes – ranks right up there with James Carville. But have you seen those abs?

And by that I mean Bob’s abs, not Carville’s.

Lord, can you imagine?

Dis', Dat and De Udder: Inaugural Edition

Thoughts on a day...

Aretha was magnificent – her voice can stir a soul like no other. And given her fashion history, her ginormous bow hat was not unexpected. It was large enough, though, that Capt. Sully would have been able to land a plane upon it.


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When did Walter Mondale morph into William F. Buckley Jr.? Seriously – I didn’t recognize him during his walk-up to the Inaugural dignitary holding pen.

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The First Daughters are simply adorable – what beautiful children. Although you can totally see the mischievous glint in Sasha’s eyes … It’s going to be fun to watch them grow up – but I don’t want to see too much. They need their privacy and space to simply be kids. I hope they’re afforded that.

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The Teddy Kennedy health scare certainly added a different hue to the day… his robust appearance before the ceremony was deceptive, sadly. It’s a sobering reminder that even on a day infused with celebration and hope that the obstacles we face don’t always take a holiday.

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I’m not a fan of the outgoing President. However, the boos and jeers and choruses of “Hey hey goodbye” when he was introduced were inappropriate and disrespectful and out of place at such an occasion.

People, that’s just tacky.

I also noticed a disproportionate amount of disparaging comments attached to blog/news pieces about Senator Kennedy’s situation. We need a national primer in manners, since people don’t seem to have any – or aren’t deploying them.

And for an example of good manners, we need to look no further than to the First Lady herself, who brought a gift for the Bushes with her to the White House this morning – such a gracious gesture.

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I rather liked the Inaugural poem – I think. I need to take some time to read it, as while the lovely poet Elizabeth Alexander has many talents, public reading may not be one of them. I could hear and see my college oral performance professor Ms. Norris saying “find the natural rhythm – don’t over emphasize anything."

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One of my favorite moments during the Inauguration Ceremony came during the benediction given by civil rights icon Rev. Joseph Lowrey. Begun with a phrase from the Negro National Anthem, “Lift Every Voice and Sing”, laced with Scripture references and ended with a phrase of wit that was all the more powerful coming from a man who has seen more than his share of inequality during his lifetime.

Take a look and a listen:



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Today, I laughed, I cried, I sang, I prayed, I smiled, I cheered, I thought, I reacted, did I mention I cried, I pondered, I applauded, I was silent.

Tomorrow, I’m taking action.

Because as President Obama said...

For as much as government can do and must do, it is ultimately the faith and determination of the American people upon which this nation relies. It is the kindness to take in a stranger when the levees break, the selflessness of workers who would rather cut their hours than see a friend lose their job which sees us through our darkest hours. It is the firefighter’s courage to storm a stairway filled with smoke, but also a parent’s willingness to nurture a child, that finally decides our fate.

I have a job to do. We all do. A responsibility to our country. Land that we love.

My World and Welcome to It

The world in which I spend my everyday life is so weird...

(How weird is it?)

Well, I'll tell you.
(Apologies for the Match Game reference/indulgence)

I shop at what is literally my neighborhood grocery store. It's so close that if I just need a couple of easy-to-carry items, I'll just walk three blocks, cross a street and bam! I'm there. No need to fill the air with fluorocarbons just for that. (Here's to you, Al!) However, it's also the grocery of choice for many of the more affluent neighborhoods which surround my more modest 'hood. So imagine my surprise yesterday, as I wheeled my cart out of the store like a bat-out-of-hell because I was running late to pick up Will from school, when I caught a whiff of pot, lingering 'round the front door. I know I laughed out loud, because I got a couple of interesting looks. And then I did a quick scan of the area, trying to figure out who might have been toking up outside our fancy-pants Publix. Made my whole day.

I've already shared the sordidly weird tales of my local post offices, which just add to the lore of my world. I'm thankful each time I run by there and have an incident-free experience.

And then there's the weird merchant marine/drug dealer across the street. He's apparently off on another "mission", as his truck's not in the driveway. There is, however, a motorbike of some sort there instead, with a protective cover on top. I can only assume he's off doing whatever it is he does on these ventures. However, the weather's been really nice here lately and I'm disappointed he's not around to set up his front yard leisure land.

Speaking of front yards, the guy three doors down from me was washing his car this morning -- he'd pulled it up into his yard and was wielding that hose. So, so classy. The Gladys Kravitz of the 'hood is doing something in her front yard involving what looks like lots of brick. I can't quite figure it out, but I'm hesitant to go ask her about it, as that will involve a long conversation about shit I don't care about. So I watch and speculate.

My immediate next door neighbors have a pop-up camper in their back yard. Again, I have no idea why. It's just there. I didn't think they had out-of-town guests at the moment, but again, I'm more content to speculate.

Maybe it's just because I'm a hyper-observant (read: nosy) person, but I can't imagine that I'm the only one whose everyday world is filled with these idiosyncratic things. Or maybe I'm just a weird-item magnet. That would totally explain some of the dates I've had in my life and times.

Regardless -- I'll keep you posted. There's never a dull moment 'round here.

Dis', Dat and De Udder: Episode 2706

For a print cover story on an all TV-theme episode of NBC's The Singing Bee, a show so wretched that even I, who'll watch just about anything, hasn't seen, TV Guide.com posed the following questions to its readers. Being the TV Goddess that I am, I immediately had my answers:

1. What is the most hummable TV theme ever?
Theme to Sanford and Son. I hum this constantly while driving -- I break it out whenever I see a Sanford-esqe truck motoring down the road.

2. Which TV theme would you consider your own personal theme song?
Theme to The Mary Tyler Moore Show.
Shut up. Yeah, yeah --- it's a cliche. But I like it.

3. Which TV theme would you most like to hear after a bad day at work?
Theme to That Girl, I Love Lucy, or, natch, The Dick Van Dyke Show. Old, dear friends all -- I know that even though I've most likely seen the episode in question a thousand times, it doesn't matter because I know it will be a half hour of chill time delight.

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Injury Report #1

I have an ATHLETIC INJURY for the first time in ages. I've done something to my right hand by doing something I can't figure out while at the gym. I think I strained it trying to catch my balance on the treadmill and grabbing the hand grip thingy too hard. My right ring finger won't bend correctly and my wrist is a wee bit swollen. I'm alternately a bit proud and a bit pissed, because it put a crimp in my Half-Marathon training. Believe it or not, I'm registered to Walk, Not Run (here's to you, Cary Grant and Jim Hutton!) in the Philadelphia Marathon the Sunday before Thanksgiving. Crazy, but it's been good for me to have a goal to help motivate my tuchus into exercise gear. I'm actually looking forward to that experience, as I've never been to Philly and am going to not only meet friends there, but am staying a couple of days after the walk to explore (ie: shop.)

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Injury Report #2

I have a BLACK EYE, source unknown. Went to monkey groom my eyebrows yesterday afternoon -- looked in my magnifying mirror to notice the outside corner of my right eye was sore and bloodshot. Washed my face to get rid of the dark eye shadow, smeared from my afternoon nap. Sure enough -- there's a bit of bruising around the perimeter. And I have no idea what happened. I'm thinking that Will, while crawling up on and off of my bed whilst I was 'napping,' might have either poked me in the eye or landed a foot there as he wiggled around. His feet are powerful -- small but mighty. POW! And now my eye hurts. I'm afraid to go look in the mirror this morning. Good thing those big Jackie O sunglasses are in vogue right now. Mr. DeMille, I'll be ready for my close up just as soon as I put my shades on.

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Totally sucktacular football weekend, with one little exception.

My Gators lost a heartbreaker of a game to LSU. *sob* Tim Tebow IS Superman.

Tennessee and FSU, my mortal football enemies, both won. BOOOOOOO HISSSSSSSSSSS.

The Bucs got their lunch and dinner handed to them by the Colts.

Only bright spot -- my other alma mater, USF (BA in English!), won. Too close for comfort against Howard Schnellenberger's FAU. But still. And now they are ranked number five in the country. Not bad for a school who didn't have a football program until 10 years ago.

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Best show on TV you're probably not watching: Mad Men on AMC. Actually, it is, in my opinion, the best show on TV now. Period.

From the amazing attention to detail which brings every nuance of the early 1960s to life, to the whip-smart writing to the compelling performances -- it's totally Cannot Miss TV for me. I think this season is nearly over, but it's been renewed and will be back probably closer to next summer. If you're not watching, you're missing out on some quality programming.

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Still missing Roxanne. A lot. Been looking at the SPCA website. However, no pet additions to Chez Petrie for a while. Not ready just yet to share part of my heart with another furry friend. Still on the mend.

'Dis, 'Dat and De Udder, Part 79

My mother's birthday was a couple of days ago. I got her something that I'm pea green with envy over -- tickets to see Tony Bennett. She invited me to go with, but I think my dad might have something to say about that.

Anyhoo... she turned 69. When I called her the morning of her natal day, she announced that she knew "69 was something dirty, so I'm going to have a dirty year." Whatever that means. HA!

She's nuts ("eccentric" to those of us with Southern blood running through our veins) but I love her.
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I think I'm listening to entirely too much '80s music these days, at least while I'm around Will. I asked him if he were hungry and he said "I'm hungry like the wolf." He also announced that he lives on Electric Avenue. His new favorite song is "Start Me Up." Which is fine, although I'm making a note to change the station before the part about making a dead man come pops up. That's all I need him to be repeating.

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The weird merchant marine guy is back in town. Haven't seen him, but the parade of cars in front of his house and in his driveway has started. Best case scenario: he's a plain old drug dealer. Worst case: my property values are decreasing thanks to the Merchant Marine Meth Lab across the street.

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Sight of the day: While I was doing time on the treadmill this morning at the Y, I noticed an older woman in a wheelchair coming up the sidewalk. Right behind her was her husband, carrying her walker, complete with tennis balls on the legs. And her prosthetic leg slung over her shoulder. All those men who complain about having to hold their wives' purses have nothing on this guy. That's love right there.

This, That and the Other

I'm fascinated, intrigued and more than a little encouraged by Al Gore's political resurgence these days. It’s interesting to note how, nearly six years after the debacle that was the 2000 Presidential Election, he’s the one smelling slightly rosy and looking, dare I say, tanned, rested and ready. Maybe Big Al’s not necessarily the exact answer the Democrats are looking for in 2008 -- it’s too early do anything but speculate longingly. However... with the disturbingly ridiculous Democrat mindset saying out of one side of the mouth that the nomination of Hilary is a foregone conclusion but saying on the other that she’s not electable, I’m looking for anything that remotely resembles a life preserver. Or even carries a whiff of common sensical hope.

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File this under Stuff I Really Want But Do Not Need:

Amazon has a cross promotion with the upcoming movie The Devil Wears Prada and is offering a really cool bag/clutch/tote thing designed by the film’s costume designer, the always unique Patricia Field. I need another purse like I need another hole in the head... what woman doesn't... same thing with shoes. I once spent an evening at a private event at Nordstrom, holding court in the shoe department, drinking Cosmos and trying on more shoes than Imdela Marcos. It was, frankly, better than some supposedly good sex I've had. But back to the tote... I’m not sure I’m going to be able to resist this one. It's just too damn cool.

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Latest must-see TV guilty pleasure: Supergroup on VH1. Ted Nugent is bat shit crazy and doesn’t give a damn who knows it. Sebastian Bach is the epitome of an aging narcissistic front man. Who knew that Scott Ian, he of Anthrax, that really weird long chin beard (but very handsome face) and endless appearances on those I Love the Decade of Your Choice shows, would turn out to be the voice of reason. And in the opening credits, a cartoon Jason Bohnam spontaniously combusts behind his drum kit in an homage to Spinal Tap. It doesn't get better than that.

Snippets of the so-bad-it's-good dialogue:

"I still agree with me." -- Uncle Ted

"I've been autographing tits since 1986. It's my job. It's what I do." -- Sebastian Bach

Awesome. So, so awesome.

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Speaking of rocking... the car began to shake one day last week as I was running some sort of necessary errand. Radio blasting loudly, me singing along. I turn around to see Will, in his car seat, head-banging dancing to Guns n Roses Welcome to the Jungle. My son, my son. How proud I am yet again of you. He also shows similar appreciation for the Stones’ Start Me Up, most Prince tunes and, his favorite and mine, the Police’s Roxanne. My beloved 18-year-old cat is named, of course, after this song, and Will likes nothing better than to bust out with an intonation-accurate rendition of the chorus right in her kitty witty face. How great is that, I ask you...

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Favorite song of the week: Dixie Chicks Not Ready to Make Nice. Great song, haunting video. Those girls have great chutzpah. Good on them. Enough said.

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I swear that the older a woman gets, the price of her beauty necessities goes up proportionately. I just spent a solid amount of money on sunscreen, SPF 50, for face and body, as well as sunscreen and after sun products for my glorious (and colored) head of hair, in anticipation of our week-long vacation at the end of the month on Captiva Island. Solid investment, I think, in light of the options, but still... ouch.