Monday, March 21, 2005

Lifestyles of the Drunk and Stupid

I visited Mom twice since Thursday, which was St. Patrick's Day. On my way to Grand Central Station to get the train home, I dodged weaving drunks all over Second Avenue. And no, they weren't Irish. They were middle-aged idiots of various ethnicities who called in sick from work to drink and paint themselves green.

On the train, a group of well-dressed businessmen hung out by the doors, drinking Coors Light. I really hate to see anyone drink Coors Light, especially a man. Put it this way, I wouldn't date a guy with such weeny taste in beer. Anyway, by the time we hit Greenwich, these lightweights were drunk on the stuff, if that's possible, getting loud and daring each other to do sit-ups. One fool went for it, while the rest of them stood around swinging their Silver Bullets and counting: "28, 29, 30...I can't believe it! Even his bald spot is turning red!"

The hooples got off at Fairfield, I think. When I got off the train at Bridgeport, I discovered they'd left every single beer can on the floor, along with bags of half-eaten bagels from Zaro's.

Trust me, Girls: If a guy litters, he's not for you. You'll be cleaning up after him for the rest of your life. And if he drinks Coors Light, he's a poseur and a lightweight.

Hey, I just got a tip idea for my newsletter! Want it? Go to http:///www.marrysmart.com

Monday, March 14, 2005

Brushes with Not-Quite Greatness: Matt Lauer and Raoul Felder

I'm not the kind of person who spots celebrities. My sister routinely runs into people like Billy Joel on the streets of Manhattan. She's seen Uma Thurman, and she used to spot John Kennedy Jr. on almost weekly basis when he was alive.

Until Sunday, the only famous people I ever saw in the flesh were Heather Matarazzo (of The Princess Diaries fame) and Conrad Baines from that show with Gary Coleman, Dana Plato and Todd Bridges (that's his name, right?).

But, walking down Third Avenue after my nephew's baptism at St. Vincent Ferrer on Sunday, my brother spotted Matt Lauer and his wife, Annette Roche, pushing a stroller alongside us. I would have walked right past the guy. He looked pleasant enough--but remarkably average.

Later, after the christening party, my cousins and I waited for the elevator of my parents' building to visit my mother. Who stepped out of said elevator as we hopped in but divorce attorney-to the-stars, Raoul Felder, seen recently on Extra or Access Hollywood weighing in on the Denise Richards/Charlie Sheen split. Not quite as pleasant-looking as Matt, the dude resembled a bald bear in what appeared to be (I hate to stare) a giant fur coat. I guess Raoul doesn't like the cold.

Revising this novel is taking longer than I thought it would because I just can't stop tinkering with it. I'm supposed to be just typing changes, but I keep finding things to improve.

Friday, March 11, 2005

Nudity and the PTA

Last night, Peter and I went to see Hair at the Bridgeport Cabaret Theater. Seeing the silhouettes of those singing naked people made me feel better about my own body.

The PTA bought up all the tickets for a fundraiser (the president wished to avoid another gift wrap sale), and, at $35 per, it was almost sold out. On the way home, there was speculation that the nudity offended the senior citizens in the crowd. The scene was dimly lit so I couldn't see much, but the old lady seated below the lead character's penis saw considerably more.

Wednesday, March 09, 2005

No Snow Day!

The girls' school opened 90 minutes late due to last night's snowstorm, but happily, it opened. I wrote and revised the day away. I don't get as much time as I'd like to revise the novel since I'm in New York three days a week visiting Mom.

Tonight, V, and I are going to some sort of holistic/natural living meeting at somebody's house. I'm interested in natural living, so it should be interesting. Getting out of this house and away from these jumpy offspring should be interesting, as well.

I tried on the outfit I plan to wear to Michael's christening on Saturday. It looks pretty good. I'll have to eat lightly between now and then to ensure that it still does. I hope the woman hosting the meeting tonight doesn't put out any tempting morsels of food. I understand that her husband is Indian, and that she cooks Indian food, so passing up the hors d'ouevres could be tricky. Let's hope she's cheap and doesn't offer us so much as a glass of water.

Tuesday, March 08, 2005

I Owe Bono Twenty Bucks

I won't be able to visit Mom tomorrow because it's snowing satellite dishes out there, and school will almost definitely be closed. So I will be beset by offspring. Already the little buggers are giving me a hard time about going to bed in anticipation of the day off.

A friend burned a copy of U2's new CD for me (unsolicited, I must add), and my conscience is killing me. Of course I want to listen to it. It's U2! But I didn't pay for it. I am taking food out of little Hewson mouths!

I decided that the best course of action if I want to sleep again is to go out and buy the CD. So, Bono, thank my friend for putting my feet to the fire. You'll have your 20 bucks.

Monday, March 07, 2005

How to Keep a Man Faithful

I was watching The View last week, and "the ladies" offered a quote from the captivating Halle Berry on how to keep a man faithful. According to Halle, a woman must be shy, ladylike, blah, blah, blah, blah, and most importantly, a freak in bed.

Right.

Halle has my vote for one of the most gorgeous women walking the planet, but she's no expert on successful relationships. She's been divorced twice (from a couple of winners) and suffered physical abuse at the hands of a boyfriend. For all her money, talent, and world-renowned beauty, her slutty second husband couldn't stop cheating on her.

Many years ago, Jerry Hall, Mick Jagger's then girlfriend (and eventual wife) offered her prescription on how a woman could keep a man faithful:

"Be a cook in the kitchen, a maid in the parlor, and a whore in the bedroom."

Well, her advice, similar to Berry's, didn't do her any good, either. Jagger cheated mercilessly (and fathered a child with some model) and claimed that his marriage to Hall was never valid.

Some women work too damn hard for relationships. And what does it get them? Abuse, infedelity, and being mistaken for wallpaper. Halle Berry needs to relax, and I hope Jerry Hall has developed a better sense of self-worth and moved onto better men.

I can' t believe I'm quoting one of "the ladies" from The View, but Elisabeth Hasselbeck had it right when she said of her husband, "It's not my responsibility to keep Tim faithful. It's his. It's not his responsibility to keep me faithful. It's mine."

Hear, hear.

Thursday, March 03, 2005

And if You Want that Newsletter...

You can sign up at http://www.marrysmart.com

Forget Social Security Reform...

The pathetic state of healthcare in this country freaks me out. My parents have all sorts of "excellent" medical insurance, as well as long-term healthcare coverage, and what it gets you when you need it is startlingly little. My father pays $1000 out-of-pocket per week just to pay for the aides who take care of my mother nights and weekends.

Just got a call from my own very expensive insurance carrier to say there's a snag in paying for my daughters' routine office visit.

On a more positive note, I will probably be writing a book for guys who want to meet the women of their dreams in the next few months. May have to alter the weekly newsletter to address both sexes. We'll see.

Offspring will be upon us in 21 minutes. Time to read my book before pleas for help with homework peal throughout the house.

Tuesday, March 01, 2005

But He Promised to Call!

Spent the day looking through old photos of Mommy, which we'll frame and display at her wake. There's nothing better than a good book to take your mind off a bad time, and The Queen's Fool continues to be an excellent distraction. Next up: Angels and Demons by Dan Brown, and then The Group by Mary McCarthy. I've heard great things about McCarthy over the years but never read anything by her.

Tomorrow I'll go into Manhattan again to spend time with Mom and give Dad a chance to take a walk. The man needs to walk. It's how he copes. He rarely ever drives and didn't get his license until he turned 45. Mom started driving at 16.

Even though the offspring were home due to another snow day, I sent out my newsletter. They were jumping around in the background, of course, but I managed it. This week's topic? What to do when a guy says he'll call you--and doesn't.

Boo!

It's happened to all of us, unfortunately. If you want my take on it, email me at terry@marrysmart.com

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Monday, February 28, 2005

The Best-Dressed List

Well, after a trying day at my mother's, in which the aide dropped said mother on the floor while attempting to put her in her wheelchair, I came home and succumbed to the mindless Oscar telecast. Chris Rock was hosting and I was eager for a good laugh.

Alas, there weren't many laughs to be had. Rock's riff on Bush had me rolling on the floor, but that was it. In fact, we didn't see very much of him after the opening monologue. And this business of having winners accept their awards from the audience! Pathetic!

Salma Hayek looked great. So did Virginia Madsen, Halle Berry, Cate Blanchett, and Kate Winslet. Scarlett Johannsen looked out of her league, but that's what she gets for all those stupid comments she made last year about "older actresses." The older actresses blew her away, each and every one of them, with the possible exception of Melanie Griffith (Note to Mel: No more surgery, please. Please!).

I really admired Gwenyth Paltrow's response to a fawning Katie Couric, who asked how she managed to "squeeze into that dress" so soon after having a baby.

"I'm wearing a girdle," she said.

Ten points for Paltrow.

Friday, February 25, 2005

Paris Hilton Must Be Stopped

You read about how celebrities' lives are disrupted by fame. They moan about how they can't go to supermarkets without having their pictures taken, their sexual activities are captured on film (by themselves) and then disseminated through the media, and so on.

But my pity for these people is wearing thin. I would be delighted, for instance, if I never had to see another photo of Jennifer Lopez as long as I live. You can't turn on the television without being assaulted by Lindsay Lohan and her opinions on weight loss, partying, or her new cell phone.

You know a celebrity has crossed the line when she has the audacity to show up in dreams, as Paris Hilton did in mine last night. I can't even escape Paris Hilton in the safety and comfort of my own bed (and, no, I do not have a television in my room!).

Ratings for the recent Golden Globe telecast were down markedly. New York Times writer Frank Rich attributes this to the 5- or 7-second broadcasting delay (perhaps assuming that viewers would miss something like the hee-larious Jack Nicholson 'mooning' of several years ago), but I attribute it to something else: celebrity overload.

You're boring! Be gone. All of you!

Monday, February 21, 2005

Please Excuse the Sad Typo

Just noticed an inexcusable typo in the "Why I Hate Wal-Mart" post.

Oh!

(Near) Death and Taxes

While I was at Mom and Dad's over the weekend, I picked up the current issue of Harper's and learned that Wal-Mart employees cost the US Government $2,500,000,000.00 in public assistance. So much for the great opportunities the family-friendly company brags about in its TV ads.

The bishop visited Mommy on Saturday. She was lucid and enjoyed seeing him. She slept most of the weekend, although my brother made her laugh out loud at one point. He keeps putting on music by bands with names like "Morbid Angel" to get a rise out of her. The doctor has put her on Ritalin, so she's a bit more alert lately.

Every now and then, though, she floats into her own world. She said to me yesterday, "So, what do you think of my family?" I told her I was her daughter, and she looked at me as if I came off a spaceship. But, earlier, when I crept through her room in the dark to get to the bathroom, she called out to me by name.

I left around 12:30 yesterday and got the train out to Merrick to meet Peter. We went to the accountant and had our taxes done. We expect a decent refund this year, thank God. Then we went across the street to a Communion dress store to see if we could find something for Child Two.

The store was jammed! Most of the dresses were dripping with sequins and fake seed pearls, so we left empty-handed. When Child One made her First Communion, my mother and shopped for the dress together and took the girls out to lunch afterwards.

I did a Google search for Communion dresses this morning and came up with something Child Two, Peter, and I like. It's pretty but simple.

Let's just hope it lives up to the picture

Saturday, February 19, 2005

Why I Hate Wal-Mart

1. Everybody who works there acts as if they're being booked for murder.

2. Everybody who shops their looks down on their luck.

3. Shopping there makes me feel down on my luck.

4. The company's exploitation of its employees and vendors makes me feel like I need to go to confession after I buy something there.

My mother said she'd drop dead before she stepped foot in a Wal-Mart store, and it appears she was right. I managed to stay out of our local store for over three months until last week when I returned to buy a specific pressed powder I have been unable to find anywhere else.

I discovered that Wal-Mart no longer carries this powder, giving me one less reason to shop there.

My amazing friend, V, and I went back yesterday to buy pet food. Yes, I know I can buy pet food anywhere, but I also wanted a bottle of Africa's Best hair and skin oil for my winter-dry skin and hair (works wonders, People, and it contains no mineral oil!). Like the pressed powder, I haven't been able to find it anywhere else.

But the experience was demoralizing. I keep hearing my mother saying, "I can't believe you shop there!" (Mom was an advocate of the poor and less fortunate and believed that shopping in places like Wal-Mart creates more of them.)

The cashier with the peach hair looked right through me after I smiled at her and said 'hello.' I may have to learn to do without my Africa's Best. If you know of a good substitution, do let me know.

Thursday, February 17, 2005

In the Market for a Sperm Donor?

My brother tells me the most painful aspect of dating is the women who so obviously just want to bag a man and have children right away. Their biological clocks are ticking louder than Big Ben. They make a guy feel like a sperm donor.

He says it's a major turn-off and makes a point never to see them again.

The irony is, he'd like to get married and have children. Soon. But he doesn't want to get married just to have children, and he doesn't want to marry somebody who just wants to have children.

Trust me, school soccer fields are loaded with born-to-breed married types (they refer to themselves as Moms and Dads, as in "I'm a Mom!" or "I'm Casey's Dad!" They're married not to their husbands or wives but to their children. The children are everything.

You know by looking at them they never have sex.

Want dating tips? I have a slew of them (and lots of opinions, too). Get 'em free at http://www.marrysmart.com/ezine.html

Wednesday, February 16, 2005

Slipping into Eternity

Went to visit Mom today. She's deteriorated in the three days since I saw her. She can barely speak. Mary, the aide, says Mom's skin is too tender to move her from bed to her wheelchair. Mary says she's had considerable experience with cancer patients and says Mom has about two weeks left, as opposed to the three to six months the doctors predicted.

Thank God Sibling One's little baby was there to distract us. He's quite remarkable, even if he's grumpy most of the time. He kept his eyes open for a couple of hours. That was entertainment enough.

Took the train home and sat next to a man with a wedding ring on his finger who was text messaging one person on one device, and another on his laptop. I was tempted to read over his shoulder, but I couldn't get away with it.

Maybe he was communicating with a couple of roommates from college, or maybe he's one of those freakishly insecure men who need to feel like a player. I guess I'll never know.

Tuesday, February 15, 2005

Mireille Guiliano and Her Freaking Leeks

David Bowie's Lodger is on as I write. This particular album always reminds me of the summer o f 1979, after I returned to New York from the exchange program in England. You don't get a lot of Lodger on FM radio, which is a sad thing.

I remember staying up one night in high school to watch Bowie perform "Boys Keep Swinging" in drag on The Midnight Special. Another time I tried to stay up to watch Greg Lake, but I fell asleep. I've always regretted that.

I'm going back to Mom and Dad's tomorrow. The hospice nurse, according to my sister, indicated that my mother should be hanging around for the time being. I like to see her as often as I can.

I have started this Magical Leek Soup fast that Mireille Guiliano, the author of French Women Don't Get Fat, advocates. I'm not fat; I'd like to drop five pounds, but let me tell you, this Magical Leek thing is a killer. I'd die for a tuna fish sandwich right now.

Monday, February 14, 2005

A Single Woman's Guide to a Happy Valentine's Day

The Today Show devoted all of last week to cheating spouses: why they cheat and how to tell if yours is cheating. They actually sent a reporter into bars with a hidden camera to see if she could pick up married men.

Today has devoted this week to romance: dating, proposals, getting married. No wonder so many single people are confused out of their wits. One week they're shown how dangerous marriage is, the next they're told it's the greatest thing on earth.

Oy. (And I'm not even Jewish.)

Spent the day revising my novel and sending my ezine (on love and dating, natch). If you want it, check out my website, http://www.marrysmart.com, and click the link for Free Tips in Your Mailbox.

Today's subject: A Single Woman's Guide to a Happy Valentine's Day.

Friday, February 11, 2005

My Brother, Chicken Salad

The hospice people went to Daddy's today to discuss in-home care today. All the siblings attended the meeting, except me. I had to go to Child One's parent/teacher conference this morning.

My mother asked Sibling One to phone me, which I took as a good sign. I'm glad she even remembered I exist, especially since, according to S1, she referred to my brother as "Chicken Salad" today. She told the hospice nurse that my father's name is Omar.

It's Andrew.

I'm going back there tomorrow and will spend the night, as usual, on my father's couch. He has already informed me that I am not allowed to watch Saturday Night Live, which is fine because it was pitiful last week. I fell asleep and left the TV on all night, so he's penalizing me.

I think hospice is scheduled to start on Monday. I'm glad Mom will get care at home, rather than have to go to some facility. I know she would prefer to die at home.

Wednesday, February 09, 2005

A Cute Baby is a Distraction

I watched Sibling One's new baby while she, my father, and Sibling Two took my mother up to Columbia Presbyterian for the second opinion. This doctor confirmed what the other said on Monday. Mom has three to six months. We're looking into Hospice.

B happened to be in Manhattan and leaving as I was, so we stopped into Parnell's for dinner before driving home. I had fish and chips. He had bangers and mash, which he allowed me to taste. The bangers were the real thing. Guess what I'm ordering the next time we go there?

Law & Order is on as I write. The episode is a fictionalization of the Bill O'Reilly sexual harrassment scandal of a few months back.

Time for a glass of Cabernet. It's been a day.
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