Here is one of the main reasons I retired: I no longer knew how to operate the bathroom fixtures at Johnson & Johnson. Now I find the same issues in virtually every commercial restroom. Some toilets flush automatically, while others require a push of a button or a yank of a handle. Some sinks have water that turns on when you move your hands under the faucet, while others require you to touch the handle and do it the old fashioned way. The soap won't squirt at you unless your hands do a happy dance in some sinks, and, even then, it’s hard to find the exact hand position. Paper towels may or may not be automatically dispensed. In at least one bathroom I know, the hand dryer requires you to insert your hands into a device facing downward, as if you are being handcuffed (not that I have any personal experience with this action). Really, should using a restroom be this complicated? This conundrum has followed me from the hallowed halls of Johnson & Johnson to bathrooms everywhere. I remember a colleague commenting that she was so used to having the toilet flush automatically at work that she stopped flushing at home, to the horror of her family, which probably started looking into assisted living facilities for her.
If a pun is a “play on words,” why don’t we call it a “p-o-w” instead of a “p-u-n?”
I need so much light to see things now that by the time I’m 80, I’ll probably be walking around with one of those lights like they have on miners’ helmets. At least if I wander off from the nursing home I’ll be easy to track down.
My phone never rings unless I’m on it. Go figure.
Does this happen to you? I start falling asleep downstairs on the recliner and vow to go to bed early, but by the time I go upstairs, wash my face, brush my teeth and get ready for bed, I’m wide awake. Yet I don’t want to spend the night sleeping in the recliner — or do I?
I completely disagree with Comcast’s on-screen TV listings of movies that now define such dramas as “42” and “Brian’s Song” as documentaries. Really? These are dramas, not even docu-dramas in many cases, and they are a far cry from genuine documentaries. With whom do I have to address this travesty?
I just finished reading actor Rob Lowe’s latest memoir, “Love Life.” It turns out that he is a nice guy who loves his wife, adores his sons and enjoys his work. Apart from a reference to a near-encounter with a very young and hot Madonna and a dip in the Playboy pool, there isn’t much here about his love life. And there is a paucity of pictures of his pretty face, too. Let’s just say Rob Lowe’s Love Life wasn’t satisfying — at least to me.
If video killed the radio star, then surely videostreaming killed the video store. It might just kill network television, too.
No matter how hot it may be outside, I always have a jacket or sweatshirt with me for when I go to ShopRite, where it is always freezing cold. If I ever have to go in the frozen food section without an outer layer, I’ll freeze to death.
Whenever anyone uses the expression “and the rest is history,” it always makes me think of “Yada, yada, yada,” from Seinfeld because they are either too lazy to give you the details or think you know them. I usually don’t.
Try as I might, I cannot control the spacing between words on-line. I was taught to use two spaces after a sentence, but the result in publishing something is that the next line sometimes starts with a word that is indented by one space. To fix this issue, I have to remove a space from the previous line so everything will be even. I'm just telling you this in case on your screen you see inconsistent spacing between words, which ordinarily would drive me crazy. And now you know what did it. I have a feeling no one cares about this issue like me.
I have decided I want to live at Walgreen’s — you know, on the corner of Happy and Healthy.
Clint Eastwood as the director of the movie version of “Jersey Boys?” I’m not so sure about that combo. I’ll have to see it for myself to judge it fairly.
I recently spotted a 4-door Maserati on the road. Really, why buy a luxury sports car brand that looks like a Nissan Altima (with apologies to Nissan owners, but Nissan is no Maserati)? I also saw a Porsche SUV. People, let's keep the sports cars as sports cars and leave the family vehicles to Honda or Ford, OK?
If you open my freezer, you'll find a multitude of ice packs to soothe my aches and pains. I'm not sure if that means I am an athlete (OK, not according to a strict definition, but at least I walk and do aqua aerobics) or just old and creaky.
At any meeting, social event or meal, someone always has her or her cellphone out and is looking at it. We are that obsessed as a society that we cannot sit still and be in the moment. Instead, we are checking Facebook to view yet another cat video or see what someone's grandkids are doing or checking our ever-essential mail. I do this, too (though not at a restaurant with other people), and I'm worried for all of us.
I like having a garden, but I don't like creating the garden. I don't enjoy lugging sacks of soil, digging in the dirt and getting dirty. So my idea of planting flowers is to buy them already in full bloom and drop them in planters with new dirt surrounding them. Then I only have to keep them watered and hope for the best. Flowers will die if you don’t water them. But weeds, no matter what brutal conditions they endure, will manage to survive and thrive. Sometimes Nature is a Mother.
And speaking of watering, do not, under any circumstances, invest in one of those collapsible hoses (the Pocket Hose is one brand name, but they are all the same). Trust me when I say that I have been through 3 of them. The plastic inside is no thicker than a Baggie, and any amount of water pressure, even if the hose is straightened out completely, will cause the little bugger to burst. Luckily, last time it happened on a nice day and I needed a shower anyway.
I am like "The Princess and the Pea" when it comes to finding a stone in my sneaker when I am out for a walk. I can feel the slightest irritation in my shoe. I hobble to the next street sign or mailbox so I can lean against it and yank off my shoe to remove the offending boulder, which is often so tiny that I don't even see it fall out of the shoe as I bang it against a pillar or post. Good grief, I think lint could make me limp.
It is hard to imagine that anyone falls for those e-mails from people in other countries who want to give you money for setting up a bank account or whatever the details are of the scam they are trying to pull. Are people REALLY that gullible? I recently found yet another one in my SPAM, alongside the latest plea from Christian Mingle. This Jewish girl is not falling for that one, either.
I love to drive with the top down on the convertible — except for the hair thing. First, my hair blows in the wind, and, second, the sunlight really makes my hair look gray. It's just the sunlight, not the actual hair, right?
According to an e-mail I received, I am a member of the CVS Beauty Club. As Woody Allen would say (or was it Groucho Marx?), I would never want to belong to a club that would have me as a member.
I watch a lot of those house renovation shows on HGTV. Whenever the owners or builders think they are moving along nicely and there is still 15 minutes yet to go before the show ends, you can always count on their finding asbestos, termite damage, a main beam that needs to be replaced or something else that turns the house into a money pit. And yet, it is always beautifully finished when the show is over. Only on TV, folks.
Pandora Radio is fine for my walks, except for those damn Brad Benson commercials. Yet I am too frugal to shell out a few bucks for the free version. And so I suffer.
Few things are more annoying than having a fly (or mosquito) buzzing around your head. You search frantically for him, a magazine or fly swatter in hand, checking the windows to see if he landed, only to assume he’s flown the coop when the buzzing stops. So you put down your weapon — and he’s back. Bzzzzz.
I don’t get the whole garden gnome thing. I pass by plenty of houses that have fake deer and those squatty body gnomes in the garden, and I am perplexed as to the point of the whole thing. They are supposed to be cute, I assume, but I find nothing appealing about them. Then again, I never really believed in pierced earrings, either, and I have worn them for nearly 20 years. I guess I don’t have to understand everything that perplexes me in this world.
I was feeling a bit guilty for running a light today, but I was reassured by my good and wise friend Dy, who said, “Teen, don’t worry about it. Yellow is the new green.” Gotta love that logic!
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