Can I Get You A Drink?...

Hello Lovelies... When I was in my early 20's I was living on my own, struggling to make ends meet and I had the biggest piece of junk for a car. I was constantly getting stranded and my family and friends were getting pretty tired of rescuing me. I had my eye on this beautiful red sports car that I just had to have. It wasn't within my budget so I decided to get myself a fun and easy second job.


There was a restaurant right down the street from my apartment that was hiring for a part time cocktail waitress...perfect, what an easy, fun way to make extra money! Well, it's not as easy as it seems! I had to hustle...really hustle, people can get pissy if you don't get them their drinks fast! I also had to fend off drunk old men, but my biggest challenge was my "foot 'n mouth" syndrome and my coordination or rather, the lack there of.


On my first day at my job there was a very long wait, so I started to service the bar area, getting drinks for the waiting guests. A man ordered three drinks, one for his wife, his daughter and himself. One of the drinks he ordered was a virgin margarita. I returned with the drink order and picked up the virgin margarita, held it up to the daughter and said "virgin?" she shook her head nervously, "yes", so I handed the drink to her. "Oh no" she said, "the virgin Margarita is for my mother!" AWKWARD! Oh geez, I'm off to a great start!


A couple of days later I had a man offer me $100.00 if I would go arm and arm with him to a court hearing for his pending divorce. Oh brother...as much as I needed the money...no thanks! I got through the next several weeks with just a few minor incidents UNTIL I delivered a drink order to a table and proceeded to trip AND spill the entire drink right down the backside of the birthday girl. Happy Birthday, Honey!!!


Oh Crap...why do these things always happen to me? And why do I have to be so hopelessly clumsy? Alright girl, get yourself together, you need this job...remember that cute little red sports car? So I apologized to the group, paid for their round (ouch) and then promptly returned to the bar to replace the drink I spilt on the birthday girl. Upon my return to the table I tripped AGAIN and that drink went flying off the tray. Needless to say, my cocktail career came to an immediate end. Bye...bye beautiful red sports car!
xoxo Betty

Random Security Check

Several years ago I traveled frequently between New York and LA and I always seemed to get chosen for a "Random Security Check". After 9/11 I never got through an airport without a full baggage and body search. I'm all about safety and the inconvenience of this "dog and pony show", but I had one incident at the Long Beach Airport that went above and beyond the call of duty.

As usual, while checking in, I was informed that I had been selected for a "Random Security Check. "Oh you're kidding, what a surprise" I chirped sarcastically. So off to the side I went and looked on while they rifled through my perfectly strategically packed suitcase.

As I entered the terminal, I'm now on to phase two...the body search. I learned long ago to remove any jewelry, shoes, belts etc. as not to set off the metal detector and to help speed up the process. As I proceeded through the metal detector, the alarm sounded. I was asked to step to the side and assume the position that looks something like a frozen jumping jack, and my full body search began.

Being that I had already removed all my jewelry, my shoes were gone, my belt was gone I couldn't understand what the detector could be detecting. My body search was conducted by a very nice boy, who couldn't have been a day over 18. He started at my ankles and worked his way up the entire length of my leg. I have to say it was really creeping me out the way he was flipping his hands back and forth from his palm side to his back side as he worked his way up my leg.

He then moved on to my waistband...slowly taking his time. Mind you, this was in an open area of the terminal and I'm now noticing quite a few people were beginning to look my way. He suddenly worked his hand flip routine right up to the base of my bra area and then switched over to his magic wand thing-a-ma-jig, back to his hands once more and by now I was starting to get pissed off! I told him if he was going to keep feeling me up and down he'd better start stuffing some dollar bills into my waist band! He asked me if I would be more comfortable with a woman conducting the search...Oh yes, that be great if I could get a woman over here to start feeling me up and down...thought you'd never ask!

I didn't want to re-start this process and the crowd of spectators was growing...so I asked him if he could hurry with feeling me up so I could get on with it. He was stuck on my chest area and kept waving his wand back and forth near the base of the front of my bra. Ah Ha! I looked at him and asked him how long he'd been on the job, he said "Actually, this is my first day" now I understand. I leaned into him and I told him that his magic wand was detecting the under wire in my bra and that I would gladly remove my bra if this would end this spectacle. He turned every shade of red, white and blue, and that was the end of my VERY thorough body search!

xoxo Betty

To Whom It May Concern...

Hello Lovelies...I often say that I'm going to write a letter and I usually never get around to doing it, so I'm taking the easy way out here...

1. Dear Clairol,
It seems to me that in the age of "Super Size" that you would make a super size of my hair dye. It takes me three bottles to cover my roots...is this a common problem or do I just have a big head?

2. Dear Gatorade,
I love your G2 but I can never get the lid on the bottle open. I know it's a sports drink but do you have to be a champion arm wrestler to get the bottle open?

3. Dear God,
Can you give me more patience? I need it right away!

4. Dear The Finishing Touch,
I'm 45, is it too late to attend charm school?

5. Dear AT&T,
I'm already a customer, will you please stop calling me every evening at dinner time?

6. Dear Los Angeles Times,
Please see Number 5.

7. Dear George Clooney,
Please stop calling me...If I've told you once, I've told you a hundred times...I'm a taken woman!

8. Dear Technologically Advanced Friends,
Please don't text me in code words, I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about. BTW, this is the only code word I know!

9. Dear Octomom,
Please...Please...Please have your tubes tied!

10. Dear State of New York,
I owe my cynicism and sarcasm all to you, thanks a lot!

11. Dear Starbucks Barrista,
Have I told you lately how much I love you?

12. Dear Blog Land Friends, Thank you for sharing your warmth, talent and creativity, you inspire me everyday!

xoxo Betty

I'm Horrible In Bed!

Hello Lovelies...Yes, it's true, "The Italian" told me so! You're probably thinking right about now that this is way too much information, so let me explain...

I've been having this ongoing battle with "The Italian" and our conflicting schedules. I've always been an early bird and he's always been a night owl. Since I get up at the crack of dawn, I go to bed hours before him and it seems the older I get the more precious my sleep is to me. Can't tell you the last time I went to bed and slept through the night uninterrupted. Part of this is due to the fact that "The Italian's" version of quiet and mine are two totally different things.

He says I have bionic ears and I think he's about as quiet as a jack hammer! On a nightly basis when he comes to bed he and Toby (his beloved black lab) will come into the bedroom and although Toby has his on bed, "The Italian" has Toby who weighs 110 lbs. get into the bed, Toby is not fond of this...actually he pretty much hates it. He's figured out that if he's a pain in the ass he'll be quickly kicked out, so within seconds of getting in the bed he'll immediately start to breathe heavily accented with a couple of snorts and has now resorted to snoring with his eyes wide open...I tell you, he's brilliant.

As much as I appreciate Toby's IQ, my lack of quality sleep is getting the best of me and I've been known to have a fit or two as of late . Now I'm not proud of this...and it's comparable to a two year old temper tantrum and i've gotten so annoyed that I've pounded my fist on the bed, kicked my feet and had myself a good o'l whine or two!

Geez, who knew sleep deprivation could make you resort to such behavior! I've occasionally pissed off "The Italian" the last incident he told me I was horrible, grabbed his pillow and slept on the couch. I felt so terrible as I drifted off to a peaceful quiet sleep..ahh...peace and quiet at last!!
xoxo
Betty

Hello My Lovelies!...So happy you found me! Welcome to my debut post...I'm so excited! You caught me at the salon...finally getting my much needed 40-something makeover... So...what do you think of the color?



I think I might be going through a mid-life crisis and I'm trying to relive my youth...you know I did grow up in the 80's at the height of the punk age. I feel like I'm at this weired age and I'm stuck somewhere in between young and old, and how do I know when that elusive signature style that I adopted so many years ago stops being desirable and starts becoming embarrassing? And then there's my once lustrous tresses that were my crowning glory and have now become about as alluring as tumbleweed.


The last thing I want to do is dress like one of those women you see...you know the ones, those 4o-somethings that are wearing the crop t-shirt with jeans that are waaaay too tight and waaaay too much make-up. I also don't want to be the other extreme and be a frumpy 40 something, wearing elastic waist polyester pants with a boring solid tee shirt or floral button up blouse and my only accessory is sensible shoes! I'd rather gnaw off my left foot than be either of these!


My other problem...I absolutely hate clothes shopping, always have and it doesn't help when my 40 something body is changing. I've got plenty of things that have decided to head south and not to mention a few extra pounds...sigh. Then to add insult to injury you go into these department store dressing rooms with those gosh forsaken tri-fold mirrors that give you a view that you never see at home and would rather not see there either! I've never bought ANYTHING that I tried on in front of one of those mirrors! Heck, if they were smart they'd put in one of those carnival mirrors that make you look taller and thinner, then I might have bought something!


Well, that's it for today my lovelies...I think after I get my hair done I'll swing by the tanning salon, I think I'm looking a little pale and maybe then to Target or Walmart...they don't have tri-fold mirrors and their designer clothes selection is fabulous, don't you think?
xoxo Betty