Twisty

An Open Letter to Tom Cruise

I thought I would share with you all my little open letter to Tom Cruise.

Dear Mr. Cruise,

I like you. You seem like a nice enough guy. Also, you’re a fine actor. (Just to clarify, I’m talking about Born on the Fourth of July and Magnolia not, say, some of your more recent flicks like The Last Samurai and Mission Impossible II.)

So, I hope you’ll heed my request:

Kindly stop trying to fool the public into thinking you have a romance with twentysomething Katie Holmes.

Stop gushing about your love on Oprah.

Stop staging corny “We’re So Into Each Other” photos for the press.

Mr Cruise, I am so on to you.

Trust me. You’re big box office. Spielberg-directed War of the Worlds will make a crap-load of money. You don’t need to stage some elaborate romantic charade to get media coverage. You’re Tom Cruise, for God’s sake!

I only allowed myself to follow your last romance with Penelope Cruz because I thought it would be fun if you got married and she hyphenated: Penelope Cruz-Cruise. Hee!

In any case, stop the insanity. Date who you want, not who your publicist tells you to. Or lay around at home counting your money. Your call.

Very truly yours,
TJ

(Photo Credit: Marco Iacobucci / EPA via Sipa Press)

So, Am I Missing Something Here?

So, I get this frantic call from my mother in law last night. Thankfully, nothing urgent. Her heart has been racing at night and her doctor recommended she do a sleep study.

Mr. Surly is out of town. (Woo hoo! Single girl in the hoooouse!) So, I’m on driving duty.

Basically I have to drop her off at 9 p.m. tonight and pick her up at 6 a.m. SHARP tomorrow. (BOING!)

I can’t complain. This is the same lady whose bootie we rousted out of bed in the wee hours of the morning to drive over to our house and fax over our marriage certificate, so the good people at England's Gatwick airport would let me get on the damn plane back to the states. In short, we owe her one.

For those of you unfamiliar, basically a sleep study is just as it sounds. You go to a place. They cover you up with all forms of electrodes and you hit the hay. The best part is, you get to sleep in a real bed. No drugs. Nothing crazy. Basically you’re paying them to watch you sleep. Then, the next morning the on-site supercomputers spit out some exciting data about what a fine (or lousy) sleeper you are.

Now, here’s the kicker.

The place won’t allow you to drive yourself there. It is absolutely mandatory that you get someone else to drive you. (Hence, my participation.)

My question is…why?

Dude: You’re going there with the purpose of getting a full night’s rest.

Don’t you think someone would, say, be alert and refreshed enough to drive?!?

These are crazy times we’re living in…

Advice Needed: Frequent Giving

OK, I have a question. How would you handle this?

Here’s the quick story:

I work for a small business, so I run to the post office about once a day, sometimes more.

Out there are usually some people collecting money. For the past several days, it has been American Legion veterans doing the annual poppy drive.

My dad is a veteran. Also, I’m a member of the American Legion Auxiliary. So, I feel this is an organization I wish to support. Also, as a side note, the volunteers are very well into retirement age. I don’t envy their having to stand out in the hot midday sun collecting money.

I try to give as generously as I can, pitching a dollar into their can whenever I leave the post office. Often I’m the only one giving them money at all. Most people (sadly) don’t even drop in any spare change.

I have now accumulated probably a small bouquet worth of poppies. (I try to politely refuse the flower but they are pleasant and very insistent that I take one.)

Here’s the thing: Between the local rescue squad fund drive, Girl Scout cookies, alumni giving and Fill-in-the-Blank-A-Thons, I feel like I’m a little tapped out in the giving department. Like most folks, we have bills to pay. I would prefer not to give any more – for now, at least. However, it is damn hard to say know when a volunteer (especially some sad eyed, cheerleader uniform-wearing elementary schooler) asks you for your support for what is most likely a very worthy cause.

This got me to the big question:

When approached for a donation (e.g. Pee Wee League kids at the supermarket, Lion’s Club guys at a stoplight), is there a polite way to say no that won’t make you look like a big, selfish jerk?

Seen & Heard at the McGuinness Family Homestead

Outside our bedroom 8:08 a.m.

Mr. Surly: I couldn't sleep, so I posted on the Idiom.

Me: So, what did you write about?

Mr. Surly: Something serious. Killer robots.

Me: (Lets out some barks of laughter, then looks at Mr. Surly.) Oh, you were being serious, huh?

A Salute to Mom

I know I’m a little late with this. (This will certainly come as no surprise to my mother who has dealt with my excuses for oh-so-many years.) In any case, I wanted to take a few minutes to share a few goods words about dear old mom.

My mother is a woman of simple pleasures. She likes a good smelling candle and any mystery fare PBS can throw her way. She’s never met a coconut she doesn’t like. She’ll sit up putting together a puzzle until the wee hours of the morning, nursing a now-icy cup of Lipton tea. She can also spell anything and type faster than I can think.

She’s also one of these people who, if you gave her an hour’s time and a box full of junk, she would make something wildly artistic and/or functional.

She sings like a dying buzzard but has the moves Ginger Rogers.

She’s also absolutely gorgeous. So gorgeous, in fact, that I would clamor to bring guys home to meet her. (She would pass any guy’s “This Is How My Girlfriend Will Look In Twenty Years” test with flying colors. Keeping my fingers crossed that this holds true…)

Also, when prompted, she can swear like a sailor. And she can strike up a conversation with anyone – from church lady to Hell’s Angel – any time of day or night. Mom will always find something nice and completely interesting to say. (“Oh, where did you find those leather chaps? Lovely!”)

Her generous heart has led her to fork over more than a few bucks, lend a hand, spare some dinner and offer a listening ear and open heart to anyone in need.

She is never without a hostess gift, matching outfit, scratch tickets and/or a large handbag.

My mother has taught me many things, mostly by example. However, one of the greatest things she taught me is to not take myself too seriously. To -- whenever possible – live, laugh and take things in stride.

The year was 1988 in the very early morning. It has snowed the night before and the ground was covered in ice. Nevertheless, school was in session.

At the time, I was in 6th grade and absolutely hated it. Not only was I in the throws of puberty but I was – hands down – the most unpopular kid in the school. So, I would try every single trick in the book to get out of school. This day, I had a built-in excuse.

Since I had a flair for the dramatic, I figured this would be pretty easy. Like clockwork, at 6 a.m., my public relations campaign began, “But Mooooom, I can’t go. It’s daaaaangerous outside. Don’t make me take the bus. I could DIE!!! Do you really want that, huh? HUH?”

Oh dear God, I was relentless.

However, to her credit, she wouldn’t budge. She just let me bitch to my heart’s content, fed me breakfast then walked me to the front door in her bathrobe.

I stood at the door and made one last, final plea:

“But, Mooooooom! It’s slippery! I don’t want to goooooooo!”

She just smiled, shook her head and opened the storm door leading down the stairs.

Now, I can still play the whole thing in slow motion…

I took my big, pink boot and put it on the first concrete step. ZHOOP! My foot slipped straight out from under me.

My mother, in a desperate attempt to break my fall, grabs the back of my winter coat (catching my hood instead) and dashed out on to the step. ZHOOP! ZHOOP! Both feet slip out from under her.

The next thing I remember is the two of us at the bottom of the stairs, limbs splayed all over the place, flat on our butts, covered in snow with my mother’s robe wide open – giving our elderly neighbor across the street an unobstructed view of all her bits and pieces.

For a moment, you could hear a pin drop.

Then, my mother let out a sharp giggle, which quickly snowballed into a series of howls. As she did her best to tie her robe, she looked at me and said, “Guess we gave Mr. Zell quite a show, huh? How about you take today off?”

With that, the two of us got on our hands and knees and crawled back into the house laughing the whole time.

So, thanks, Mom for always helping me see the bright (and funny) side of things. I love you! Happy Mother’s Day!

Chappelle? Cha-sad.

“Is Wayne Brady gonna have to choke a bitch?!?”

Apparently so.

It seems there’s yet another delay for the much-anticipated third season of Chappelle's Show.

I’m sad. This show is go good it makes me cry.

I would kill for some juicy scuttlebutt on the whole thing. Any Comedy Central employees out there feel like spilling the proverbial beans? I’m all ears.

21 Pearls of Wisdom

Looks like Dash may have inadvertently started a meme with his 21 pieces of advice. Dad picked up on it and I just thought it was too good a topic to pass up.

TJ’s 21 Pearls of Wisdom

#1: If you lose / break something of someone else’s, replace it – to the best of your ability – immediately. And don’t make a big show about it.

#2: If 80’s hair band Nelson’s “Love and Affection” comes on your car radio, while driving through a rough neighborhood, roll up the windows before bursting into song. (Trust me. I know this from experience.)

#3: Never buy cheap toilet paper; it will only make you unhappy.

#4: If an elderly person is telling you a story, don’t cut them off, even if you’ve heard it a million times before. Let them enjoy sharing a part of their lives with you.

#5: No matter how much you try to convince them to the contrary: if your family and friends don’t like your boyfriend, there’s an almost 100% chance he’s an asshole. Dump him. Post haste.

#6: If you ever try something on and ask yourself, “Do I look a little chunky in this?”, don’t buy it. Get something else that makes you feel comfortable and foxy.

#7: Never hesitate to say “I’m sorry.” Even if you didn’t do something wrong, you may have hurt someone’s feelings along the way. Apologies never make you look like a chump.

#8: Whoever tells you that g-strings are comfortable is lying.

#9: Never speak disparagingly to a telemarketer, service person or customer service rep. How would you like getting paid minimum wage to deal with difficult people all day?

#10: Learn the usage of your/you’re, its/it’s and their/there/they’re. My recruiter friend tells me these are often used as a writing skills barometer during the interview process.

#11: Play Boggle. It’s the best game ever!

#12: Be mindful of what you say on a cell phone. It’s bad enough that I have to listen to you conduct a private conversation. However, do I really need to know about that guy your niece is dating, the juicy details of your divorce proceedings and the scoop on your recurring yeast infection?

#13: Think very, very, very carefully before agreeing to be in a friend’s wedding. If you hesitate even for a microsecond at the thought of parting with several hundred dollars and your sanity on behalf of this person, immediately and politely decline.

#14: It’s never the wrong time to drink a glass of red wine.

#15: Some of the best and worst evenings have started with the prophetic phrase, “Let’s do tequila shots!”

#16: It’s perfectly okay to like the Olive Garden. (I do!) Just don’t believe for even a second that the recipe for the Stuffed Chicken Marsala was lovingly crafted by a spirited, cottage-dwelling Italian grandmother in the rolling hills of Tuscany.

#17: Always take every, blessed day of vacation your company grants to you. You’ll live longer.

#18: You always have it better than you think you do.

#19: If you have to go to a warehouse store (e.g. Sam’s Club) on a Saturday, be waiting out there the minute it opens. Otherwise, bring some valium and your anger management workbook.

#20: Call your mom at least once a week.

#21: You can never have too many books, good recipes, comfortable shoes or kind words.

Hug a Teacher

Thank goodness for Google because I was just reminded that today is "National Teacher Appreciation Day."

Today I salute my friend Viv, an elementary school teacher, who is out there every day in the trenches with America's youth. She has devoted abundant energy, countless hours of overtime and boundless creativity into helping her students love to learn. She's even been known to sacrifice hard-earned dollars to buy school supplies, books and special treats for her students.

I've been trying to nudge her to move to my district in Jersey, so one day the McGuinness progeny will benefit from some time in the classroom with her.

However, no dice. A Jersey girl she is not. (Damn!)

I only hope her students realize how lucky they are.

Today

It has been absolutely crazy lately. Nothing bad. Just a lot of stuff of the “unbloggable” variety.

That got me to thinking: What is the standard that most bloggers use for postability?

For me, it’s the mailman test.

If it’s news I wouldn’t feel comfortable telling Sandy, my letter carrier, I probably shouldn’t be posting it on the blog. Period.

The good thing is that I’m a pretty open gal. So, I would likely tell Sandy about my most recent PAP smear, thoughts on “America’s Next Top Model” and my fascination with TaterTots. However, you do have to play a few things close to the vest. So, yeah, there are some things I would even keep from dear old Sandy.

Nevertheless, it kills me sometimes. Something will just keep running around in circles in my mind and I think, “If I just committed this to paper and threw it up there, one of my incredibly wise readers would give me some good advice.” (Seriously. Not kissing your bootie or anything but, the dear people who come to read this blog are smart, sassy and incredibly supportive. Take, for instance, your comments on my recent audition post. Having my own personal cheering section gave me the courage to make it through the long audition…and get cast in the show! But more on that later.)

But I digress…

As we all know, even posts you take down right away take a long, long, long time to die – if ever. That Google cache is a killer.

So, tomorrow or maybe Wednesday I hope to have more fun postiness. Until then, thanks for sticking in there.