A Handmaid’s Tale Anxiety

I just completed the first 5 episodes of Margaret Atwood’s A Handmaid’s Tale, which has been adapted into a television series on Hulu. OMG! It stressed the hell out of me. I haven’t sleep in 3 days.

I have had latent anxiety for many years about the possibility of the US being overtaken by a bunch of religious extremists and A Handmaid’s Tale exacerbated that anxiety, big time. Don’t get me wrong. I love a good dystopian story. Loved The Hunger Games. Loved The Maze Runner. Loved The Giver. But this one was way too real, way too relevant.

I think I may just try to go back to worrying about salad bars and porcelain dolls. That was a far easier life.

PS: If you would like hear me talk about my fear of salad bars and porcelain dolls, you can always find me on my podcast or on my website, and feel free to share your stories of what you’re afraid of…

Podcast:

https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/terrifyingly-beautiful/id1227826319

Website:

https://www.terrifyinglybeautiful.com

 

I’m Launching a Podcast!

I’ve had wicked writer’s block in my attempt to complete book 2. So how did I deal with it? I created a podcast with my best friend, Kevin.

It’s called Terrifyingly Beautiful. Check us out on iTunes. Here’s a description:

Join two self-proclaimed “anxiety experts” and best friends, David Robert and Kevin O’Connell, as each week they pop open a bottle of wine and share hilarious stories about the stuff that keeps them up at night. Spoiler alert: It’s everything. Will they be able to help each other navigate their fears? Probably not but you’ll die laughing as they try.

iTunes link is below. And please if you have a spare moment, click Subscribe, download episodes and feel free to leave a review.  We would be tickled to death. I’ll be posting here as well. Have a wonderful week ahead!!

https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/terrifyingly-beautiful/id1227826319

I’m Back!!

Hey Everyone,

Well, it certainly has been some time since my last blog entry. I apologize from the bottom of my heart. I have been focused on my second book. It’s turning out to be far more challenging than I had thought. My first book, Wanderlush, literally fell out of my head and into a 179-page glossy soft cover. The second book is proving to be a tad more stubborn. It has anchored itself to the inside of my brain and refuses to budge. I’ve written roughly 1o0 words in the past three months. At this rate I’ll be 90 when the damn books is published.

I’ve been keeping up with everyone’s blogs and many have been sources of inspiration and entertainment so thank you. Any advice you can give to help me move this book along would be GREATLY appreciated!

I’ll be posting more frequently now that I have fully accepted my writer’s block. Boy do I have some stories to share:)

 

Sun Visor Design Flaw

I had some business out of town so I rented a car rather than put the miles on my own vehicle. About 30 minutes into my drive the sun peered through the clouds, impairing my vision. I leaned forward and then to the side in an attempt to find a spot where the sun wasn’t blinding me. No luck. So, I pulled down the sun visor. Bad idea. I had a better chance of seeing with the sun in my eyes. How could this visor be legal? Once I was able to pull over, I snapped this picture. LOL

IMG_1558

 

Embarrassing Autocorrects

I was having dinner with a few friends on Friday night and I asked one of them to help me identify a bird I had seen earlier in the week. She was a bird enthusiast and possessed a wealth of knowledge about local fowl.

“It was small and white,” I said. “Sort of like a compact duck.”

“All white?”

“With a black stripe on its face,” I replied.

“No clue. I’d google it.”

I retrieved my iPhone from my coat pocket and googled what I thought was white ducks of Rhode Island.

While I waited for my search results to appear, our waitress approached and leaned in to take my drink order. She stopped short, caught a glimpse of my phone’s screen and burst into an uncontrollable giggle. I looked down at my iPhone and was met with roughly a dozen images of penises in various states of repose.

My iPhone autocorrected duck to dick.

Normally, I would have felt the need to explain and thus dig a deeper hole but this time I looked directly at the waitress and said, “We’re trying to agree on my Timber profile pic. Did you happen to spot a favorite?”

Her response was priceless. “Dicks really aren’t my thing. I’m swiping left.”

 

 

 

The Difference Between Copying and Printing

copiers

 

 

 

 

 

 

I had to print several documents from a USB drive so I googled “local print shop” and found a store close to my home. Rather than reveal the store name, I’ll instead offer up that it rhymes with poopy-S.

Me: Hi, I need to print a few documents. Are these printers self-service?

Clerk: You’re making copies?

Me: No, I’m looking to print some documents.

Clerk: Okay, so you’ll need a key to access our copy machines.

Whatever, I thought. The clerk hands me a small box that looked like a harmonica.

Me: What’s this for?

Clerk: It’s a copy counter. You insert it into the copy machine and it counts the number of copies.

Me: I’m not making copies. Will it also count the printed pages?

Clerk: We’re talking about the same thing.

Me: I guess I’m just used to other print shops where you can use a credit card at the actual machine to print documents. It’s self service.

Clerk: Yeah.

I insert the box into the machine and then begin my search for the USB port. No luck.

Me: Where’s this machine’s USB port?

Clerk: It doesn’t have one.

I should have known. Any copy/printer that is the same color as the kitchen appliances my parents had when I was growing up was likely a bad sign.

Me: So, this machine doesn’t allow printing?

Clerk: Sure it does.

Me: I thought we were talking about the same thing? And your front window has a huge sign that says you’re a full service print shop.

Clerk: We are. You place your documents into the feeder and it prints a copy for you.

Me: That’s copying, not printing.

Clerk: Why are you so combative, Dude?

Me: I’m not combative. It’s just that printers were invented in like 1899 and here we are in 2016 and you’re clueless about the difference between printing and copying.

Clerk walks over to my machine and lifts the top cover.

Clerk: Watch.

He places his hand on the glass surface and presses Start. The machine lights up and a bright blue bar scrolls across the glass. A second later a sheet of paper emerges from the side of the machine. The clerk grabs the paper and holds it up.

Clerk: See. I just printed a copy of my hand.

Me: That’s still copying, not printing. You know what. It’s okay. I’ll just find another way to do this.

Clerk: So, you’re giving up?

Me: To be honest I sort of gave up when you handed me the harmonica.

Clerk: What’s a harmon–

Me: Yes! I’m giving up. Have a wonderful life. Good-bye.

 

Is It Okay to Discipline Someone Else’s Child?

nowirehangers

The picture will make more sense after you read the post:)

I was standing in a cashier line at a clothing retailer yesterday when I felt a sudden burst of taps against my butt. I turned around and looked down to find a child holding a metal clothes hanger. He was smacking the hanger against the accessory displays that lined the cashier aisle. I assumed the child had tapped me with the hanger. The child’s attention seemed to be directed elsewhere so I turned my own attention back to my iPhone while I waited. A minute later I felt a second round of taps against my butt. It was the same child.

I glanced around my immediate vicinity and noticed a young woman on the opposite side of the accessory display. An empty child stroller stood in front of her.

Ah ha. I found the mom.

“Excuse me, ma’am?” I said.

The woman looked at me.

“Is this your child?”

She looked at the boy for a second and then back at me. “Yeah, why?”

“He’s hitting me with a clothes hanger. Could you ask him to stop please?”

“He’s a child,” she replied.

“I’m well aware of that. That’s why I’m speaking to you.”

“What’s the issue here?”

“Normally I don’t mind being spanked on the ass but not by a 4 year-old kid. Can you retrieve him, please.”

The woman became defiant. “It’s a wire hanger. It won’t hurt anything. And in case you haven’t noticed, my son has developmental limitations. You can’t expect him to behave like other children.”

“I hadn’t noticed. In fact, the only developmental limitations I’ve observed are the ones being emitted from you.”

“What did you call me?”

“Nothing yet. But there’s still 9 people ahead of me so there’s plenty of time for me to test my vocabulary on you.”

“Why don’t you mind your own fucking business,” she snapped.

“I was until I had to defend my anal cavity from a coat hanger.”

“I don’t appreciate that vulgar language around my child.”

“You’re wearing a sweatshirt that reads I’m the Boss Bitch. You can stop playing the victim card.”

The kid must have been upset that I was in a verbal kerfuffle with his mom. He whacked me with the hanger again. This time on the knee.

I looked at the mom. “Pay attention if you want any prayer of being a decent mom.” I gently removed the hanger from the child’s hand and stared down at him.

“Kid, I’m going to give you likely the best advice you’ll receive in your life, apart from telling you to not grow up to be like your mom.”

I clenched the wire hanger in one hand and pursed my lips in my best Joan Crawford imitation. “NO.. WIRE… HANGERS!”