I FEEL LIKE BITCHING

Why do I feel like bitching Gentle Readers? Because. That's why. Same explanation I used to give my kids when they wanted to do something stupid, except the answer was "because I said so." Sometimes parents don't have to give explanations, so damn it, I'm going to bitch.

1. My property taxes are going way up. I was supposed to apply for something so my property taxes would stay the same or go down, but I didn't know about it. Somebody was supposed to tell me at closing, but I closed by mail and nobody told me. I missed the deadline to apply so now I'm being punished for my ignorance. My fricking house payment will go way up.

2. I accidentally broke my printer today. It hasn't been working, apparently because of a defective cartridge. It appears to be printing but then no words are on the page the printer spits out. I went to take the cartridge out and the little piece that holds it in place fricking snapped off. And it doesn't snap back in. Son of a bitch. I'm a writer. I cannot be without a printer and I can't afford a new one.

3. Why do people who smoke have enough money for cigarettes but then they can't make their house payments, buy food, get braces for their kids, do all the important stuff? What in the hell is the matter with you people? Do you ever stop to add up how much your nicotine addiction costs you every year and what you could afford if you gave up the cancer sticks? People go to AA and other programs to stop drinking and drugging. Nicotine is a DRUG. There are free programs to help you stop smoking. Go get the fricking help you need and cut it out.

4. Why do people who smoke get extra breaks at work? Every single place I have ever worked, those of us who didn't smoke picked up the slack because of the people who did. At one newspaper where I worked the editors and one of the reporters went out to smoke EVERY 20 minutes. When I worked in healthcare some of the nurses and assistants were always out smoking. Once per hour. At one nursing home everybody in the place (not residents; they were tucked safely in bed) except one other person and me went out to smoke and they were gone for TWO FRICKING HOURS. Put that in your cigarette and smoke it.

5. How come some people break the rules over and over and get away with it? Why? Why? Why? And those of us who work hard and try hard end up shit upon. I'm tired of it. I'm tired of a particular business that can't keep track of my insurance paperwork and checks, and I don't have the option of going elsewhere. Quit feeling sorry for the person who lied and cheated on me and do what you're supposed to do with my checks, you sorry, lazy bitch. No one is minding the store, so people get away with murder. I once took care of a woman who was virtually incapable of speaking and she sat in her own diarrhea all day. When I cleaned her up I found a red spot on each butt cheek. Over the months as I treated her bottom I watched it go from bad to worse until she had really nasty bed sores because I was the only one who changed her and cleaned her and took care of her and at last she died and left the misery of the place she was in.

6. More than once now I've had potential employers call and leave a message saying they want to interview me, and when I call back the position miraculously has been filled or it's about to be filled so in the course of just a few hours they go from wanting to interview me to having someone else. I called a potential employer yesterday and left a message asking what email address I should use to send my resume. No call back, so I planned on calling again this morning. But before I could do so the secretary left a message on my phone saying two interview times were open -- 10:30 and 11:30. At 10:00 I got the message and called her back. No fricking answer. At 10:30 she called me back and asked, Do we have your resume? NO YOU DON'T HAVE MY RESUME BITCH BECAUSE I DIDN'T HAVE THE EMAIL ADDRESS TO SEND IT TO YOU. But of course I didn't say that. Anyway, after that she said, Well, she's interviewed several people and she's ready to make a decision and even if you came out here now we're having a big meeting and I'd have to get her out of that to interview you so I don't think there's really any point. Then why in the hell did you call me you moron?

7. People who steal my ideas need to cut it out. I'm sick of hearing my ideas attributed to someone else.

This day has sucked. There's nothing new under the sun, thank you very much Ecclesiastes.

Fuck you. Fuck all of you.

Infinities of love,

Lola

BUT WHAT'S A PRINCESS TO DO?

Gentle Readers,

After I told you yesterday not to bother with the movie The Queen's Sister, I got to thinking about Princess Margaret. By the time she died, she wasn't exactly popular in Great Britain. In fact, quite a few people complained about supporting her lavish lifestyle when she didn't do much of anything, other than sell tabloids by creating scandals.

But, really, what's a princess to do? She was raised as Her Royal Highness Princess Margaret Rose, but I imagine that when her father assumed the throne, she began to learn that she was always going to be in second place behind her older sister, Elizabeth. And then Elizabeth had children and Princess Margaret wasn't even in second place any more. She really didn't have a place of importance in the royal hierarchy.

Yes, she was on the Civil List, meaning she got paid by her country to be a princess and attend the openings of hospital wings and such, probably when they couldn't get somebody more interesting. And she had a lovely island getaway and people did things for her because she was royalty, but she had to endure increasing scrutiny and criticism over the years.

I feel a bit sorry for Princess Margaret. When she was a young woman -- and quite the captivating beauty -- she fell in love with a married man, Peter Townsend. And he fell in love with her and decided or had already decided to get a divorce. But her family told Margaret that if she married this divorced man, she couldn't get married in The Church of England, of which her sister is the head, she would lose her place in the line of succession, and she would be cut off and lose everything. She may have even feared she would no longer be received by her own family -- the fate of her Uncle David, who gave up the crown to marry Wallis Simpson.

So she gave in. She made a radio address to the nation stating that she would do her duty and not marry Townsend. Margaret gave up the man she loved for her country and then became increasingly reviled when her life didn't work out so great.

She married and divorced after having two children. Her husband fooled around on her a lot, and she fooled around too, and it was just all downhill from there. Her husband, a commoner named Antony Armstrong-Jones, who became Lord Snowdon when he married Margaret, remarried right after the divorce.

Margaret was alone. She took lovers and was a patroness of the fine arts in Great Britain, something that didn't really interest her sister. Reportedly, she sang well and played the piano and could have been a marvelous actress -- but royalty doesn't go on the stage or play parts in movies.

It's probably very difficult for someone who has been raised royally to achieve true intimacy.

So, Great Britain, after Princess Margaret did as she was supposed to do and gave up her true love, why did you turn on her? I know some of you read me. It's in my stats. So please feel free to speak up about the lost princess.

Explanation wanted, please.

Infinities of love,

Lola

THE MAN WHO GOT STUCK BEING KING AND HIS SECOND DAUGHTER

Gentle Readers,

I'm in quite the British mood today because I watched two British films over the weekend. You really needn't bother with either of them unless, in the first case, you're in the mood for a romantic trifle.

It's a Masterpiece Theater show called Bertie and Elizabeth . Just in case you're not up on your British history, Bertie's older brother David, who was Edward VIII, abdicated the throne so he could marry the kind of creepy-looking American Wallis Simpson. This dumping of royal duty left the Duke of York, Albert, to become King George VI, with his beloved Elizabeth by his side as Queen Consort.  

Bertie was not as outgoing as his older brother and had a terrible stutter. But he managed quite nicely as King and he and Elizabeth became especially popular because of their kind and compassionate leadership during World War II. Buckingham Palace was even bombed, but the Royals stayed in London, although they sent their two little girls to Windsor.

This movie was not historically accurate, at least in regards to Bertie and Elizabeth's romance. It does not accurately portray how they met or how long it took Bertie to convince Lady Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon to marry him. I know this because my current bedtime reading material is The Official Biography of The Queen Mother, which I find to be quite interesting. I'm finally getting my Royals straight. I can tell you the correct order starting with Queen Victoria, which isn't a lot to brag about, but at least I'm getting some things figured out that long puzzled me.

When I was young and there wasn't an Internet I wanted to know why The Queen Mother was called The Queen Mother and what was her real name? It took me years to find out that she was Elizabeth, but she wasn't Elizabeth II because she was not queen in her own right, as her daughter was upon the death of her father, George VI. By the way, George (Bertie) died from lung cancer. His wife blamed his relatively early demise on the extra stress placed on him when he had to jump in and become king -- never mind that the man smoked like a chimney. She outlived him by 50 some years.

Anyway, if you read the book, which I highly recommend, you might want to watch this Masterpiece Theater to see how Bertie and Elizabeth are portrayed.

Being in a royal mood, I then watched a BBC production called The Queen's Sister. It was pretty trashy. Don't waste your time on it unless you want a bit of boobs and sex and drinking and drugs.

The British people always like it when their rulers produce an heir and a spare. Now, King William is the heir and Prince Harry is the spare. But once upon a time, Queen Elizabeth (the current queen) was the heir and her younger sister, Princess Margaret Rose, was the spare. But Elizabeth married and started having children and Margaret kept moving farther down in the line of succession. Margaret seems to have been restless and uncomfortable with her station in life, sometimes demanding she be treated as royalty and then behaving in a very relaxed and carefree manner.

Margaret died in 2002, not long before the death of her mother, Queen Elizabeth The Queen Mother, who lived to be 101. Margaret, like her father, smoked incessantly, and apparently unlike her father, was big time into alcohol and drugs. She had lung problems and a series of strokes before she died.

One thing I'd like to point out, though, for those of you who think the paparazzi suddenly became a problem when Lady Diana entered the public realm, Princess Margaret was stalked by photographers and photos of her at her private island retreat made the papers, leading to public scandal. Even Lady Elizabeth, before she wed Bertie, had photographers hanging around outside her door. She made the mistake of granting an interview to a reporter. She didn't make the same mistake twice. Royals didn't chat with reporters.

So like I said, don't bother with this movie unless you want to see a pretty funny piece that's included on the disc about a long-ago lousy husband king who was extremely nasty to his wife, and I admit I can't think of their names because they are pre-Victoria. Hmmmm Can I figure it out?

Ha ha! It was George and Caroline of Brunswick (thank you amazon). I actually laughed out loud at this bonus feature.

I'm sorry I couldn't say such and such is marvelous; you absolutely must see it. But if I see something I don't like, I figure it's best to warn you, Gentle Readers.

Infinities of love,

Lola

SLEEPING WITH A FRIEND

A THREE DOG LIFE

Gentle Readers,

I present for your gentle perusal A Three Dog Life by Abigail Thomas.

Perhaps I found this memoir particularly memorable because Thomas has her three dog life without a husband as I have mine.

Thomas's husband suffered severe brain damage when he was hit by a car while out walking one of their dogs. As a matter of fact, the dog had gotten off its lead and her husband, Rich, was chasing the dog, who had run into the street. The dog was not injured. Rich was.

Rich eventually had to go to a nursing home to live, leaving Thomas to live and write with her three dogs for company. These vignettes -- appropriate that a memoir would be vignettes because isn't that how our memories come to us? -- are funny and sad and sweet and sad, but ultimately help the reader go on with the tumult of life.

Rich, at the time this book was written, was able to come home once a week for the afternoon.

My husband will never come home again.

Infinities of love,

Lola

FRANKLIN'S FOOT FETISH

Gentle Readers,

When Franklin first approached me without fear but with love, it was to lick my toes.

He has continued to lick my toes from time to time, but also gives kisses where they really belong, and no, I do not mean my butt.

Franklin's love of my feet now extends to my slippers. After he had been with me a couple of nights, I slid out of my comfy bed in the morning ready to slide my feet into my slippers and found only one. A quick search uncovered the missing slipper on a doggie bed, hidden behind the curtains.

The slipper was not chewed. It was merely wet and had obviously received a good licking.

I resolved to put my slippers away at night from then on. Franklin had taught me a lesson about picking up after myself.

Good dog, Franklin.

But then last night I got out my nightie and slippers and put the nightie on the bed and the slippers on the floor and went in the bathroom for a little flossing, brushing, and washing.

I came out and both slippers were gone. Again, both slippers were on a doggie bed and had received their licking and kept on ticking.

Apparently, Franklin likes the way my feet taste and smell. Perhaps he also likes the way they look but has not yet found the words to tell me how he feels.

What a lovely compliment. Not many men go for my feet, especially in such a gentle manner.

Thank you, Franklin.

Infinities of love,

Lola

DON'T BAIT AND SWITCH ME

Gentle Readers,

I first became acquainted with Barbara Ehrenreich a few years ago when I read Nickel and Dimed: On (Not) Getting By in America. Ehrenreich spent an entire year as a member of the working poor. She cleaned houses and took on every other lousy job that doesn't pay decently and doesn't have benefits. She even worked at Oh My God I hate to say it Wal-Mart. And she lived on what she earned -- just barely.

It was an excellent way to demonstrate how horribly our hardest workers are treated and how certain people like The Walton Family of Arkansas makes a living off these people's backs.

I thought, This lady espouses my so-called bleeding-heart liberal causes, meaning she feels compassion for people and is passionate about it. She doesn't just talk the talk; she walks the walk.

Now I present to you the opportunity for an excellent reading experience: Bait and Switch: The (Futile) Pursuit of the American Dream. In this book Ehrenreich poses as a job seeker and tries hiring the people who charge a small fortune to help the desperate obtain a job; for example, there are "job coaches" and people who write resumes and people who tell you what you should wear if you want to get a job.

One of the most important and seemingly worthless things is networking. You must network to get a job. I can tell you from experience that I have networked the hell out of networking and it hasn't done a thing for my business. The only time people wanted contact with me was back when I was a reporter and could provide them with publicity. They lost interest in me right after I left the newspaper.

It's also very baaaad to be old and as with people who lose the cancer battle, it's really your own fault if you don't get a job. It's your bad attitude. You don't believe in yourself. Shame, shame, shame on you.

Something I also found very interesting is that those personality tests, the ones that tell you you're an INTJ and crap like that, Ehrenreich says lots of employers and job coaches use them and lots of studies show they're worthless. Some people test as different personality types depending on what time of day it is.

This book is a great piece of investigative journalism and it comes with the Lola Seal of Approval.

Barbara Ehrenreich, you are way cool. You go girl, and keep going. We need you.

Pssssst! Barbara, next, how about a nice expose on the Walton family of Wal-Mart fame and fortune? I don't think they can ever receive too much attention.

Infinities of love,

Lola