Ang and I went to JCPenny recently as we were wanting to purchase some new curtains for our guest room. It’s a rather large window so we had to “special order” the curtains which took about 2 weeks. You can imagine the excitement and anticipation we felt when we received the long awaited call that our drapery “was in.” Of course, Ang and I were a little disappointed that there wouldn’t be anymore sock puppet shows to put on for the neighbors out walking in the evening, but the privacy and modesty of Ang’s mother took presidence.

The problem started once we had the curtains up for about a day. Apparently, insulated lining and hot sun do not mix – but who would have thought that curtains of all things, would be toxic? I was not a happy customer and so I did what any dissatisfied consumer would do and I gave them….A BAD REVIEW.

Dear JCPenny:

I recently purchased curtains from the Cindy Crawford Home Embalming Collection. They’re a lovely green color – I believe the official name of the color is “oil green” and now I know why. After a couple of days I began noticing a pungent odor coming from my guest room. Once entering the room I was instantly assaulted by a strong petroleum & egg-like smell that actually blinded me for a few seconds. Blurry-eyed and a little dizzy, I decided that I would try washing them to see if that helped – but the volatile nerve gas was still present. I really liked the curtains and wanted to find a way to make it work, so I went out and purchased a HazMat mask – that seemed to help a little. I was having company in a few days so I wanted to “test” the room out first. Ironically, I fell asleep almost instantly, but when I woke up there was an unnatural amount of drool on my pillow and the left side of my face was completely numb. After speaking to a neurologist, the damage will more than likely be short-term but I was advised to wait awhile before trying to conceive. I decided to go ahead and return the curtains before I lost another fingernail.

I give these curtains 1 star.

It was around 9:30 a.m. this morning – Ang and I just finished our grocery shopping and were headed towards the car when a slightly plump guy of unknown sexual orientation rolled up beside us in his Kia Rio.

Guy: Excuse me, (directed to Ang), but I noticed you in the store and I have to say, I think you’re gorgeous – if your not seeing anyone, would it be okay if I get your phone number?”

Ang: Thanks but…

Me: Well, she’s seeing me actually – but I too appreciate the compliment.

It was obvious from the look on the guy’s face that he really hadn’t considered that we might be a couple (simple mistake, no big deal) So, he just said “Oh, Okay” and drove off. Ang was enjoying her moment. “He said I was gorgeous.” Although, we were both a little confused because the guy clearly seemed gay to us. Not gay in the – wears lingerie on the weekend and has a wallet photo of Joan Crawford – but he was about one syllable away from a serious lisp and was very ‘wavy’ with his hands when he spoke.

So we’re loading our groceries in the car when Rico Suave drives up again and stops.

Guy: Hey again…um…you really are beautiful and you, (referring to me), are not far behind. (not far behind…really…why is this man still single!) Anyway, it would make a guy really happy – would you two consider swinging??

He had his hands under his chin like he was waiting to blow out his birthday candles and I’m thinking to myself, “I might consider swinging a bat at your pudgy little Ted Bundy head.”

Me: Yeah…about that…you just went from complimentary to creepy in a few short moments. Quite frankly I had you pegged as a closeted gay man – they tend to be drawn to lesbians like erratic June bugs are drawn to a pool light. So, if you don’t mind I would appreciate it if you would just move along now.”

I wasn’t sure if he was embarrassed or just mad, but COME ON – how did he think that would play out?? Me and Ang would look at each other batting our eyes with ridiculous donkey grins on our faces – “Well, if you’ll give us a few minutes to run home and put away our dairy items, we’ll meet you back here by the guy grilling sausages in front of the patio furniture!”

It isn’t just the elderly that suffer from memory loss – friends, loved ones, and myself included are a brain cell away from a rousing discussion about the sinking of the Titanic as if it happened yesterday.

Just a few days ago, my partner Ang, looked me straight in the eye and gave me the most convincing and passionate speech of her lifetime – except I had just told her the same thing only a few days prior. She re-tells my own jokes to me saying, ” So and so at work told me the funniest thing yesterday!” Aaaah, yeah… that was me.

Not that I need “props” or anything, but it is a little disturbing to see her doey-eyed face telling me my own jokes as if they were carved from some untouched region of her brain. I imagine her later years, in a nursing home, filled with enormous adventure and wonder as she discovers a half-empty box of paper clips and claims them as her own creation. Later….she will barge through the doors of the dining hall, her muppet arms flailing wildly as she maniacally spouts the details of her discovery. The other residents, taken by surprise, will drop their jello cups in unison and stare, mouths open, in confused wonder.

On that day, paper clips will become a hot commodity among the barely living.

By the time the season finale airs, I will probably be sitting in the corner of my living room singing the greatest hits of Boxcar Willie and eating my own hair.

It has been 6 years of unending; reality altering questions. Are the writers looking for US to write the ending? Is that why we have 16 different threads going at one time? It’s like participating in a weekly Rorschach test for an hour – sometimes Locke looks like the devil sometimes it’s Jacob. Lets just recap very quickly what we know:

(1) There have definitely been some psychological experiments taking place as we have learned more about the Dharma Initiative.
(2) Women can’t seem to stay pregnant on the Island (except for Claire who is mentally unstable and in need of a bath)
(3) People seem to be cured of illnesses and handicaps and in some cases brought from the dead – honestly??
(4) The Island moves – no less – by the use of a really big wheel located in an icy tundra (now its starting to piss me off).
(5) Jacob annoyingly answers a question with a question which makes me want to fly into the TV and pluck out his eyes.
(6) The “Smoke Monster” aka “Locke” can kill people – how you ask?? Smoke inhalation….just by being scary…what is he DOING exactly?? Just the fact that I am talking seriously about a show with a “smoke monster” makes me feel like an moron.
(7) Everyone is time traveling and have somehow come to the conclusion that if they set off this atomic bomb they found on the island, then they can reset time. (I now realize that I am the biggest freaking idiot and I should have all sharp objects removed from my vicinity).
(8) Everyone lives in an alternate reality but only Desmond is aware of it – however, in this alternate reality he has located the other main characters and is “waking them up” to this fact. (FYI – I think I am beginning to lose all sense of cohesion in my life. I have started writing “Worm Holes For Dummies” but I keep getting hung up on the part about worms being asexual).

I am now completely desensitized to the ridiculous. Wild pigs could show up on my lawn playing Frisbee golf and I would bring them lemonade. I have been a spectator in the longest running train wreck known to man – all I can hope for now is some sort of an ending that makes sense. My greatest fear used to be that the answer would be something that viewers had been predicting – the survivors are really dead and in hell/purgatory/a psychological experiment/parallel universe/living in the basement of the Ronald McDonald house and Jacob is really the Hamburglar. At this point my insatiable curiosity has been trumped by a Kevorkian need to put an end to the suffering.

Worst case scenario: The final 10 minutes of the season show Hurley sitting at a familiar rec room table – Jack and Kate are with him except this time, WE can’t actually see them. Why? Because Hurley has multiple personality disorder and has been institutionalized for the past 6 years and he’s only getting worse! HaHa!! What clever writers those LOST guys are!

I’m alone and barricaded in for the night. My cell phone is off, and sitting next to me on the coffee table are two items. The first is a glass of Riesling . The second is an angry pit viper….

“Insert conclusion here”

Ang and I are weekly shoppers. We have tried to adopt a more European way of living that includes fewer work hours, more play time and a “no more than 10 bags at a time” grocery trip. We do not shop at Sams or Super Walmart – “stocking up” is not in our vocabulary as we no longer feel the need to prepare for a Mayan size disaster where cereal and pickles need to be purchased in drums and wheeled to the car on a dolly. We’re willing to roll those dice.

I woke up early one morning to find Ang standing in the kitchen with a mixed look of horror and disgust on her face. Her arm was outstretched to keep the fuzzy gray thing she was holding as far from her body as humanly possible.

“What the hell is that??” I asked.
“I’m not sure – you didn’t find an old dead possum in the yard and put it in the pantry for some reason did you?”
(Big-eyed and blinking) “Um…..No. I can’t believe I even need to answer that.
“Okay, miss grumpy I was just making sure.”

Against my better judgment, I took the “alleged carcass” from Ang and tried to uncover it’s true identity – as it turned out it was just a very old and forgotten, loaf of bread. Nature’s Own…to be exact. It is for this very reason that we try to shop within our capacity to consume such items in a timely manner. Waste not, want not.

I’ve never really understood the American way of “stock piling” food in the same way bears gorge themselves before a long hibernation. One thing most of us never have to worry about is a lack of convenient grocery stores and restaurants – I think it’s probably okay to let go of this post nuclear way of thinking. Should that apocalyptic scenario play out – the loss of hair and teeth would make gnawing on a pallet of 15 year old beef jerky a futile task. Our time would best be spent looking for a rock to bash our heads on.

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