The Junk Drawer

Fear keeps me from doing a lot of things in my life and I hate that. I think that’s part of the reason I read a lot of non-fiction books about people who’ve faced incredible challenges and go on to do amazing things. I live through their bravery and maybe — just maybe — it’ll teach me I can do more than I think I can.

Here’s a sampling of the things I’d never have the guts to do:

1.  Sing in public. I have no singing voice to speak of. Once, Dave heard me singing along to a song in the car and he quickly turned down the radio to hear me. I got so embarrassed, although he said the little bit he heard was so nice and I should do it more.

2.  Sky dive. The thought of it makes me ill, but the desire to say I’ve done something so insane looms large.

3.  Join my local writer’s group. I’ve toyed with the idea of attending a meeting of my local writer’s group, just to hear what real writers talk about. I want to learn what it takes to publish a book, but I’m afraid I’ll overhear “Who let the blogger in?”

4.  Take a trip on a plane all by myself. I’ve never done it (or had to do it, thank God). I’m directionally-challenged in the worst way. I’m afraid I’d get lost in an airport, lose my ticket, get on the wrong plane, or de-plane at the wrong city. If I ever had to do it for some reason, I’d need one of those airline babysitters whose job it is to see that small children traveling alone get where they’re going. Not kidding.

5.  Be a waitress. Not that I would ever need to be, since I’m gainfully employed at the moment. However, I consider waitressing to be such a ridiculously difficult job that I’m an obscenely generous tipper. I can’t understand how a person can take multiple orders, with special requests, write it all down and get it all correct, all while waiting on six other tables. One time I watched a server take a lengthy, specialized order from my husband and me IN HIS HEAD. I remarked for a couple minutes at how impressed I was with his talent. I thought “Uh oh. I’m making him forget our order.” He didn’t. Blew. My. Mind.

6.  Wear open-toed shoes. I wish I could, but I just can’t. If you saw my feet, you’d understand. Picture five gnarly, baby potatoes attached to each foot.

7.  Fire a gun. Come to think of it, I can barely look at a real gun. I don’t know why. Maybe I’ve seen too many crime movies. Guns scare the crap out of me.

8. Ride a horse. Aside from my fear that I’m too heavy for a horse to support me, I have visions of being thrown and landing in a back-breaking, never-walk-again kind of way.

9.  Drive in New York City. I live only 75 minutes from the city. I imagine all the weekend getaways I’m missing because I can’t dream of driving there or getting around in my own car. Yes, there are buses and taxis, but it would be nice to hop in my car at a moment’s notice and be able to get there and tool around town on my own.

10. Be a parent. I’ve no doubt it’s the hardest job in the world. I’ve always said I could easily get through a pregnancy and childbirth with flying colors. It’s everything that comes after that has me shakin’ in my shoes. Hats off to all the parents out there. I’m in total awe of you. 

Now it’s your turn. Anything you’d love to try in your lifetime, but don’t have the guts for? Have you ever tried something and regretted it?

Whoever said chocolate is the food of the gods had it all wrong. We all know it’s juicy, sizzlily, fattening, lickity lips BACON!

How much do I love it? This weekend my family hosted a birthday party for our mother, held at my sister Marlene’s house. Marlene’s dog, Tootsie, is a great lover of Beggin’ Strips, a fake bacon doggie treat. She always gets one after she comes in from outside and I got the honor of doling one out when she pattered into the kitchen.

I grabbed the bag and pulled one out. Hmmmm…. Looks like bacon, smells like bacon. I wonder if it really tastes like bacon. As all of the partygoers stood around watching me study this artificial bacon strip, one thought came to mind: What would someone pay me to eat this thing?

Apparently nothing, because when I announced I would eat part of the strip for money, nobody pulled out a wallet. I suspect this is because they held no reservations that I’d actually eat the thing. I’m not sure what that means, but it’s probably not good.

Not in position to make any money, but still curious, I broke off a decent-sized chunk of it and began chomping away. And chomping, and chomping, and chomping some more. It’s no surprise I had such a hard time breaking it down to the point where I could swallow it.

Why? Because I’m convinced the ingredients that go into making a Beggin’ Strip are the same ingredients that go into making plastic. Did it taste like bacon? Not by a long shot. The closest thing it came to was unsalted beef jerky. Hard, juiceless, tasteless unsalty beef jerky. Do dogs have any taste buds at all? Can you really call this a treat?

Geez. Even Science Diet cat food tastes better than this. Oh, did I just say that out loud? OK, I did eat a pellet of cat food once, on a dare, and it tasted like granola. Quite good, to be honest.

So there you have it. If you’ve ever wondered what pet food tastes like, wonder no more. Oh? You never wondered what it tasted like? Must be just me. Consider yourself sane and well-balanced.

Now, if you love REAL bacon, you’ll like comedian Jim Gaffigan’s take on just what makes bacon the food of the gods.

UPDATE: Recently, this video was removed from YouTube with the following notice: This video is no longer available due to a copyright claim by NBC Universal. Bastards! It was such a funny video. You’ll have to trust me.

It’s hard writing a blog some days. I woke up with nothing to write and thought I’d turn the tables and make you guys do some work. So I have a little test for you. Even if you’re new to my blog, you can probably search for these answers, but then I’d call you a cheater and you don’t want to be a cheater, now do you?

Here’s my little quiz. You’ll get a score (10 pts. for each correct answer) when you click Grade Me, but not a list of all the right answers. If you get some incorrect and want to know the answer, drop a comment in the drawer and see if someone else can clue you in. Tee-hee.  Good luck!!!

Today scientists uncovered what Poindexter would have looked like if he was a girl. Fact: If I was a boy, I would have been beat up a LOT.

I think I argued that I actually wanted those glasses when my mother objected. I insisted that brown went with my eyes.

It’s all about the shoes: I remember these shoes as the most fabulous pair that existed in 1973. Why? Because you could remove the blue dots snap-on thing that went over the toe and wear red ones if you were feeling a little “night on the town.” I recall having great difficulty choosing between blue and red for my Holy Communion. You know, because all the church-going paparazzi were going to be there.

What’s the verdict? Cute or scary?

Can someone please tell me why I can configure and order a pizza online and have it delivered to my house in 30 minutes, but I can’t get an HMO referral form from my doctor without making four phone calls and have no confidence that the referral will get where it’s going without making a fifth call?

It’s the 21st century, people. Can we please get online now?

When I call my doctor to get a referral, I’m greeted by an excruciatingly-long introductory message that explains what numbers to press on the phone to be connected to a certain place.

The first three “If you need to ______, press # ___” instructions tell you to press either 1, 2 or 3. You would expect the fourth option to tell you to press #4, wouldn’t you?  Of course not. You press 15 on the keypad. Makes perfect sense.

Next, the nice recorded-voice lady tells me the seven pieces of information I need to leave in a message to get my referral, in very quick succession:

1. Name

2. Date of birth

3. Phone number

4. Doctor I need the referral for

5. Practice name and address

6. Nature of the visit

7. Health plan I have

Now, that’s all well and good, except I’m already stressed out that I won’t get all this information spat out in the right order and I’m not sure I heard it all. So I call back to go through the menu again and to hear the instructions again. Didn’t get it all. Call again.

Now, and only now, I’m ready to call back with all my information. I’ve rehearsed it well. I wrote it down on three post-it notes and I’m also on my second cup of coffee.

I leave all 7 pieces of information. But now do I press the pound (#) key to leave the message? Do I just hang up? What if they didn’t get it? Do I have any hope of reaching a person if I call again?

I guess I can call my doctor who needed the referral the next day. Another menu. Another wait until I get a human on the line. I finally get through and they confirm that they got the referral.

Yes, I’m glad I have health insurance. Yes, I’m glad it pays for my visit. But for crying out loud, can’t someone figure out how to set up a secure referral request system so I can do this online?

It would be such a simple form and I would get an email confirmation that everybody got what they needed. My God, my blog can do that! It boggles my mind that we are still using phones and fax machines for this process. You can’t tell me that the doctor’s office staff wouldn’t love this, too.

Thank you, slow, horrible, inefficient, non-online referral request system. Cripes, I could have had a pizza by now.