(NOT): Broadcast II

29 Jun

Textese Hater™ and much admired spell-checker activist Rachel Kwiatkowski has acquired a license for her establishment, LoGoMaNiAcS AnOnYmOuS™, and has never been more busier! And as her blog post about teenage textese fad and its pitfalls that is currently sweeping the earth is wildly popular on my website, I figured, I will invite her once again to spell bound us with her wit and comedic satire. Rachel, take it over and thanks for your time! :)


Samantha Graham Bell

Samantha Graham Bell

Thanks Heart for your warm welcome! ;) Media has unfairly labelled me “A SPELL-CHECKER on steroids“, but I will blame their behavior on auto-correct.. Since the inception of LoGoMaNiAcS AnOnYmOuS™, people from all over the world have got in touch with me to discuss their misfortunes, mostly with their kids and their words, or lack thereof.. The goal of the organization is to deal with new-age problems that include the rampant use of textese, urban dictionary,, and countless conversations of undecipherable exchanges with “words” that don’t have a single vowel, no full stops, no commas, and apostrophes – those, they are all over the place and incorrectly placed!

Meetings are conducted in Berkmar High in Duluth, GA, on Thursday nights. People come in person, they login on Skype and I also read out a few questions that arrive via emails. There is a common grievance of every Generation X person, (there were a few Gen Yers once in a while), that seems to resonate with the rest of the group.

After many iterations over the months, we settled down on a format that seemed to be working great for the group. We have 4 different sections  in the 2 hour meeting schedule. We sit down in the form of a closed group circle with chairs facing inward. We are all assigned number tags.


Section 1: Introductions and Coherent Speech?

Number 2, a dad, chooses to go first: I have immigrated from China in hopes of a better future in the USofA for my kids and us.  One of the very many things about my teenage daughters’ lives this week that I have not been able to get to is after this seemingly polite exchange, the both have stopped talking to each other. What does this mean??

“dont make VBD for my FHO, INCYDK i already SNH and not me you STFU and hoping here that YGTI.”

I click on my slang dictionary app on my IPAD, which is appropriately named TYPO, to decipher the cryptic message.

“Don’t make a very big deal of my friends hanging out at our place. In case you didn’t know, I have already made note of your sarcasm here (SNH). And not me, you shut the f*** up and hope you get the get the idea of what I am trying to say.”


Number 5 gets up and moves into the center of the circle. She is tearing up even before she speaks. I am a single Mexican American mom of a 16 year old girl. I have had a row with my daughter this morning who turned 16 and got her extravagant birthday wish of riding in a limousine with 12 of her friends for 4 hours just yesterday evening.

The mostly single-sided conversation from her phone went something like this:

like mom, u think i cant speak jargon and good english language, but helloooooooooooo i can!!!!!!

you no, i have a jargon for people like you, elitist.

yep thats whatz u r, elitist!!!

Epic fail boooyah, you have a FACEPALM!!!!!!!


Number 4, a mother to a 20 year old college kid, reaches into her pocket to take out a print out what she brought along with her. She speaks deliberately as if to exhibit discretion.

“I have seriously considered quitting any contact with Mark until he is done with college and gets a job. At the very minimum, I don’t want to part of my son’s social media/internet world. I am worried I will be kept constantly updated on his deepest thoughts, which are as deep as they can get.”

Youthful Indiscretions

Youthful Indiscretions


Number 1, the guy with the salt and pepper hair talks. The early part of the century, the last decade, those were good days! There was a time when I would be annoyed if anyone, especially those in my family or friends replied to my emails with:
Ahhhh, kewl, no worries Randy..

ur GR8 my frnd

But, things have changed now, these days I find myself practicing texting and reading new daily entries into the Urban dictionary, worried I might get far behind the world that was moving so fast with his mobile phone technology and social media. I also plan to start a Meetup for the textese challenged, for people who are suffering silently and facing hurdles raising grammar-challenged kids on their own. I want to help those who have been called dense or accused of being totally off the chain by their own kids like me. I hope I am not fighting a lost war!


My son sent a shout-out to all family and friends this afternoon celebrating a very special occasion, said Number 9, Mr. Amangiri, passing his cell phone to show us a Facebook wall page:

Sucsfuly cmpltd 6 yrs of prfsionl career. Its unfrgettabl jrny wid wel suprtd colgues mentrs frnds peers n family, blsings of god. u all helped me to reach this, helpd me to becom wat I am today.. Thanks to you all – India Petroluem Ltd, UniLever Robotics & Automation, BuZ Systec – Mohd Imran, Abhinav Sangavkar, Subbu Meesala, Venkataswamynaidu Koppisetti, @vankayalapati avinash, kumar, @krishna patel, @aneesh prabhudeva, Ram Amangiri — with Raghu Yadav and 118 others.

As one by one, we read through the post, there was a certain sense of camaraderie that we felt, because we could see that a guy who was in his mid to late 20′s was equally capable of writing like a teenager with minimal language arts skills. Seriously, so much fail.


Number 3, the guy on Skype, did not bother much with small talk.

The struggle with semantics is killing me. Americans change an average of 4 careers in their lifetime, and so here I am, a parent counselor for my high school about to give up on it.. Parents complaining about their kids spending time more and more time on the internet, on stupidity, what’s more, analyzing others’ stupidity. I just don’t have an answer or a solution to this problem!

He shares a screenshot.




Ms. Brady, Number 8: My 14 year old daughter has probably already taken more selfies than anyone else in this world. Her email ID is Cr8zSexyHore99@…….com. She is on Instagram all day posting pictures of herself in different angles. She wants to be a “meme” when she grows up.

Some of her captions read,

I got me hurr did. #niftay #ilovetheweather #lovingmyself #freedom

Can’t decide, what are worse, her captions or her tweets:

Hellloooo! My am is well on it’s way!Looking 4ward 2 2day.Lots 2get dun be4 r wkend of classes! Shld hav sum X 2 tweet 2day so checkin w/?’s


Mr. Powell, Number 10: Jenny left her computer on as she was in a hurry to get to a sleep over at her friends. I decided to take a peek, like she says, bad mistake!

A message on a chat window read like this:

wots dis gurls problem? dayumm,

omigosh they busy trash talking bout me havent they?

dat b****…. Shd’v slapped her…

Ny way let go of it… Think of it like dis.. Mayb she had a bitter xperience wid a punk n tuk out d anger on u though u din deserve it

Chil like a penguin in the arctic man :)

see ya soooooon,xoxo

My future and my kids’ prospects looks bleak, is the world ending? Penguins now spotted in the Arctic??! What is next, regional dialects for textese???????????


I tried to gently nudge Number 6, a very distraught mother to let us know what was bothering her. When she seemed reluctant, to give her more time to gather herself, I read aloud from an email sent by a S. Nasreddin from Indonesia, she writes:

Hello Rachel, I think I’m gonna shoot myself the next time one of my students texts me/tweets me with that kind of writing-style, where he/she is capable of combining alphabets & numbers into one word!

“6ood m0rn1ng p3opLe! I hoP3 y0u enJoY youR w33kend! :lol: :D”


Number 6, chose not to give her last name, which was optional anyway.

As you know, the US Supreme Court has struck down DOMA, the Defense of Marriage Act of 1996 last week. This was on the sidelines that day, as we were celebrating a family reunion as we do each year. My son, 21 years old, stood up during dinner to toast himself and announced to us that he is gay. As I was thunderstruck with the sudden revelation and was overwhelmed with sorrow at being informed this publicly, my 19 year old daughter who sat next to me at the table, looked at me, glancing sideways and shouted,

Yeah, DUH!

The fact that DUH is officially a word in the mainstream world is always lost on me. I wonder if I die tomorrow, my kids might comfort each other by saying, “DUH, she was old!”

It is needless to say, she had the most impact this evening!

Section 2: Closing Serenity Prayer

During this phase of the meeting, we collectively assume the role of therapist and hold hands with our immediate neighbor for 10 minutes. As in a few meditation and yoga classes, this one involves chanting..




This goes on for as long as a sliver of a smile starts appearing even among the most distressed in the group and turns into a rambunctious laughter.. Of course, we breathe easy after, claiming to each other, what better way to vent than how our kids taught us to??!

Section 3: Diction Donations

Here is the content of the homework sheet that is due for the next meeting. An essay is due with the below words. And the theme is Generation Y: An inconvenient truth.

wake of tragedy
unanswered questions
killing spree
harm’s way
at the end of the day

It is good to be superfluous with the use and overkill of trite words than to talk elaborate sentences without a single vowel! Oh, and yes, I am not talking about the ubiquitous LOLs!!!

Section 4: Rewards for Coping

This is the part of the entire evening that is the most looked forward to. We finally conclude and agree that even with our common sof helplessness, there is nothing that can be done except for Darwin’s theory of ‘survival-of-the-fittest to take precedence over our abstract hypotheses of how our kids will turn out to be!


A poignant moment for reflection for parents all over the world.

This new generation masters screen-swiping years before butt-wiping.


Boy there is hope! Future beauty queens of the world!

Can’t locate a brain on Miss Teen USA 2007 – South Carolina


1. Obsessive interest in words.
2. Excessive and often incoherent talking.


Signing off,

Yours ROFLing,
Rachel Kwiatkowski

The Tyranny Of Vanity

17 Jun

Day 17, in my office parking lot:

It was 9:30am when mom called me. I answered it wondering if I would hear, “It’s over, Richa..”. Something I have been dreading since Nana fell down outside her bathtub resulting in multiple hip fractures.

I had just parked by car and stepped out, and when she told me that nana wanted me to visit her at the hospital, I had to ask her a second time what she had just said.

Quickly back inside the car after an urgent text to my director, I headed to the ICU with a lot of thoughts in my head. Why me, when she had a dozen other people – my aunts, uncle, cousins arriving from all over the US who arrived as if they were summoned to get ready for the final curtain call. Of course, they were here to give my mom and aunt Sheila moral support so they won’t have to go through the motions alone.


Same day, at the hospital:

Outside the unit, aunt Sheila was standing guard. It was her turn this morning, after my Toronto uncle pulled off an all-nighter. My parents and my aunt’s family lived 2 houses down the road, right in the middle of which was my grandparents’  home, making them next door neighbors to us pretty much all my life.

I passed her with mute glances and went into nana’s room directly. Her short white hair looked like a parched lawn, somehow the grass still being held by the loose mud underneath. It had lost its entire luster, and was combed back in a hurry into a wiry ponytail directly at the top of her head. Her scalp was visible; spots of brown freckles filling it lushly. Her mouth looked dry and particularly wide open because there were no dentures. For a moment I felt I could reach into her stomach by putting my entire arm inside. The pale green hospital gown with front buttons was hanging onto her for its dear life.

If not for the beeping Electrocardiograph Machine, she looked like a dead body attached to the bed with the help of wires and electrodes. As I stared at her, she opened her eyes and tried to focus with her dilated eyes. I scrambled to get closer as if to make the most of her conscious mind.

She slowly licked her lower lip to gain control over her words, and said, “The end is here.. Richa.. Don’t worry about me, take care of yourself and your mom.. I think I have written my final words, I cannot anymore..”

She then indicated at a green box was resting inconveniently on the side of her stomach and the bed, I took it into my hand, reaching for it as if I realized the purpose of my visit. I opened the box and it took me a minute to realize that what I was looking into was nana’s makeup kit. A travel sewing kit, eye liner, a small mirror, cotton balls – dirty looking, most of them. I recalled as I looked into it, this is the box that is always present in my childhood memories, a sight I had always remembered from Nana’s home. Meanwhile, Nana pressed a button to request her to be propped up on the bed in a sitting position. The nurse left after ensuring that she did not need anything else at the moment.

Now, she asked for the box and handed me over the mirror and proceeded to wipe her hands through her scalp and clean her face with a cotton ball. She asked if I could put eye liner on, while she closed her eyes. I was a little surprised at her request but I was glad to oblige. As I applied “makeup” on her face, I could see what I felt was an attempt at bringing her lips together as if to show the slightest indication of a grin. As I moved away from her to hold the mirror in front of her at an angle that was convenient to her, she mouthed the words “Thank you” and went back to closing her eyes. I contemplated my next move, feeling a little frustrated that I had only 2 minutes of her attention, a minute fraction of the time I spent driving up here after skipping an important editorial review meeting at work. Was she sure, my mom, that I was the one nana wanted to see?!! Aunt Sheila was certainly readily available if she felt the need to request a touch up for her face. I left the hospital baffled and holding the green box and a scribble pad that she managed to hand me during my brief visit.


Day 20, at the hospital:

After that day, she never regained consciousness; her organs shutting down one after the other. The doctors, who just a day earlier had said they were getting ready to operate on her this week, said her body simply did not have the energy to recuperate after fractures of this magnitude.

The weekend had gone away in a blur, we showered, ate and slept taking turns because we had to do our best during duty time at the hospital.

We had a lot of visitors, well-wishers who were there with food, with kind words of enquiries about her. She was the most charismatic principal of my high school, 20 years before I stepped into it. But her words and quotes were everywhere..

Her words.. They were EVERY WHERE..

Eventually, we decided at the advice of the doctors in the morning that she would have to be taken off life support, as she would not be able to survive without its help anyway. It was a tough decision but something my parents and my entire family agreed to was the best one in this situation. Soon after the ventilator was turned off, nana breathed her last at 4pm that evening.


The day after, at nana’s home:

At 10 in the morning, we were all dealing with exhaustion. But we were slowing wading through our task list. An obituary notice, the phone calls to be made notifying family and other formalities associated with any funeral.

Uncle Nish walked into the room, where we had all piled up since we got home. He was the only guy in the house at the moment; dad had gone to pick-up groceries and some food for all of us. “I was thinking if we should start cleaning up mom’s stuff?” He had a certain twist in his lips, of someone who had already made a decision and was not looking for any suggestions.

“But Nishi, it has been only half a day or more since she passed?!” Mom looked frustrated and sad.

“Well, you know, I am not asking to clear up this place and throw it in the dumpster. I am simply saying that there might be stuff in the refrigerator and other places which need to be taken care of. You have to keep in mind, maa(Hindi: mom) was in the hospital away from home for 20 days.”

There was no way to put it, no way to avoid it either, so we started clearing up that evening. With a double major in Journalism and Media, I was a natural choice to be the one to handle any and all pieces of paper, documents and plaques lying in the house. Mom decided she will take up the vanity, as she was in charge of grooming nana in her final years.

I followed her into nana’s bedroom, as she walked into it slowly as if an escaped convict was being brought back into prison amidst intense media spotlight. I was feeling the same trepidation. I have seen the same room, in its glory for 35 years after all, so filing into the room felt like a gloom hanging over our heads with unbearable force.

On a large coffee table, touching the bed, where otherwise would have been a night stand, I could see a small microwave, her medicines, a pair of glasses, disposable cups and what looked like a calcified round container with a tight lid. Looking at it closely, I knew, it was a box of emptied Bath and Body Works shea butter that I had given to her for storing her dentures.

As I walked along the walls of the room, there was the smell of dirty old newspapers that filled the room. It was a familiar smell from the editor’s desk that I work at, would kids of the millennial generation know what it is like, I wondered. Suddenly, I realized, I felt alone in the room. That is the beauty of etiquette, I thought, of the world we live in. Mothers and daughters, fathers and sons, not wailing or crying out loud in the middle of streets mourning the loss of dear ones. Mom and I were mourning, but each in our own way, and without a single spoken word between us. Reaching out to hug her now, felt more painful than just not looking her way and making eye contact. We were sorry for each other and for our family and we knew it.

She handed me over a notebook that she came across as she opened the bottom shelf of the dresser. I reached for it and sat myself at the end of the bed, close to her, as if to be at arm’s reach, should mom need me again.


The book felt old, not because of the way it looked, but because there was no or any website listed on it. Inside it was filled, with beautiful handwriting, as if each letter was dropped down from a crane with the greatest precision.


(And so it went, with a few blank sheets here and there, until, the last one on the 100 page book was)


Tears trickled down threatening to drench the pages as I read them. I looked up to see the open cupboard from where mom pulled this book out; there were scores of them sticking out of the carton, many of them in different shapes and sizes than the one in my hands. It dawned on me that the final book in this epic saga of food journals my nana so meticulously kept was now in my possession, neatly tucked away in my car!!

I was desperate to find it and see what was in it. A woman of 84, certainly on her death bed, wouldn’t have gotten much far with all the details. My brain was foggy, as were my eyes with water at the thought of the exact location of where I had kept it after I took it from her bedside that morning. I ran outside to my car; 10 minutes of digging into the back seat yielded nothing. The thought of misplacing it sickened me and I dropped down to sit with my back to the dirty left rear wheel.

As I gathered myself back on my feet, I let my gaze fall on the one place I did not search in the car. As I opened the glove box, there they were, the box and the scribble pad, exactly where I had put it the day I went to meet her at the hospital.

The journal started with the entry of


(I scanned through it quickly, finding the same meticulous details up until.. )


Dec 14th – The last day she was home, and filled up until the last entry before her fall. That followed a blank sheet of paper and then a half of it.




And on a loose crumpled up paper inside the journal..


(Pretty sure, she meant it to spell soup. Not sure when she made those entries, certainly must have been at the hospital, but I am sure she did not recall the dates as was clear in the journal)


That night, still at nana’s:

At bed time, staring into the ceiling, I thought about Nana.. fondly. Never the one to lose her independence, she was strictly secretive about her personal life. We never knew if the strain of losing her husband 24 years ago ever bore her down, because she managed to live through it and some more. Uncle Vik, the oldest of all the children and particularly close to my mom passed away after 18 months of struggle with prostate cancer. She cared for him, visiting him at the hospice when she could manage to hitch a ride on the seniors free shuttle program or when mom or aunt Sheila were around to take her along.

In the affairs of the heart, my nana won because she managed to keep a “secret”, the struggles of every woman with diet and beauty choices, all the while never giving away her true sense of self-worth. And what was surprising was that she trusted me with her make up kit and for some reason it felt good. I felt a connection, like we were girl friends who had the same insecurities about our appearance. It made me wonder how she felt when she knew the end was here. Was she fearful of losing her vanity – her dignity, to the handful of hairs growing wildly around her chin and mouth, or conscious of the jiggles in her belly when she was cracking up about something funny? I felt the vanity kit held all the answers to my questions.

For a girl of my generation, a food journal, moisturizing mascaras, nail paint that would not chip off in an apocalypse, the countless video diaries of girls around the world sharing their makeup tips, the shared Google docs, the Weight Watchers, some private notepads on desktops because of the shame of too many entries of “cheat foods”, the fascination has been endless. The most frequently brought up topic by my girlfriends next only to the brand of contraceptives we used, the delirious confessions at GNO (Girls Night Out) tables; the rambunctious laughter over each other’s entries on our phones was part of my generation. I wondered if anyone of us ever understood that we all had one common enemy and it is the TYRANNY OF VANITY.


Dedicated to both my grandmothers – women of strikingly different personalities, who showered me with unconditional love, taught me the value of patience, kindness and by their gentle maneuvering through overbearing relationships shaped me as the woman that I am today.


15 Jan

If I knocked on your door for a cup of water
for my parched throat,
Would you be able to tell,
I am not your next door neighbor..?

If not, then, why this thirst for my life.. ????


Near these foothills,
of some of the world’s coldest mountains..
I hear stifling noises of the guns..
And muted tones from the aftermath..

Is that you next to me, your dirty hands,
and beautiful face lying motionless.. ??
Like brothers separated at birth,
I feel a connection..

I feel your warm blood trickle down my body..
It runs deep..
Like the Line of Control..
If not for our stubborn country men,
we would have been together and alive..

Now, the scent of blood churns my stomach..
A cloud of snow dust and ice blinds me..
And flashes of my young life scroll in fast forward..

I will miss you, my brother.. Can I call you that?
And I will miss your help in saving this world..
No one is born into this world alone,
and I am glad I have your company in death..

The clear water from the melted ice,
the sounds of loved ones over the wire..
The unmistakable determination of the gleaners
who will look for us,

now in shreds and pieces..
Is all we have..  

The family in the dwelling was overjoyed at my arrival,
just 22 years ago..

You don’t look a day older than me..
Life will evaporate in this darkness..
Leaving behind our mothers too proud to shed a tear..

While our countries thrive in mutual derision..
In death –
a border patrol,
a check point,
a misguided mission and
love for the country will keep us united..

Let’s say no more my friend,
our countries have gone back to
preaching love, brotherhood and peace..

So, let’s listen..


Like many countries in the world, there is a conflict between India and Pakistan, the two countries bordered with some of the most breathtaking landscapes in the world, the Himalayas.. The above is an attempt at understanding the unfathomable impacts of war and conflict on young lives, mother nature and our future generations..

JERRY SANDUSKY – The poke; A satirical comedy

30 Jun

Jerry Sandusky is the oldest fucking asshole, and turns out, quite literally he is.. This should have been the title to my skit, but it gives too much away.. Soon, there will be producers fishing for a story to make a movie of Jerry’s life, and I would rather be ready with a screenplay! Below is a terrific attempt!


A satirical comedy

The Mug

The Smug Mug



Dottie Sandusky, the wife of the accused, is sitting on the witness stand as a character witness presented by the Defense team. She is sobbing, while testifying.


Jerry has never bothered me with demands of getting into bed with him every night. He has never really touched me or touched anybody as far as I know. If anything, his autobiography “TOUCHED” did all the touching for him.



12 members of the jury deliberate the fate of Jerry Sandusky. Because of her ability to set Twitter on fire, Courtney Stodden, one of the jurymen, is the only one given electronic messaging privileges while the rest of the jury pool is sequestered.


Eww.. This dude is NOT cute AND and.. on tops, he is old and wrinkly!!
Did I mention wrinkly.. *wink* *wink*
This story makes no sense and that makes him look like fuckin’ whore..
Coz it has lotz of sex.. *wink*

Looks like he needs one of those Gatorade showers,
to calm down his hyperactive wiener.. Jus sayin.. !!


I have worked on war strategies and punishments all my life!
My suggestion is to remove all the men and boys from his life,
or better yet send him to an island with only women,
that’s punishment enough!!


Everything bad that can happen to a person has happened to me..
So, any punishment to Jerry uncle will be easy enough..
Oh well, I’m, like, sooooooooooo pretty..


Castrate him and give him his genitals,
so that you know, like you know, he can..



Courtney is a lean mean tweet machine!


Tweet 1: As I soak in all the evidence photos and papers of the trial,
they have left me with a vivid imagination of the naughty boy, Jerry

Tweet 2: Erotically rolling out my rill curvy bod to get myself a juicy
lip-smacking lemonade from the frigge..
Ahhhh.. so refreshing.. WINKY FACE



Anderson Cooper walks up to the coffee table. He preps his show notes for his nightly show on CNN. He pauses to muse over Courtney and then gets back to scribbling..


For the Ridiculist: Courtney Stodden is at her best today,
even while being sequestered,
she has maintained her upbeat personality and has grabbed
another new internet commercial gig! Go Courtney!

Life is full of just indignation. Who would have thought two totally
different paths could cross like this. Incidentally Courtney’s
commercial is targeting hemorrhoids. Guess Sandusky will miss his
Epsom salt baths in jail. And Courtney claims to know the pain! Yay!


Jerry’s balls are in our court and I am not particularly euphemistic when
I say those words..
I have my own battle to win, choosing whether I
am more black than I am gay or vice versa..
Jerry seems to be the typical good guy – teacher, harmless, white, old..
God bless the kids who went
through shit with him and on top of that, multiple rounds of suicide
attempts, joblessness, fucked up prospects in life because of their
messed up brain..
Man that shit must mess you up..
“Predatory Pedophile”, wasn’t it the word used to describe him,
I couldn’t come up
with a better description for that old stunk.


Hey dolls! Jerry is one Epic fail, Jackass!
Damn that “dick” head makes Tiger
(Woods) look so much better.. Yikes.. Ha ha..
Most people are not smart as us Kardashian sisters.
We have been sued a million times, but never once been to jail..
Go figure!


I just miss.. I miss being anonymous;
And I get what it feels like to have your privacy invaded..
But, the issue on the table seems so logical,
it can only be bipartisan. We, Americans are funny..
We have these nick names,
“Jerry” for Gerald Arthur Sandusky;
and that might be part of the problem;
making him psychologically feel like a child
while being trapped in an adult body!
The etymology of the word “Jerry” might have to be studied..
Jerry Lewis, Jerry Seinfeld, Jerry Springer and now, Jerry
Sandusky.. Innocent ’til Proven Otherwise..


Since Kate has been able to cross the high palace walls
using her pole vaulting skills, thanks to her,
I am a globally recognized brand, especially from behind.
I totally know what kind of eyes have been preying on these kids’ butts..
To all those people out there like Jerry, I say, “Kiss my arse!
It’s not easy, to have 400 paparazzi pictures taken up my rear end on any given day..


I would have loved to mentor those kids in the 2nd mile program
as a Volunteer coordinator. I would have suggested they wear layers of clothing,
specially, underwears, so nobody will look in an area that they don’t need them to look at.
I do that all the time to cover my chest size..
Shoot, they have had a doggoned sheltered life like me!


The jury pool has a mix of people from all walks of life.. We have been “hot on the trail” of Sandusky all these weeks, now is the time to call it like what it is.. AND what is a court of public opinion without a member of the media, after all, they are the ones that shape the vast majority of people’s opinions..


As you all know I am not so much into gossip,
I need just plain facts..!
It is not celebrities that we are talking about people!!
In a  subservient way, he was probably trying to make the world a
better place. I am willing to give me the benefit of the doubt until I
see the evidence!


Jury deliberations are complete and the jury is filed back into the courtroom.


Mr. Sandusky, is there anything you would like to
say to the courtroom?


This is my soap story..
You are being hard on me, Judge!
Actually, that’s what all the boys had to say, that’s all!
I have been a Defensive master mind for 23 years
out of 32 years he has been coaching Football at Penn State.
And we are in the business of
contact sport… Things happen, get it, get it?
I have already missed out on using several of my free game passes
this past month due to the house arrest.
All my six MALE adopted children are going to
suffer without me being around. I have a
Bachelors degree in Health and Hygiene and I consider myself
somewhat of an authority to teach kids going through puberty body
hygiene basics; applying soap to their backs and cleaning their
privates and so on and so forth.


The people of the great state of Pennsylvania would like to know
how it went down in the jury room,
are you ready with the verdict?


The jury unanimously declares:

Hang him with Victim 6′s blood soaked underwear.. until he dies.. 



Gasps follow..


Cheers explode outside!


Disclaimer: Making light of the situation. NOT. Imagine me as red with anger as the stains on the little boys’ underwears..

Ahhh…mazing: “The most loving thing to do is to share your bed with someone.” — Michael Jackson

Darling, Be Gentle On My Curves

4 May

“Tiny spaces and small handbags make you look big.. Now that’s the first tip to keep in mind! Make sure you are always photographed or spotted in an open space! Oh well, at this moment, there is no much control over that, I guess, not an inch of space here to breath in air full lung capacity.. Hmmmm, a casket measuring 84 inches tall and 28 inches wide is not exactly a place to be having these thoughts I suppose… And who knows, that cowlick must be making my grays more pronounced as usual!!

Diane, Tammy, Donna and Lori – They must all be here by now! Well, what do I have to worry about, I was the one who held myself in pristine condition all my adolescent life, and I had carried these principles in life.. As they would tease me, ‘Au naturel’.. Yeah, every bit of me.. You know, I did not want to be a statistic on how women use about 100 chemicals a day on average for their upkeep!

I have always been a girly girl.. My brothers ate and ate, but I stopped eating at 12.. All her life, my mother credited her cookie jar curfew for my beach ready thighs!

Linda, my best girl friend, had once given me a tip, a face full of fat means less wrinkles.. That is why you had never seen me on those crazy diets that all my friends would hop on and off into! Of course, through the years I have managed to keep my obsession with the (weighing) scale a big fat secret.. ! Not so much, those pecan toppings on my chocolate fudge ice cream!

Then there were those times.. a small fancy for a haircut, a change in the appearance, glam makeover, yada yada yada.. The result – a painful set of hideous bangs that would last a full year before I could tuck them both behind my ears! And imagine living with the horror of being photographed for 365 days.. And even more embarrassing, when the photos surface at the homes of long lost cousins.. Ha ha ha.. After all, how many times, have I not seen the reality shows, when grumpy, tired looking moms are kidnapped in malls by TV crews calling it a style intervention and just in 30 minutes, well of course, I am not talking about time trailing next generation camera work, transform them into hot mammas, that the husbands cant keep their eyes off and are drooling over them in the one minute of camera time they get, faking speechlessness and disbelief.. Ahhhh, the young and restless, these days, I tell ya..

It’s amazing how Charlie remembers my favorite color, I just had no idea, he would be able to fix me up in my best dress and also so apt for the occasion.. He is looking good today, he switches back and forth between a goatee and going totally hair free on his face, but I like him anyhow.. He seems to have lost weight, talk about a diet fad for men! Or did I not notice him these past few days.. ??

Life has come a full circle and I should not be worried – I have aged gracefully.. ! And I really need to look at the bright side to all this, no more plucking eyebrow and chin hair!! And Good bye muffin tops and smart phone carrying spurious photographers!!

OK, OK now Rose, find your inner peace, it’s show time..!!!”


When we were young!!

Untitled © Lee Jeffries


Charles, walked towards the podium with the help of a stick and his two great granddaughters.. He held his breath for a moment, but let his tears flow through easily..

“In life and endearment, Rosemary was a prevailing source of energy for all who knew her..
Today as she rests in this casket, speechless, her words actually still manage to deafen me..
Like the one she spelled out for me on a paper napkin in Boston, one cold evening.
The year was 1953, and she was at the bar with a few of her girlfriends..
Prodded by my friends, I approached her and asked her if she cared for a dance.
Later she would spell out her name, C-A-L-L-M-E, while giving her home number.
That was how she made sure I never thought of another woman in my life..
She was just magnanimous with her tenderness, as she was insolently funny..
She never had any insecurities or weaknesses that over shadowed her authoritative upbringing of our five boys..
She made sure she encouraged our children and her loved ones to nurture an amazing sense of self-worth..
She lived by what she believed in “Treating others well, it turns out, is the fastest path to a healthy self-esteem.”
For that she is the most bravest, kindest and toughest woman I ever knew in my life..
To the love of my life, my life partner of 59 years and in memory now on, this is for you Rose,
Waiting to meet you on the other side.
Your Charlie.”


For every man and woman, let’s just give ourselves a break and teach the younger generation that its OK to live with a few physical imperfections.. Lets be gentle on our curves (and others’ too).. ! The practice of Preemptive love, is it?!?!


The Artist: Of course, Lee Jeffries doesn’t need an introduction in the area of human rights and homelessness. But I would like to credit him for his amazing portrait to show long-lasting love even among the dirt poor.. As with the usage of any media on this site, if you don’t appreciate the “free visibility” aspect of this reproduction, it’s just a matter of asking me to remove the content and I would respectfully oblige.


Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 57 other followers