Lipstick makes me dangerous

I have found that I have two distinct personalities. One is the "Regular Yvette" (sans lipstick) and the other is the "Look out here comes Yvette" lipstick personality.

The regular Yvette is fairly benign, she goes to the Wawa for cigarettes and cream, wears slippers in the house, and is an avid reader.

The lipstick Yvette drives terribly fast, shakes her ass when she walks, tosses her hair in a "f*ck off" kind of way, and gets into trouble. A lot.

When I go over the events of my life, I have come to the startling conclusion that most of the trouble I get into in life occurs when I am wearing lipstick. I wonder if I am having a chemical reaction to the lipstick, as it causes me to believe I am the sexiest creature alive, rules don't apply to me, and high heels don't hurt.

The regular Yvette isn't bothered by traffic jams, lines in the grocery store, or designated parking. The lipstick Yvette freaks out over all the above.

Someone should perform a study on the affects of lipstick. Or it could be explained that I am a native New Yorker. Hmmmm.

Dog Farts

Ok. This is the second post today, but I have to vent.

My husband and I put the 8 year-old yellow labrador "Chumley" on Purina ONE's Chicken and Oatmeal Diet about a week ago. Chumley has not stopped farting since. Chumley's farts are not garden variety "Oh my, that stinks" farts, they are more like Saddam Hussein's lost chemical weapons farts.

When it started, Chumley would look at his rear end and get up quickly and leave the area. (As if they alarmed even him) That generally resulted in the people remaining in the room looking furtively at each other (Who the hell laid that one!?!) After a few misquided and poorly received accusations among the humans, Chumley was nailed as the culprit.

Today my husband and I decided we could take this no more. He apparently is not moving past this gasseous and foul response to the food, so we are going to change his food.

However I am tired (from driving the parental units a total of 8 hours today, and the hubby changed the oil on both the cars and washed my SUV for me. However, as if knowing his farting days are coming to a close, Chumley is rocking out one hell of a last hurrah in the fart department.

The homeland security department could use this against our global enemies.

Getting older

When I was very young, I couldn't wait to grow up. Each year was a celebration of my approach to adulthood.

Middle age is not quite so fun.

Having been in the "Above average attractive" category for most of my adult life, watching doors slam in your face (literally, as young men used to vie to hold a door open for me) and suddenly becoming a persona non grata is rather a rude awakening as to what the rest of my life holds. Unfortunately, I am not ready to let go of youth. I am already looking at what it would take to "refresh" the face and bod (I gained weight due to an evil medication) and have been dieting and lathering up the face with moisturizer. Getting roots done at the stylist tomorrow, and looking forward to getting back into size 6 jeans. Unfortunately, none of this will ever make me 28 again. Alas.

So I plug on. I wistfully dream of a day when technology finds a way to keep the face and bod young, even as we age. The alternative at present being Joan Rivers, who looks as though her face was applied by Madame Tussaud.

Las Vegas Baby!!!!!

I love Las Vegas. Really.

The ads advertise "Whatever happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas." Well, for a fairly straight laced person like me, 6 days of drinking, smoking, gambling, seeing shows, staying up to all hours of the night is a great experience. I wish I lived there.

Strangely enough, however, the native Vegans (or Vegasites?) couldn't wait to move somewhere else. When I told them I was from Pennsylvania (not exactly a bastion of fun) the natives looked wistfully and unanimously stated "Wow. I wish I lived there." REALLY???? I guess too much of anything is not good, however I would think that too much of having a good time would not get old.

The mister had never been to Vegas before. He was quite skeptical of having a good time as he is not really a gambler. I shouldn't have worried. He was popping dollars in machines, applauding to shows, and marvelling at how you can capture the world's diversity on one street.

We took a side trip to Sedona, AZ. For those of you who think that Arizona is all tumbleweeds and cactus, Sedona will be a rude awakening. I had never gasped at the beauty of a sight before, but Sedona literally took my breath away. What was really cool was how relaxed the locals are. Where I live folks spend their lives chasing their tails making a living and keeping up. In Sedona the locals were so relaxed you had to check their pulse. Looked like just the place to live to me.

I couldn't wait to get home to my daughters (17 and 21) but to my chagrin they were quite happy while the mister and I were away. The house showed no evidence of party, and the dogs were relatively fed and content.

Now back to reality. Can't wait to get back to Vegas.

The Movie "Moon"

Went to see the movie "Moon" with the mister. The movie was critically acclaimed and was a sci-fi flick (and I am geek at heart) so we ponied up 21.00 and went to the local cinema.

The movie stars Sam Rockwell (Stop reading if you are bound and determined to see this movie as I am about to irretrievably SPOIL it.) The premise is that there is a man working alone on the moon (Rockwell) on a mine of some sort, supplying the ENTIRE WORLD'S energy. He is contracted for 3 years, after which he will be returned to the earth to rejoin his lovely wife and toddler daughter. His only companion is a robot (who was so unmemorable that I cannot even remember its name) that attends to his needs.

Cutting to the chase, Rockwell has a terrible accident, and it turns out that he is a CLONE, and the companion machine (of whose name I still cannot remember) pulled out another one of him, not realizing he had survived the accident. Rockwell and his clone (prepare to suffer though at least 15 minutes of showing off how well they can double the actor on the screen) realize they are terribly screwed, that they die after 3 years and are replaced by roomfuls of guys just like them, orchestrated by some evil corporation. Apparently the evil corp realizes stuff is amiss on the moon and sends a so-called "rescue mission" to rescue Rockwell (we all know they are going to kill the shit of of him).

This is the most infuriating part of the movie. The plan by Rockwell is to escape to earth in a pod to uncover the injustices of the corporation.

WHAT SHOULD HAVE HAPPENED: Rockwell and his clone arm to the teeth, deciding that this clone madness must not go on, and they kill all the clones in the rooms before they are activated. They then wait for the rescue mission, kill them, and hijack their ship back to earth, revealing the horrors of the moon mining clone plan after confronting the heads of the evil corporation and making them fear for their lives before they are hauled away by the authorities.

INSTEAD: Rockwell goes in his pod back to earth, and you get a far shot of the planet while you "listen in" on radio transmissions that reveal that Rockwell made it to the CIA (CIA?!?) and let them know of the moon horrors.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

At least I wanted to boo in the theater, but polite society demands I simply leave angry that I wasted 2 hours and 21 bucks on that garbage.

Moon. Don't see it.