Everything She Liked #3....

Taking those thoughts to heart, she double bolted the door and turned to the entry way. She noticed the parquet maple flooring was a bit dusty and proceeded to the kitchen for a damp cloth. Near the counter, a bottle of vodka. "A bit early for the drink." She grabbed an icepick, opened the fridge and made her way to the icebox. A cold cocoa cola would be her poison.
"Oh fiddle- sticks Henry." The cat purred while feeling the tousle of familiar hands.
A knock at the door made her jump to her feet. Under her breath she whispered, "Breathe baby, breathe."

"Breathe baby, breathe. Breathe Betty. Wake up!"
"What?" Betty felt her surroundings. The crumbling papers awakened her senses and she quickly snapped out of her stupor. She felt her broken glasses on the right side and put them on. The release of her squint softened the lines on her face and an early morning familiar sun beat down with a vengeance.
" Time to move."

Everything She Liked Cont.....

Startled by the loud noise of a heavy old door, she was surprised that a tiny nudge would cause such a sound. The door slowly reopened. A glimmer of sunlight graced the blue undertones in her ruby reds. Her pout was only slightly attractive and her pin dangled from a now disheveled curl.
"What do you want from me? Its best that you turn around and walk away. My friend is coming any moment now."
" Not very lady like to shut the door with such strong force."
" It was a slip of the wrist and I am not feeling very lady like. Best that you leave."
" Yeah well, do yourself a favor and get over whatever it is that floats in that crazy head of yours. An empty mind is quite liberating."
From the corner of his eye he could see the neighbor peeking through Dupioni silk curtains. He hesitated but turned around and hit the pavement. A quick glance over his shoulder left her with the impression that he would be back.

Everything She Liked

Everything she liked was either rouge, textured or helpless. She could paint her pout with Chanel Ruby Red, scrape her nails down a jute rug or clean up endless spills from her canine terror.
She was a throwback species who encountered a bit of success with her high heeled strappy shoes and pin curled waves. A brief slip of her strap lead her eyes down to the small tear in her noir thigh high stockings. It was not long before a knock at the door would reveal what she had been waiting for. "Just a second" she whimpered as she fidgeted with her pencil skirt and fastened her bobby pin. The door opened. A quick glance and SLAM.

Sand Blocks, Body Dysmorphia and Mick Jagger?

I went to the dentist the other day. Had to have a cleaning and checkup and was a bit concerned about my two front teeth getting in the way of my lip and bottom teeth and possibly causing problems in the future. Due to unforeseen circumstances that escalated throughout my adult life, I had to have a crown and veneer placed on my two front teeth. Problem was not completely solved because I was starting to feel a bit like a rabbit. So, when one starts to feel slightly below human realm, we tend to sniff around a bit and find the cure.
I have a love hate relationship with my dental family only because I think that they hate me. I bring all the kids in for an appointment on the wrong day, I only pay around ten dollars at a time on the bill, and I ask too many questions. "What, when, where and why? Who and how? How much?"
I proceed with my appointment and had a very thorough cleaning. I was in pain due to the scraping. She even asked if I wanted to participate in her Mary Kay rituals. Huh? I was eventually sent to the next room where the conversation began about the size of my teeth. Everyone said they were fine, best looking fake teeth on this side of town. Most fake teeth are opaque and Chiclets, but mine were glossy and long. Long? "They fit your face. You have a long face. They are perfect." I also had a compliment on the color of my "natural" teeth and they asked if they were bleached prior to having the veneers done. Nope. I think they might have been trying to tell me something. Do not change a good thing?
My dentist talks in symbols when trying to explain the fundamentals of the way our teeth work. I am going to try and explain in a paraphrase sort of way with quotes. "If I were to file them down, there may be a chance you would not be able to bite correctly on a sandwich. See, take a sandwich for example, and a sand block and when those two are adjacent and 360 degrees sideways, when they come together, they reach an agreement with one another on what would be more appropriate to bite on, a sandwich or a sand block, etc..." I nod my head and completely agree with him. What the hell is he talking about? These are the scenarios I get from him every time. I love him! He files my teeth. "If you do not like them now, that is on you."
I look in the dentist's mirror and shout out "Perfect."
While I am driving, I keep smiling. What a difference 1mm makes. I am looking up into my brain and seeing a vision of my dentist pointing his finger at me reminiscent of the Santa and elf in A Christmas Story. He yells in slow motion "Itttssss oooonnnnn yyyyoooouuu." His foot is pushing me out his door into the cold snowy winter with nothing but a car and a big fat silver mirror. Now my mind starts to play tricks on me. Should I have kept them long? Are they too short, too crooked, bla bla bla. Made me think about how people perceive themselves and what makes certain individuals, like Heidi Montag, want to change their appearance so drastically. Do I have body dysmorphia? Will I never be happy with my teeth? Did I go to the dentist looking like Roger Rabbit and coming back looking like Mick Jagger? I don't know, but I am happy with them.

Holiday Recapitation

Just a few thoughts off the top of my head on what the holidays meant to me and my family this year. This past November, my cousins and I travelled to his shedelicious abode where we ate, drank and became merry. It was absolutely fabulous. On our way to the upper peninsula, we stared out of the car and watched a women peek through a window at Bev's Supper Club. Come to find out, Karen Black was quite upset that we missed her performance, "Hey, Don't Drive Away, Please Come Black." Her "one women show" is never complete without the paraphrase, "Nobody is flying the plane." I am told that she sits and waits for us. For a moment, we think about purchasing tickets for her next performance. Next time Karen. We had a glorious dinner under the stars and we danced (in our heads) like gnomes in candle light.

Kristmas at Kell and Dave's is never without joy. Got together for raw sausage balls, Willy Wonka and The Kolaczki Factory cookies and Tacos. Eve at its finest! Can't complain about the door prizes for our Wii Bowling tournament. Fondue set, a wok and a grill! Did I mention the bottle of Brandy?
On an end note, today is my mom's birthday. This classic Italian/Finnish Rizzwold fiesta ended with Tai food and birthday cake! Oh, must not forget how much the cat loves my mom's Christmas tree icicles and regurgitates them all over her house. That is the last photo of the day. Mom bending down, sweeping the floor (with her hands) and I think putting the cat puke icies back on the tree! Happy Birthday you senile women. Oh the joys. I am truly blessed.

Merry Christmas Kids And Stay Out Of The Tetanus Room!

When you have four kids, it is impossible to hide the Christmas gifts in your closet, under your bed or in your sock drawer. They are sneaky, mischievous creatures, sniffing around and spotting things out of place. A squirrel finding his nut buried deeper than an amaryllis bulb, a mother helplessly searching for her glasses so that she can find her way to the bathroom without holding on to the walls, a man searching for his car keys only to find glimpses of silver sparkling in the bottom of the toilet bowl and grandma searching for her long lost bottle of Riesling only to find it in the hands of the blind mother who never did find her glasses. Could I run on a bit more? These are minor nuisances that are easily corrected and everything eventually will fall into place. But, there is still the chance of little tiny hands harvesting Christmas wrapping paper, plucking and tossing and smiling at all of the goodies that Santa dropped off a tad bit early. So, for this reason, we decide to quarantine gifts inside the man garage where the infestation of tetanus runs as rampant as newborn bunnies on Easter and tales of old Kris Kringle are replaced by the lockjaw boy who at one time, was sticking his nose in his daddy's man garage business where gifts were hidden under big piles of rusty soaked wood pieces. Will this get their attention? Every once in a while we will tell them to hush little babies and take a moment to hear the rusty rattles of the ghost of Christmas Tetanus Past. Stay out children, stay out!

The Hills Have Eyes

Oh man. Last night my brother and I were on chat. I could not go to bed after our conversation because the laughter would not ease up. I had to divert my mind to something a bit more calming, like bubble baths and dim lights, snuggle fabric softener, kittens, cowboys. Anything other than Henry Hill.
OK. I love FB. Not fat bastard. Face Book. It really has given me a place to call home, second home, or second flat in the city. I explained to you (me) that I got involved with this writers group. So many LA people on board. Much talent I am sure. I am not familiar with many, but that does not matter. We are all just wanting to share our adventures. If Scorsese himself was on the discussion board, I would just chuckle and move on to the Party without another thought. He is a writer. I would not, even in the slightest, get obnoxious. It is not my style. He is just a talented person who I look up to. Only the greatest director of all freakin time.
I get a friend request from a man who happens to be a part of this writers group. He was probably putting in requests for many of the faces who belong on the discussion board. I just happen to be one of them. I am always glad to network and find new and interesting people. We all know how FB works. Once we are accepted, we can browse through their list of friends and their whole FB page. I believe even before acceptance we can browse through the friend list. Out of 600 friends, one gets a second glance.
Henry "the fuck is that" Hill. Henry Hill, Henry Hill, Henry Hill. Why does that name sound familiar? Since I have a mutual friend with Henry Hill, I am able to click on his FB page and browse his wall. As soon as I saw the link to his "Good Fellas" art work offered on EBay, the Ahhh moment hit and my interest in Mr. Hill peaked. While I do not condone that "gangster" type of behavior or try and glorify it, I can only be curious as to what Henry Hill has been up to? A painter, a writer, a friend, a boyfriend. He is out of witness protection and I am now witnessing HIS Face Book page. I am also feeling a little apprehension because I am not his friend. I did not want to violate his privacy but had to take a peek at his photo page. A couple of photos of him and one in particular, a Mr. Raymond Liotta. I click on Liotta's link and I get to his FB.
The plot thickens.... LOL. It is still a tad bit soupy. When I click on Ray Liotta, I really feel that I am intruding. Seriously, I am not a friend of his either. Davey pops up on chat."Hey Dave, I was on Ray Liottas FB. I do not know how I got there?" "What?" I somehow got to his FB through Hill. We are both laughing our asses off and I tell him to hold on so that I can link back to Raymond. One moment. I go to Mr. Hill's wall and click onto his photo page. Guess the freak what. That photo is gone. I tell Davey and ask him if there are FB police? "Don't say another word" he says. I now have my brother paranoid. I do not want to be known as a stalker to the "stars" and neither did Dave. For a brief moment, I think he was a afraid we would get wacked. For a split second, I too was afraid and I closed the Book. The Hills have eyes.