Bear Watch

I love bears.  I always have. Bears are fascinating creatures. I even like Nabisco'sTeddy Grahams.  I won't, however, be heading to the movies this month to see Paddington Bear 2.

I know the masses (old and young alike) ooh and aah over what they consider to be a wonderful Paddington bear and movie.  For me, though, Paddington Bear is about the most annoying, clump of a bear I've met. I don't know what it is about him that sets me on edge, but I'm simply not fond of Paddington Bear.  I think there are other more captivating and endearing bears.

Cartoon bears are far more fascinating and funny than Paddington could ever dream to be.  Some of the first bears I encountered and still love today are Yogi Bear and Boo-Boo. Ranger Smith had his hands full every episode with those two hungry bears. Even minor characters like Cindy Bear had personality.  The Hillbilly Bears certainly had character, too. I loved Paw's mumbling as he was forced to deal with the rest of the family, usually from his front porch rocker or traipsing after Maw, Floral, and Shag along the rocky path.  The Berenstain Bears are also adorable Bear County folks, entertaining and teaching important lessons that everyone needs to think about in their lives. Paddington, on the other hand,acts like a lump of down-trodden coal buried in the mud compared to all the other bears. Paddington has no personality.

Acclaimed writer William Faulkner wrote "The Bear," one of his best-known and fascinating works. "The Bear" is considered one of the best stories from the 20th century and deals with the complexity of soical problems and the loss of the wilderness. Interesting true accounts along with shows like "The Life and Times of Grizzly Adams" and "Gentle Ben" have appeared for the pleasure of many. The classic and awesome Winnie the Pooh offers so much delight and insight into Life. Winnie and all of his pals are phenomenal characters. Paddington, however, should just disappear... for good.

Boyd's Bears designed hundreds of bears throughout the years for kids (and adults) to love. Teddy Ruxpin captured the heart of many.  Even Smokey the Bear is way cooler than Paddington.

So,as you may be able to tell, I won't be seeing Paddington Bear 2 at the movies. I'd rather stare at a blade of grass for a couple of hours, instead. Paddington Bear simply needs to go away before anyone's brain is harmed by his boring nothingness..

Ack! My Ears!

I heard this on the local television news broadcast tonight -- "could of went" and "what we have saw." 

Ack!  I need to take deep breaths.  There's no sense in calling or e-mailing ... again.  Calm down, Cindy.  No one cares. Evidently, people graduate in broadcast journalism and no one corrects the students' non-standard grammar nowadays. It must not be important for a professional.  Expecting good communication skills on air is rather silly, I guess.

(Did you know that America is currently ranked 24th in Reading, 38th in Math, and 24th in Science on PISA -- Programme for International Student Assessment?  I wonder why.)

Ack! My Eyes!

*First, let me make this clear: This blog entry is not intended for those who wear leggings responsibly. The comments in this blog are directed, instead, toward a select group of legging wearers who insist on wearing leggings several sizes too small, and who also choose not to wear longer tops with the leggings.

I know I'm starting a firestorm here, and easily offended fashionistas will rant they can wear whatever they want, and that no one has to look at them if others don't like their clothing choices, but, dang it! Sometimes it's extremely difficult not to notice certain sights.

With that being said, do you really think you look good wearing leggings that wrap around and mold each individual butt cheek like Saran wrap? Do you have a need to wear leggings so tight that the seam amazingly disappears up into the unknown darkness of your butt crack, where no sunlight shines?  Those leggings are too small.

What stops you from wearing the tunics, adorable little dresses, or longer tops and sweaters that were designed to go with the leggings? (You do realize these are not pants, Gals; they're leggings. There's a difference.) 

Do you not realize leg, tummy, and butt fat jiggles when you wear skin-tight leggings, drawing everyone's eyes to the shaking motion?  Do you not know the bold, highly unusual, and extremely colorful and bright designs printed on some of these leggings will draw anyone's eyes ... even in dim lighting? 

Not every fashion trend is right for every person, just like not everyone looks good in the same colors. Some people really should not wear leggings, just like some people do not look good in turtle necks or look their best in midi-length skirts. Individualize. When your leggings look like you're naked and you're only sporting tattoos, I can't help but notice. Recently, when an older woman seated next to me at work, whispered, "Look!  That girl has matching tattoos on her legs," I whispered back, "No, those are leggings."  Yeah, anybody with eyes will notice, and their eyes will burn like wildfires afterwards from the sight emblazoned in their memory.
  

Yes, I know people feel they can wear whatever they want, but that is only within reason.  You don't have the right to submit others to your boobs or butt or private parts unless you are at a naked beach or nudist camp.  When your rear seam disappears somewhere up inside your nether regions, however, it can't be comfortable to wear those too small leggings, and I have to wonder if you've looked in the mirror at your backside. It's not the best look.

Save the floozy, painted-on look for home or the bedroom. I don't want to see your camel toe.  Even pajama pants in public would be a better choice.

Please save my eyes, and the rest of the world's; dress appropriately in public. It's said that if you want to attract a man, it's what he can't see, and can only imagine, that drives him crazy.  Extremely tight leggings with short tops leave little to the imagination -- the leggings are just a different color than your skin ... most of the time.

To Facebook Noodleheads:

And, for Pete's Sake, stop telling me to copy and paste. If I want to copy and paste something, I will ... without you telling me to do so!!!

(You know you can just copy or re-type part of the post you like without telling everyone they need to copy and paste, right?!)

I beg you to please stop your annoying, juvenile, anal copy-and-paste behavior before I lose total control, show up wherever you are, and shake you until you come to your senses!!! I don't want to end up locked in the Crazy House. If you can't refrain, then please just delete me -- I can't take anymore.

The Case of the Mysterious Beeping

As most of you who know me realize, there's always some craziness in my life -- I like to think it's just because I am an exciting person :).

 For the last three months, however, my computer has been beeping at precisely 1:09 A.M. and 3:09 A.M. every night. It beeps 14 times each time and then stops. No one seems to know why these mysterious noises occur.  I have been having trouble with Time-Warner's e-mail, so I thought initially it was a problem on their end, but lately I'm afraid some hacker, or possibly an alien, has decided to use my computer for unexplained purposes.

The weirdest thing in this nightly beeping saga occurred, however, while I vacationed in Vermont at the beginning of September. Even when I turned my cell phone off  in the hotel room at night, unexplainable beeping occurred at 1:09 and 3:09 A.M. each night to wake my cranky sister and me up.  Was my cell phone talking to my computer back in Ohio?

Saturday, Matt, my son, finally came down from Columbus to see if I had lost my marbles, or I, indeed, heard beeping in the middle of the night.  He decided to sleep on the living room couch so he could be on the scene to check my computer in the middle of the night. He set his alarm so he could get up at 1 and 3 and be ready at the computer to find whatever was causing such chaos in my life.

I fell asleep in one of the recliners so I could help if needed.  When the computer began its usual beeping, I saw him looking at the monitor and clicking on a couple of things, before swinging around in the computer chair. He picked up an object off the table, tilted the object toward his ear, and asked, "What's this?"

Surprisingly, I could see in the dim light he held my blood sugar monitor which I keep beside the computer. It took a moment for my sleep-riddled brain to think.  It couldn't be the battery as the low battery light would display. There are alarms on a blood sugar meter? Who knew. Not me.
   

Matt sighed.  I sighed.  It all made sense.  My computer didn't beep; my blood sugar meter in the sack beside the computer did.  My phone didn't beep in the hotel room; it was the meter in my purse beside the phone.  Somehow I must have bumped the buttons on the meter in a certain sequence to set two different alarms on the meter?

Matt googled how to turn off the alarms so all the crazy, pre-dawn commotion would cease.  Back to sleep for both of us. Dreams of Donald's Donuts were in the air.  Case of the Mysterious Computer Beeping solved.

Mail, Mail, Who's Got Mail?

I don't get too excited about my mail, and I admit, some days I don't go out to the mailbox. It's not like people are sending me money in the mail or hot love letters; it's usually just bills and junk mail. Sometimes, the weather is really bad, the mail lady hasn't been there yet, I have a zillion things to do with bigger priorities, or I am in a hurry.

Evidently, according to my sister's and mother's reactions, the world may end if folks do not get their mail out of their mailbox each and every day without fail. They have both taken me to task and berated me about my lackadaisical approach toward daily mail retrieval. According to them, "bad things" could happen to those who do not check their mailbox daily.  Did you know mailbox doors can magically open and blow important mail all over the neighborhood, never to be found again?  Did you know a life-changing letter that needs immediate attention could be in a day's mail delivery?  Did you know rain can penetrate the cracks around the mailbox door and destroy mail with dampness?
  

I think there must be something wrong with me as I do not share their sentiments. As long as there's room for the mail lady to poke new bills in the box if I don't make it out there, it's okay. I haven't noticed any lightning bolts hitting the ground around me or the sky falling, so I'm not worried. If only I could train my cat to get my mail for me.

Lost (A Trip Inside Hollywood Casino)

Last week I drove to Hollywood Casino with friends (who shall remain nameless unless they divulge their identities!) for an afternoon of entertainment. While some friends headed to the steak and shrimp eatery, Friend A and I decided to hit up the legendary buffet.

I loaded some lovely pierogies, shrimp cocktail, and hand-carved ham on one plate, piled a second plate with salad, and headed for our table.  I couldn't see my friend. She's tall, but I didn't see her sitting at any of the tables; she must have still been at the buffet. I looked for our table. No luck.  I didn't remember exactly where it was. Therefore, I began wandering aimlessly, winding in and out among the tables with a plate in each hand. No friend appeared. No one yelled, "Hey, Sterling, over here."

People started giving me strange glances as I continued to walk around in a daze. Unsure of what to do, I rationalized I should look at people seated at the tables to see if anyone looked familiar. They all looked familiar (probably since I had been wandering for an extended period). My hands held two plates so fishing for my cell phone would be an adventure, and her hearing a phone ring in such a large, noisy place would probably not happen.

Finally, I saw a table with the receipt on it. The waitress still hadn't brought the drinks, but I knew when we arrived, the buffet was hopping. So I sat at the empty table and started to eat my salad. I noticed the corner of the receipt ended in .28 and I remembered fishing for 8 cents, but then I don't do numbers well. Maybe in the excitement of arriving at the casino and paying for lunch, I had forgotten the amount. Halfway through my salad, a nice-looking man appeared out of nowhere at my table.

"You're sitting at my table," he said with a smile. "But you're welcome to stay and eat with me."

Shocked, I started gathering up my napkin, plates, and silverware. "No, no. I'm lost. I'm sorry. I thought this was my table. I'm with a friend, but I'm lost," I babbled.

"Your friend is welcome to join us, too."

"No, no, but thank you," I smiled and hopped up out of the wrong seat to wander again with plates and now tableware in hand.

Still no friend. I didn't see her anywhere.  I didn't know what to do. I continued my aimless wandering. Eventually, I spied the hostess who had seated us and asked her for help. She plied me with questions in her broken English, finally comprehending my dilemma. "You have table or booth?"

"I don't know," I responded. "I'm lost."  I shook my head, trying to clear the confusion.  " I think it was a table. Back there.  I'm with a friend," I added again, "but I don't see her anywhere."

The hostess nodded, and then walked around for a moment, before beckoning me to follow her to the front section of the buffet seating. There was Friend A, sitting in a semi-circular booth with a tall back. She looked up at us in askance.

As I slid into my seat, I explained what had happened. She started laughing. She knew me well.  Finally between gales of laughter, she asked, "Was he good-looking?"

"Yes, and nice, too," I answered.

"That's a new way to pick up men," and she started laughing again.

Okay. I might be a little ditzy at times, but everything turned out well.  I had a short conversation with a pleasant man, the food was excellent, including the creme brulee for dessert, I enjoyed lunching with my friend, and I was "unlost, so I could head out and hopefully find my favorite big fish slot machine.  :)