A Nice Place In The Sun

5/17/08

James Stewart Kills Time In Rear Window- This Saturday's Favorite Movie Moment

This Saturday's Favorite movie moment is actually a short documentary with commentaries about the films plot, sub-plot, protagonist, supporting characters, and famous director Alfred Hitchcock.

Have a happy Saturday and I hope you enjoy this Saturday's Favorite movie moment or moments or documentary- And if you haven't seen this film and your not absolutely busy doing something else, go and rent it- I can't think of a better way to kill time.

5/16/08

Readers Comments: What Is The Worst Haircut You've Ever Had In Your Life?

This weeks Tuesday's Question was "What is the worst haircut you're ever had in your life?"

I'm sorry for the delay with posting the comments, but I wanted to give everyone a chance to answer.

In addition, I received a request from Ferdc from Crazy Medical Cases to show my readers a picture of myself with the worst haircut of my life ... However, how many of you would show an internet picture of yourself after your head had been through a meat grinder by a maniac hairdresser?

Therefore, I had my son draw a picture of what I looked like when I returned home from the worst haircut I've ever had in my life.

The day of the trauma (the haircut) I walked around the house wondering whether to cut all of my hair off or wear a hat for the rest of my life, that's why I'm holding a hat in one hand and a pair of scissors in the other hand.

However, after reading some of these experiences, it's nice to know I'm not alone in the world when it comes to bad hair days. Therefore, thanks to all of you who contributed, because as I'm sure you all know, misery loves company- So just click "read more" and I promise you will feel better.

These bloggers comments are the best so don't forget to click on the link to their blogs and pay them a visit when you get a chance, I think you'll enjoy their blogs as much as their comments.

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My first Commenter was from my dearest friend, as usual :)

Sandee from Comedy Plus

Well, I don't recall ever having a bad haircut, but then I've never given anyone carte blanche with my hair. There is a reason for this policy. I am terrible at fixing hair, so if I don't keep it simple I'm in trouble.

I'm the one who is trying to fix my hair to go somewhere and spending most of the time saying bad words. I have absolutely zero ability in styling my hair. Once in a blue moon it looks halfway decent, but most of the time I'm having a bad hair day.

I've had the same stylist for the last 20 years, so she knows exactly what to do and what my limitations are. She has tried to teach me a few tricks. Didn't work. If I want my hair to look great for a special function, I just call her for an appointment.

I envy those folks that can style their hair. Great question Ann and thanks for reminding me that I can't style my own hair. Bwahahahahahaha. Big hug honey. :)

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And my second from another dear friend Misty Dawn from My Dogs Keep Me Sane

Ann, are we somehow mentally connected? I mean seriously! Today, I went to work, and then went to my scheduled appointment for a haircut!!! I was hesitant, because I was considering a rather short cut, and I have never had my hair short - it has always been 'fairly' long to 'really' long. Well, I threw all caution to the wind and said, "Just do whatever you think will look good!" So, it's short... only one person has seen it so far (my BBFF and she saw it over the webcam)... she loved it, but I'm still not sure about it.

So, this isn't really a good 'worst haircut' story, but I had to laugh when I came to your blog and saw the subject of the Tuesday Question, considering I just got home from getting a haircut!!!

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Then my new and funny friend Ferdc from Crazy Medical Cases
(Who I hope likes my picture, actually I hope all of you do)

Every haircut I get now is the worst one I've ever had, not because of my stylist (my dear wife, Princess Gail) but because I seem to be losing more and more! Damn!

Annie, since you are making an issue of this, I think we your readers deserve to see a picture of this lovely, curly haircut you had. We could all use a chuckle! ; )

I wonder who you resembled most, Thing One or Thing Two? Hmm.

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Read how funny Feefifoto from Feefifoto Blog

experience turned out:

Oh, without a doubt it was the hair cut I gave myself. Here's a really useful piece of advice: hair stretches. Especially wet hair. Especially curly hair. And then it snaps back. So if you want to cut your own bangs and you pull them straight while they're wet, and you cut and cut and cut to get them even until they're about an inch long? Then after your hair is dry you will unfailingly look like a turnip. And everyone at your high school will notice.

May 14, 2008 9:52 AM

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May 15, 2008 11:39 AM

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Then I laughed hysterically at the wonderful Jennifer Robin from Robin's Woods comment,

I was 20, going to a big formal affair on a ship, and the guy who had cut my hair several times already to my satisfaction decided to try something new. First he went asymmetrical, and when I said "I don't think so", he "fixed" it and I ended up with the back of my head looking like a monkey's butt, and yes, I had to go to the formal affair looking that way.

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Followed by another dear friend and hilarious writer Dawn from Twisted Sister

Does a bad perm count?
I looked like a poodle and hid for days!

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Then, one of my favorite writer's and friends stopped by, the speedcat himself, Speedy from Speedcat Hollydale Page

Read this, it's great~

That is so easy, and I remember this just like yesterday.
When I was 19, I had a classic 80's kind of hair-doo. Swept back with a long curly back. No, not ON my back, but the back of my head. (he hee)
Anyway, when I was that age, my look was really important to me. I was overly concerned of what women thought of how I looked. Funny, because things are so different now.
I stopped in to a Cost Cutters, and wanted a trim on the sides. I was sat in a chair, and my stylist was talking and talking away. It seemed like the scissors were just there flinging around wildly as story after story came out of her mouth. She hacked of a lot of hair as she moved to the back of my head, and I said NO NO, I did not want that short! She kept on "Fixing" that particular cut and telling more stories, Did this lady listen to me at all?
By the time I was done, I looked like I had just joined the army. I like having a shorter cut now, but back then I felt like I was butchered.
The manager asked if there was any trouble and if I was happy with the service. I told her how disappointed I was that my cut was completely wrong, and that I hated it. She said there was no charge ... one on the house. I told her that I did not want my money back - I wanted my hair back!
The next day, all I heard was, "What happened to you?" ... followed by laughter.
Free is not always good. (wink)

Song today? Missing You, by Steve Perry. It's on the greatest hits album with "5 previously unrealeased" on it. I don't know exactly why, but I just love that song. Reminds me of a lost love, and someone that I miss. She left when I was still drinking (many years ago). I have a lot of regrets from those days.
Ironically, the song makes me feel alive, and I can listen to it over and over and over again. The melody is hauntingly beautiful.
Check it out! :-)

Happy week Ann
Speedy

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And last, but certainly not least, Henson from the excellent blog Henson's Hell

I sympathize. The worst haircut I ever received was when I was in high school and I went through my "hair salon" phase. I hated the way my hair looked, and asked my mom to take me with her the next time she went to a professional salon (as opposed to the old-fashioned barber shop I always went to.) My stylist was a chain-smoker (because you could in those days), and he seemed more concerned with lighting his next cigarette than paying attention to my hair. At the end of my "visit," I looked like Paul Lynde...not sure how he accomplished that, but I never went back to the salon again.

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Now, congratulations, you have courageously made it through Tuesday's Question, and you should feel good about yourself, because it's not an easy task. Therefore, please feel free to paste the code for the brag badge on your blog and let everyone know how groovy and smart you really are~ (Really, it's optional, I'll still love you if you're not a braggert, maybe more...)

Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket

5/13/08

Tuesday's Question: What is the Worst Haircut You've Ever Had?

Have you ever felt irritable as soon as you get out of your bed, mainly because of what stares back at you in the mirror? Especially, if it feels like a cobweb is stuck to your face and the spider is missing, running amuck somewhere having a good time in your house or pajamas, while you keep wiping your face over and over again with two good hands. Then, the mirror mirror on the wall tells you that Thing One and Thing Two have been partying on top of your head all night.

Then it's get dressed time, and it doesn’t matter what blouse you put on, it isn't going to match or fit, and... it will need ironing … After which, you spend thirty minutes going through your closet taking clothes off their hangers so fast that within seconds you have enough garments to make a patchwork quilt.

Well, I've had quite a few of those kind of days and as much as I know better, one day I decided I could remedy my bad feelings by getting a new haircut. And everyone knows that getting a haircut when you feel ugly is like going to the grocery store when you're hungry. It’s a mistake, a mistake, and a mistake, because when you go to the store hungry, you’re susceptible to the first product on the shelf, and when you enter a hair saloon you're vulnerable to every cosmetology magazine ever placed on a coffee table- the only difference between these two scenario's is that digesting a bad meal is easier than living life with a bad haircut-

Knowing this, I left anyway and instead of getting my regular hairdresser, I got Mr. “I know more about you than you do.” And in my weak state of mine (just like that candy bar on the grocers shelf) I thought, sure I’ll try out a new hairdresser, why not, then someone will always be available if I decide I want to "feel" better one day.

If only we could see the future, I would have known that when I left the hair saloon, I would wish for Thing One and Thing Two again, for many reasons, golly, I would even bargain for their hairdo.

Because when I left the hair saloon I left with the most hideous haircut, I’ve ever seen in my life. A haircut I was going to have to live with for what would feel like an eternity. My hair had long slivers that resembled Shirley Temple’s ringlets. I think the hairdresser drugged me and put my head through a meat grinder~ because my hair resembled a mop.

How could a hairdresser do such a bad job on a haircut?

Evidently, when this cosmetologist saw me walk in the door his eyes stuck to me like laser beams. And I fell right into his cup of soup freely giving myself over to an unfamiliar hairdresser, because “I felt ugly that day” gee…as if that feeling was anything new…and I should be old enough to recognize the difference between a mood and a miracle.

“Sure, give me something new” I said as I sat dutifully in the hairdressers chair, showing Mr. hairdo guy the type of person he had in his chair- you know, one of us “feel ugly” one day types who thinks a hairdresser can make them feel better about themselves. However, he was right about one thing, I did need my head examined, just not my hair.

I wish that the first time he twirled me around in his torture chair admiring his work, and saying,“You won’t even need sculpting lotion…” and I saw the meat grinder Shirley Temple hairdo that I could have jumped him with Thing One and Thing Two.

Sometimes, I still imagine my super heroes and I whacking every bit of his hair off, mustache and all, and saying “There you see, and you won’t even have to use sculpting lotion..."

What is the Worst Haircut You've Ever Had In Your life?

5/10/08

Motherhood Is An Art

“My mother is a poem
I'll never be able to write,
though everything I write
is a poem to my mother.”
--Sharon Doubiago

I am fond of this quote, from the perspective of a daughter and writer. For me, my mother’s opinions, values, such as, what she would say, are always on my mind. We cannot help but characterize ourselves by the expression on our mothers face when we meet face to face.

Our Mothers reflect our first mirror image, instructing us on our identity, before we're aware of our own individuality. I've asked people who have lost their mother when they were small, what they remember about her and they describe a feeling. I believe the feeling they remember is their mothers love; the one thing all of us remember the most about our mothers, or what we think of when we hear the word mother.

A mothers love is an emotion impossible to explain; a vast sea of understanding and devotion, unmatched by any affection we will ever know again. I believe that adults sometimes expect this kind of love from their partners and friends and it's a feeling we're unable to duplicate.

This disappointment causes it's fair share of heartache in relationships. Be it between life partners or friends, we want this unconditional love bestowed upon us again. We all need to be mindful on Mothers day, and everyday that the sentiment shared between mother and child, has the propensity to cause our mothers alarm. Every child governs the heart of a parent, regardless of years, because you're always your mothers child regardless of your age. Since children have their mothers heart in the palm of their hands, whatever happens to them happens to Mom.

Therefore we should be tender with our mother's hearts, and pray our children will be gentle with ours.
My mother watched her girlhood diminish when she became a mother before entering a period of knowing herself, her dreams, or her plans. Although motherhood is an art; and all artists know is the passion they feel for their gift, everything else fades away in comparison.

Caring for our needs and the needs of our children is a balancing act requiring grace, patience, character, and love- our most cherished gift from our maker- the gift we pass to life itself, our children, and each other- love, often reflected after birth in the face of a mother.

Today is the day to remember the person who loves or loved you most in the world, and wished for you all you've ever dreamed of having or doing. We have our mothers to thank for so much, especially the sacrifices they've endured.

I appreciate my mother for the courage she had to have had to watch my mistakes, for the fortitude to predict my misgivings, and the compassion to set me straight. I'm glad she pulled my hair out of my eyes and hummed me to sleep at night. In addition, her voice and words will always be recorded in my head, advising, comforting, and reminding me of what is in my best interest.

I am grateful for the books, the dreams of possibilities, the devotions, the time, the explanations, and most of all the love- the word that is impossible to explain. Happy Mothers Day Mom!

And to the rest of the Moms in the world, I hope you have a great day~

5/9/08

Louisiana's Stars

I heard a u-haul moving a family next door to me yesterday, and I wasn't looking forward to it, because you never know what type of people your new neighbors will be.

They could end up being enemies or friends for a lifetime, it’s just the luck of the draw, and whenever my cards were dealt for this deal, I was day-dreaming somewhere because I don't remember the occasion.

By the way, the image above is not a picture of my new neighbors, although the man may resemble the father; I didn’t meet the rest of the clan. I would have taken a picture of the Dad moving his furniture out of the U-haul as he yelled, “Hey, what do you do?” Although, I said; "I'm a photojournalist at the local paper” (Since I was taking pictures of my cat Simon) and I thought if I said the local paper it would discourage him, but he didn’t respond.

This guy looked like the kind of person who moved as slow as a worm most of time, but had the energy of a grasshopper when it came to a greenback dollar. Although his disposition leaned more toward Mr. opportunity than Mr. industrious as far as I was concerned.

In any event, the more I watched him the more horrified I was by the idea of him moving in next door. I know it sounds self-absorbed and snobby, but why me? Or… why right next door?

Now that my son is grown I have a smaller nest (hence logo) or a one size fits all apartment, so I’m used to having people come and go, although I guess I’ve been lucky.

Or like I said, I 'm not exactly observant about people in my apartments, so I may have not noticed my neighbors in the past. Because, I mainly keep to myself writing, writing, saying hello, good-bye, and blah, blah, blah…

In fact, normally I would have blown Mr Opportunity off when he knocked on my door at 2 AM later that night, but the front doors to our apartments are barely a foot away and I thought I heard him fall down the stairs out front.

Therefore, I looked through the peephole to make sure he was o.k., and in just the nick of time, because otherwise, I would've missed my opportunity to see him spit tobacco an inch away from my door.

At least his spit looked a half an inch from my door, it was hard to see through the peep hole, but I could see him trying to smear it into my doormat before knocking on my door- “Hel-lo, anybody home?” I could smell his breath from the sound of his voice, and taste the liquor that swirled over his tongue turning his syllables into jumbled up slurs...

I wished I had a fake barking beast dog with anatomically correct teeth, like one of those anatomically correct women.

I would have done anything to get out of this situation. It’s funny, because what I had imagined would be terrible experiences didn’t seem so bad anymore…for example, a jump from a riverboat into the mighty Mississippi, walking on nails, listening to my faucet drip all night, etc… any of those options would have been better, but unfortunately they weren’t available.

And he kept knocking…then started talking through the peep hole, and I knew he knew I was on the other side of the door…"Heloo? Is you the lady I seen earlier, the blowd hare lady ?"

Now, the whiskey on his breath really was seeping through the peep hole. My heart pounded, and I knew if I opened the door, the humid night air would stick to my lungs and attach them to my paralyzed rib cage- I was petrified.

Then, as if he couldn’t think of a better time, my cat Simon decided to Meow and let the stranger know that he was threatening him behind the door, so now, without the fake dog, I thought we might as well surrender.

Although instead, I held my breath and watched the stranger through the peephole, as he looked at his boots move back and forth across the doormat.

He mumbled something about how he was sorry for making so much noise… that all he needed was his car so he could “get hisself home" because he was probably already"in hot water with the wife”

I know I should have been worried about how this man drove in his condition, and I did, but I was so relieved he wasn’t going to be my neighbor that I felt total freedom.

The kind of freedom you would feel if you dove in a deep spring of water, then turned and swam toward the Louisiana stars; with your arms stretched forward as you burst from the water as confident as a golden eagle sailing through a clear night sky.

He said he put his car behind the U-Haul earlier and now it was in front of my car, and he should have gone home with the rest of the guys, but he wanted to visit his sister, (supposedly) and would I mind moving my car.

"So, were you working or moving for someone else?" I asked, from behind my barrier of protection.

“Well, yessip, what did you think I was going to do move my family in an apartment down here?" He said as he laughed .

I opened the door and called his sister to come and pick him up, which she did along with the entire family- his wife drove their car home.

Then, the whole family drove out of my complex at 4 a clock in the morning, hoping to get home in time to feed a household of 12 before seven in the morning.

As I watched them drive away, I realized why the birds in my empty nest(logo metaphor) keep telling me to get lost; because birds of a feather like to be together...and all nests are not the built the same.

And I finally knew what had been "flying around" in my head lately...I guess it was the Blue jays testing my tolerance, much like people do- it's how we react to others behavior that determines our character, not the other way around. I thought about this as I watched the family drive home under the Louisiana stars and I was glad it was under a clear night sky ...

Then, I'm not sure if I fainted or fell asleep~