Tea with T.

Weird as weird can be. News at 11.

I don’t know about you, but I find that the news can be a terribly depressing pool to swim around in.  It is because of this, that every now and then, I like to go out of my way and read Weird News, sometimes simply for the headlines:  “Hoarders Trash Pile Seen on Google Maps” or “Toothless Woman Robs Bank for Denture Money” and I can hardly bring myself to type the one about the man who was recently arrested in Florida – “Man Claims to be Elvis’ Brother and Half Orangutan” making the Elvis part seem average.  Yeah, bizarre news helps me realize that no matter what happens in my life, there can always be something worse.  And weirder than normal.

 

But before you think me critical, know that age and experience have taught me that normal is a relative term (and NONE of my relations are normal, BTW).  Because, rather than judge, I actually find some tales relatable.  Like, the story about the thief who was sentenced for urinating on a power station transformer, knocking out the electricity to over 2,000 homes.  Nope, that’s not weird at all.  Because, my ex-husband had the dubious honor of working long, strange hours as a sound engineer with pint-sized, larger-than-life Phil Spector back in the day.  Far out Phil, rather than do his “business” in the men’s room, once toddled out to relieve himself on the power racks of A&M Records.  No electricity was lost due to his actions, but a whole lot of r.e.s.p.e.c.t. got electrocuted that day. 

Stupid Cupid.

Valentine’s Day has come and gone and, for some, telling it to not let the door hit it in the rump on the way out is putting it mildly.  Made-up holiday or not, it does for one solitary day bring one’s focus to the subject of L.O.V.E. which I’ve found can be a sticky wicket for… well, everyone.

 

If you have a sweetheart on February 14^th then most people think you’ve got it made.  There are no worries about who you’re snuggling up to, your spot is reserved.  But, for said sweethearts there is an ugly pressure that leads up to Valentine’s Day that can be intense and uncomfortable, too.  Where to go (or DO you go) for dinner?  Did you make reservations/order heart-shaped pizza/shop for groceries in time?  Is jewelry going to be expected?  Must new outfits be procured?  I’ve known people married or in long-term relationships, some for decades, who still stress over the details of it.  They can’t help it.  Every media source and shopping facility known to man (the ads do seem skewed to appeal to them most) is put on high-alert in the days preceding it and even the least romantic among you cannot ignore The Day.

 

For those who don’t have someone to call up and call their own, the Hallmark Holiday can be seven kinds of wrong: 1) Disappointing 2) Disheartening 3) Depressing 4) Delusional 5) Demeaning 6) Detrimental 7) Dumb -- Actually there are a whole lot more, but we’ll stick with the D’s for now.  Honestly, I rally for those who have taken to calling it Single Awareness/Appreciation Day or Anti-Valentine’s Day (though I’m not a fan of the more distasteful V.D) and those that throw antagonistic shindigs with signature cocktails (“Party of One” and “Future Ex” among them).  I truly < heart > these folks that are taking love’s lemons and making the proverbial lemonade (with our without vodka) and making the best of it.  Or fun of it, at any rate.

 

Heroes, heroes -- everywhere.

This summer I get to attend an event called Comic-Con.  It is a convention, hence the word “Con” -- tho’ the double meaning is not lost on me, seeing how it was my Viking Beau who has talked me into going.  “Comic” – well, that has nothing to do with that funny puppet guy in Vegas.  Comic-Con is all about comic books and the characters that star in them, more Vader than Fator, if you will.

Having never attended Comic-Con, I’ve tried to imagine what it will be like, roaming miles and miles inside the San Diego Convention Center surrounded by people in costume, pretending to be their favorite heroes.  I plan to wear very dark sunglasses, as I have no Poker Face, and do not wish to alarm the wandering princesses and warlords.  I’m a small woman, but I have big eyes (the better to observe you with, my dear) that are bound to expand in an expression that borders on shock and confused at the sight of a grown man dressed in tights and a cape or a little kid dressed as a Klingon (rocking the whole receding crazy-hairline and seriously furrowed brow).  Yeah.  I don’t want to subject the unsuspecting innocent to my scary visage.

Best. Words. Ever.

Not too long ago I came across a list of the 100 Best Words Ever.  Seems you CAN Google anything, because that is exactly what I typed into the search bar.  I happen to love words and wanted to know what others thought were the Best Words Ever.  For me, the list of Best Words Ever changes, based on whatever is going on in my life at the time.

Last year was…interesting, to say the least, what with all of the drama that people brought to my table (including, but not limited to: my ex and his band of merry inner demons; the re-finance people and their magnifying glass of seemingly never-ending monetary minutiae; my folks and their increasing medical dramas that unfortunately comes with aging; and one person who I believe has lost his rubber handled safety grip on reality).  With the rather large vat of lunacy I’d been served, I found I needed a better list of words to express the emotions that come with it.  So, on went the Google Goggles in search of the Best Words Ever, to describe what seems to have been one of the Worst Years Ever.  Here, are 22 of them: