BFF - this ain't no beauty pageant

It's been a tough week. Not a tough week in that I had to work 80 hours or someone died or even got sick. I've just been blue. Post tax season depression, maybe. Maybe it's because I wasn't able to save any money during tax season because we had to get a new stove, have serious plumbing done, help out the kids who aren't kids, fix my tires & transmission. And there was the Blackberry...

I think I've been doing a lot of stewing about what I want to be when I grow up right now. I say stewing, even though I originally thought "reflecting." I have not been reflecting. I think that's what I need to do.

But I'll do it on my own time. Right now, on to the Blog Farts. Bring on the Pepto Bismal.

I've been thinking about the Miss USA pageant. Really. When we were little and there were only three & a half television stations, we used to watch the Miss USA pageant. My Mom, who was chair of the committee to get the ERA passed, would pass out paper & we'd grade the contestants on beauty, poise, and stupid answers. Mom said it was a damn beauty pageant and the best looking one should win. (For most things in life she'd say, "This isn't a damn beauty pageant." She, unlike Donald Trump, knew the difference between a beauty pageant and real life.) Which brings us to the Miss USA pageant. Someone needs to tell Miss California we don't give a rat's a$$ what she thinks of gay marriage. It's only since we've had 500 24-hour news stations that we even know what the contestants say about the stupid questions other than "world peace." No, Miss California, you did not lose because you took a "politically incorrect" stance. You did not lose because you have a revolving account at "Boobs R Us." You lost because Miss North Carolina was prettier. Tough titties, as my mom would say.

I'm sure there are other things going on in the world, but the 500 news channels I watch haven't mentioned them.

Oh, wait, speaking of beauty pageants, what's with the media coverage of Michelle Obama? I know I'm late on this (as with everything) but why are we talking about her as if she were in a Miss USA pageant? It's either the absurd adulation for a HOT first lady from MSNBC or the even more bizarre attacks from FOX news that some how imply that it is wrong to have a young, attractive, and stylish first lady. Like she's doing something wrong. My god people, she's a brilliant lawyer, a great mother, and a physically fit woman. Yeah, I hate her too. No, just kidding. I love her. But why are we talking about her looks?

And note to FOX news: are you saying your sweetheart Laura Bush is a dog? Because she really isn't. She's no Miss California, but this ain't a beauty pageant...

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My brilliant son Mark has been taking standardized tests this week. Last year, it was the PACT test, a SC test that is used to skewer schools but has no recognizable value as a monitor of actual student achievement. So the legislature got rid of PACT and put in PASS, which is supposed to do a better job than PACT at whatever the PACT was supposed to do.

So I said to Mark, "How is PASS different from PACT?"

He said, "The name is different."

He tried to remember what the "SS" and the "CT" stood for, but he forgot. I hope that wasn't on the test.

I said, "It's supposed to be a better test."

He thought about it and said, "we did have writing in March."

Oh well. That's good... I guess. It's not pretty, but then, this ain't no beauty pageant.

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It's Friday, which is my day off, meaning "the day I do everything I was supposed to do before but didn't feel like doing at 5:00 pm." I haven't figured out what I need to do today, but I think it will start with "take Alka Seltzer." I'm addicted and take it all the time, even if it's not a hang-over. It's probably not good for me. I probably have bounce-back headaches and heartburn, but I'm not up for doing anything about it right now.

Friday is also "yard day" in the neighborhood. The lady across the street, a teacher who must be independently wealthy, hires a team of men to do her lawn every week. The carbon foot print must be as big as a brontosaurus. This fella is riding around on her apron of a front yard on a lawn tractor almost as big as my car. Talk about tight turns.

Oh yeah, Friday may be the day I fight with Miss Clairol. Two clients have commented on my gray hairs. One said he didn't want to give me any more than he'd given me. I told him those weren't his doing. The problem is that I'm in between, with about two inches of gray and the rest mostly black. I ought to color more often, if I'm going to do it, but I'm lazy and cheap. And I'm not quite ready to go gray, partly because it's not pretty gray hair, it's a sad urine colored gray hair. Maybe I should go blue...

Speaking of blue... my bags under my eyes match my eyes. Where is my Mary Kay?

Anyway, I'll dye my hair & it will be REALLY black. I'll look like Elvira (is that her name?) for a couple of days before it tones down. I know, a real hairdresser could do wonders, but see above **lazy & cheap**. I'll think about some after pictures.

But anyway, this ain't no beauty pageant.