My Two Cents

Candy Crush Saga disappeared late Friday night. Facebook is no longer supporting the game on its platform. They dropped Alpha Betty Saga a few months ago, and now Candy Crush. Seems I’ll have a lot more time for reading books now.

PokémonGo has been a bust since September — no interesting new pokémon and a change that, in order to perform some of the functions in the game, the user has to give permission to link to the contacts in our phone — which of course I declined.

There’s still Tik Tok but, with no games with which to waste hours and hours, more time is now freed up for reflection and reading.

On Friday, Trainer and I were discussing the Depp-Heard trial.

He, like most, thinks Amber is a wackadoodle and Johnny is going to win.

I haven’t been watching the trial on Court TV because I just knew it would trigger my own past trauma but, what with clips of the trial on Tik Tok, Twitter and in the news, it’s hard to ignore the proceedings completely. So I'm familiar with some of the details, and Trainer turned me onto a tidbit I’d not come across — having to do with a text, read at trial, that Johnny wrote in response to a text from Amber that ended with his saying, "I have other uses for your throat which does not include injury".

Well, that peaked my curiosity so I researched the statement on TikTok and found women volunteering — shouting for Johnny to "Pick Me! Pick Me!".

Can’t say I blame them. Johnny is ruggedly handsome, charming, described by one news pendant as an "Aging Icon Idol" and better-looking IMO than his pretty boy 21 Jump Street Days.

At any rate, it didn’t take long for the words of that text to explode into a cottage industry offering of tee shirts, sweat shirts, drinking glasses.

Not to mention a coffee mug I’m tempted to purchase.

Only thing stopping me from purchasing is my distrust of the site offering it.

Last time I ordered an item off that site from a vendor in Missouri, two $1500 unauthorized charges showed up on my card from some fictitious company in, guess where ..... Missouri. So, much as I want that coffee mug, I’ll wait until it’s offered elsewhere.

As expected, what little of the trial I’d previously heard, plus other things I’d had on my mind, did trigger me. I took a trip down the rabbit hole for a while there into a blue funk, but I’m back from that place — without letting on to you guys I’d even gone there.

So now that I’ve processed what I had to process, my two cents is — Johnny is a bad boy, no doubt about it. A ruggedly handsome sexy charming bad boy. I was and still am a fan.

As for my thoughts on his being an abuser, I won’t say other than to speak from experience as to how charming and believable I know an abuser can be.

They are all skilled actors, these men who get off on abusing. They are skilled at playing whichever role the occasion requires when out in public, and with friends, coworkers, family members.

It’s just so easy for them to charm people into not seeing beyond whichever role they're presenting, which mask they're wearing at any given time.

Just sayin.

And For My Next Mission Part 2

After yesterday’s workout, I had all kinds of out-of-the-area errands I needed to take care of. THEN, thanks to Debra at She Who Seeks’ post alerting me to it being Friday the 13th, I played it safe by switching those errands to today, stayed in my unit remainder of the day.

I only ventured out late afternoon, when I saw one of the upstairs residents of the building, mentioned in Part 1, out and about.

Asking if that downstairs unit was vacant, she replied "Oh no. That’s L’s unit".

"So she’s in there?" asked I.

"Oh yes, her family comes every day to take care of her".

"The reason I ask is because I saw the Marshalls searching that unit a little after 3:00 a.m. this morning, and it didn’t appear anyone was there".

"Maybe she’s in the hospital, but someone from her family is usually there. She has six sons. One was staying there taking care of her".

"Oooooh!", said I. "That may be who they were looking for, one of her sons".

"They don’t seem like that kind of people", said she.

"You can never tell anymore", said I.

After we parted, I saw her standing in front of the unit, peering in.

I’d already passed by there, saw that the patio shades were half open, and all one can see inside is dark.

So, anyway, that’s the scoop thus far, but I have a feeling the Marshalls will be back, because they left something behind — that thing they were looking at on the left side of the patio.

That's an unusual place for a lock. It's not serving a purpose being attached to the rails other than just a place to store it until they come back.

I just hope that, when they return, I’m deep in sleep because this waking up at 3:14 is for the birds.

While I was outside talking to this neighbor, my buddy Apache appeared. He’d been inside the unit of the nice old guy who lives next door to Karen, and was here to get a ride back to his place.

Apache said it was his birthday and, because it was Friday the 13th, everything had gone wrong.

His sister had taken him to the Casino to celebrate and, why they were inside, someone stole his sister’s truck.

Inside the truck were the keys to his apartment, his manager did not have a duplicate set and his social worker, who did have a duplicate set, was in Mexico.

I suggested a locksmith, but Apache said the nice old guy was going to drive him over to his apartment, and that he’d break in with a crowbar. He also said that, with the way his 13th Day was going, he’d probably get arrested for burglarizing his own apartment.

I wouldn't be at all surprised.

Also off my to-do list yesterday, besides completing that mission, was to Yelp review that dental office I left behind. I'd been holding off waiting for inspiration.

That duplicate bill that set off a rehashing of that experience, plus the rehashing causing me a sleepless night and a 3:14 a.m. wake up call was the inspiration I needed. This is what I wrote:

My first clue it was time to leave this dental office was when I could never get a straight answer as to why my regular long-time dentist was not available to treat me. My second clue was when the first dentist to examine me after a cleaning -- a dentist with which I had no prior history, without looking at the x-ray, came up with an area that looked like there'd been a filling, it had fallen out and needed a new filling. Thing is, there'd never been a filling in that area. Third clue was when, after a cleaning, I asked not to have that dentist again, asked for a different dentist and he too, having no prior history with me but at least did look at the x-ray, came up with thousands and thousands and thousands and thousands and thousands of dollars of work in a treatment plan using words to scare me like "decay". Inasmuch as I was experiencing no dental issues, had been cared for well by the former dentist for near 20 years -- who was considered one of the top three dentists in the Inland Empire Area, and he'd never come up with all these dental issues is when I should have awakened and got a second opinion but did not. I did, however, wake up after the first couple thousand dollars' worth of work, only to realize I probably had work done that did not need to be done, and consequently I am now left with a problem where there was none before -- painful to chew on that side. Not the same dental office it used to be. Don't believe what you're being told. Get a second opinion.

And For My Next Mission

In yesterday’s mail was a duplicate bill from the dentist I left in my rear view.

A mistake on their part as the check I’d promptly sent, along with that note to remove me from their patient list, had cleared.

Just in case it wasn’t a mistake, but a purposeful payback tactic, I printed out a copy of the cancelled check to drop off in today’s mail.

Over and done with so far as I’m concerned, except it brought to the forefront of my mind how dissatisfied I am with the work that dentist did.

Not only did he scam me into work that probably did not need to be done, he did a poor job. I’m now left with a problem where there was none before — painful to chew on that side.

I think he knew he’d done damage because, after completing the work, it was he who mentioned nerve damage and a possible root canal in future.

I’ll have to discuss it with the new dentist but, if it comes to nerve damage done by that guy, I won't be opting for a root canal. I'll live with the pain or have those teeth removed.

So, anyway, going to bed with all that on my mind did not make for a good night’s sleep. I awoke at precisely 3:14 a.m.

How do I know the precise time you ask.

When I sat up in bed I spied a man standing on the walkway at the entry way between where Nurse Ratched’s mother lives and a unit I’ve never seen anyone enter or exit in years.

In case I was looking at a crime, I grabbed my phone, looked at the time, then begin to record.

My phone does not take great night shots, but I could clearly see it wasn’t a criminal, but the popo. More specifically, a U.S. Marshall … and he wasn’t alone. Two other Marshalls, who appeared to have been trying to gain access to the unit through the patio window, came into view.

They seemed to be looking at something on the ground, left side of the patio railing, and then the three disappeared towards the door.

They somehow got into the unit because, not recorded, are flashes of flashlights inside the unit.

The lights inside never went on and, after about ten minutes of flashlights, the Marshalls left … empty handed. No one in custody.

So, now that Karen has calmed down, my next mission, should I accept it — and I do, is to find out WHO lives in that unit and what the guys were looking at on the left side of the patio.

Talk about being the right person, awake at the right time, with the right view.

Suspicious Smell

The week started off with a gas leak.

Well, actually, it didn’t just start this week. For over a month, I was smelling gas in the unit when I used the oven and handled it by opening up the patio window, so I’d not gas myself.

And yes, I know it was an issue that should have been immediately addressed so as not to blow up the building, but I had a lot going on during that period, what with all that dental bruhaha, plus other things on my mind, and just didn’t care about the ramifications of smelling gas.

Then, on Monday, while driving out of the complex, headed to the Pain Cave, I began thinking now was a good time for the guys to go in, so I parked out front by the office, went in and reported the leak to Assistant Manager — telling her I’d be back in 45 minutes, but the maintenance guys had permission to enter the unit during my absence.

She got on the walkie-talkie right away telling the guys to check it out.

It must have been an easy fix because, upon my return, I saw no evidence the guys had come in and moved anything, there was no maintenance receipt indicating work had been done, but there also is no longer the smell of gas when the oven is in use. So, I guess they fixed it.

As I was leaving the Assistant Manager’s office, she called after me and asked who in my building had children on the property over the weekend.

"Oh, that was _____ (Ms. Neighbor, downstairs, unit underneath Next-Door Neighbor) grandkids", said I. "Why do you ask?"

"There were complaints".

"You’re kidding. Who complained?"

"Many people".

"Why? They’re good kids. They were just riding their scooters on the walkway around the grassy areas".

"Scooters are not allowed on the property, and children cannot be outside on the property unless they’re accompanied by an adult".

I expressed how sad that was that instead of enjoying watching the kids having fun, as I did, others were disturbed enough to complain and asked that Assistant Manager make clear to Ms. Neighbor that it wasn’t any of us in this building doing the complaining.

If Ms. Neighbor can find something she can afford, I wouldn’t be surprised if this is the last straw and she moves.

First it was Illusive Unfriendly (downstairs, underneath my unit) complaining about Ms. Neighbor’s son.

The son had been a frequent visitor and would stand outside, foot of the stairs, talking on his phone long before Illusive Unfriendly moved in. But, when she saw him hanging around outside, she called the office and accused him of stalking her.

I haven’t seen him visit since, and now it’s the grandkids who can’t be outside.

Other than my ignoring a gas leak, neighbors complaining about kids playing, a neighbor’s imaginings of being stalked (this is the same neighbor that imagined I was continuously waking her up 3:30 a.m. bouncing a ball) and with our Karen character behaving herself, there’s not a lot going on around here last few days.

I Was Expecting More

Now that the Tyrant (No. 8 manager) is long gone, and there is no longer anyone in management to claim our old Resident's Activity Facebook site as their own (something else he tried to steal from us, claim as his and say Apache wasn't allowed to post to) and since we have a group of women (Red Light, the Talker, Jan, the Baker) trying to kickstart activities, taking a lot of photos, I allowed myself to be talked into restarting our old site.

Sorting through photos the women had taken at the last three bingo sessions took up most of yesterday, but I got 'er done.

One of the photos given me for posting was one taken at Friday's bingo, where I'd worn a favorite shirt of mine.

The lettering that indicates I've got "All original parts" isn't exactly true, as I don't still have my appendix, but the ladies loved the shirt, had fun with my being out and proud about my age, inasmuch as there are women here who would rather die than disclose their age.

They also made a point to bring attention to the fact that the way the letters "spread" made it easy to read, unlike some whose shirts just hang, causing the letters to fall together and be unreadable. LOL.

What with crafting, various social medias, working out, television and now the resident's photo page, I don't have a lot of time for reading.

When Walter Mosley has a new book out, I’ll make time but, ordinarily, the only time I have to read is during downtime — while waiting for the dentist, the dermatologist, the car to be serviced, etc. Thus, because I've not had all that much downtime, I’ve not made much progress on that hilarious read I began back in August of last year Everyone in this Room Will Someday be Dead.

Even though I’ve still around 30 pages to go in finishing that book, and no downtime in sight, when I saw Randy Rainbow had an autobiography out, I put in an order.

Received my copy on Friday.

Inasmuch as I’d paid extra for an autographed copy, I immediately opened to see what Randy had written.

I expected more.

Is that even Randy’s autograph or did some little assistant scribble it for him?

When Twin 2 attended a reading by Walter Mosley, mentioned it was me, her mom, who’d gotten her hooked on his books, Mosley signed a copy of the book he was promoting — a book she’d purchased for me.

Not my favorite Mosley book, but the autograph mentioning me by name makes it a treasured keepsake.

Also a treasure, as mentioned in a previous post, is the book autographed by the Official Witch of Los Angeles when I caught up with her back in 1969 on a book tour.

I haven’t a clue what the symbols mean, would like to know but whatever the symbols are saying has brought me good luck because the book is now considered rare and worth a nice chunk of change ... used. I imagine a used copy, with the author's signature, would bring in an even nicer chunk of change, though I've no plans to ever sell.

I guess the trick in getting more than a perfunctory autograph is to have the book signed in person. So, I’ll have to hope for a Randy Rainbow book tour close enough for me to get to, so I can get a proper autograph.

For those of you who may not have heard of Randy Rainbow (which I’ll find hard to believe), he’s an entertainer popular for his humorous parodies of No. 45 and other GQP politicians.

Another One Bites the Dust

Red Light called yesterday to remind me bingo has been moved to 11:00 today, Friday.

Lucky for me, thought I, because my Friday workout is at 11:00. Except, Trainer is pallbearer at a funeral this afternoon, moved my session up to 9:30 — but I wasn’t about to tell that to Red Light.

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her I couldn’t make it because it’s a workout day, but she said something that made me change my mind and decide I’d bite the bullet and go to the hours and hours and hours long bingo.

I did offer to skip today’s workout, give trainer the day off, so he could do what he had to do as the funeral is for a close friend and client who died as a result of a motorcycle accident. However, trainer said he had to be in the studio this morning for other reasons, so my coming in early is what he needed from me.

So anyway, what Red Light said to change my mind about telling her I couldn’t attend because it’s a workout day was, "Did you hear the new Community Manager is gone?"

She’s talking about No. 9, hired into the position February 14, whom I’ve never seen nor met, but heard was all high heels and tight pants.

"What do you mean gone!?" asked I.

"We don’t know if she quit or was fired, but someone from Corporate is covering her desk".

After getting off the phone with Red Light, I checked Corporate’s website to verify the information and, sure enough, the job opening is once again posted.

That’s around 7 weeks she lasted.

Believe it or not, we had one who quit after a week and won who quit while still in training at Corporate — never set foot on the property.

So, after this morning’s early workout it was off to the Community Room to glean some good gossip. OOPS, I mean to play bingo.

The prize table was full of stuff to choose from.

I had a feeling I was going to be a winner, so I pre-decided on those tie-dye spatulas.

To up my chances, I sat at the table with a woman I'll call Lucky Lady because, no matter what the event, no matter what prize is up for the taking, she wins and, wouldn’t you know, seating worked. I was the first to call bingo, so I got those spatulas. THEN, I was the third to call bingo, went back and selected the one to the left of the tie-dye ones.

I think I stole her luck because she wasn't winning.

Had there not been a rule that you can only win twice, I'd have stayed to win that polka dot spatula as well but, seeing no need to sit through ten games, when I'd already reached two wins, I left with my loot during the break after Game 5.

I was the only one out of 12 in attendance wearing a mask

I gave the luck back to Lucky Lady by giving her my cards to play for the remaining games.

And, btw, the rule that you can only win twice came about as a result of Lucky Lady being so lucky.

When No. 8 was manager, Big Friendly Guy got upset about a winning streak Lucky Lady was on, got all in her face screaming, shouting, so loud that No. 8 and the two maintenance guys came running in to break up whatever was going on.

Lucky Lady is in a wheel chair, so Big Friendly guy is no longer allowed in the Community Room and bingo players are now only allowed to win twice.

I had an opportunity to chat with the Talker, ask her about the day I saw her having that long conversation with Karen.

"Was she complaining?" asked I.

"No, she’s been nice since the manager told her she’d have to leave if there were any more problems".

I wonder if Karen will drop the nice act once she finds out the Community Manager is no longer here.

As for why No. 9 left so soon, or was fired, one person in bingo told me the rumor is it has something to do with one of our maintenance guys — the younger one. That "He couldn’t get any work done for following her around".

"He’s married", said I. "He lives here with his wife and three kids. Chasing after her would just be greedy. He has more than he can handle as it is".

"Yeah, but his wife isn’t here during the day. She works", said the spinner of this tale.

Another person at bingo said, "The rumor is, SHE (No. 9) was interested in him".

Neither makes sense to me, so I’ll just have to accept not knowing why she’s gone and whether she quit or was fired.

Maintenance Guy might be sad to see that bit of eye candy gone, but Activity Director isn't going to miss her because of the fiasco in getting the Activity Calendar out in a timely manner. Hopefully, No. 10 will do better in that regard. And maybe No. 10 will set up a meet and greet so we can at least see whose gonna be gone next before they're gone.

Also hopefully, No. 9 didn’t steal anything like the Tyrant (No. 8) did. He absconded with all the bingo equipment us seniors had amassed over the years.

The equipment was purchased with monies us seniors had collected through Bake Sales and Raffles and other money making activities back when we had a Residents’ Activity Committee.

What the hosts are working with now is almost like a little toy set, acquired through donated money. All the prizes were purchased with money donated as well. Red Light, the Baker, the Talker and Jan, our painted rock lady, asked members of their families for donations to get bingo up and running again.

Twin 1 tells me she just did an event with the Lauder company, as in Estée Lauder. That she mentioned to them she was familiar with their brand because one of her fondest memories was waking up to the smell of my scent — Cinnabar perfume. When she left the event, they gave her a box of Cinnabar to give to her mom …. ME … an entire box!

Cinnabar is still my signature scent.

When Twin 2 and I had separate rooms in separate sections of a hotel in downtown Los Angeles — there to participate in the Bat Man 5K, she got on an elevator, smelled my scent, called and asked if I’d just gone down the elevator.

I had, LOL.

So anyway, I recently spent $60 for a 1.7 oz bottle of Cinnabar, as I was getting low, but sounds like I’ll never have to buy another bottle as a box of bottles is headed my way.

Some of those bottles will make a nice donation to the bingo prize table.

Today was Birthday Bingo. Evidently, it’s Birthday Month as I heard the Baker say her birthday is coming up, Red Light’s is coming up. I ran into my buddy Apache as I was getting out of the car arriving at the Pain Cave. He says his birthday is coming up; and today was the birthday of a resident whose always been one of my favorites. Let’s call her Genie — just because.

At any rate, the Baker made cupcakes, served at the 5-game break, for Genie’s birthday and Mother’s Day.

Lucky Lady has a nice singing voice, and before I opted out of bingo and headed back to my unit, I was lucky enough to capture her serenading Genie with the song she sings in Spanish for birthdays.

Cinco de Mayo

Can’t have Cinco de Mayo without tamales so, just before I left the unit for the Pain Cave yesterday, I set corn husks in the sink with hot water to soften.

Returning 45 minute later, I cleaned the husks, let them dry out a bit while I mixed the masa and inasmuch as tamales can be filled with just about anything (I once filled with black eyed peas) and they come out great, I filled these with refrigerator leftovers — turkey chili, jasmine rice, salsa.

I used to have a tamale pot, two pots to be exact — one large, one medium. However, inasmuch as I only make a handful of tamales at a time, the pots were overkill, not to mention I didn’t have space for them in my little unit. So, instant pot steaming it was.

Tamales are to be steamed upright but, once I add the steamer basket to the instant pot, there’s not room for upright. Slanted works just as well.

Thirty-five minutes later, I ended up with 14 tamales, at least seven meals out of refrigerator leftovers.

I ate two for dinner last night.

They were yummy.

I’ll probably eat two this morning for breakfast, with an egg AND, if I can control myself, I’ll freeze the remainder for my road trip on the 20th — the meditation retreat.

The hotel has a refrigerator and microwave — unusual for a 5-Star hotel, usually only found in residence inns but, inasmuch as I can’t take advantage of eateries in or around the hotel, these appliances will make life much easier for me. Pack a couple boiled eggs, tamales, I’ll be good to go.

If I can't control myself, I'll just have to make more for the trip — probably chicken filled.

One of these days I’m going to give a try at sweet tamales — pineapple maybe.

Looking at the news, I guess we have Will Smith to thank for the scary thing that happened to Dave Chappelle. Comedians will now have to be on guard for crazies storming the stage to do them harm.

In other news, it strikes me strange that the Supreme Court Justices are more concerned in discovering WHO  leaked that draft document than the fact THEY tried to slip the reversal through without our knowledge.

What else are they going to run through behind our backs — a reversal on gay marriages?

I was locked out of Instagram, considered age 13 until 7:00 last night when I received a message "It appears your account was suspended in error".

Ya think?

So, to answer your question Mitchell ... "How long do you have to wait to be over 13?", the answer is about 48 hours :-)