Valentine's Day

Love is once again in the air.

Thank the Lord, I've been vaxxed and boosted.

A Handful of Sugar

Walking out the door yesterday, heading for the morning’s workout, what did I see but management’s latest posting attached to the door.

Not a notice this time. Instead, it was a cute little candy filled Valentine’s Day card.

"Never look a gift horse in the mouth" it is said, but my first thought was this has something to do with that $500 rent increase that has so many moving out.

Every single day I’m seeing folks moving out in other quads — thus far, it’s been no one I know personally; but I can’t say for sure because, with no contact with others via bingo and no access to the view of the courtyard area, due to that window being covered with bubble wrap, I’m out of the loop.

However, in my comings and goings, I’ve observed that just as quickly as someone moves out, just as quickly new people move in.

It’s becoming like a residential inn around here. We no longer know who our neighbor are.

So anyway, to some degree, residents probably appreciate this gesture from management. However, inasmuchas the rent increase is essentially funding it — giving Corporate extra money to spend, I'm sure residents would have rather no increase in rent instead.

After that morning’s workout, I dutifully checked the ingredients in the packet of sugary candies and found, sure enough, not edible as they contained three of the many ingredients my sensitive gut cannot handle — corn syrup, modified food starch, cornstarch.

Waste not Want not, so rationalizing it was just a handful, I took a chance and turned the handful into lunch with a cup of coffee.

No problems after, so it’s good to know the rare sugary cheat won’t hurt me, but I’d never buy jelly beans or gummies for anything other than gingerbread house decorations anyway, because I prefer chocolates.

I hope this sugary treat isn’t management setting us up for something else coming — leading us lambs to the slaughter so to speak.

Time will tell. It always does.

Shame about what happened in Kansas City Chiefs' parade.

Guess no place is safe — even with snipers on the roof and a kazillion cops on the ground; and to think, we'd just had that conversation about people carrying, unbeknownst to those around them.

Valentine’s Day

It’s that time again … the day I dredge up the gif which expresses how I feel about today's hoopla.

Not only is Miley Cyrus still singing my anthem — Flowers, she’s singing it with a Grammy for Record of the Year.

Recap

Someone on the complex really loves Valentine’s Day.

The skepticism I displayed in a prior post that Activity Director’s Valentine Party would actually be a party was valid, as the party turned out to be a class on how to control your blood pressure …… take your medication faithfully, engage your health care team, monitor regularly at home, yada yada yada.

During the class, I made eye contact with Dream Lover’s ex-girlfriend. She rolled her eyes to show me how bored she was.

Red Light looked like she was in pain.

Two others rested their chin in their hands and looked like their minds were a million miles away.

AD did hand out little gift bags to those in attendance, so I guess it was worth sitting through not a party.

apple sauce, chocolate chip cookies,
candy bar, green tea

Nice haul. She finally came up with something the seniors can appreciate, but a class on managing blood pressure is a long way from a "party", and dare I say a blatant lie to trick residents into attending.

I had a thought last week, while watching the Drag Race episode that featured a group called The Old Gays, who’ve I’ve been following on TikTok ever since they did a parody of the Wednesday Addams Dance.

I don’t know where the Old Gays are based, but it looks to be senior housing with a fun staff, which made me think ……… That’s the kind of Activity Director we need here.

So, anyway, once back in my unit, I began fast forwarding through Sunday’s Super Bowl to see the commercials and get to Rihanna’s halftime performance.

Except for Ben Affleck’s Dunkin Donut and one or two others, the commercials were a disappointment.

I’m a fan of Rihanna’s, was so looking forward to her halftime show, had been hearing good things about it, so what a surprise when I found it even more boring than AD’s party class.

Has the world gone mad with all this talk about how great and exhilarating Rihanna’s performance was?

It put me to sleep. Seriously. I kept nodding off.

Like I said, I’m a fan, but that was the worst most boringest half time performance I’ve ever seen.

Love is Once Again in the Air

Thankfully, I’m vaxxed and boosted — safe from cupid’s arrows.

Miley Cyrus, formerly Hannah Montana, is singing my anthem.

Nah, No Way

Have you seen those warnings to "If you find a napkin in your car door handle, it is best to be safe and just call the authorities to check it out"?

What that warning is about might mean you are the target of a nefarious plan, that crooks are putting chemicals on tissues, napkins, paper towels, affixing to car door handles to get victims sick, when touched to remove, so they can incapacitate and rob them.

Clever little bastards are coming up with more and more ways to victimize others.

So this is what I saw when, after leaving the Pain Cave on Friday, I stuck out my hand to open the passenger side door to drop in the water bottle and gym bag.

Nah, no way was my initial thought, but I didn’t touch it. I just took a photo, then went to the driver side door instead.

And no ... I didn’t even consider calling the cops. For one, if I didn’t call the cops about a guy walking down the street with a machete, I wasn’t going to call ‘em about a possible chemical laced paper towel, especially when it might have been a situation of the high wind blowing a harmless paper towel there.

Besides, I was in a hurry to get back to the complex, claim my seat at bingo before the room got too crowded.

Later that day, I went down to the car with my grabber tool, removed the tissue and tossed it in the trash.

The tissue was pretty well jammed into the handle, took some effort with the grabber to pull it lose.

So, no way was it placed there by the wind.

At any rate, if this happens again, I’ll know something nefarious is definitely up.

In other news, around 5:30 yesterday evening, hearing my name being called, I peered out the patio window and saw Red Light. She yelled up that she wanted me to meet her at the bottom of the stairs, that she had something for me.

She can’t climb stairs, so I trot down to see what’s up.

"Happy early Valentine’s Day!" says she and hands me a container.

In the container are seven very large strawberries, hand dipped in Ghirardelli chocolate by herself.

Oooooh goodie, thought I sarcastically as I plastered a fake joyous look on my face and thanked her profusely.

I am not a good liar and I absolutely hate having to fake emotions in order to not hurt someone’s feelings, but she seemed so proud and so happy to be able to do this for me.

Bless her heart, she actually said, "I finally found something I can make for you that you can eat".

This because she and Baker are aways asking what they can make special for me to eat snack time at bingo, and I always have said not to worry about me, I’ll bring my own snack.

So, when Red Light saw me eat that chocolate dipped strawberry at bingo she thought ... finally something she could make special for me.

I’m in for it now.

She’ll probably be bringing special strawberries for me all the time now, which I’ll have to put on a fake smile, lie my appreciation and pretend to have eaten.

Just thinking about it is giving me a headache, but maybe this will be a one-time Valentine Day thing.

I’ll find out on Friday the 24th, as that’s the date of our next bingo game.

Love Is In The Air

Yep, it's Monday again, with the double whammy of also being Valentine's Day.

Love IS in the air but, fortunately, I've been vaccinated.

She Who Hesitates

The landscapers are here today.

It's a good thing they were not here yesterday or they, along with anyone walking down the walkway and any of the neighbors across the way, who happened to be looking out their windows around 11:30, would have caught me nearly naked on the front porch.

I’d slept in late that morning and, after breakfast, a bubble bath and painting my face, thought I’d heard someone calling my name.

I’d assumed it was Apache and not being fully clothed, I hid my body behind the door as I opened it and stuck my head out.

It was Red Light District (RLD) — across the quad downstairs, corner unit neighbor.

She appeared to be in difficulty.

Evidently, she had tried to make it up the stairs to attach something to my door, couldn’t quite make it past the third step, was knees down on the step, holding onto the rail.

As I was not yet fully dressed, I say, "Wait a sec" and quick looked around for something to throw on so I could step outside help her up and back down.

Seeing a swatch of torn fabric on the couch, that I’d used as a laptop cushion, I grabbed it to cover my front and, using one hand to hold fabric as front cover, not worrying about side and rear coverage, used the other hand to help her back down the stairs, take what she had for me out of her hands.

Once back down on solid ground, seeing me in bra and panties, trying to cover myself with a swatch of fabric, she began giggling like crazy at my outfit. "I’m giving our neighbors a show today", said I.

Between giggles, she indicated one of what she’d given me was for Next Door Neighbor (NDN), asked that I attach to her door.

I needed both hands to do the attaching but, since one hand was holding onto that swatch of fabric, I used the other hand to knock on NDN’s door.

It took a bit of time for NDN to respond to my knocking, whereupon I tell RLD, "She’s probably naked too", which sent RLD into another spurt of giggles.

When NDN finally opened the door, she was fully dressed but didn’t have her teeth in.

So that was what yesterday looked like — me half naked on the front porch, NDN with no teeth, and RLD cracking up at the sight.

This is what RLD had for the two of us.

Greeting Card and Candy Bar

I have such nice neighbors in my quad, that is except for the crazy unfriendly girl who lives beneath my unit but, insofar as I know, she's no longer a problem. She keeps to herself, and we all let her. 

RLD appears to be deteriorating rapidly. She was able to make it up the stairs to surprise NDN and I with Christmas Cards and Candy attached to our doors, but two months later can no longer do stairs.

Big Friendly Guy is on a walker now and even NDN said that she feels as though she’s deteriorated since moving here — "gone down" is how she describes it.

I haven't seen the resident living downstairs across the quad, next door to RLD since February of 2020 — the resident who was first hit by a car requiring hip surgery, recovering, then breaking an arm due to a fall in her unit.

She gets her groceries delivered now and, sofar as I've been told, is doing okay with just her and a cat, but I'm not so sure as I keep thinking about her. Ordinarly, thinking about someone is a good sign, but my constant thinking about a particular individual tends to be a harbinger of doom — they are soon to pass or I learn they just did, so ......

At any rate, yesterday's fiasco reminded me of a situation when I was nearly nude on a public street.

After divorcing my ex, my babies and I were living in an apartment along side a busy highway.

Late one night I heard a loud commotion and someone yelling "FIRE!"

Turned out a neighbor had a dispute with someone who’d revenged themselves by setting fire to that neighbor’s car in the wooden carport.

The fire was spreading, placing all our cars in danger.

Bedtime. I was nude, but no time to waste.

I grabbed a sheet from the bed, wrapped it around my body like a toga and out I went. Jumped in the car, drove it away from the carport, parked it across the street, and crossed a busy Artesia Blvd to get back, barefoot, wrapped in a sheet.

By the time the fire department arrived, the carport was ablaze, as were other cars parked nearby.

She who hesitates is lost.

My car was unscathed.

I guess others took the time to make themselves presentable — throw on clothes/shoes.

Valentine State of Mind

Not me … NEVER me, but the painted rock lady Jan, as I spotted new rocks on Monday.

The rocks reminded me it’s time to switch to the V-Day coffee cup.

Running into Jan yesterday, I thanked her for planting new rocks whereupon she said she had already begun on rocks for Easter.

"What about St. Patrick’s Day?", asked I. "Doesn’t that come before Easter?"

"Oh, that’s right. Guess I’d better get busy", she replied.

Can’t wait to see what she comes up with.

Even though I no longer do anything or go anywhere to recognize St. Patrick’s Day, I do wear my four-leaf clover top.

When I was working, I’d pick up green bagels to treat the office to celebrate and, one year, I recall the Arab Attorney (the guy I’d blogged about still being bitter all these many years later), took me to a bar called Casey’s for green beer.

I don’t recall enjoying the taste, but not because it was green, but because it was beer.

In junior high school, I was the nerd that joined the Folk Dancing Group.

Our final exam was, one-by-one to perform in front of the group an Irish Jig, in the choreographic sequences designed by the teacher AND at the end of the dance we were to add a step we ourselves had designed.

I got an A in the class and though I do not recall any of the steps given by the instructor, to this day I recall my step and sometimes find myself jigging it around the unit.

Of course, I can no longer get both feet off the ground simultaneously to do it properly, but I manage a fair enough facsimile.

Funny what sticks in your mind.

Valentine's Day

That is all.

Friday the 14th Part 2

You could have knocked me over with a feather when I opened the door yesterday and found a Valentine Card.

I stand by previous comments about not being into sending cards and not caring about receiving any, but I’ll take this one because it’s from my buddy Apache, and was filled with cute Star Wars themed notes (he knows I’m a fan).

The handwriting looks like that of a child (or doctor), but the scribbles ─ for those of you who’ve not come across Apache’s history ─ lightly touched upon in earlier posts, is the result of a suicide attempt over a failed relationship, some years ago, that left him with dexterity issues in his arms/hands.

He can manage to clutch a pen, not between his fingers but with his whole hand fisted up, and etched out “Thank you for being a great person. Happy Valentine’s Day. Off to torture the Manager”.

Nice. That is except for the part about torturing the Community Manager.

So V-Day is out of the way and, ordinarily I'd be looking forward to Easter Egg Coloring. However, with the Baker and her great granddaughter bowing out over the hurt caused great granddaughter  (it was their inspired and hosted event), I can't imagine anyone else picking up the slack ... certainly not this girl.

During the week, I’d also learned the seniors had a special movie night. Screened was the Oscar winning "Once Upon a Time in Hollywood".

That movie is on my watch list, so I might have gone ─ not sure because it bugs me residents are having conversations about their dogs, etc., while I’m trying to listen to the movie. But, having been out of the loop for so long, I didn’t hear about the screening.

At any rate, the seniors didn’t like the movie. Said they didn’t understand it … it moved around too much … didn't make sense.

I’m still planning to eventually get around to viewing the movie and will let them know if I like it.

Next on the movie screening list is Joker, also on my watch list.

I’ll take a chance on not being annoyed by talking and go down to the Community Room for that.

I have a sense though that if the seniors didn’t understand Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, that Joker will be way too deep for them. Maybe not talk, but fall asleep during the viewing. LOL.

Friday the 14th

Also known as Valentine’s Day.

Been there, done that, learned my lesson(s), won't do it again.

Valentine Bingo, in the Community Room, was nothing more than regular bingo, but with the prizes all hearts and flowers themed.

Unlike the last time I entered the room, the vibe in the room was cheerful and everyone greeted me before I could greet them.

The Seer and Shadow were not present, so I think it’s safe to say it absolutely was the Seer’s dark energy that brought the room down that time.

I didn’t stay, didn’t take photos, just dropped off the ice cream Apache had stopped by my unit early that morning asking, as a favor to him,  if I’d pick up for the seniors, then headed upstairs to rest my poor tired body from what felt like a grueling workout.

If Valentine’s Day is your thing, have a happy one.

Seniors Behaving Badly

The seniors had a Valentine’s Potluck on Tuesday, hosted by Activity Director.

After yesterday’s workout, I popped in.

Walking through the Community Room door, greeting the room with a hearty “Good morning folks”, I was greeted in return with dead silence.

Brrrrrrr.

Making my way around, snapping photos, I greeted folks at individual tables.

Still nothing, lol.

I don’t think it was personal, had anything to do with me. Folks were either deep in conversation, deep in stuffing food into their faces or the vibe in the room was down because The Seer was present and sending out bad energy.

The Seer can bring a room down with her always looking angry, since hooking up with Shadow, and her thinking and sometimes saying out loud that she hates everyone in the complex.

She may be particularly aggrieved at the residents because one of them was rude to my little 12 year old friend ─ The Baker’s granddaughter, at last week’s bingo.

The Baker tells me someone in the room yelled at my little friend saying, “Why are you here? You don’t belong” and that my little friend was so hurt that she won’t be coming back and Baker is so hurt that Thursday’s Valentine Bingo will be her last involvement in helping the Residents Volunteer Activity Committee host events. Which probably means ─ no egg coloring, no community breakfast, no cupcake or cookie decorating events in future.

The Baker said she doesn’t know who in the room said it, but I can’t believe no one stood up and called the speaker out. Baker herself should have read the room, saying “I don’t know who said that but BLA BLA BLA BLA!” given them the riot act but said she didn’t because she was afraid of what she’d say.

That’s bull. Instead, she’s walking around upset with plans to do one more bingo ─ because she’d already purchased party supplies, then she’s out. 

I’d be petty about it ─ bow out of bingo immediately, leave the seniors high and dry, toss the party supplies in the trash because you don’t reward bad behavior, and the entire room behaved badly by not challenging someone being rude to a child ─ especially a helpful child who, along with her GG, have done so much for the residents here.

I can see how knowing this would further alienate The Seer.

Back in the days when The Seer was nice/interesting/fun ─ before she hooked up with Shadow, we’d talk and she told me of how lonely she was when she first moved in ─ had no friends, no one talked to her. She said the Baker was the only person to reach out and befriend her, so the Seer is grateful and protective of the Baker.

The way I see it now, things have regressed to The Baker once again being the Seer’s only friend, other than Shadow who’s brought the Seer down, chased everyone away.

At any rate, for whatever reason, the vibe in the room was brrrrrr.

I stayed just long enough to take photos and get caught up a little, but forgot to ask Apache, who was present, why so much moving out/in activity because the Baker blew me away by not only telling me what was done to hurt my little friend at last week's bingo, but also saying Apache got a lap dance at the bingo before last.

That’s right. You read correctly. He got an unsolicited lap dance.

That new resident I’d blogged about making, at the decorating party, what I was sure was meant to be an X-rated cupcake, got up from bingo and danced in front of and on Apache’s lap.  

So obviously I read her correctly at that time.

I didn’t learn what, if anything, was said by others in the room watching the spectacle, but Baker said, “If you don’t think THAT got reported to the office” and left it at that.

Before I exited the room I teased Apache with, “So, I hear you got a lap dance”.

He giggled.

“Did you have to pay for it?”, I further teased.

“No ...... she paid me”, said he.

ROFLMAO!

That resident, a married woman I might add, is making quite a name for herself as the rumor is she’s coming on to all the guys.

She’s not old and she’s not ugly so who knows. Just saying.

I’m off the laptop and outa here in a few minutes because the doctor has ordered a non-fasting blood test.

The wind is down today, and there’s no word of an outbreak of the Coronavirus in the area, so I’d better get going, get it done, while the getting’s good.

I Got Nothing

If anyone has been wondering why so little blog updates from me lately, it’s because I’ve got nothing. With no fun 5Ks on the horizon, and not much going on around here at the complex, this dry spell is looking to turn into a dirt road in the desert.

This month’s activity calendar does indicate a Valentine’s Potluck on the 11th (“12 noon – 2:00 p.m., sandwiches, chips, drinks provided: bring your favorite dish or dessert”).

Never having been lucky in love, Valentine’s Day is not a favorite of mine, and these potlucks the seniors are so fun of are not my thing but, with nothing else on the horizon, I’ll pop in after that days’ pain cave workout — putting me there around 12:20 to see what if anything is going on.

Other than that, my life has been the pain cave, grocery shopping, cooking, needlepoint and Court TV — watching the Harvey Weinstein trial — or at least as much of it as I can handle before the prosecution witness testimonies gets so disturbing that I have to switch the channel to something else.

What was allegedly done to some of these girls against their will, and what other girls allegedly allowed to be done in furtherance of their careers is beyond gross.

Takes me back to a time when my career was thus impacted, and I wasn’t an actress, just a secretary.

I was singled out for promotion from secretary to legal secretary, with a huge bump in salary, contingent upon my accepting a transfer to a newly formed legal department, working for an attorney and a deputy attorney, learning on the job while taking certain classes.

With two kids to raise, I saw it as a great opportunity — accepted the transfer, took the classes.

Everything worked out and when time came that my attorney submitted a change in my title and salary to the council, the Director of Personnel (DOP) — who’d always tried to date me and whom I’d refused because he was ugly and disgusting, approached me and indicated he now had leverage. If I didn’t give him what he wanted, he’d make sure I didn’t get the title or salary.

When I reported him, told my attorneys and a member of the council I was close to what DOP had said to me, my attorneys said DOP didn’t have that kind of power. The council member as much as called me a liar with “There’s no way a professional man like him would say something like that”.

While the approval process was going on, DOP would do things like stop in the door to my office, swivel his hips suggestively or roll his tongue around his lips at me. One time he didn’t realize the law clerk was standing on the other side of the file cabinet when he did something disgusting.

“Did you see that?”, I asked her after he’d walked away.

She had a stunned look on her face and replied, “Yes. But if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I’d have never believed it”.

Still nothing was done about him, as the request for change in title and salary wormed it’s way through the council. The end result being I was granted the title, but not the bump in salary because, as the council member who I looked upon as a friend told me, the decision was made because he, and others on the council, “owed DOP”. He’d done favors for them — hired family members and friends, and he'd asked my title and salary not go through in return. Because the council wanted to please both my boss, who’d submitted the request, and DOP, who'd asked it be denied, is why I was granted the title but not the salary.

I told my boss, who was apologetic because he didn’t believe DOP could or would do it for the reasons I’d stated, that I was disappointed in everyone and, though it might take me months, I’d be seeking employment elsewhere.

I submitted my resume elsewhere, and was hired as a Legal Secretary with a nice bump in salary, in less than two weeks.

Some of the Weinstein accusers walked away from Hollywood, but some allegedly swallowed what happened to them and soldiered on for sake of their careers, while still others allegedly allowed themselves to be humiliated on a continuing basis for jobs in the industry.

I have a hard time with those allegedly allowing and figure the jury will also.

Believe it or not, the end of DOP came about as a result of my leaving.

My attorney was so angry at losing me that he, in what can only be described as locking the barn door after the horse was stolen, hired a private detective to look into my allegations.

The detective tracked me down in at my new job, said it was uncovered that DOP had a pattern of giving jobs to and withholding jobs from other women, contingent upon giving into his demands, and requested a statement from me to bolster the case building against DOP. I’d moved on, was happy with my new job, had put the whole thing behind me, had no interest in what if anything happened to DOP, so politely replied, “They didn’t help me when I needed them, so I’m not helping them”.

I later heard DOP was fired.

Sweetheart Potluck

Though Activity Director’s late nod to Valentine’s Day ─ yesterday’s Sweetheart Potluck, was well-attended, the event had nothing to do with Valentines or Sweethearts.

It was too late. The seniors were over hearts, flowers and sweets.

The Community Room decorations had already been switched out for the next thing.

And instead of the plethora of desserts one would expect for a Valentine’s Day event, the menu was savory not sweet ─ Sandwiches, Chips, Macaroni Salad, Potato Salad, Lettuce Soup.

Lettuce soup was new to me. It looked delicious and everyone said it tasted so.

I couldn’t risk the soup containing ingredients I can no longer have, so I passed on it ─ and everything else. I did however later do research and located several recipes online, finally finding a recipe I can incorporate into my meal plan.

Greedy Grabby not only contributed to the potluck, but went all out with a platter of Grape Leaves, Rice with Chicken. (Trying to make amends perhaps).

One dessert did end up on the counter ─ Two containers of store-bought cupcakes.

Monthly birthday celebrations are a thing of the past. Another resident, wanting everyone to know the day was her birthday and wanting a celebration, brought her own cake.

I can’t decide if that was being desperate for attention or to be applauded as a ballsy move.

Apache, waning for attention, stood up and announced he was wearing his Success by Trump Cologne and asked how it smelled.

No one took the bait but me.

“Smells like skunk”, said I.

He laughed. He likes me like a sister, so I can get away with denigrating his hero, whereas he ends up in an argument when others do so.

Later, I was more truthful and said I couldn’t smell anything.

Apache offered his wrist for me to sniff. “Oh, I smell it now. But it smells weak, like the traitor”.

That was the truth. The cologne isn’t very strong. You have to focus to catch the aroma. It’s weak.

But to each his own.

A few residents, who were not present last time I showed up, were surprised to see me. Saying, they’d been asking around as to whatever happened to me ... “Did she move?”

Guess I’m going to have to get out more often.

Inasmuch as Apache is our unofficial mayor, the person willing to tackle Corporate, residents bring their issues to him. He in turn rats management and Corporate out to the county folks. (There’s an issue going on now where management took advantage of not having a manager and locked the doors for four days. No one could enter the office area through the front, no one could get to the Game Room. In fact, Assistant Community Manager wasn’t even in the office and the maintenance guys were observed, through the windows, to be in the Game Room playing pool. Apache got on his phone, turned them all in, and is once again persona non grata. Corporate has had enough, wrote him up for creating a "disturbance", trying to get him outta here. Apache, of course, like a true Trump supporter is enjoying the fight and has no intention of backing down.)

I was sitting with Apache when a resident in a wheelchair rolled over to tell him someone had stolen all her towels from the dryer.

Seriously? Stealing laundry? How low can a person go.

Apache said he’d report it.

In all fairness, I don’t see what management can do about that. There’s no camera in the laundry rooms, so we’ll just have to not leave our laundry unattended. Apache, on the other hand, sees it as one more nail to hammer management with.

Before I headed back upstairs, after the event, I popped into the office to put in a Maintenance Request for my overhead kitchen lighting. Assistant Community Manager took the request and asked, “What’s your unit number?”

All of a sudden I drew a blank.

My mind went completely empty ... there was nothing there. I could not remember where I lived!

She had to look it up on the computer.

At any rate, the Assistant Maintenance Guy showed up pretty quick, replaced the burnt out tube and, before leaving, pointedly asked, “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

I quickly processed that statement as strange … nothing any of the many maintenance guys has ever said to me before and not sure if I was reading more into it than was intended.

The women around her have in the past been very flirty with the maintenance guys. I know one who told me she’d asked one of the guys out on a date. Other maintenance guys have told others they’ve been sexually harassed by some of the women. I believe it because Apache has also been approached, only he likes it.

So, it wouldn’t be out of realm of possibility that this new guy thought I might be one of those women and threw me a line.

Deciding the best course was for me to play dumb, not take the bait, if there was bait to take, I stuck my head back into my needlepoint and tried to sound nonchalant with “No thanks”.

No Host Oscars

Because of all the speeches, I stopped watching The Oscars years ago. However, wanting to see how it went with no host, I gave it a go. No host went well, but could not get through the speeches.

I saw who presented, who won, watched them head for the stage and, as the speech began, I flipped the channel and caught up on what Worse Cooks in America was up to and whatever else was on at the time until tuning back into the Oscars hoping the speech was over. Most times my timing was right on.

I’ve not seen any of the movies, except for Black Panther, but have heard so much about each film that I’d formed opinions. 

From all the hype, I was surprised Roma didn’t do better.

Again, based on all the hype, Green Book’s win and Glenn Close’s loss were a complete surprise.

I’m still in awe at how Christian Bale was unrecognizable as that bulbous beast of a man in Vice, and yet appear so slim and attractive in the audience.

I read somewhere that in addition to makeup, he’d also gained weight. I’d like to know how much weight he gained and how he dropped that excess.

I was happy Black Panther did well. However, at the risk of inflaming the community and losing my Black Card, I would have been surprised if it had won Best Picture because, though I was proud of the movie, I didn’t think it was that good.

I was expecting Panther to be a lot of his suiting up and righting wrongs, like Bat Man. Instead, it was all about protecting the kingdom from Killamonga and not near enough of the suit.

Much as I like superheroes, Panther is not a movie I’d watch again, unlike the multitude of times I’d watched and rewatched the other superhero movies.

Speaking of superheroes ... what a sweetie Chris Evans is.

A facebook friend and I went back and forth over Billy Porter in a tuxedo dress designed by Project Runway’s Christian Siriano. I thought it was all that, but friend said she wasn’t a fan because the velvet looked too bottom heavy.

I’m sure it was and Billy probably had to build some leg muscles to carry it off, but looking fabulous is hard work.

Tomorrow is the Sweetheart Potluck. Tomorrow is also Pizza Tuesday.

The two events lumped together like that, especially since Valentine’s Day was days ago, seems so not worth it. However, inasmuch as the potluck is the only event we’ve had in a good long while, I imagine it will be well attended.

But for the fact I'd signed up to bring potato salad, I'd skip it. Not wanting to let anyone down, I picked up a tub at the deli while out and about yesterday. Of course, I won't be eating any, what with the ingredients being soybean oil, red bell pepper, and modified corn starch. Not just because they're on my no-no list but because I’m just now recovering from a gut episode caused by that Ben and Jerry Cherry Garcia ice cream I’d stored after the Idiot in Chief declared a national emergency.

I’d been doing so well, with no tummy upsets in such a long time, and I didn't see any ingredients I was aware of being on the no-no list, so I thought I could have that indulgence.

Wrong!

Not only did the ice cream torture me for five days with nausea and tummy upset  (it may have been the cherries), but it started up the sugar cravings.

An apple won’t do right now, so feeling sorry for myself, and to satisfy that sweet tooth, I stopped by a place for an indulgence I’ve tested and found cause no gut issues.