Kickin’ Off the Week

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Okay, so once again, the summer is officially over. I know.  Where the heck did it go? Why is it that the winter seems so long and dreary and yet, the summer goes in the blink of an eye? To make matters worse—I was at the mall, and they’re showing not only Halloween decorations, but Christmas  ads, as well. Seriously? Did everyone lose their minds? Christmas, in the middle of August? I just can’t take it.

And speaking of not being able to take it, listen to this. A male friend of mine submitted a query to a literary agent, here in New York, and the agent rejects the query stating that “she wants to see more historical novels set in the 1800s”. Really? SHE WANTS . . .

Well, I don’t even have to tell you how that made my friend react. This friend is a fabulous writer of crime thrillers, and he can write the words off any page, for sure. But to be told that the agent wants historical? Since when do writers write solely for the agents’ tastes? What happened to writing for the people, the general population? To this agent: you’re supposed to be searching for marketable stories that the “majority” of the people want to read. It’s not about you, dear agent. It’s about what’s best for the publisher. To the publisher: please, please start taking submissions again. You’re missing out on wonderful stories that are being bypassed due to agents’ personal tastes. Moving on . . .

Did you hear about the bridge and tunnel increases? I’m sure you have. It’s was news from a few weeks’ ago. Well, I had to cross a few bridges in the last few days and do I have to tell you how much it cost? Geeze, Louise. The city is trying to kill us off. I don’t get this. Where is all the money that’s been collected from all the bridges and tunnels over the years? What the heck have “they” done with it? No one can tell me that the billions of dollars that’s been collected has gone back into the infrastructure of our metro. It cannot be possible. These bridges were supposed to collect tolls to pay back the cost of constructing them. Ah, hello? If you research this, the money collected over the years not only paid for the building of the bridges and tunnels, but was used to send shuttles to space ( just being faceticous). But you get my drift. Where’s the moolah?

Last, but not least  . . .

The president came to New Jersey to assess the damage brought upon the state by hurrican Irene. He stated that we, as a nation, will pull through this and that funds would be given to help the rebuilding of New Jersey. Now I ask: where will this money come from? He’s helping this, and helping that, yet state workers got their paychecks late because there wasn’t enough money, so we were told, to pay them on time. The elderly have been threatened that they may have their social security cut. God, we need you!! Help us.

Okay. I think I’ve said enough for one morning. I know it wasn’t so good, but hey, it’s Tuesday, and I’ve been holding in in all weekend. I’ll have better stuff for next time. Till then . . .



Fridays blogs and Christmas ?

I’m sitting here in sweat pants and a sweat shirt, sweating my bunns off. It’s almost 65 degrees here in Staten Island, New York, and I’m thinking this is so weird. Outside, my neighbors’ homes are fully adorned in Christmas lights and Santas. I mean really! It was only Halloween one week ago. Aren’t we skipping a holiday somewhere–like T h a n k s g i v i n g? Helloooo? We are going way too fast, folks! I am not ready for Christmas, people. I am not even ready for Thanksgiving. Heck, I’m still recovering from Labor Day. Is there a reason why we are rushing into all of this? Is Christmas going to disintergrate into space, never to be celebrated again?
I don’t want to think about Christmas in the beginning of November, and I don’t want to hum Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer, and I don’t want to deal with going into the mall to conquer crowds of moms toting their screaming kids. I don’t want to! Does that make me a scrooge? Can’t a girl bask in the warm weather and ponder the days of summer, just for a little while?

Okay. So I used to own an Acura. I loved that car. It was luxurious, smooth, but most of all, soundproof. Acura makes a nice car, but alas, after ten years it went bye-bye, and I had to get a new car. Taking into consideration that I don’t have a garage to store an expensive luxury car, and taking into consideration that a luxury car gets less miles to the gallon, I decided that for my money, I would get a car that gets great gas mileage and one that I wouldn’t have to worry about–so I got a 2009 Toyota Corolla.
This little car has just about every feature that a fancy-smancy car has, except for one minor detail. Well, it’s not exactly a minor detail. OK! It’s a big detail. It’s made like doodoo. Don’t take this wrong. It’s a great car to drive. It drives fantastically, gets 34.5 miles to the gallon, has all the cool features of an expensive car, but it’s made of plastic–from bumper to bumper. What this means is that you kind of hear more shakin’, rattlin’, and rollin’ then you would normally hear in your leading luxury car. Which leads me to this little diddy.

*deep breath*  Yesterday, I was out driving, and I kept hearing a little thumping on the right side. It was driving me nuts, so in the rain, I took every single thing, including my jack, out of the trunk. The noise was still there. From there, I opened the hood and checked to make sure that the engine hadn’t fallen out–and it didn’t. My only choice was to go to the dealer, so I called.

“Come on down, we can take you right now,” the service writer says.

“Cool,” I say back, and I go.

Thirty minutes later, I pull into the service department, and they give me a ticket. “The service writer will be with you in a minute,” the guys says.

“Cool,” I say.

Ten minutes later, I hear, “G165,” being called out. I look at my ticket and yell, “Bingo!”

The writer smiles. “I get that every time,” he boasts.

So I walk into his office and sit down, and explain to him what I am hearing. He writes me up and gives the repair order to the next mechanic, who 15 minutes later comes over to me and says, “I don’t hear a thing. Take a ride with me.”

We get into the car and drive up and down quiet streets. I have my head cocked to the extreme right of the passenger side, saying “There it is again. You hear it, you hear it?”

He gives me a shifty glare. “No, I can’t hear it,” he says.

Finally, after driving around for ten minutes, we go back to the dealership, where he tells me that if it gets worse to come back. Ah, hello?

I proceed to the cashier where I am handed a bill which says $94.00 for labor. At the bottom it says $0.00. Of course, I don’t have to pay for anything as the car is only two months old, but I questioned the labor charge. After all, I found it to be more than expensive, especially since the mechanic only had the car for under a half an hour. The cashier cracks her gum and giggles, and then says, “I don’t know. I only work here.”
I turned my head and rolled my eyes, thinking . . . of course you do.

So my lovelies, I am giving all of you some advice. Don’t rush time, take a deep pause before you react, and get a really good headset that blocks out noise.

Oh, and check out these really good blogs. Blamin’ Palin by Fox News and this weeks Margaret and Helen’s blowing off steam

Seeya next time.