Goodbye, Catalog Diva!

When I began blogging, I chose the name Catalog Diva because my posts were related to items I saw in catalogs. I thought this title/topic would not only distinguish my blog, but bring me advertisers, a retirement fund and a movie with Meryl Streep as me. To date I have earned $3.72 from Amazon. And shockingly, Meryl's agent has yet to call.

I still find the occasional catalog item that sparks a fun idea, but more and more I find that what I really want to write about is whatever I damn well please. Hence the new title of my old blog. Musings from Me, a woman of a certain age.

There are days I feel thirty. I watch The Daily Show. I even laugh at South Park if I catch it. But on some days I feel like I'm standing in line for the Smuckers Jar. Like when I get "friended" on Facebook. I so do not understand Facebook. When people "friend me," I always say yes, because I don't want to be "unfriended-ly." On the rare occasions that I see my own Facebook Page, I notice I have 39 friends. Some of them are people I even know. I thought having 39 friends was great, because in my "real life" (not my cyber life), that would be a lot of people to have for dinner. Then I noticed other people have 300-800 friends and more. So are the number of friends you have on Facebook now like the SAT scores that give your social quotient? If true, I am sadly deficient.  

Another Smuckers Jar revelation: I don't have a Blackberry or an iphone. The only important thing in my life with an "i" is my sister Ilene. I don't know what I would do with an iphone or ipad, but I'd be lost without Ilene. She puts up with me no matter what. Is there an "ap" for that? 

My darling husband, who is very tech savvy, doesn't have a lot of tech gadgets either. When people send him an email that says "Sent from my Blackberry," he sends back an answer that says: "Sent from two tin cans and a string." He is a funny guy. Advice for women of a certain age: sleeping with your tech guy is good thing. I'm glad I "friended" him 30 years ago.

Dishing Up Schadenfreude for Tiger!

Schadenfreude (SHOD-en-froyd) is a German word that means, roughly, taking joy in someone else's misfortune. For most women the Tiger Woods thing has gotten old, but I have to admit that hearing that Tiger lost the big match today tasted delicious. I bet Schadenfreude is a little like Weiner Schnitzel, pictured here. Crispy, hot and fried just right.

Those Germans! Here's another one that Tiger should know: Drachenfutter. (DROCK-uhn-foot-er) Literally, the word means "dragon fodder, or dragon food." Figuratively, the word means "gifts from a guilty person." In Germany, it was common to see men drinking in bars or cafes on Saturday afternoon with their Drachenfutter already bought and wrapped in anticipation of their homecoming.

I got this great word from one of my favorite books, now out of print: They Have A Word For It by Howard Rheingold.

For schnitzeling around with his wiener, Tiger's gonna pay Drachenfutter big time. Ah, Schadenfreud. Elin, we're all feeling it, babe!

Intestinal Fortitude

It's been a while since I actually used a catalog item for an article. But the latest Solutions Catalog inspired me. When I began my television writing career years ago, my mentor told me two things to remember: chicken singing is always funny and don't tell fart jokes. Chicken singing is still funny. And fart jokes? They used to be for fourth graders, but since just about everything on TV or the movies is now at a fourth grade level, fart references abound. And let's face it: farts sound funny--especially when they come from someone else. Laughing at your own farts takes steely self-confidence. And when you do laugh at them, it usually makes you fart more--like a gassy "laugh track" to your own joke.

Back to Solutions. Page 51 of the current catalog has a new product called SUBTLE BUTT: disposable gas neutralizers. These are described as "antimicrobial pads" to stick to your underwear ("even thongs")...and neutralize the odor of gas with an "activated carbon layer," thereby sparing you embarrassment.

First off, I don't believe that women who wear thongs ever fart. They don't eat enough. (And if they do, they probably shouldn't be wearing thongs.) Second, five of these disposable pads cost $9.95. Whew! Better save them for a meeting in the Oval Office. Third, although I admit odor can be a problem, this does not solve my fart issue. It's not that I think my farts don't stink. They sometimes do, but I find this easy to get away with--because the truth is...nobody really knows who did it...right? Everyone is a suspect.

One of the foibles of aging is lack of control of the muscles that we used to be able to discreetly "squeeze." I mean, who farted when you were on a date in your 20's? You could hold it in for days, right? There must be sphincter exercises you can do like Kegels, but those never worked for me either.

It isn't the smell that's my nemesis--it's the noise! I don't need disposable odor neutralizers: I need a rear muffler! I already thought of a great name for them: Tush Shssssh. All I need is an inventor and some venture capital. If you think this is a good idea, and you have some money, please contact me immediately. Farts may be funny, but they could be a serious business! Who's with me?