Thursday, December 11, 2014

AGAIN. THEY SAY AH WON DA DOUGH!!!!

RE-RUN
Publisher's Clearing House Sweepstakes





SPOILER ALERT: I DID NOT WIN THE PUBLISHER’S CLEARING HOUSE SWEEPSTAKES!
    
        Dear PCH. I am not naive. I didn't believe it for a minute. I did not fall for your teasing when the first three letters arrived.
I have now received 1708 letters, 2,302 likes on Facebook and 441,780 emails stating that I may be a 10 million-dollar winner.
  
  You hounded me, sending me secret special numbers that no one else had ( I felt so superior), stating that no purchase was necessary,although those little star windows where my magazine order showed through, obviously was to warn me that if nothing showed, the envelope was spat upon, burned and flushed down the toilet. Whew, that was a long sentence.
   
     I haven't budged except to walk 2 feet to my mailbox. It is not as if I went out to by a lottery ticket. I was not the aggressor this time. You courted me.
   
     Listen to me. You are not dealing with a kid. I am cynical, been around the block Jan. But even the most wary among us, would start fantasizing.
  
  By the 19th  letter, I was seduced. I practiced my twang for my appearances on TV knowing you would definitely ring my chimes. I have practiced jumping up and down and saying real slowly. ‘I-cain’t-bu leeve-ah-wun!”

    Let me reiterate; I didn't contact you. You contacted me. Even though I was originally skeptical, after a while, I became a believer. I trusted you. This is the longest foreplay in the history of life (and while the fantasy is pleasurable) there’s still no satisfying conclusion.

    So yes, I started returning your correspondence and just to sort of guarantee that you'd look at my particular envelope I ordered a magazine or two and then five and 27 and after I ordered every magazine every printed in the US of A and a couple from third world countries I started on the specialty supplements, “DECORATING WITH EGGBOXES,” “WHAT WE CAN LEARN FROM PELICANS,” “MY FRIEND, MY FUNGUS,”
   
     True,  I could be fun at cocktail parties with this information, but I cannot leave the premises, I must to be here when the money arrives. This has caused life-altering changes for our whole country and to me, personally.

WHY MY SKIN WON'T CLEAR UP
    I haven't left my home to be with my lover. He is very tense and is yelling at all his employees, who then go home and yell at their families who scream at the service people and thus wars start. How do you feel about that, Dave at PCH!

MORE REPRECUSSIONS FROM YOUR TEASING
    
    My children feel neglected because I haven't called to nag them. You know you simply cannot leave nagging to strangers.
   
     My postman (May he rest in peace) threw himself in front of his jeep because I called him a few times in the middle of the night asking, “Is it here yet?”

    Stores are totally out of wheelbarrows since I bought their complete supply to carry my winnings to bank.

    The banks are going under since they were depending upon my deposit to buy property to give real estate a boost. Did we cause the current economic slowdown?

THE PERSONAL BURDEN
    The very most horrific part of all was the people counting on me whose lives were put on hold because of my vows. All my friends and family were going to be financially free forever since I was going to give them all a bundle.

    I was donating most of the loot to the Cancer AssociationBrain Tumor Association and Nordstrom’s half-yearly sale.

    Okay, I am no angel. I was going to buy stuff for myself, some Armani suits, a few Donna Karan’s and a Mac, the computer, not that guy Mac, since that would be illegal. I was going to trade my l5 year old sports car for a newer one. See, I had daydreams too.
    
     I thought I was so realistic and beyond those types of reveries but I guess the truth is; I am easy. 1708 promises and I am ready to submit. Hear that fellas!

    Enough is enough. I want my money now.

    I caint ba leeve ah wun! I caint ba leeve ah wun!
THE END

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Saturday, April 19, 2014




The Adventures of the Ageless
(Granny and Grandpa are HOT!)
Currently silly statements proclaim that 80 is the new 60 which becomes the new 30 and so on, thus changing every number we have known from the beginning of time to a different value.  Then comics and others poke fun at us for being forgetful.  Then many familiar titles of products and their purpose is exchanged for a strange, newer one.
For example: in the past when we referred to an eye pad it was for a pink eye.  Now, it means something altogether wonderful and brilliant, the iPad® device which I would not put away under penalty of law unless Sean Connery asked me to lay it down for him.
Obviously terminology has changed as to cause brain fog in any intelligent, vital person. Plus we’ve heard said that what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.  This in fact does not prove it is because we are discreet but rather that we go blank for what happened or whom we ended up with because all words, and names have been revised. Will the real Puff Daddy, Sean Combs, Diddy, P.Diddy, Snoop Dog, Snoop Lion, Fast Eddie, oh wait that’s my ex; stop playing the name game. There is Ice Tea and Lady Gaga and 30 cents-he used to be 50 cents but in this economy… and a bunch of less talented dolts who make up ridiculous names and grab their crotches a lot.  We were more mature sophisticated folks in the old days when our groups were called  Motley Crue, Grateful Dead and Alice Cooper,  such a nice girls name, to mention a few.  Whadda ya gonna do with kids today!!!!!
Some professionals have changed their business names and some times we forget whom to ask for when calling our own kids. What are they going with these days?  What means shall we we use to contact with them?  Is it their cell phone, land line or Dick Tracy wrist phone? Should we use their texting name or prison or twitter handle?
At one time if we described as being with it that meant we were enthusiastic and knowledgeable. Now when we want to express our joy to you, we are supposed to claim, “I am down” (which used to be filler for my blankie) according to the new jargon.  You all changed the rules and then you call us old mindless geezers.  
Knock it off.  Yes we are graying but we are also giggling and gyrating in this age of googling®.
Get clear on this here and now.  We are not your father’s Oldsmobile®  or your old time grandparents either.  Most of us are computer or at least smart phone literate although the virtual secretary Siri in our phone can be an idiot at times. On the other hand she does remind us to soak our teeth or anything that aches.
Rather than a matchmaker or archaic courting customs from the last century, we find dates on the Internet, though not always successfully. On one site, I requested a big fellow and one man arrived on stilts.  We had a good relationship until I ended it because I kept getting splinters in my thighs.
What you do not know and should wise up about is that most of us are simply in the second phase of life; these are the years 41-80*. Just like you are and we are hot.  Usually hormone replacement therapy remedies that.
We love to dance and jog and Zumba®. We enjoy going to the theatre and movies.  We practice yoga or Tai Chi, have learned to paint and sculpt, enjoy watching sports and appreciate fine dining. Those two don’t actually go together especially at the ballpark.  And no more pancakes, or early bird dates.  How about meeting us instead at a restaurant serving true international cuisine with fine wine, imported beer and soft jazz wafting in the background?  Let’s play tennis, go skiing or meet on the racket ball court.  Believe it or not, some of us can still do it, though, perhaps not as vigorously as you. And we now have our chiropractor on speed dial just in case you are injured.
Take a foreign language or cooking class with us.  Talk with us as if we were peers, (to a degree).  FYI: To us friends with benefits means someone who adds us to their insurance policy. Though the other still has its place as part of the full menu.
We like to learn new things and we attend classes or pursue cutting edge activities that we may not have had time for when raising our families. You do not know everything about us.  Don’t wait too long.  We want to know you better, too.  You may be surprised and impressed with what we have endured and survived to get to this place before ending up as your loving relatives, friends, and neighbors.  Why don’t you ask? 
Furthermore and thankfully, science produced those little blue pills that have energized some of us and birth control has relieved anxiety so our grandkids do not end up being embarrassed by having tiny aunts and uncles who are in diapers.  We now appreciate the slow, thoughtful acts of love.  Yes…we still do it, though chandeliers no longer have the appeal they once did.
We are news junkies and keep up on most world events and are willing to listen to what you young’uns have to say, usually.
The point here is we don’t simply need your obligatory holiday visit where you are texting from entry to exit.  You do not have to bring us flowers or a tie as your duty.  We certainly do not need any more crap cluttering our lives. But your attention would be appreciated.
Let us have revealing conversations as you would with other humans.  Teach us something new and we will do the same for you.  There is so much of our history that might intrigue you and certainly the reverse is true.
We probably have been through and survived much of what you are going through.  Maybe we can give you a solution and maybe not.  We have no ego involved in whether you follow our advice or ignore it.  When we suggest you might want to avoid the pothole on the next street, or other cautionary tales, it is up to you whether to do that or not.  It is your life. We simply want to share it more thoughtfully.
Can you stop with ageist labels already?  You can call us seasoned citizens if you wish or granny or pa or nana or by our own names if that is agreed upon. It does not matter what you call us; just call us.
Lets get down, dude!
PS. Birthday numbers are meaningless especially in this digital age.

Cheese ages.  We in fact evolve and are still booming and blooming.  There are plenty of terms like infants, tweens, teens, adults, and enough titles to wear out a label maker.  Lets mobilize to have the law changed to stop counting the years and change it to just another phase we are going through, okay! 
     THE FORMULA
 *Phase 1:  YEARS 1-40
Phase 2:  YEARS 41-80 (Yay! I’m in same phase as my kids and Sophia Loren)
 *Phase 3:  YEARS 81-120
 Thereafter, you deserve to call it anything you wish.
 THE END



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Friday, January 31, 2014

Siri and "HER" film

SMART PHONES, OPERATING SYSTEMS AND NERVOUS BREAKDOWNS 

The film "HER" is a super romantic movie about a mans love affair with the digital system woman living in his phone.  She was kind, affectionate, and supportive. My experience with that lady residing in my phone is not so wonderful.

BEFORE HEADING TO DIVORCE COURT FOR JAN VS SIRI. I recalled a previous phone I owned called the Droid.

THE DROID

I had a dread phone.  Even engineers at MIT had to ask their kids how to use or understand it. I did go to a free class to learn how to operate it easily. You cannot fathom the joy I felt when I noticed everyone was 
younger than me from 18-60's and had already had various versions of  these intelligent gadgets and did not know how to use them either.

Yes, they sure were impressed when I did cartwheels, but became nasty when I teasingly shouted "You don't, understand it either, Na, Na, Na!!!

THE EXPERT

I found the solution.  I asked my 4 year old granddaughter (who already can text 400 words in 14 seconds) on how I could solve this learning curve. Her Answer: Buy an iPhone 4s, Granny.  I will show you how to use it after pre-school.

I wrote back to thank her. It took me three hours since my keyboard is so tiny and my lovely, soft, caress able hands feel like they are bigger than a breadbox when I type on this tiny phone.

THE MAGIC BEGINS...EXCEPT

I took her advice and I do truly love this easy iPhone, except for a bitch named Siri. We are in our second week of couples counseling and our therapist has taken to heavy drinking since she cannot get through to this digital ditz either (and privately told me she too, thinks Siri IS a Bitch).

Yes, for this iPhone is so much easier to navigate except for her. Siri is called a virtual assistant, meaning she is purported to be my own personal secretary living conveniently in my phone thus saving me on employee insurance and their wasteful coffee breaks.

She is driving me virtually nuts!  The operating instructions state to speak a request as I would to a regular secretary and she will assist me.  I am simply to ask her to find something or give her a reminder to 

remind me.  We have now had horrendous arguments with lots of cursing, some of it coming from me, too.

A SIMPLE REQUEST

Siri has a tone of superiority and is quite judgmental. When I asked her to please find me a Thai restaurant nearby she yelled, I have no contact for your thighs and besides, we just met, so I think you are being too forward in asking me such things, as a matter of fact, you repel me!

When I reiterate that it is a restaurant that I am actually seeking she asks, What kind of restaurant? I reply, Thai.  Is that a 
shoe tie?  NO!  Is that a tie for your shirt?

NO, you $*^&%*&^$

She says, I do not see $*^&%*&^$ in your contact list.


Is there anything else I can help you with?   

After 20 minutes of this banter I change my plea to a search for the nearest bar. She wants to know if I wish to attend a Bar Mitzvah.  I fib and say, confirm, because I know they serve drinks there.

I am at my wits end with her callous conclusions.  However, a friend thinks she is so great in making, breaking and lying about his appointments, that he asked her to marry him.  She replied,

Let's just be friends. I already have several million other suitors.  She also bad-mouthed me.

WHERE ARE YOU NOW?

Another daily challenge was my attempt to locate this smart phone at least twice a day, since one other irritating traits of Siri's  is to play hide and seek.When at a public venue or in a meeting, I keep the phone on vibrate, so I am not rude to others.  I know, I know. I am a good girl.  However, when I return home, I occasionally forget to turn the ringer back on.
Suddenly I hear a vibrating buzzing sound that could be a bee or the aftermath of that Bar Mitzvah. I then figure out it is the phone. The challenge is that because there are many things that vibrate in my home, I frankly do not know where to look. Yes, realize I have a Find My phone app on my iPad.  But first I have to find my password to do so
and I lost my app for that.

So this is my suggestion for the next Jobs genius: Design a tiny pulsing light or a mini-mini GPS tracking gizmo I can place next to my skate key and wear as a necklace.

When the gadget goes missing, a small voice will tell me to look under the couch or check the icebox.  Brilliant people have designed incredible devices to make life easier (except for that b... Siri), so 
why not help out those of us who continually misplace things?

If you have a better solution for searching, please call my cell phone, but do not speak to Siri, as she is a lying dog!

NEWS FLASH!!!!

I have an addendum to the rant above.  Since replacing my iPhone 4s with an iPhone 5s I confess our relationship is a tad better. This version of Siri seems to get me more and even imitates my Brooklyn accent.


On the other hand, she is just too damn familiar. I do not like being  awaken way too early every morning with So Jan, can I join you for a cup of cawfee, hon and can you loan me a C note to pay my bookie?

A SIMPLE REQUEST

Does anyone know Scarlett Johansson?  Maybe she'd consider leaving the "Her" film and move to my phone?  I'd give her a cawfee break, cash and a credit card.

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Monday, November 25, 2013

STOP VOTING FOR ME ALREADY. I KNOW I AM GUTSY.


It is time for others to bask in the glory.
"The Gutsy Lady" contest has moved on to honor other Gutsy ladies.
Sonia Marsh would appreciate it if you would check out the new nominees.  

However, I am STILL in the Nagging business. So are the dudes.

So now…

For all you beautiful people, I ask you…

ARE YOU
Dealing with freeways, e-mails, and gadgets you can't get the hang of?
                                    IS YOUR
Self esteem below zero because your smart phone is too damn smart?
                                    DO YOU HAVE
Parking problems? IS YOUR Dentist bugging you about flossing? Do you awaken up to find something you have been driving, ingesting, or sleeping with has been recalled. Body is damn fed up with pressures of being fit. 
You think I don't know how stressed you are?

Relax!  I'll take care of it and you.

My destiny is to advise, cajole, instruct and nudge; AKA Nagging.  

SEND ME QUESTION AND I WILL HELP. 

Email me (and the Dudes):janmarsh@aol.com
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Tuesday, November 12, 2013

BIGGER THE FIGURE, THE MORE THERE IS …Trans Fat???



I hope it’s simply not too late for me now that the US government is banning bad fats that stick to our bodies for eternity.  I was always blaming myself.

I thought I was going mad as my clothes shrunk in the washing machine or even immediately after I removed them from a parcel after a purchase.
I mistakenly believed the fashion world was making all styles smaller than usual.

Then there was the noise emanating from my bedroom.  Yes, my clothes wanted to come out of the closet. They had revolted. Not only because I stretched them though I heard them whisper about my fickleness which they seem to take personally.  They are not wrong when they talk of me forgetting them when I purchased something that actually fits.  

It is true, I can love my frock, not be seen without it off my back for weeks but alas, as soon as another catches my fancy and fits my fanny, well frankly the others no longer exists in my memory.  I am not proud of this but I admit it here and now; I am nothing but a clothes slut.

My old clothes are noisy and vengeful.  I have not had a good night sleep in ages. I know what you are thinking.  Well, you’d be paranoid too if you were as tired as I am.  The clothes are mean spirited.  They continually fall of the hangers or catch on to one another.  They play hide and seek when they know I am in a hurry.

Thus my need for therapy.

My therapist, Dr. Plink, (that is not really her name but the sound the ice cubes made as she poured herself a drink half way through each session) seemed to be developing a tick. She often let out a big sigh.  She had suggested I go on a soul journey to the Himalayas or Vegas to find the inner answers.  If only I knew the questions.

Between me and my shadow I was getting bigger by the minute. Not to place blame, (though I hate you trans fat), but I also believe my inner child had put on same excess adipose.  Plus they say, remember them, that television makes one appear 10 pounds heavier.  I have three sets so in reality that is thirty pounds of an optical illusion.  Still I knew the doctor was not totally cuckoo.  I was losing it—not the fat of course, but my mind.

I got on a train for Katemoss Mountain where I hoped to find answers and a bagel.  As the train rambled on I fantasized a perfect party in my head.  I’d invite Ben and Jerry, Mama Celeste, Sara Lee, Laura Scudder.  I was really cooking now in the kitchen of my mind.

Then, I saw a sweet handsome soul looking at me.  I felt calm. Yes, I would be all right.  It would be revealed to me in good time what my destiny and purpose of life was, and why birds suddenly appear in my brassiere.  It is rumored it is the rare crumb that I accidentally do not devour that attract them.
On my spiritual quest, I’d find out what it was all about and then tell Alfie.

Just then a smiling man whispered to me
 “Lady, show me your ticket.”

I’m a seasoned dame. I knew just what that meant.

I would be heading to enlightenment in slim town and I would not be going solo.

Bye bye trans fat.  So long sucker. It is over… and it’s not me; its you!

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Tuesday, September 17, 2013

IDIOT ADVERTISERS WITH GOOD INTENTIONS AND HOW… “I” STOPPED SMOKING.


A suffering man is shown choking and being exploited to inspire others to stop smoking.  Nonsmokers turn the channel; smokers will do what they do till they don’t.
Many, many years ago (last century when Sir Walter Raleigh and I dated), I was a smoker.  I relinquished my habit reluctantly because of a few rotten kids who lived with me.  They said it was wrong for me to yell at them when they ate junk food because they’d only get cavities or lose their teeth, but I would lost my life. How can you argue with such childish logic?
Even though I was never a heavy smoker – heavy came later – quitting was difficult.  I adored smoking those long, slim, sexy brown cigarettes.  It was all I could think of. I went to bed praying I’d awake to find it was healthier than jogging. (Hey, it happened to wine and chocolate!) I purposely burnt the food (okay, so it wasn’t always on purpose) just to smell the smoke.
Then I ate everything – without pause. This is more than psychological.  A cigarette is like the period at the end of a sentence.  Without it, the sentence would ramble.  Similarly, a meal without a cigarette to punctuate it continues eternally. So i became a researcher, not for me, mind you, but the rest of
Humanity.  I learned that Baskin- Robbins® truly did have 32 flavors in all their branches. The next detective work was never conclusive.  I never learned whether M&Ms® melted in my hands, my mouth or my pocket since they were gone quick as a flash.  I just knew I loved them.  The only foods that I was partial to were those that were sweet, sour, spicy or bland, though I did learn to enjoy solidly frozen as well.
I started eating tons of mints, chewed gum, and chomped on anything not moving.  Eventually though, the craving subsided because it was more of a habit than an addiction for me.
So posting grotesque photos of very ill patients on a cigarette pack or on a TV screen will not deter people, even brilliant ones who certainly know the consequences but are addicted and unable to stop on their own.  They need an intervention, therapy and our compassion.
Take a smoker to lunch; though if they take out a cigarette during the meal, slap them silly.  Then give them a hug!
I do not want to be judgmental.  Because if they put pictures of M&Ms® on a cigarette package, who knows who could revert to earlier times?
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Friday, August 30, 2013

EVEN YOU DON'T LOOK 21 YET, YOU CAN STILL VOTE



My destiny is to advise, cajole, instruct and nudge; AKA Nagging

Which brings me to this nag. 

If you can postpone your compulsive #Twerking for just one minute take a look at Sonia Marsh's website here 

I was nominated as a "Gutsy Lady." Yup me, even though I am scared of some spiders I seem to be brave in other areas of life. 
I was encouraged to enter Sonia Marsh's "My Gutsy Story" and I did.   

So if you go to the link below and consider voting for me that would be lovely. 

Thank you.
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