Summer Changes

As you may have noticed, a new blog has not been posted in a few days. Well, there's a good reason for that... I forgot. But there is a very good reason why I forgot .... It's hot. I know that sounds silly but it is true. I hate the heat, except for the super terrific rain storms, I hate the summer. (Also, the time off while my grandson was in the hospital kind of got me out of the swing of things.) So, I have some good news and some bad news. The bad news is for the rest of the summer I will only be doing weekly blog entries BUT the good news is - in my free time I will be working on my book. Yes, I am currently working on Olives and Underpants, the book. So stay tuned in and I will be in touch soon.

Hey baby, got any fries to go with that shake?

From time to time I am approached by people and asked, "Do people ever give you ideas for your blog?" And from "time to time" I mean at least every other day. Some stories that I am told are good ones that are applicable to my life and trigger a memory that I would like to share with all of you. But the other stories (although usually funny) simply don't apply to me and it would be hard for me to write about something that I didn't see or experience for myself. However, my favorite blog suggestions are not stories at all... they are more like social complaints and witty observations.

"Do a blog about how people talk too loud on their cell phones."

"Ever notice how fat people order 2 big macs, large fries, an apple pie, and a DIET soda?"

"Hey, discuss how people online lie about the way they look!"

"You should definitely write a blog about people who talk to loud at the movies."

And my personal favorite... "Please write about the cheesy pick-up lines guys use on women."

But the problem is, I tend to talk too loud on the cell phone and everywhere else for that matter. I also have been known to order a five piece Chicken Selects, super-sized Fries, and a DIET Pepsi. I also have been known to post very flattering photos on my home-pages (I never show any of my chins) and my driver's license says that I weigh 156 lbs (obviously you cannot see me right now, but I just laughed about 157 lbs of my ass off). I try to stay quiet at the movies but my husband needs to be shushed about every 15 minutes. However, I would desperately like to touch on the way men hit on woman (and sometimes vice-versa).

I completely understand that it takes alot of courage to approach someone that you find attractive and kudos to those who throw caution (and pride) to the wind and say, "Hello, I find you interesting and would like to spend some time getting to know you." That being said, please, please, please think before speaking.

I was in the elevator at work last week and a disheveled man said, "You work here?" I told him that I did. He replied, "Oooooh I wish I could find I fine hard workin' woman like you. Da' bitch I'm dealing wit' ack like she don't wanna work." And then he followed with, "Come talk to me on yo' break." I didn't answer. I just got off the elevator and went and washed my hands. Guys like that make me feel icky.

My best friend Ann and I stopped at a liquor store to pick up some Jose Quervo before a party, once and the sales clerk yelled at us as we walked out of the door, "Come back at closin' time and I'll show you why it's called liquor (lick her) and he did a super creepy licky thing with his tongue.

And then, of course, there are the guys that just walk up and grab your ass. I once had a guy even try to lick the back of my neck! Yeeee - uck!

It is amazing to me that men think that any of these things might work on any woman of quality! So, in the spirit of "Do people ever give you any ideas for your blog?" I would like to all of you to think of the cheesiest or sleaziest pick-up lines that someone has tried on you and email me and with your permission I will share them with the rest of the Olives and Underpants crowd. (Guys feel free to share your crazy pick-up stories, too. I do not discriminate).

I look forward to hearing from you soon.

olivesandunderpants@comcast.net

Tatum's joke

Obviously, I have had a very FULL week. My grandson was sick and is now doing better. My granddaughter, Marlee (age 1), made an impromptu trip to the emergency room due to an unfortunate "Running with a Straw" incident, she too is doing better but will probably be eating very soft and incredibly bland food for about a week. They are talking about lay-offs at my job (did I mention that I was the last person hired?). I had to put out $75 for my son's summer school tuition. My husband's truck is broken down and I have a rash under my boobs caused by an ill-fitting bra and sweat. But remarkably, I am in a great mood! Why, you ask?

Because my grandkids are doing fine now. I have a job now and I live in a country that has unemployment benefits for hard-working people facing tough times. My son wanted to take summer classes and I could afford the $75 (it took some juggling but I got it done!). My husband is a mechanic and will have his truck running again in no time! (And well, there is no good spin for the boob rash but it will heal!) But mostly I am in a good mood because this morning I remembered a joke my 5 year old niece told me.

• Tatum: Why did the cookie go to the doctor?
  
• Me: I don't know Tatum. Why did the cookie go to the doctor?
  
• Tatum: Because he was feeling crumby!

I know hilarious, right? Have a great weekend and
thank you all for your prayers and support!

Age + Political Incorrectness = A Damn Fine Time

As I much as I thought that I would hate getting older, it is not nearly as bad as I thought. My only true complaints are that I constantly feel like I should have accomplished more and I spend more money per month on hair coloring than on gas, but other than that getting older is pretty fantastic. I feel so much more comfortable in my own skin and quite frankly don't really give a shit if other people like me or not (except for maybe my sister's husband. For some reason I really need him NOT to think I'm a moron... obviously I am fighting a losing battle there). But I just feel so entitled as I get older. Entitled to do and think and say, what I want.

Oh my god! I am becoming my mother-in-law! My mother-in-law, before she passed away, said whatever she wanted to whomever she wanted. For the first year of my marriage she called me by every D name but my own (Dawn, Diane, Demetria, Desdemona, etc...) and she wore BLACK to our wedding. (I know now that she was just testing me and later we did get closer but it was long and taxing road.) The first time she met my sister's husband , she asked him what he did for a living. When he told he was a Sergeant with the State Police she just rolled her eyes and said, "Hhmmpp, I never cared much for the police." And that was that.

Aging is like a free pass to political incorrectness. I clearly remember my father turning to my sister and I in the middle of the mall and yelling, "Quit acting like a couple of fucking retards!" He obviously wasn't worried about offending anyone but my mother, who was several years younger, would automatically shush him in embarrassment. There is an old man at the library who continually stands at the counter and passes gas and then looks directly at you, as if daring a comment. He clearly doesn't care what anyone thinks. Now don't get me wrong, I still bathe and brush my teeth everyday. I never go outside in my slippers or without a bra. I try to watch my language in public. And I generally excuse my self to the ladies room before digging out a wedgie. But I do these things for ME not for anyone else. I couldn't care less if people know that my underwear ride up my ass from time to time... I am human!

Back when I was in high school, I would have never been able to open my life up to the world the way I do in this blog. I would have been afraid that you all would judge me harshly, now I just say this is me... take it or leave it! I guess I have just realized that in my youth I spent sooooo much time trying to cover up my flaws and imperfections and altering my views and opinions to match the social norm that I just didn't have time to enjoy myself. Well, not now, I am going to spend the second half of my life "Sayin' it loud and sayin' it proud!". If I want to tell the idiot kid talking to me that I can't hear him until he pulls his pants up, I will! If I want to tell the giggling teenager on the phone that I believe she is too stupid to call my son, I will! If I want to tell my guy friend who always over-exaggeratedly ogles every women's breasts to give it up because we all know he's gay, I will! And if I want to scream to the world I am taking a week off and I will not take phone calls, hear problems, or do favors for the next seven days, I... well, I won't but I will not answer my phone so quickly and I will sound hesitant to help each time somebody ask for help. O.K. maybe I am not old enough to be that ballsy yet but I'm still a work in progress!

So, I say to you embrace your age tighter and tighter every year. Age brings wisdom, self-assurance, and well honed sense of personal style. And so what if your boobs are a little saggier, with the size of your butt nobody probably even notices!

I May Be An Idiot In My Personal Life But At The Library I Am A Rock Star!

I am excited to tell you all that my handsome grandson, Xander Matthew-Bryan Davis, came home from the hospital today. He will be on medicine for awhile and making frequent trips to the doctor but he is home and happy. Thank you all for your prayers and support!

- D

Now on with the show......

I spend quite a bit of time making fun of myself and a lot of people have voiced concern over what they perceive to be my very "low self-esteem" and I would like to assure all of you that my self-esteem is in very good shape! I guess I like to poke fun at my little misfortunes because, well, I like to keep my ego in check. When you work with the public on a daily basis it is easy to feel mentally, socially, and, quite frankly, genetically superior to a vast percentage of the population. If I didn't remind myself of my varied imperfections on a daily basis, I would have a Donald Trump sized ego. I cannot speak for other venues, but at the public library, any public library, you will find a huge cross-section of society.

There are the Brainiacs and the Bookaholics, who truly read so many, so quickly and so voraciously, that they couldn't possibly afford to buy enough books to feed their habit. These people are surprisingly well intentioned and truly love the library but tend to spend at least an extra 15 minutes at the check out counter so that they may give everyone within earshot a synopsis of each book that they have returned.

There are also the home-schoolers who try their damnedest to try to clean out entire sections on one subject each week in order to prove that their child will be academically ahead of the game since odds are that they will end up emotionally stunted.

There are the hordes of teen aged girls who flock, in their dirty tank tops and pajama pants, to use the library's free Internet services in order to make their MySpace pages a little more pedophile friendly. And then there are the teen aged boys who come to see those girls and attempt to climb the library steps with their pants sagging to mid-thigh.

There are the homeless (or the residential challenged, as my sister refers to them) who for lack of any better place to go spend their days in the library, periodically washing their clothes and asses in the bathroom sinks and looking up big words to use when telling the local media their personal story of triumph to tragedy (these stories got super popular with reporters after the release of the Pursuit of Happyness) Side note: Only Will Smith could look HOT while playing a hobo!

And then of course there are the well-meaning albeit misguided and condescending couples who bring their half-eaten sandwiches and restaurant doggie-bags in to "feed to the homeless" and leave angry when they are a.) not accepted or b.) not devoured in front of them. (Seriously, even the homeless have their standards.)

On top of all of this, the library hosts the sexual deviants trying to quickly view porn on the computer before Security walks by, the unwashed, the morbidly obese who inevitably fall and need help into a chair to catch their breath, precocious children who question every answer given to them, old men who routinely ask for 30 archived issues of a magazine only to hand them directly back and say they have changed their minds, parents who want "the nice librarian" to do their child's homework, spoiled adults who constantly remind us that their tax dollars pay our salaries, and just royally bitchy rich ladies.

Surrounded by all of this 37.5 hours a week could make anyone get a little full of themselves and THAT, in a nutshell, is why I try to remind myself that I regularly have toilet paper stuck to my shoe and I once quietly farted in public and blamed the subsequent smell on my granddaughter's diaper. So, for those of you who are worried that I might be a little hard on myself. Please relax, I am fine! It is the rest of those freaks you need to worry about!

Three doctors, two clowns, and a growling Mimi

Let me just express to you that having a love one in the hospital is no fun at all and when it is your grandchild it is ridiculously horrifying! You have NO control! When you are the doctor, you are running the show. The parents are making the hard decisions and the nurse is at the beckon call of both the doctors AND the parents. But the grandparents, the Mimi's and the Papa's of the world, are just there to make sure that the parents have coffee and muffins and the grandchild has plenty of hugs. Since my beautiful grandson Xander has been in the hospital I have wanted to:

1.) Punch a cold (and presumably heartless) phlebotomist in the face after she walked into the room and said, "Someone is going to need to hold him ."

2.) Plead with my grandson's parents to open the curtains and let my little buddy get some sunlight.

3.) And ask, "where the hell is housekeeping?", after a dried coffee spill lingered on the floor in his room for more than 24 hours. I wanted to yell, "I have seen more than three different doctors, countless med students, several nurses, two clowns, and Elizabeth Wooley from the Channel 20 News but not one fucking housekeeper. What the hell?"

But instead, I have only very sweetly asked a nun for a mobile for Xander's crib and I added, "if it isn't too much trouble", got down and my hands and knees and scrubbed up the coffee from the floor, and as politely as possible reminded visitors to wash their hands before holding my pumpkin. (Actually, I also growled at the horrid phlebotomist. Seriously, I growled, like an angry dog. I don't know how it slipped out... I have never actually growled at anyone before but I guess she just pissed off the animal in me. No one heard it but her - and maybe Xander. And I am not sure if it scared her or not but quite frankly I think it should have.)

So until my sweet Xander comes home, I will resign myself to the "passenger seat" and let the pros and his parents drive. I will provide nourishment when needed, assure that everyones hands are clean before they touch my baby, and growl and bare my canines if I feel that anyone does not have his best interests at heart.

Sorry Everybody!

Dear friends,

I feel bad when I cannot provide you with your daily dose of Davis foolishness but tonight LIFE just got in the way. After an extremely busy day at work, I still had to make dinner and pick up my daughter from work. My grandson (4 months old) is sick and I had to stop at the emergency room to make sure he is alright. He will be fine, but it is a Mimi's job to worry too much. And my Nanny (my godmother's mother) is rapidly reaching the end of a very full life - which has me spending way too much time walking down memory lane. So for tonight, I am choosing to put down the computer, count my blessings, and thank god for the wonderful people I have had in my life. I wish you all love and peace and hope that you will keep my Nanny in your prayers.

I promise I will be back tomorrow with something completely and totally ignorant.

XOXO - Davis

Hairy Nuns, Gay Frankenstein & the Unfortunate Shit-finger

It's weird, sometimes I'll be at work or driving down the street and the most random questions and thoughts pop into my head. Occasionally I share these with my husband and he just cocks his head to side and tells me he loves me (in a way that makes me feel like he might be contemplating having me committed). Once in a while, I will even share my queries with my sister and she just looks at me as if questioning our biological tie. So, I have decided to do what I always do and start venting these questions to all of you.

• If Frankenstein's Monster would have been given a gay brain do you think he would've woken up and said, "O!M!G! Love, love, love the platform shoes! Hate the dark colors! And I should really get some cocoa butter on these scars before they ruin my perfectly fabulous new face!"?

• Do you think any black women have ever committed crimes and blamed it on two random Chinese men the way Susan Smith and Bonnie Sweeten blamed two random black men?

• Why does it feel like such a personal insult when someone de-friends you on facebook?

• I wonder if a midget has ever gotten a boob job?

• Do you think teenage Jesus ever told Joseph, "If you don't let me go to the dance, I'll tell my REAL dad!"?
  

• Do nuns shave their legs?

• Has anyone ever been born with no nipples (I mean, they have C-cup boobs but no actual nipples)?

• Wouldn't it be funny if scientists discovered that the Dinosaurs made meowing noises instead of a roar? Jurassic Park would have been hilarious that way!

• Do you ever wonder how long it took cavemen to figure out that sex led to pregnancy or if there were cavemen serial killers?

• Why do people say, "No offense" before they say the most offensive things! Why don't they just "man up" and say, "I am about to really insult you."

• Why in the world does garlic bother vampires? Why not Lawry's Seasoning Salt or Cinnamon? What is so special about garlic?

• Does Kool-Aid count as water intake? And if not, why?

• Do you ever think Stephen King's wife is ever afraid to fall asleep first?

• Has your finger ever broken through the toilet paper while you are wiping and then no matter how many times you wash and Purell your hands you think your finger smells like poop the rest of the day? Or is it just me? (I call this the unfortunate shit-finger)

I don't know! These are just a few of the things that popped into my head today. Maybe they are crazy questions but I am a curious person. If anybody out there has any answers, please let me know... I'll be here waiting.

-D