My husband and I saw a play that was so bad we left during intermission. We would have left earlier but didn’t want to draw attention to ourselves and disrupt the play. I always feel funny being the first to leave any event so at a party I permit myself to leave only after someone else leaves first. Seeing the first person leave is like a signal for others to leave and then there’s a stampede toward the door. All at once fifty people are grabbing their coats, gloves, hats and bags and elbowing their way out the door.

As a host you never mind the person who leaves first; however, you do mind the person who leaves last. When you have a guest who won’t leave you’re faced with the question – how do I get rid of them? Do you give hints such as yawning or changing into pajamas? Do you give verbal hints proclaiming you’re tired and have to rise early in the morning for work? Do you make promises you don’t intend to keep such as, “I promise to call tomorrow, Mother, if you go home, now.”

As a host, should you feel obligated to watch television with them? Should you feel obligated to feed them the turkey sandwich they request, after the kitchen has been closed for the night? Do you rub their feet as requested or do you request they lift their feet so you can run the vacuum under the couch?

When it comes to unwanted guests I’m reminded of a line Tony Randall said in one of my all-time favorite shows The Odd Couple, “Never overstay your welcome or you’ll never be welcomed to stay over.” No truer words have ever been said.

An article in USA Today talked about the “selfie obit” and how more and more people are writing their own obituaries because they don’t trust the newspaper or family to get it right. Type in “self obituary” on YouTube and you’ll find about 10,000 touching, shocking or amusing ones.

Susan Soper (a former Atlanta newspaper editor) sells “ObitKits” that show people how to sum up their lives in ways meaningful to them.

Writing your own obituary makes sense for the person who likes to control everything; they won’t have to come back and haunt the family member who wrote the obit, but left out vital information. The control freak can plan their entire demise from coffin to outfit and now – obituary.  SchoolQuote

Will some obits be like an acceptance speech at the academy awards where the winner thanks everyone in their life? Or will “self obits” become like the last annoying Christmas newsletter nobody wants to read? Will it be the last hooray to rub in the noses of others as you list your lifetime achievements, making them feel inadequate?

Every five years you should rewrite and edit your obituary to keep it fresh, keep it current. As for editing – do you think the ‘self obit’ can be edited? I don’t see why not. It’s not like the deceased will know. The wife and children may decide to print the truth and shred the glowing review the deceased gave himself; which leads me to my next question.

Can a ‘self obit’ be contested like a will? Is it subject to change or is it written in stone? If enough people sign a petition can editing be done? If not – then my next question is – can the spouse publish a rebuttal? Would it be printed next to the obituary or on the Ed-Op page of the paper? I think the rebuttal maybe a lot juicier to read.

The app RunPee.com (99cents) lets you know the best time to go to the bathroom at the movies. When the movie starts click the app and your phone will vibrate during predetermined slow spots, alerting you to restroom opportunities. While in the bathroom the app fills you in on what you’re missing. When you return to your seat you no longer have to ask your date what you missed and annoy those around you with your talking.

This is a great app for those who buy the 5 gallon soda jug; but if you didn’t drink 5 gallons you wouldn’t need the app. You can sit through the movie after drinking 5 gallons, but the question is – would you enjoy it when your mind is in the toilet?

This app can be a blessing for the mom with three kids because she knows one or all her kids will need to use bathroom at some point during the movie, now she’ll know the best time. Only with four kids by the time she returns to her seat she would have missed not only the slow parts, but also the best parts of the movie.

With this app you’ll get the person who doesn’t have to go to the bathroom, but will obey their apps command, the way they obeyed their mother when told, “Go before we leave the house.” They listen. They’re conditioned. This person will step on your feet and block the screen while crawling over you.

When we watch movies from home we can hit the pause button when we have to pee. But, I’ve found that everybody’s time frame for how long a pause should be is different. There’s the quick pause for pee breaks. There’s the longer pause for bathroom breaks that include #’s 1 and 2. There’s the necessary pause to replenish dwindling snack supply. And there’s the eternity pause for checking e-mail, reading a book, taking a walk, watching a different movie and giving birth. One time it took us three days to watch a movie.

With RunPee I fear people’s internal ‘pause’ will get longer and so will bathroom breaks. In the bathroom stall they’ll text a friend who is home and hits pause on the movie they’re watching because they want to see the movie they rented. I fear every woman in the theater will have RunPee. Imagine 100 women (with kids) charging to the bathroom all at once. Imagine the mayhem. Imagine the horror. Now, that’s a horror movie not to be missed.

We may not get the amount of sleep desired during the week with school and work cutting into our sleep which is why we try to play catch-up on the weekends, unless it happens to be daylight savings time weekend. Who decided to place daylight saving time (which robs us of an hour of sleep) on the weekend when we’re trying to catch up on sleep? All it succeeds in doing is making people rush and be late for church. My mother rushed to get dressed and out before she realized – she’s retired. She has no place to be. She wakes when she wants and eats when she wants. The woman has no time constraints.

But, for those of us who have time constraints, daylight saving time can be hazardous to your health. An article in USA Today on March 7 cited Christopher Barnes (management professor at University of Washington) has documented an increase of workplace injuries and that heart attacks and car accidents are higher on Sleepy Monday. To me daylight saving time is like an annual short-term case of jetlag. You feel disoriented for a while and then you get through it.

Some will use the lost hour as an excuse to not do things such as – I was going to go to the gym with the hour we lost. Some will claim it impedes their work. Ladies of the Night will now have to wait extra hours before walking the streets; otherwise they’ll lose the hard-earned title – Ladies of the Night.

If it’s true that loss of sleep due to daylight saving time can be hazardous to one’s health, then what about becoming a first time parent? In the blink of an eye two people go from sleeping eight hours a night to never sleeping. Then is a baby a danger to your health? Does sleeping four hours a night, say for one year, put you in the danger zone? And the thing about parenthood is you can’t catch up on sleep over the weekend. Does being sleep deprived and anxious put you in a high risk category? You’re told to sleep when the baby sleeps, but no one listens. You would never bath and that’s not good.

New parents are so deprived they reach in the fridge for a cold bottle and realize they’re drinking baby formula rather than beer. New parents are so deprived they put the dog in the car seat and throw a bone to the baby when going out. New parents are so deprived they powder their baby’s bottom along with their cell phone and wrap both in a diaper. Every time the baby’s diaper rings, they run around in circles.

This ongoing sleep deprivation can’t be good, especially for the baby with the cell phone in its diaper. New parents spend every day looking to catch some sleep and for their cell phones. Daylight saving time may be hazardous to your health, but parenthood can be deadly. Someone should do a study, but please, hang onto your cell phone.

Rachel Canning, an 18 year old, New Jersey honor student, moved out of her parents’ house because she didn’t want to follow their rules. Now she lives with her best friend’s family and is suing her parents to pay for her college education and cost of living fees. She wants the judge to award her “Dependent on her parents for support as a student.” Is this the height of entitlement or should parents be legally obligated to pay for their child’s schooling?

I have a couple of questions: What if the parents pay for her college tuition and after college she can’t get a job… do they still have to financially support her when she is legally an adult? How long can this be allowed to go on…till your adult child is 30, 40 or 50 years old? Did she ever entertain the thought of getting a part-time job? When do you cut the cord?

She doesn’t like her parents’ rules but she likes what their money can buy her; too bad it didn’t buy her a strong work ethic.

Every kid will want to sue their parents if this girl wins her case. Every parent and child has disagreements about curfew and rules. Every parent tells their child, “You live in my house, you live by my rules.” If they didn’t they’d be your friend. There’s a difference between a parent and a friend.

A friend is the person you stayed out past curfew with. A parent worries where you are and if you’re ok and punishes you for breaking curfew. A friend is the person you hung out and laughed with rather than doing your chores. A parent internally cries when their child screams, “I hate you,” for grounding them. A friend is the person with you when you ditch school, go joy-riding and get into an accident. A parent looks at the mangled car and their child and thanks God their child walked away. Then that same parent sets up a payment plan for their child to pay them back. Hopefully the plan teaches financial and moral responsibility.

This girl wants to live away from home with no rules or responsibilities and have her parents’ financial support. She makes it sound like summer camp where your parents pay for you to swim in the lake all day. It time she learns life isn’t summer camp. It’s time to throw her in the lake and cut the cord.

Beard implants are the new men’s trend. For $2,000 – $6,000 men who can’t grow facial hair can pay to have it implanted. This is great when you’re young and have a full head of hair, but what happens as you age and the hair on your head starts to thin; you’ll be left with nothing but a beard.  You’ll be like the guy who’s partially bald with a ponytail. It’s not pretty.

With beards and mustaches come grooming etiquette and the lack thereof. There’s always that one guy with the crumb in his mustache or beard.  You’re fixated on the mustard covered crumb that’s just dangling and holding on for dear life. Crumbs will always have a home with the man who doesn’t groom. Why, when Christmas is over Santa keeps his elves on fulltime just to groom his beard.

What happens to the man who gets implants and years later gets tired of his beard and wants it gone? He can’t shave it. Beard implants, unlike fashion trends cannot be changed or discarded over time. It’s permanent and permanent becomes history. A man won’t be able to wax, pluck or laser it away like women do with unwanted hair.

I find it ironic that men would pay to have facial hair and women pay to have facial hair removed. It’s not fair. And yet, there’s a billion dollar industry built on women devoted to having facial hair removed. Since women don’t want a uni-brow we wax and pluck. We learn beauty is pain the first time we wax. Since we don’t want strangers picking crumbs from our mustache we wax. Since we don’t want to braid our armpit hair we wax. Since we don’t want people to think we’re wearing pants when it’s leg hair, we wax. We all wax. When we enter menopause we’ll wax – more, except for the bearded lady in the circus, she never waxes.  I think has the right idea.

Thanks to the site ‘Borrow Me,’ brides-to-be can shop for a wedding dress without leaving home. For $35.00 per dress (includes roundtrip shipping) you can borrow a dress for 48 hours. No longer do you have to battle the crowds.

Have a ‘Home Dress Party’ and invite family and friends to help you choose. You’ll even be able to skype and consult with a personal stylist.

I think if you’re a girl who has a good idea of what type dress you want, this is a great service. However, if you’re the girl who tries on ten dresses when shopping and picks the original, this may not be for you – unless money is no object. It adds up… quickly. Also, if you’ll need to try on multiple dresses, then you’ll need to do so way in advance as the back and forth shipping will take time.

Since the package is transported via mail, my question is – who pays if it’s lost in the mail? And what if at your ‘Home Dress Party’ (where wine is served) someone spills red wine on you. Who pays? The person who spilt the wine? The dress company? Or, will you be liable, like a customer in a china shop where the policy is – ‘you break it, you buy it.’

Also, since you’re not in a showroom with an attendant supervising, your little sister, the one who borrowed (and stretched out) your sweaters without asking, when you were teenagers, will want to try it on. She always resented you for getting the new, pretty clothes first and that she got the hand-me-downs. But, that’s a different story for another day. You let her try it on and gasp when you hear the rip. Who pays? You? Your sister? This could cause more friction in an already contemptuous relationship. She may step down from the job of bridesmaid. Bye the way, the site also sells bridesmaid dresses.

Shopping for a wedding gown with my daughter was quite an experience. At one shop she told the attendant she wanted a ‘simple dress with no frills.’ The guy must have heard ‘I want a Gone With the Wind’ dress. Each dress got bigger and heavier. One dress was so big I had to look inside for my daughter. I didn’t see her; but, I swear I saw clowns doing acrobatics. Wearing a 10 pound dress on your wedding day may be challenging and tiring, but I imagine the clowns are there to help.

 

Restaurants all over are starting to ban cell phones while eating. BUCATO in Los Angeles bans cell phones and encourages guests to “share their meal with fellow diners.” BOULEY (New York City, New York) forbids photos of its food in its dining room.

When we went to New York on vacation we ate a restaurant where space was limited and the tables too close for comfort. Not only did I hear the guy at the table beside us talking to his wife, but I also heard what he was thinking. Yes, we were that close. When I reached for my spoon I accidentally grabbed his spoon. When I reached for my napkin I accidentally grabbed his napkin. When I reached down to scratch my leg I accidentally scratched his leg. When I stretched my feet and accidentally touched his I found myself in a brief, illicit game of footsie. When I apologized, saw his expression and heard his thoughts I slapped him. How dare he think that.

There was a time before cell phones when we ate family dinners and talked to each other. While eating dinner if the phone rang we didn’t answer it because the only person rude enough to interrupt dinner was a telemarketer. We would balk at their rudeness. Now it seems not only do we allow distractions, we welcome them.

I understand using your cell to text, talk, play games or do whatever while eating if you’re alone. However, if you’re with someone and your attention is on your phone and not your dinner companion, then you’ve just invited the telemarketer to dinner.

In New York City at 129 Grand Street is a new store PUCKER which has makeup express bars. For 45 minutes at $50 professional makeup artist make you ‘Glam on the go.’ There’s a makeup menu for you to choose your look. When you’re done, take a selfie at the ‘selfie booth.’ There’s even a lounge for friends and family to wait and relax in.

It’s comforting to know you can put your trust in someone to make you look your best. But take my advice and be careful who you pick to give you a makeover. If you pick someone who looks like a clown, chances are you’ll look like a clown. Never let the scary looking clown lady come at you with eyeliner. It won’t be pretty.

Besides makeup bars there are also ‘Blow dry bars,’ where you pay someone to blow dry your hair. They don’t cut hair. They don’t dye hair. They just blow hair. You can do this during your lunch hour. You pay someone who has patience, the right tools and finesse to struggle with your hair. I would love if I no longer had to brush, comb, apply conditioner, mouse, gel and spray and when all is said and done – look like a before ad.

In front of the mirror I say a quick prayer and get to work. With blow dryer in one hand and brush in the other, I brush forward. I brush backward. I brush up. I brush down. When it comes out good I want the world to see it. If I had plans to stay in I change them and go out. It doesn’t matter where I go so long as I’m seen. If I’m sick in bed with 104 fever it doesn’t matter – the doctor at the hospital emergency room will see me. If twelve feet of snow blocks my driveway it doesn’t matter – the snow plow driver will see me. On the few days a year I have a good hair day I want everyone to see it.

When I have a bad hair day I’ll stay in and wear a hat. I can’t be seen in public. One time I cried a little and my eyeliner ran, making me look like a clown. That’s what I got for letting scary looking, clown lady give me a makeover. I had bad hair and a bad makeover. It was a scary sight.

 

The toy maker, Mattel is putting Barbie in the Sports Illustrated’s annual swimsuit issue in an attempt to promote sales. Barbie will appear in a version of the black-and-white bathing suit she wore for her 1959 debut. Some people are upset because the swimsuit issue demeans women and Barbie’s unrealistic proportions send an unhealthy message to young girls. She won’t be on the cover and she’ll be wearing more than the real life models that wear suits made of dental floss and strike a provocative pose. Unlike Barbie they will be airbrushed to remove cellulite, acne and anything that seems even remotely humanly realistic. They will be airbrushed to within an inch of their life to create the illusion that sells magazines.

Growing up I played with Barbie’s and stripped naked every single one. I’m not sure why I denied Barbie clothes (especially when it was 2 degrees,) but I did. Barbie owned elegant evening gowns, sportswear and appropriate cold weather attire, all which hung neatly in her closet. There were times, depending on the story line I created for her that I’d dress her for her stage debut, but once her scene was over I’d undress her and hang the clothes back in the closet.

Looking back now, I realize the difference about Barbie’s closet and my closet is she didn’t need a sorting system for her clothes. She was able to wear all her clothes, all the time. In my closet I have a ‘Fit and wear now’ section. I also have a ‘Don’t fit – ate too many donuts’ section. I also have a ‘What in the world was I thinking when I bought it’ section. And in the way, way back, waiting to be worn, I have the ‘Illusion’ section. This section consists of clothes I bought thanks to the model in a magazine that was airbrushed, 6 feet, 2 inches and weighed 90 pounds. I look at those clothes and think they were just like buying clothes for my Barbie – a waste of money.