BERNTHIS.COM

Probably Better Off Spending Time Elsewhere

SCENE:

We are still in the Federal Building in Los Angeles

I have now finished my business with the people in the passport renewal office.  On my way out, I notice a billboard with posters of the FBI’s most wanted tacked to it. 

I stop to read them.  About thirty feet away is the officer from the screening area, the same officer who didn’t laugh at my dead body joke, a joke that now seems to me to be quite funny being that some time has passed and the threat of incarceration has pretty much evaporated.

Still, to be sure, I found myself standing there, with my arms crossed and a look of pure innocence on my face, to the point where you’d have thought I was shopping for baby clothes. As I was reading, I saw this one “wanted” guy who was also cute, had a masters degree and spoke fluent French. That fact that he had murdered two people and bilked several out of their life savings didn’t bother so much as to know that he wasn’t available for dating.

You know that feeling you get when you see a really good looking guy and he turns out to be gay, you know how your heart sinks and all you can think at that moment is, “Why God? Why?” That was the feeling I had standing there and then if that weren’t bad enough, I saw another guy, very similar in cuteness and although he didn’t have a master’s degree, he was Jewish and hadn’t murdered anyone which I thought made him a better catch anyway until again I realized I was staring at posters of men
F B I had put in the same category as Osama Bin Laden.

At this point, I’m pretty sure no one was paying me any mind but just to allay any suspicion that I was consorting with the criminal element, I stopped to look at the posters of missing kids.  Of course, I felt terrible but I will admit that perhaps I could have uttered a 1000 few less “oh’s” and “that’s so horrible”s and looking back I’m positive that I didn’t need to look at the officer with no sense of humor and shake my head back and forth so many times I could have successfully pleaded insanity had they changed their minds and arrested me.

Speaking of which, perhaps this would be a good time to check in with my therapist

Thankful to still have a name & not a number

Scene:

Security station in the lobby of the Federal Building in Los Angeles.

Officer takes my pocketbook to put it on the conveyer belt:

OFFICER:  This sure is heavy.

JESSICA:   I know.  You’d think I had a body in there.

He didn’t laugh but I’m not going to do any time so, it’s all good.

I had gone there to get a new passport as five years ago I recently went back to using my maiden name.

I had to go to CVS to get the necessary photos.  I’m not sure if the word hideous goes far enough to describe what I look like in them as it was only when I arrived at the store that I realized that I was sans make-up, hadn’t washed my hair in two days and had forgotten to change out of my old favorite t-shirt that I had purchased at a George Michael concert two recessions ago.

Never mind that wearing black and standing under a fluorescent light is not an ideal setting for a photo shoot when the subject is a woman over forty who refuses to smile for fear of people mistaking her for a Sharpei.

However, I went through with it figuring that last I heard there is no law that says that immigration can bar me from re-entering the country because I’m not attractive enough although I'm not sure what the deal is when you're so f**king stupid you actually think making dead body jokes in an FBI building is a good way to ingratiate yourself with law enforcement.  Then again,  Lindsay Lohan seems to drift in and out of United States without much of a problem so maybe I'm safe on that end as well.

I'm to return to the Federal building next week to pick up my passport. I've been practicing walking into a room and not saying anything and I'm not sure I can do it but then again doing life in a federal penitentiary would probably be harder although for all those that know me, it's debatable.

FYI:

I was just over at smartypants stacy's blog and she's turning off her comments for the month. Stacy clearly has a strong sense of herself and does not seek the approval of others. I, on the other hand, have a needy factor of a three year old so my "shut off' will be random. 

Today is a "random" day.  Have a good one.

I'm too tired to think of a title

This morning, I droooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Sorry, I guess my head landed on the "o" key  and just so you know, the letter "E" drowned this morning in my drool.

See you tomorrow.

PERHAPS I SHOULD HAVE GIVEN THIS ONE MORE THOUGHT

Last night, while I in the throes of what could only have been a massive psychotic break, I made a commitment to stacey, one of the most prolific writers I know,  to accompany her on her this journey called:

National Blog Posting Month

where you must post thirty days in a row. I have never blogged every day, EVER and with good reason.  As we all know, my life is so exciting, I could now do a 1000 piece jigsaw puzzle with my eyes closed and as much as I know people want to read about this kind of stuff, I find it prudent to not to share this information day after day after day. 

Now, in my defense, Stacy has herself and five other immediate family members to use for fodder whereas it's just me and Phoebe and on a good day a guy I keep writing to give me back the thirty minutes of my life that I wasted having coffee with him or my parents.

That being said, I am not one to back out on a promise but I just want to forewarn you that if you receive a notice that I have posted something and open it only to find it consists of two or three words such as:

Well, this morning

Can I ask

or

My daughter

don't worry, I'm fine.  Just know that it will be most likely due to the fact that I fell asleep writing about myself and as my head hit the keyboard, I accidentally clicked "publish" with my cheekbone.

Excuse me, where do you think you're going with that Kit Kat?

I took Phoebe trick or treating. For the first time in her life, I could have sworn she'd eaten the candy BEFORE we left as she powered her way from house to house ending up with so much loot that she asked if she could lighten her load by dumping some of it in my purse before she continued.

I of course, said yes, with every intention of letting her know that once something goes in my pocketbook, I become the sole owner of said something, especially if it is chocolate and made by the Mars/Hershey/Nestle/Kellogg corporation, oh and whoever it is that makes DOTS. God I love those.

Anyhow, after we returned home, I went through her candy and told her the things that were to be thrown out, things that coincidentally, I can't stand, Laffy Taffy being one of them and those new flavored tootsie rolls.  If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times, LEAVE THE TOOTSIE ROLL A LONE. It was perfect then and it is perfect now.  Sure it looks like poop but that has never stopped me from eating it, it never even slowed me down.

After we got the candy sorted out, Phoebe decided she wanted to give some out now that we were home. Trouble was, we didn't have any.  Okay we had a few packets of Skittles and some Peanut M&M's, but that was my personal stash which I had bought yesterday in anticipation that Phoebe would not get anything to my liking, even though the possibility of that happening was/is and always will be, a big, fat ZERO. 

When I informed Phoebe that we had no candy to spare, she turned around, picked up her pail of heaven chocolates and such and said:

PHOEBE: I'll give these out.

Now, after reading the following exchange, I'm sure you will agree this is where I earn the mother of the year award and possible mother of the century. 

JESSICA: Oh sweetheart but you worked so hard for that candy.  Remember, how you said you loved the Kit Kat bars and the Reeses.

PHOEBE: You like Kit Kats.  There's too much  peanut butter in the Reeses.

JESSICA:  Well, yeah, okay great more for me but the point here is there is other stuff you like and I just don't want you to regret it.

PHOEBE: But I like sharing.

JESSICA: Sharing is good but maybe you should sleep on it and then in the morning, if there is anything left you still want to give it away, you can.

PHOEBE: But then it's not Halloween anymore.

JESSICA: You can give candy any time you want. It doesn't just have to be Halloween. You can give some as a Christmas present.

Next thing I know the Goddamn doorbell rings and Phoebe runs to answer it, bag of candy in hand. I nearly broke both of my femurs as I dived towards her to remove the Kit Kats, Reeses and the one mini Twix bar, I happend to see at the last second before she could give it to some kid who would never appreciate it the way I would. Never.

How was your Halloween? 

If it helps....

Yesterday was five years since my ex husband moved out. Getting divorced is like stepping off a cliff. You have no clue as to what lies at the bottom and whether or not you will survive. It is the single most frightening decision I have ever made in my life.

Unfortunately, many people stay in unhappy relationships because they are scared of the unknown. Even more file for divorce with no clue as to what happens next or how to deal with the emotional toll it will take on their children, themselves and their lives in general.

After watching me go through what I went through and the money I had to spend just to learn the most basic information,  my mother, who has been a therapist for 35 years, started to read everything she could on the subject of divorce.   Along with her friend who is a family law atty, she has now decided to run a series of seminars called

SmartDivorce

Basically, in one day, people will not only learn what takes place procedurally after you file but how it will impact the family emotionally as well. It will also save people a lot of money that otherwise would have been spent in their attorney's office or with talking with their therapist.

The next seminar is on November 7th, in Rye, NY which is right outside NYC.

I feel very ill at ease posting this, A) because it's not funny and I know that this blog is humor based and B) it involves my mother but I have so much respect for what she does and I know this has been a labor of love for her so I guess sometimes you have to take a risk and for me this is one of those times.

That being said, I would be beyond appreciative if you would pass the link on to anyone you know that lives in the New York, NJ or Connecticut area that you feel would benefit from this information.

I'm closing this to comments and just want to say thank you all for reading this, have a wonderful rest of the weekend and I promise by Monday, it's back to funny or at least I hope you'll think it is funny. 

Your C is My A and I'm Not Talking About Cups Here

I found my transcripts from college the other day and quite frankly, upon first glance, I could not understand how it was I did so poorly.  Then I made this Vlog and it all came back to me.

      

You Tell Me

What is wrong with me when I'm in my car and a guy rolls by me riding a unicycle, in the middle of traffic, dressed for work and all I can think is, "Damn it, I forgot to buy waffles!" 

How inured am I to living in this insane city when a man in the parking lot of my grocery store gets out of his car wearing a full on gas mask and my first thought upon seeing him is, "I really need to buy another bra."

and lastly:

Is it time to head for the burbs when some guy cuts you off in traffic and your first reaction is to yell out, "It's alright. Go ahead!" and mean it.

Desperation breeds inspiration or utter stupidity, you decide.

Today, I read that there are six people available for every job out there.  Of those jobs, I am right for pretty much none of them. 

That being said, I decided to open my business whereby:

For $65.00 an hour, I will work out FOR YOU.

For, $95.00 an hour, I will remind your husband over and and over again to put his clothes in the hamper and to just be happy there is a woman out there still willing to sleep with him for no money.

For $100.00 dollars an hour I will sit with your child during his meals and tell him:

1. Just eat five more bites

2. No, you're not done yet

3. You need to eat at least four of your carrots

4. No, you can't have a popcicle

For an additional $50.00 an hour I will get up and:

Get them water. Then when they cry they actually wanted juice, I will get them their juice whereupon I will replace the fork they dropped and I will get them a spoon which they NEED to eat their rice, you know, the one with the red handle, and when I'm just about to hand it to them will return for the one with the yellow handle they insist they must have.  I will fetch them the pink cup, no, the green one with the firetruck on it and okay fine, the purple one it is.

I will tell them to chew with their mouth closed, stop hitting their sibling, tell me about their day later and laugh at everything they say even though I have no clue what exactly I'm laughing at. I will pick their peas, their ham, their bread, their spaghetti, their green beans off the floor. I will remind them that just yesterday they said they liked broccoli, tofu, hot dogs WITH ketchup and cheese on their hamburger and yet will replace each item with something they will agree to eat instead.

I will cut off their crusts, the yucky skin, the black stuff, the brown stuff, the green stuff, the red. I will blow on their food, warm it up in the microwave, cut it up and tell them how what a good child they are for eating the beans, the tomatoes, the cucumbers, the chicken, the steak, the fish, their potato.

When the meal is complete I will put all the dishes away and if for some reason that is not enough for you:

For $500.00 I will return at bed time to cuddle with them, get them their water, get them their water but with ice inside, with two cubes, three cubes, take away the balloon from Trader Joes, the deflated one from a party they went to three weeks earlier, explain the downside of swallowing something rubber in their sleep, while awake, in the midst of playing, take a way their favorite rock, crystal, plastic piece of crap ie: sparkly, glittery ball, repeat information with regard to choking, sit there in there in the dark, think about how did my life come to this and then continue to remain there until the child is completely unconscious.

Deal? I know, tempting but yeah, I got it, no. 

They Sounded Like Good Ideas at the Time

If there is one thing I'm an expert on, it's relationships.  I'm telling you, I'm just like Ann Landers, except she did her job and THEN she started drinking.

If you're having a problem with your significant other, for the love of God, click here