795. So I was having lunch with Tad and Biff…

Yesterday I got an email from someone telling me not to ever use their name in one of my “stories”.

This was the second time that there was some negative feedback on something I wrote.

Both Liz and Julie suggested that in the future I change the names of the people I write about.

Makes sense to me. In fact I think I’ll enjoy finding names that suit those I memorialize in my blog.

I have to use the real names of my family, well because I want to.

dave will remain dave since I have a written document from him saying that I can write whatever I want about him.

David will remain David because not only doesn’t he give a shit what I say about him but the worse it is the better he likes it.

Now Liz has shown some displeasure about the things I write about David, and the crap he writes back in return, since as she says, “How do I explain why I’m engaged to him?”.

It is for that reason in the future Liz will be called “Muffy”. I’m fairly sure Liz, or Muffy,  has 6 or 7 friends with that name so nothing can be traced definitely to her.

Susan and Allan will remain Susan and Allan because Jews like their names and Sue and I long ago made a pact to always protect each other’s feelings with our lives so there would be no reason to disguise our contacts.

Ronnie won’t mind my using her real name because other than those few years when she was a stripper, she’s got nothing to hide.

Oops, I mean Bonnie.

As of now, Elvis and Raymond will remain the names of my boys but if at some later date I am forced into witness protection or something, I’m thinking Wayne and Bullet.

BTW here’s a picture of Muffy and Marcia in Venice enjoying pizza.

pizza liz

794. Why we should insist that Texas secede from the Union

I once wrote about David’s friend Ian who when he was meeting his son for dinner patted his pockets before leaving to make sure he had his glasses, his wallet and his switchblade.

David actually called me from the Dallas airport to tell me what he considered to be a hysterical story.

Ian and his brother were going to a wedding in Texas when Ian’s brother who was driving realized that he had a gun in his glove compartment.

His dismay wasn’t because he realized he must be a stupid jerk but it was based on his fear that since there was valet parking his gun might be stolen.

Ian suggested he remedy this by putting the gun in his back pocket and wearing it to the wedding.

His brother’s response “I can’t I already have one there”

So Ian wore  it for his brother so they were both “packing” for their friend’s nuptials.

There is so much wrong with this story, not the least of which is that David thought it was funny enough to make a long distance phone call to me about it.  Am I showing my age again?  Is “long distance” the same as “beauty parlor” and “pocketbook”?

I honestly believe that for the most part, in New York the majority of the people carrying guns for anything but hunting (and you can imagine how I love that) are criminals or nuts and those that aren’t would never think of bringing one to a wedding which is why New York is good and Texas is bad.

“The More You Know”


793. I’m expecting a lot of hate mail for this

The first batch will be from my family and friends when I say that I’m tired of being mad at dave.

I”ve loved him for more of my life than I haven’t and that can’t count for nothing.

Also there are so many times that I wish I could tell him stuff.

He’s been my friend longer than he’s been my husband. I really do miss that.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to have chatty emails and phone calls but I can see a time when on occasion we can contact each other for something other than business.

I think one reason for this change of heart is that I’m happier than I’ve been in years. I feel fulfilled with my writing. I adore when I receive positive responses for something I’ve done rather than something dave has done.

I also have these 2 pets, both rescues, that I love like crazy. They are almost too great. My cat could easily win a beauty contest and don’t ask about my dog. He’s flawless.

Now for the negative responses I’m going to get for what I’m going to say next.

As you all must know by now, my husband left me for a Japanese woman.

In the past few years I’ve noticed that one out of every ten couples I see in the street are comprised of Japanese women and American men, rarely the other way around.

(DISCLAIMER: The 1 in 10 thing has no mathematical basis in fact. It’s just a number I might have pulled out of my ass and my assessment of these couples walking around the street refer only to what I’ve seen in New York and as most of you know, I don’t give a shit about anyplace else)

I have come to the conclusion that Japanese women have something that American women don’t have. It appears that whatever it is it’s drawing American men to it like flies to honey.

Are they nicer? Better lovers? Less argumentative? Whatever it is, our boys clearly like it. I keep running this over in my mind. Is it possible that dave’s new wife never calls him her meal ticket or tells him to shut his piehole? Nah, can’t be. She may be from another land but she’s human and he never shuts up about what boring thing he’s just read on Reddit.

Again this is my opinion. Don’t be writing and telling me that you have an American girlfriend in Idaho with a great personality.

Now is this racist? Probably, but I can’t imagine that it’s pissing them off.  What African American man has objected to people thinking that they all have big dicks. I’d bet none.

That being said it’s probably not dave’s fault (although he’s lost the capital D forever) but I will never stop hating that piece of shit that he married and now that I’m writing this whole thing I’m mad at him again too so they can both go fuck themselves.

Never mind.

792. “David’s Guide to Capital Punishment” by Stupid M. Stupid

Last night David and I went out to dinner on the block but first we had cocktails at his house with the boys.

Elvis was happy for the interaction since he had been alone during the day and Ray was exhausted from sobbing for a good part of our outing up to visit Laura and Stephanie.

Anyway David started talking about something he read in the crapfest known as the New York Post. It was some kind of horrific murder of some innocent by some bad guys.

“You don’t believe in the death penalty do you?” He just likes to get me going.

“No, I think the State should be better than that.”

“Even for these guys?”

“I think there should be life without parole and no TV and stuff.But death? No”

“Well, here’s what I think.”

Like 1. I don’t already know and 2.I wasn’t askin’

“I would like to take these guys and slowly kill them, torture them for days then I want to skin them alive until they beg for a bullet.”

“Sounds good. Where should we eat?”

“I don’t know Bar Vetro?”


So we went down the street and had a lovely dinner.

When I got home I started thinking about what he said.

HE wants to kill those guys? Personally?

This is a guy that doesn’t like to get off the couch to take a piss. Just last night he asked me to get up three times so he wouldn’t have to move.

Once to turn on the a/c, another time to switch on the lamp and a third to check if the a/c was really on.

How is he going to be inclined to torture someone for days. Ya gotta get off the couch for that.

And don’t ask how labor intensive skinning someone alive is. And they aren’t going to just let you do it. You’re going to have to tie them up or something. Not a walk in the park.

Call me crazy but I think David doesn’t alway think things out before he speaks.

791. Knowledge is NOT power, it’s disappointment

The other day when my nieces Stephanie and Laura were here I was bragging about how great my animals are.

One particularly cute thing that Elvis does is when I scratch him under his chin he closes his eyes and puts his head back.

I showed them this and E didn’t disappoint. While I was kvelling and explaining that I was going to have him do it when Julie comes so she can video it and I can put it on Facebook, I was shocked to hear Stephanie murmur to Laura “She never had a cat before. She thinks that’s special”

Then she turned to me and said “All cats do that!” in a voice louder and with more contempt than was necessary.

I gotta say I was happier before I knew that.

Yesterday something else happened that reenforced that to me.

I got a mass e mailing from David Rosenfelt saying that his new book is out.

Now I love David Rosenfelt. I love him not only because I adore his books but he’s a great guy who saves dogs. He has 25 of them. If you look at his web site there are pictures of his dogs. Most of them are old or sick but all of them are happy. They are laying around his house just chilling.

When I got the email I wrote back automatically. I said that I had just bought his last book and I was loving it.

In a few minutes I got an answer. “Thanks, Mattie”

I was so excited. He actually read my email and responded. I felt like I was having a brush with greatness.

Then I started thinking.

If someone reads one of Julie’s books and writes to her, she’d write back.

All of a sudden it wasn’t so special.

Knowledge ruined my joy again.

This then brought to mind something that happened when I was about 12. I may have written about this before but so what,

I read in a movie magazine that Dion of Dion and the Belmonts lived in the Bronx near the Bronx Zoo. It really put a bee in my bonnet.

The Bronx Zoo was only 2 buses away from my house in Riverdale. Unlike Elvis in Memphis or all those other stars in Hollywood, this meeting was a possibility.

Without telling my parents or my sisters I got dressed. Nothing was too good for Dion. I wore a party dress. It had balloons on the skirt.I topped that off with my most treasured article of clothing, a white fake fur coat lined with black fake fur.

Either there were no full length mirrors in my house or I had been struck blind on my 12th birthday because that bulk couldn’t have done my chubby self any favors.

So off I went. I took the first bus filled with happiness and expectation.

It wasn’t until I changed on 231st street and Broadway to the bus that would take me to that part of the Bronx that I had never been in unless I was with my mother or sisters going to the zoo, that a few stray thoughts creeped in and then took hold.

“Near the Bronx Zoo” is a big place. How could I find his house. And even if I could I would never ring his bell so it would have to be an accidental meeting.

What if he wasn’t outside (harmonizing on a street corner with the Belmonts which is how saw it on bus #1)?

And then the real truth hit me. Even if I found him why would the fabulous Dion fall in love with me a kind of fat, albeit beautifully dressed, twelve year old when he could probably get Sandra Dee?

All of a sudden I wondered what the hell had I been thinking. Why didn’t I realize all that at any point until now?

I selected an outfit, gathered my bus money from my allowance, got dressed and actually gotten on 2 buses without really thinking it through.

I got off the bus, crossed the street and began my long trek home.

Maybe you’re thinking that knowledge saved me but I disagree.

If I had never had that bus 2 epiphany I might have followed through, never  found him, and gone on thinking that it was only rotten luck that kept us from being together forever.

Knowledge screwed me up.

You know I was just thinking. That whole going to look for Dion thing isn’t so different from how I behave now, acting without thinking.

Maybe I don’t have symptoms of Alzheimer’s, maybe I’m just a schmuck.



790. OY!

Look, I’m not Henny Youngman. My responsibility isn’t solely to entertain, which I’ve proven in the past.

Sometimes I just gotta blow off steam.

I  had a big trauma today.

I was preparing to have company for dinner so I figure the least I can do is take out the weeks of garbage that I have accumulated. Elvis followed me into the hallway.

Since David and Liz are in Quogue and the French people down the hall are in Europe, or wherever France is, I decide to leave my door open so the boys can enjoy the hall.

After awhile I noticed that  Elvis hasn’t returned from his outing so I go into the hallway only to see that the the door to the fire stairs is open.

I immediately ran back to my apartment to see if he came back without me noticing. If you remember the shoe incident from a few days ago you’ll realize that that was entirely possible.

No cat. I grab a book to hold the elevator door open on each floor  while I start my search. I live on the eighteenth floor but I decide to start at the Penthouse because, well he could have gone up or down.

I could drag this out by telling you how my search went and how my heart was beating the whole time but I’ll save you from that.

I found him on 8. He was shaking like a leaf.

We hugged and kissed and now he’s home and back in his old routine.

Hiding so he can scare Ray

scaring ray

And catching forty


It’s been a tough morning.

789. A perfect circle

I’m always saying that Raymond seems to like everyone better than me.

When people come to visit he hops and jumps on them.

When I come home, nuthin’.

Well this morning something wonderful happened.

David sent me an email, “Coffee?”

This means come on over and sit on my terrace while I read aloud parts of the paper that insult Obama.

“Sure” I said, “My coffee will be ready in a minute but I’ll bring the boys over.” which I did.

Elvis casually sauntered over while Ray ran over and jumped around David trying to kiss him.

Then I went back to my house and got my coffee.

It was about 10 minutes until I returned.

When I did, Raymond was sitting on David’s lap looking tiny.

As soon as he saw me he jumped off and ran to me jumping and hopping.

That’s when I realized. Maybe he doesn’t get excited when I come home because he expects me to be there. When I left him alone at David’s, maybe he was afraid that I was going to leave him there just as he’d been left before.

I’m not worried any more. I know my dog  loves me as much as I loved him the moment Julie showed me the picture of of him in the pound.

death row



788. Small Steps

I was never good at demanding that those in my life behave well. I don’t run a tight ship.

I had a husband that dated. I really should have said no to that.

I have a cat that sits on my keyboard when I’m trying to write.  I’ve been meaning to put my foot down on that.



But anyone can change.  I’m not the same person I was.

I do all kinds of things that I thought I couldn’t which is why I am celebrating my recent achievement.

My dog has the good sense to look guilty when I catch him on the dining room table.

table 2

787. Well I’ve finally entered Crazy Old Lady Land

Before I start writing I’m going to show you an adorable photo of my pets taking a nap because that’s what I want you to remember after you read this.

boys taking a nap

Now some history. I’ve always been a little strange, ask anyone in my family. Actually that doesn’t have anything to do with what I’m going to say.  I think I’ll start again.

I hate being bored.

Walking a dog is kind of boring so I always  bring a book and read while I walk. I had a dog for 14 years, Harry, and I read while I walked him. I have excellent peripheral vision. I never bump into anything.

I did get somewhat of a reputation in my neighborhood as the girl who’s always reading on dog walks. Clearly it isn’t something that a lot of people do.

Anyway now that I have Raymond I’ve picked up my old habit.

I’m reading a particularly good book now, a mystery by Karin Slaughter so when Ray nudged me to go out I was happy to do it.

Out we went, up 58th street to Second Avenue then downtown to 57th Street. At the corner of 57th and Second I had to look up from my book because we were planning on crossing the street when the light changed.

While we were waiting I happened to glance down at my feet. It seems I was wearing two different shoes.

I decided to cut the walk short and return home. I was really unnerved.

The only thing that made me feel better was that at least the two shoes were so similar that only the most attentive passerby would notice.





786 Random thoughts

Liz and David are coming back from Santa Fe tomorrow. I’m really happy but not nearly as happy as Raymond and Elvis will be.

A good part of their day is sauntering down the hall to visit the neighbors.


I love my pets so much even if they fill me with angst.

I took Raymond mainly because he looked so skinny and sad behind the bars and they were going to kill him but also because I assumed that Elvis was bored with only me. I noticed how he perked up when he found a bug on the terrace.

Well Elvis has absolutely bloomed with the addition of Ray. He watches him all the time and keeps getting closer and closer to him. I even saw him kiss Ray  (if cats kiss, I know nothing about them) when he was asleep.

Now I worry about Ray. Is he happy? Does he wish I’d take him back to his previous owner? After all he doesn’t know that they put him in a kill shelter. Will my craziness mean that I have to get an armadillo to keep him company and then a turtle for the armadillo (whose name will be Anthony)?

When I think of it Ray gets really happy when he sees David. Will David fill that empty spot in Ray’s heart?

Remember I said that you never really know what a new dog is thinking. Is it possible that Ray sees something in David that he admires?  I know that he’s an elitist like David.

He never looks directly at Elvis. It’s almost like he thinks Elvis is beneath his consideration.

Is he a racist?

When we went to Stephanie’s house, he played with the pure bred dog, Lucy, but I never saw him even acknowledge her other dog, Theo, who appears to have a touch of something else in his breeding giving him long legs which, though shapely, suggest a touch of , shall we say, a dalliance of his mother with someone other than another Jack Russell?

And though Ray likes to snuggle up with me at night and will occasionally drop a toy at my feet, I do notice a certain air of contempt when I talk to him. I almost feel like he considers me “help”.

Does he, like David, think that the fact that I couldn’t point out Omaha on a map is an intellectual weakness?

Look, I’m not going to drive myself nuts with this. I found a way to get along with David, I’ll find a way to get along with Ray.

And respect isn’t everything.

Besides maybe taking a peek at the map of the United States wouldn’t kill me.

OR I could just never mention Omaha.