Okay, so I know it was just a toad and I over-reacted, but here’s the thing. I was expecting to make up a joke about being in the Amazon and reducing my right thigh flab by dragging it in the water with the piranha when I turned and, suddenly, a mere two inches from my face, was … um. A toad. Near my face. A surprise toad /face near collision to be more accurate. And OF COURSE I’m not afraid of toads. But, as the circumstances are, I haven’t actually touched a toad in a number of years at this point and I think it would require just a little prep time. Like I would need to have made the decision to touch the toad and I would have to be prepared for the feeling of that cold, mottled skin.
I’m not that fond of touching toads.
But I love them. If I ever see one hopping through the garden or whatever I bend double and follow it and watch it. I like to look at them. I would never hurt a toad. I just don’t want to cuddle.
And, since toads are rarely known to attack people in the face, you know that there was somebody behind it all. It was Barry. He found the toad and seemed to be absolutely certain that he was funny. Isn’t it funny about certainty?
I don’t feel that I should have to work on my I-don’t-want-to-touch-a-toad phobia because, realistically, when am I ever going to have to touch a toad? It’s just not a skill set I see the need to build. I never see “toad-toucher” in the want ads. It’s never on the home page of aol under the heading: Hot Paying New Trends. And as for the toads…well…they don’t really want to be touched. They like to hop. Hop and eat bugs. Not hop, be held, and eat bugs. To them we are King Kong in a naked suit and they would just as soon be left alone.
Janette and Marie in Barnes & Noble Meet Marie
7-28-08
Janette and Marie at Barnes & Noble
Marie is sort of a fan who became a friend. She wasn’t my fan. She was John McDaniel’s, friend and fan. You remember John McD, the genius band leader from the old Rosie show. He was at Joe’s Pub in Manhattan one night playing the piano with a few invited friends to sing. I was there in the audience with Barry, my perfect boyfriend, and on our way out we ran into this woman, Marie. Maybe she had recognized me from the show or maybe we just started talking. I don’t know. I’m 54. Where do I live?
Point is we stayed another hour just talking to this woman we’d never met before. Then we left. Then years passed. Then I was on the View with Rosie and Marie and her mother were going to be in the audience. She wrote to me and sent her picture because she wasn’t sure if I’d remember her name. (Great idea since as you know I can’t quite remember my own. I think it starts with a J. Unless it’s a K. Or it could be a G. It will come to me.) When Laura and I were writing EBFA (Embracing Your Big Fat Ass) and decided to ask other B-FABs (Beautiful Fat Ass Babes) to give us some of their stories, I thought of Marie. She immediately said yes and even introduced me to B-FAB Dana – also in our book. I LOVED Marie’s story. I think there are two. (I know it’s our book….haven’t I explained about this short term memory thing?! Jeesh.) Anyway…Marie is the one whose underwear fall off in the department store.
So…Marie’s daughter lives in NYC which means Marie comes up to the city periodically which made it very clear that one of these days we would meet for coffee. She did. We did. We met at 11:30…figured, lunch. Nice long lunch. And I’d still get home in time to ride my bike and get a little writing done. The first time we noticed the time it was 5:20! And we were just talking about stuff. Nothing intense or stressful. Just one thread led to another and time disappeared. Then we went to B&N. Then we had a snack. Then we met friends of Marie’s who, although we hadn’t met, knew who I was…so we ended up having a fabulous time talking non-stop in the lobby of a lovely theatre district hotel until 1:00 in the morning. And it’s a J. My name starts with a J. I knew it would come to me.
7-25-08
Beastly, My Mean Cat
Beastly is my first cat, my favorite cat and I’m scarily attached to him (in that I can’t imagine EVER not having him but, what with him being a cat and me being a human and life spans being what they are…doesn’t look good.) Beastly is feisty…which is an understatement.
I never planned on getting a cat. (FYI – They crap in a box.) I told Barry, who was aggressively pro-cat, that I did not plan to have livestock in my apartment. I wrote an essay about it in Rosie Magazine years ago where I quoted myself as having said “As soon as they make a cat you can cork, I’ll get one.” Or something like that. The cork part is right but I’m not going to go look it up which I would have to do. I think it’s so odd that you can COMPLETELY forget what you write.
For years, Beastly would wake me up between 2 and 3AM and often bite me. Once he gave me a black eye. I’m pretty sure it was a head butt. I was in bed with the pillow over my face (because I can’t have any light at all or I can’t sleep) so I couldn’t see Beastly but all of a suddenly I felt him leap on the bed. My head probably started to come up and pow - right on the angle on the bridge of my nose. Then he ran away. He always attacks like that. I can be dead asleep and all of a sudden he’ll leap, like a wolverine out of the night, and really bite me. He’ll hold me with his paws to try to keep me from getting away and bite hard so the entire length of his incisor goes in. My arms are polka dotted with little tiny, white scars that, if you look close, are the shape of the top of his tooth.
When he does this I snarl and growl and bark. Just feels right.
Then I grab the water spray bottle and spray him. He HATES that so runs away. If I’m really mad I’ll get up and follow him spraying him repeatedly as he runs around trying to hide. Sometimes if he’s really mad he’ll hold his ground even if I’m spraying him and swat back at me with his paw.
We get over it pretty quickly. A few minutes. Neither of us holds a grudge.
He’s the smartest of my cats and he’s the one that cares the most if I’m not around.
I love my cat, Beastly.
Biking at Walmart
So I did buy it. And I spent the rest of the day and weekend just thrilled with the idea of my new grape colored bike. I envision myself riding along wearing slim Capri pants and a buttoned acrylic cardigan with a soft scarf at my neck – sort of like Audrey Hepburn riding a bike. Or I could see myself as a young Leslie Caron wearing some sort of leggings underneath a full skirt with crinolines. I could see me riding a bike down tree shaded country roads in rural Italy in 1941 working for the underground…I can imagine riding it from the mission school back into the village during Flame Trees of Thika. I can imagine many circumstances where I would be flying along on my two-wheeler, cool as a cucumber and very sophisticated, but, in fact, the most likely scenario is that I will wheel it to the park since…you saw my steering; I’m not that good yet. Once I get there I feel that I’ll be safe since there’s no traffic. Other people and their children…well I can make no promises. I suggest that if you think you live anywhere near me…stay in your house.
Then I’ll huff and puff with my face as red as a tomato as I sweat like a science experiment. But I’m hoping I’ll enjoy it. I used to ride a bike all the time. I stopped in 1996 (which I could swear was just last week) when I started working on the Rosie Show. That was because before that I was a stand up comic and worked for 45 minutes a night. I had time. TV is sort of the opposite. You have 45 minutes a day when you’re not working.
But I bought the bike because I’m reading this book called The Art of Aging. I’m about a third of the way through and already I have the shakes and am considering re-doing my will. It’s written by a doctor and he says that by our mid-sixties we will all lose about 30% of our muscle. If I lose 30% of my muscle I will be a puddle.
I have to start exercising even though I’d rather be hung by my toes over an open fire. So I guess I’m also going to have to start lifting heavy things. But muscle mass is not all this dastardly nemesis in this book talks about. He says that aerobic exercise is more important for your brain than your body. Normally I walk for exercise. I think that’s good but it’s not all that aerobic. Yes I know it could be and no I’m not going to pump my arms and walk in that funny way. Good for all of you who do - I respect and applaud you, but I hate that and I’m not doing it. That’s why I got the bike. Like I said, I used to really like it. Maybe I will again.
My only real concern is that I was really sore after riding the bike around the aisles in Walmart. I wonder: Will I survive a ride in the park?
B-FAB Lifter
So I was on my way to an in-studio radio interview when I encountered what I could only assume must have been an escaped figment of my imagination. I was so surprised I whipped out my Flip and walked behind him narrating as if I were Otto Preminger. But I think it was worth the effort. Did you see him? What could cause that?
There are a few obvious possibilities. He could be an out of work superhero. Pixar may be experiencing un-reported layoffs. Maybe he sleeps in a lead mold. He must be some kind of experiment.
Not that I’m being judgmental because I’m not. I’m NEVER judgmental. Other people are.
Did you see how narrow his hips were? If life were a Pearl Buck novel, I’d suspect that they bound his hips as a toddler – the way they did the women’s feet. But, regardless of how many times I’ve read The Good Earth, life is not a Pearl Buck novel and maybe this guy was born like that? But how could he have those shoulders? Did he or did he not look EXACTLY like Gaston from Beauty and the Beast?
I thought he might a cartoon actor. Part cartoon, part actor, out having a day off trying to fit in walking around New York City. Then it hit me. He’s a B-FAB Lifter. This should be a lesson to men everywhere about how valuable we B-FABs are. Not only are we smart, funny, sensitive and gorgeous. We can help them body build.
Skinny Bitch in South Beach Part 1
Skinny Bitch in South Beach Part 2
Skinny Bitch in South Beach Part 3
Skinny Bitch in South Beach Part 4
Live, from the Caspian Sea
Janette, Andrew and Christian win the Emmy for The View (Thanks Rosie!)
Meet Little Girl Michelle
Mathew, Cutest Boy in the World
Mathew says Embracing Your Big Fat Ass!
Mathew Succeeds:
Panty Hose Falling
Live from Borneo
Hi. This is my blog and I can put whatever I want on it – as long as it’s not filthy or abusive, which really cuts down on a lot of the things I was planning to say.
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