Beehives and City Slickers

It's a rainy day in Minnesota. It's not a stormy day, but a refreshing day of spring showers, which will do us well.

Driving through the neighborhood on my way home from the grocery store I noticed a woman holding a leash, watching her dog nosing around and crapping on the boulevard.

The woman obviously disdains rainy weather, or else must preserve the hairdo she receives every Friday at the local beauty salon. She had on her head a silk scarf (or polyester, probably) and one of those fold-up, clear plastic rain bonnets over the scarf. She also carried an umbrella. As we all know the slightest bit of moisture will ruin that hairspray-riddled bouffant (also known as "beehive") in a minute.

What completed the picture was that her little, yippy, butt-sniffing dog was wearing a rain slicker. A little, yellow, doggy rain slicker. Ten-to-one that little tail-wagger scoots his poopy hind-end across her beautiful Persian rug to relieve himself of the annoying itch of worms, but heaven forbid his flea-infested fur be cleansed with nature's spring-fresh rain shower.

Perhaps I can't relate to all of the woman's headdresses because I've never done anything with my hair except wash it every day and have it cut when needed. But believe me when I say if I ever were to own a pet for the sake of companionship or out of a basic love for animals, I would never, ever make it wear clothes.

A Sad Day For Ben Hur

As heard in a report given by Mike Evans on KQRS radio, actor Charlton Heston is nearing the end of his battle with Alzheimer’s disease. He fought the good fight, but the tough guy seems to be losing.

According to my personal inside sources, family members of Heston first suspected something was wrong when they found him on a rooftop with two slate flagstones, one in each arm, announcing to the neighborhood, “The Lord has handed down these Ten Commandments!” They were able to coax him down after he was convinced his wife wasn’t really a monkey with a British accent.

His strength is waning as he refuses to eat. Sources say he just stares at the food and shouts, “Soylent Green is people!”

We believe, however, that he will go out of this world and into the next in a blaze of glory. In his withered and weakened state he will fall to his knees and pound the floor with his fist while roaring, “Damn you! Damn you all to hell!”

BMAMF

Sometime when I'm feeling a little blue I like to fantasize about my dream house. I've always wanted to live in a mansion, and probably did in a past life. I could never hope to make enough money to ever live in anything bigger than what I have right now. If you'd like to donate to the Buy Meredith A Mansion Fund (BMAMF), please indicate so in the comments section of this entry, as well as any future mansion-related entries, and I will give you the particulars on where to send your hard-earned money to put me up like a queen.

I took a drive today, down the avenue of my dream houses. I found that quite a number of them were for sale. There were none over $2M, so I might be in luck. Could I ever imagine shelling out that kind of jing for a house, not to mention the taxes (easily $12,000 a year) and the upkeep a building that is over 100 years old?

Here's just one of the homes that is actually for sale. I would love to live out my fantasy. Please, give generously.