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(Save it, Baby! Count me in!)
So, it goes like this . . .
Where there is smoke there is fire.
Hell, there is so much smoke here now I smell like a summer sausage at a Tuscaloosa Bar-B-Que.
That’s not a nice smell on a woman.
I wish I could say that I took this picture, but I did not. I took some but mine are not as nearly dramatic as this . . .
So, here is my own personal photo (Below).
Unfortunately after looking at the two, I don’t think the other one was retouched. Just the timing of the photograph . . . and the fact that I am not a professional photographer. Hello-o?
See those little tiny black buildings in the lower part of my photo?
Those are like 30-story buildings . . . Can you get the enormity of this fire?
It’s astounding.
Please, have a moment of thought for our dear Fire Fighters.
I, too, live in a fire-prone area.
Yes . . . a moment of silence.
Be well, and wear a mask . . .
Belle
S. Belle Karper, Author, Speaker www.BelleKarper.com
THE WIDOW WEARS BLACK - An Edgy Memoir from an Outspoken Survivor
Check out S. Belle Karper’s – Beauties and Beasts – Blog! Baby! Blog!
Belle Karper Face Book & the popular Twitter-Belle - all on Website
Save it, Baby! Count me in!
(Save it, Baby! Count me in!)
So, it goes like this . . .
Things have gotten worse.
The other day, I woke up sounding like Demi Moore.
Scratchy. Sexy . . . with a bit of a Southern Accent.
That was nice.
Made me sound naughty. Though, I have no intention of moving in on Ashton. They are adorable together.
Another score for the Cougars!
Go! Cougars! Go!
Aaaaaah . . .
Yes . . . the memories of Cougar catching the fine young chicken meat . . .
Hmmm . . . I get all warm just thinking about it.
But, I digress.
However . . .
Yesterday, I woke up sounding like Demi Moore’s mother.
Don’t quote me, but I don’t think they “get along.” Something about alcohol and . . . well, that might put a damper on the old relationship thing.
Yeah, not good.
And, today . . .
Well, today I have woken up sounding like Demi Moore’s Uncle Crank. A distant chain-smoking, pain-in-the-ass pseudo-relative that is bent on trying to break up her and Ashton’s May-September romance.
He’s probably an ass.
So, it’s no compliment, to me . . . Moi . . . I . . . Belle, that I sound like her mother . . . or worse yet, scary old pseudo-Uncle Crank.
Sounding like Demi Moore with a southern accent was fun . . . for a day or so, until it disintegrated into “weird Uncle Crank.”
No. This is entirely NOT GOOD.
I guess I am going into the doctor on Monday.
Bummer.
I wonder if I am going to need a shot?
I’ve probably done something to deserve it.
Something.
Double Bummer.
Be well, and I am frigging determined to get better!
I don’t want to sound like ANY of the Demi Moore Klan anymore.
I want to be me, I tell you. I want to be me!
Be well,
Belle
S. Belle Karper, Author, Speaker www.BelleKarper.com
THE WIDOW WEARS BLACK - An Edgy Memoir from an Outspoken Survivor
Check out S. Belle Karper’s – Beauties and Beasts – Blog! Baby! Blog!
Belle Karper Face Book & the popular Twitter-Belle - all on Website
Save it, Baby! Count me in!
(Save it, Baby! Count me in!)
So, it goes like this . . .
So I’m sitting at the spa, disrobing in the locker room.
Showing everybody my age via the slight little sag (and I am really not going to admit this sag thing) in my heart-shaped-best-damn-ass-this-side-of-the-Mississippi derriere . . .
Yeah boys, relax now, I was in the ladies locker room at my gym.
I say Spa, because it makes it sound really nifty and special, however the fact is is that it’s just an offshoot of my gym. So yeah, I am surrounded by aging sweaty female bodies that just got out of a “Body Blast”ing 50 minute core bending, arm-pit stinking, boob bouncing meltdown class.
Yeeaaaa…uh…ugh…hmmm.
No.
Just try to envision this, there are women all around me that are “dropping-trou” and flopping breasts, with relaxed waists and cellulite butts. Sweatin’ with the oldies . . .
Hey, as I look around and compare my (like I said my heart-shaped-best-damn-ass-this-side-of-the-Mississippi) derriere . . .
Against the other sweaty or pre-sweated asses . . .
I think to myself, I say . . .
(Come on, say it . . . if I am thinking to myself, and I say something . . . come on . . . God, have I got to do everything here?)
Holy crap, okay . . .
And, I think to myself, I say . . . “Self . . .”
(See how easy that was?)
I digress.
I do that a lot.
So, as I look around at all of those younger and older “Sit Upons” I say to myself, I say, “Self — Hey! I’m feeling pretty good about myself! My ass is looking pretty fine!”
However, after comparing my goods to those others in the locker room . . . well, let’s just admit that maybe a thong shouldn’t be sold to women that could qualify for AARP.
I think that just about draws the line there, and even in semipublic situations a thong on women that age is just a whole bowl of throng wrong.
Should I have to be subjected to such sights? I ask you?
I . . . Mois . . . Me . . . Belle . . . don’t even wear a thong when I am going to gym. When I know that I might be viewed by someone else, even though as I said before, I do have the heart-shaped-best-damn-ass-this-side-of-the-Mississippi) . . .
I think there should be standards set.
I have eyes don’t I?
I am not an animal!
I can discern objects that are scary to me!
Well, so I finally get my robe on in preparation for my massage. I finally hide the hide and resume coverage of my heart-shaped-best-damn-ass-this-side-of-the-Mississippi.
Ah . . . the comfort of a loose fitting robe. It hides all the demons, doesn’t it?
Well, like I said, they do treatments at my spa.
When I say treatments, I say and mean ”Fluff Facials” (meaning we’re not going to be digging out those huge ugly pores on your face, Darling! You will have to go somewhere else for that) and some pretty exceptional massages.
They only service ladies at my gym, boys. So, you’re not going to be able to apply for a masseuse position.
Sorry. (Wink. Wink.)
So, let’s be frank here — I only go for the massages.
However you want to look at it, I am paying a professional to touch me all over my body . . .
Nice, right?
Hmmmmm . . . sounds naughty, doesn’t it?
Well, I guess if I were switching teams, then it would be . . . naughty.
But, you boys dig that whole girl touching girl thing, don’t you?
Hate to burst your proverbial bubble heads . . . but, I just go there to be manipulated . . . uh, my muscles, that is.
My kids have the other manipulation thing down, man.
Let’s face it, I am here to escape.
So, this is just a touch me, I need to be frigging touched and de-stressed, and know that I am not going to wind up have sex at the end of it . . .
Just relax . . . no energy . . .
I go in the “Relaxation Room.”
Where, I might add, everyone has a Goddamn robe on, thank you very much.
How can I relax if someone’s thong-split cheeks were sticking to the fricking chair I want to sit in?
No. Holy crap, right?
Thank you dear God, everyone’s got a nice little “spa” robe and and everyone is hidingthere questionable little asses . . . just like mine, my heart-shaped-best-damn-ass-this-side-of-the-Mississippi, is safely snuggled below the confines of the loose-fitting robe.
Aaaaaah.
Yes.
A little hot tea, perhaps?
Well, I don’t mind if I do!
A little dried apricot or almonds to quell that scant bit of hunger?
Well Darling, how thoughtful . . .
Okay, who the hell am I talking to?
These are the conversations that go on in my cornered little brain . . .
Hot tea, apricot, almonds. How charming, thank you!
Chomp. Sip. Swallow. Almond. Crunch. Swallow. Choke. Wrong Pipe. Hacking . . . coughing. . . choking. . . Help! Goddammit! Stop frigging relaxing and hit me on the back . . . finally. Down. Swallow. Breathe. Aaaaah. Sip. Swallow. No more frigging almonds. Aaaaah. Hot tea. Sip. This is the life. No?
Relax . . .
Ottoman?
Well, sure!
Nice. Reclined. Sip.
“Belle . . .” she calls to me.
Karen?
Yes, my dear, Karen. Yes, it is she that is calling me . . .
Save me. Touch me. Thank you, my dear Karen.
I nod.
Slowly, and with reverence, I walk to the massage room.
She is my angel for the next 50 minutes. And, I will show her my appreciation at the end with a very large tip.
Insignificant to what she has given me. An hour of . . . bliss?
Yes, I walk slowly to the room . . . and take off my robe . . .
The next 50 minutes are mine . . . I paid good money for it. So, let me shut the door and get on with it!
Jeeze.
—
So, Y’all come back now, Y’hear?
Zen,
Be well,
Belle
S. Belle Karper, Author, Speaker www.BelleKarper.com
THE WIDOW WEARS BLACK - An Edgy Memoir from an Outspoken Survivor
Check out S. Belle Karper’s – Beauties and Beasts – Blog! Baby! Blog!
Belle Karper Face Book & the popular Twitter-Belle - all on Website
Save it, Baby! Count me in!
(Save it, Baby! Count me in!)
So, it goes like this . . .
I woke up sounding like Demi Moore.
Scratchy.
With a bit of a Southern Accent.
It would have sounded sexy if I didn’t have a fever and was feeling crappy.
My mood is good, but my body is lagging behind the game.
Bummer.
Good point, is that whoever talks to me on the phone has said that my voice has got them thinking naughty thoughts . . . too bad I don’t feel like acting on those thoughts today.
Double Bummer.
Be well, and I can get better!
Belle
S. Belle Karper, Author, Speaker www.BelleKarper.com
THE WIDOW WEARS BLACK - An Edgy Memoir from an Outspoken Survivor
Check out S. Belle Karper’s – Beauties and Beasts – Blog! Baby! Blog!
Belle Karper Face Book & the popular Twitter-Belle - all on Website
Save it, Baby! Count me in!
(Save it, Baby! Count me in!)
So, it goes like this . . .
I was just going through my Facebook a couple minutes ago, and I got the link for a very graphic and all too real video.
The subject matter of the video is four teenage girls in a car in Great Britain. The problem is, is that this horrible situation can happen anywhere in the world.
This video has to do with texting while you’re driving.
Since I have two teenagers with cell phones texting all the time . . . well, I took notice.
It’s hard for me, and probably hard for you, to imagine the ramifications of such a seemingly benign action.
Texting.
Just punching letters and numbers on your telephone or PDA.
Simple, really. Too simple.
The beauty of texting is that it’s immediate communication without actually having to go through all of the niceties and “How do you do’s.”
<TEXT> Do you want to meet us at Starbucks? <SEND>
See how simple that was?
Really, texting is perfect for our world the way that we see it right now. And, the way that we communicate.
We want everything right now. Right this moment. No waiting. I can’t fricking wait, okay?
Well, after watching this video, you might agree that waiting until you pull over to the side of the road might be a better choice. It may be that your life and your friend’s lives depend on this patience level.
Maybe, if the Department of Motor Vehicles thinks that you’re old enough to have a license, then maybe you should be wise enough to pull over the car.
I would post the link, but YouTube made me sign in and verify my age prior to watching the video, however I think the people are shooting it all over the web right now. If you go under YouTube and search for “Graphic Crash, UK, Dangers of Texting While Driving.” (You can cut and paste this Video Title into the search bar of the YouTube site.)
I would give you the direct link, but since YouTube made me sign-in and verify my age, I feel a certain responsibility to my blog readers to maintain a certain level of ethics. You understand, I am sure.
Please watch it. Have your teanagers watch it. Have anyone watch it that texts.
Not only could it save their life . . . it could also save mine . . . and also yours.
As always,
Be well,
Belle
S. Belle Karper, Author, Speaker www.BelleKarper.com
THE WIDOW WEARS BLACK - An Edgy Memoir from an Outspoken Survivor
Check out S. Belle Karper’s – Beauties and Beasts – Blog! Baby! Blog!
Belle Karper Face Book & the popular Twitter-Belle - all on Website
Save it, Baby! Count me in!
(Save it, Baby! Count me in!)
So, it goes like this . . .
Here’s the deal, if you keep belly-aching, after a while no one is going to listen to you anymore.
Just a thought.
So, y’all come back, now. Ya’ hear?
Be well Dahhhhlings,
Belle
S. Belle Karper, Author, Speaker www.BelleKarper.com
THE WIDOW WEARS BLACK - An Edgy Memoir from an Outspoken Survivor
Check out S. Belle Karper’s – Beauties and Beasts – Blog! Baby! Blog!
Belle Karper Face Book & the popular Twitter-Belle - all on Website
(Save it, Baby! Count me in!)
(Save it, Baby! Count me in!)
So, it goes like this . . .
Over 100 million videos on YouTube. Think about that.
And that might even be a low number.
100-Fricking-million.
Wow. That’s a lot of footage. Oops — Old term – footage.
Wow. That’s a lot it Gigs.
I think it’s amazing that YouTube has come up, and that so many people feel the freedom to be able to express themselves online. Singing. Acting. Reading. Goofing off. Plus, there’s a lot of weird out there, and don’t tell me that you haven’t noticed.
Plus, if I hear the “My-ya-hee, My-ya-hoo” song one more time for my son, I think that a shoot him.
Yes. I know that it’s a very old song, but unfortunately it is stuck in his head and he sings it every single morning.
Let me repeat that – he sings it every single morning.
I haven’t made a video of myself yet for YouTube, but both my kids have and they have so much fun making videos with their friends.
I always know when they’re over and making videos because I can hear them laughing in the other room where they are putting it all together.
The door is closed with a “DO NOT ENTER” sign hastily made with red magic marker. Magic marker. Another old term.
So, I guess I better get on the bandwagon and make a video!
Unfortunately, my laptop… well something has corrupted the sound card so I can’t make a video on that.
I guess I’ll just use this sound card corruption excuse for a while, until I find the balls to make a video for you guys and put it on the net.
Eeeeeek!
Moving on to the next step into the future!
Double-Eeeeeek!
So, y’all come back, now. Ya’ hear?
Be well Dahhhhlings,
Belle
S. Belle Karper, Author, Speaker www.BelleKarper.com
THE WIDOW WEARS BLACK - An Edgy Memoir from an Outspoken Survivor
Check out S. Belle Karper’s – Beauties and Beasts – Blog! Baby! Blog!
Belle Karper Face Book & the popular Twitter-Belle - all on Website
Save it, Baby! Count me in!
(Save it, Baby! Count me in!)
So, it goes like this . . .
TWITTER is a mess.
Wrong Follower counts. Wrong Following counts. Wrong Tweet counts.
Yep. It’s a real mess.
And, now . . . again . . .
Hey, y’all — getting tired of seeing the fricking whale!
Twitter is over capacity.
Too many tweets! Please wait a moment and try again.
—–
Be well Dahhhhlings,
Belle
S. Belle Karper, Author, Speaker www.BelleKarper.com
THE WIDOW WEARS BLACK - An Edgy Memoir from an Outspoken Survivor
Check out S. Belle Karper’s – Beauties and Beasts – Blog! Baby! Blog!
Belle Karper Face Book & the popular Twitter-Belle - all on Website
Save it, Baby! Count me in!
(Save it, Baby! Count me in!)
So, it goes like this . . .
Gave a reading from my book, The Widow Wears Black, today.
It made people cry.
—–
Seems like Michael Jackson’s doctors are in some hot doo-doo.
—–
Men that wink and talk to me, need to stop shaking my hand. It kind of freaks me out.
—–
My kids tell me that I am a texting illiterate.
That it’s silly that I text words that are spelled correctly.
—–
Be well Dahhhhlings, (at least I don’t spell that correctly!)
Belle
S. Belle Karper, Author, Speaker www.BelleKarper.com
THE WIDOW WEARS BLACK - An Edgy Memoir from an Outspoken Survivor
Check out S. Belle Karper’s – Beauties and Beasts – Blog! Baby! Blog!
Belle Karper Face Book & the popular Twitter-Belle - all on Website
Save it, Baby! Count me in!
(Save it, Baby! Count me in!)
So, it goes like this . . .
So, yes. I have climbed my share of stairs.
In my house . . . about a million times.
In buildings.
At the baseball stadium.
Hockey.
However, the most important and memorable stairs I ever climbed was when I went to the Great Wall of China.
It was on my list of things to do before I die.
Is it on yours?
What a lot of people don’t know, is that outside of Beijing they have the original “Great Wall” and then they have the new “Great Wall” of China. It is to represent what it would have been like when they first built it. The original, as you may suspect, is a little . . . well . . . old.
So, they take all the tourists to the new wall.
Don’t worry, I hit both of them running!
Holy crap, some of those stairs are difficult, and frankly the Chinese maybe should have taken a “How to Build a Staircase” class prior to building this amazing structure.
Uniformity of steps risers is completely lost on the ancient Chinese.
However, we do cut them a little slack since the Great Wall of China is about a million miles long . . .
They do get the perseverance award, no doubt.
They don’t really know how many died during the building of it. Most of them that died were just thrown in the wall.
Trust me, there were a couple times when I was stepping up . . . or down . . . that I was wondering if I was standing on someone’s Peking Duck “last supper.” Eeeeek.
Something to think about, right? Is somebody’s grand-chinese-pappy supporting this step I am standing on? I hope he took his vitamins, right?
The other thing, is that some of these steps are extremely high (and a lot of the length of the Great Wall is a combination of stair steps and not a lot of flat stretches of “Brick”) . Like a step could be 2-feet high, immediately followed by one that might only be a couple inches high.
The steps seem endless . . . because they are. It goes round in a circle, you know.
Yeah, consistency was not a big concern when building these never-ending stairs.
So there you have it, I climbed the “Great Wall of China.” I went all the way to the top, baby (what they consider the highest point of the new wall.)
I should have worked-out a couple weeks on my StairMaster first. Ugh. Crap.
Dang. Really!
But, there I was . . . climbing steps next to little toddlers being lifted by their parents with smiling faces . . . and climbing steps next Chinese people that looked ancient. They stopped sometimes, took a breath and continued.
Yep. Some of them were really, REALLY old.
It was like a pilgrimage.
I felt like I was intruding, a little.
It was a beautiful social sharing of just the struggle of climbing that frigging wall.
Imagine the struggle it took to build it. Too much to think about . . . if you really think about it.
It was magnificent and seemingly impenetrable. And yes, I bought the stupid sweatshirt that said “I climbed the Great Wall of China.” It’s probably sitting in some Salvation Army shop right now.
I got tired of shuffling the shirt from room to room and finally donated it.
I don’t need a stinking shirt to confirm my memory.
The shirt trivialized it. Commercialized it. Lessened it.
So, of course, it had to go.
But, my memory of the Great Wall of China — the old wall and the new one — both are masterpieces in my mind.
That memory will never leave me.
So . . . go make a memory.
I dare you.
Let me know what you’ve done!
TO BE CONTINUED . . . BECAUSE I’VE DONE A WHOLE HELL OF A LOT!
So, y’all come back, now. Ya’ hear?
Be well Dahhhhlings,
Belle
S. Belle Karper, Author, Speaker www.BelleKarper.com
THE WIDOW WEARS BLACK - An Edgy Memoir from an Outspoken Survivor
Check out S. Belle Karper’s – Beauties and Beasts – Blog! Baby! Blog!
Belle Karper Face Book & the popular Twitter-Belle - all on Website
Save it, Baby! Count me in!
