Just Another Day

When Hubba-hubba almost died because of Depeche Mode? No? Well, sit back and let me tell you small tale, and obviously one with a happy ending. Back in the halycon days of New Wave, living in Los Angeles was an exciting, heady time.  Famous bands, and not so famous bands played here, visited here for talk shows and the like, and of course, what used to be a very Big Deal, the new album release. Sometime in the late 80's (I'm guessing 88 and Hubba-hubba is at work and I am too lazy for fact-checking) Hubba-hubba and some friends went to the Virgin Megastore in Hollywood for a big release party/signing for the Depeche Mode album. Sigh, back when it was ONLY albums.  Or tapes.  But mainly albums. Does anyone even use the word albums any more? The security bigwigs at the Virgin Megastore had erected plexiglass barriers between the crowd and the limo in which Depeche Mode planned on using for departure after their event transpired. As I wasn't there, I'm not

"Never share a bathroom." Spoken like a true rich person, that. Supposedly this one was attributed to one of the Real Housewives of Where-the-hell-ever, who are all rich.  Or at least doing a sufficient job of pretending to be rich for the cameras.  At first I pshawed like an old grandmother.  Ha! How could you NOT share a bathroom at some point with your spouse?  Even in the swankiest hotel room I have graced only has one toilet.  A damn fancy one, but one nonetheless.  But maybe the really rich people have access to hotel rooms beyond my ken. I am one of those people who prefer to keep the door closed whilst doing whatever it is I need to do in there. My motto is that if Hubba-hubba can't see it, then it never happened. Then I got to thinking about it, and you know what, this woman might have a point. I mean, not to get too TMI, but there is a certain agony of having to wait for someone else to finish using the bathroom when you need to urgently go yourself

It never fails. I took Ms. P to get her hairs cut the other day.  It is all one length with no bangs, and I don't get it trimmed all that often because a) it saves me some money and b) she isn't a huge fan of getting her hair cut. Anyhoo, when we are in a situation where she might freak out a bit, I try to warn the person we are dealing with that she is special needs and may not truly understand what the person is saying to her, and that she has difficulty communicating verbally. If I had a buck for every person who says, "What, this adorable angel is special needs?  Are you serious?  She certainly doesn't look like a special needs child," I would have the money for that very expensive purse I've been eyeing lately. And this is where I have to keep my eyes from rolling far, far back into my head because I want to ask them what exactly does a special needs child look like? Why does a child have to look like they have a disability for people to accep