Aug 282015
 

Pic of Zendaya from her instagramThe magic of social media has brought us many great things, like the ability to keep in almost constant touch with family and friends. Sadly, it’s also brought out a whole load of people who should seriously be seen and definitely NOT heard. Cyberbullying has become a problem of epic proportions. People hide behind a keyboard and say things they’d never ever dream of saying to someone’s face. It’s ugly.

Fans of Dancing With the Stars will remember last season’s champion, Rumer Willis, tearfully recalling how she was called vile names in the press because she was not as pretty as her mother, actress Demi Moore. She related how all three of the daughters of Moore and Bruce Willis had terrible, hateful things said about their looks. It should be noted that Rumer has a body that some would kill for; however, she doesn’t have the face to go with it and, therefore, she is open to criticism and hate. One must have it all in Hollywood, right?

The latest instance of internet hate came to light this morning, once again, via the beautiful and talented Zendaya. What can you call Zendaya out on? The former Disney star and all around fantastic performer doesn’t leave much to criticize. So. . . . they went for her parents. Her parents? Oh, yeah.

Zendaya is the daughter of Claire Stoermer, who is white, and Kazembe Ajamu, who is black. They are teachers, both very tall and. . . . shock, horror, gasp!. . . don’t look like Kardashians or whatever is thought to be beautiful today (and which could easily change tomorrow). One photo was captioned, “They made a gorgeous ass child lol.” That was one of the nicer ones. Most called them ugly and one tweeter ever went so far as to say he or she “would cry” if his or her parents looked like Zendaya’s.

Zendaya loves her parents and her parents love her. They were in the audience every single week as she danced on DWTS, cheering her on. They have been with her every step of her journey, even giving up good careers of their own and moving so their baby could have the best. Here’s what the lovely (and smart) Zendaya shot back at her parents’ detractors.

“While you’re so concerned about what my parents look like, please know that these are two of the most selfless people in the world. They have chosen to spend their entire life, not worried about trivial things such as looks and insulting people’s parents on Twitter, but instead became educators who have dedicated their lives to teaching, cultivating and filling young shallow minds.”

She followed this up with, “Please, log out, go to school, hug a teacher and read a textbook…and while you’re at it, go look in the mirror and know that you too are beautiful, because such hateful things only stem from internal struggles. Bless you.”

I say, “Right on, Zendaya!” Her parents did indeed make a “gorgeous ass child.” What’s more important, though, is that they made a smart child with her priorities in the right place and a good dose of common sense.

And this isn’t the first time Zendaya has come under criticism. Zendaya wore her hair in dreadlocks for the Academy Awards last February and Fashion Police’s Julia Rancic took exception to it, saying that Zendaya’s hair must have smelled of “patchouli” and “weed.” Zendaya came back on that one, too, and quite respectfully put Ms. Rancic in her place, garnering an apology. You can read that beautifully-crafted response HERE.

Something I’ve often wondered. . . where is it written that the internet gives you permission to make fun of people for whatever you feel is the issue of the day? Zendaya and Rumer Willis live in the public eye so it’s right out there for all to see. But what about all the everyday people that suffer these slings and arrows daily? Do they fight back? I’m sure some do. What about the ones who keep getting trashed and hide? And what about the ones who do the unthinkable? And for what? Someone else’s opinion of them?

Folks, if you stop and think before you shoot your mouth off in public, try and do the same before you get a case of diarrhea of the fingers online. They used to say sticks and stones can break my bones, but words can never hurt me. NOT TRUE. Words hurt, and oftentimes more than physical blows.

Can we start showing just a little bit of class out there?

QUOTE SOURCE:  People magazine

Aug 172015
 

MicrophoneI read an article this morning about a gun range in the back of a church. The article opened with the words, “Praise the Lord. . . . and pass the ammunition.” All of a sudden, the old WWII song of the same name flooded my brain and now it’s stuck there. I’m old, but not quite WWII vintage.  Where did that song come from? It didn’t take too long to remember.

My Grandmother.

I grew up with my beloved Grandmom singing to me. She sang the songs she knew, songs of WWI, WWII and the world she grew up in. I got lots of strange looks in elementary school when I would walk around quietly singing How you Gonna Keep ‘Em Down on the Farm After They’ve Seen Paree?

(Where’s Paree, Grandmom?)

In fact, until I was an adult, it never dawned on me that Over There was a WWI song (along with Paree). I just thought it was one of those great old songs I saw in the black and white movies I enjoyed with Grandpop on the weekends.

The memories are flooding back now.

Grandmom taught me about the Easter Parade and wearing a proper bonnet.

(What’s a frill, Grandmom?)

She taught me all about a bicycle built for two, although I’d never seen one in my childhood. Not the most coordinated of young girls, I had enough trouble learning to ride a bicycle built for one.

(Why would I look sweet on a bicycle built for two, Grandmom?)

She taught me about being short with blue eyes. My Grandmom was short with green eyes, barely 4’8, actually, but I always thought that beautiful song about the 5 Foot Two dame was written for her.

(How do you coo, Grandmom?)

When she sang about those horrible Depression years, I always wanted to run and get her a dime. I knew I could spare it even if Buddy couldn’t.

And guess who was probably the only first grader in 1950s Philadelphia who could beast the Charleston? We did that in the basement on rainy days.

Grandmom’s been gone for a while now. I was so blessed to have this remarkable woman in my life for 51 years. Few are so privileged. Most of the songs she taught me are also long gone, except when they live briefly in the old movies on AMC and TCM.

Most adults today wonder what the hell I’m humming when the memories come over me. They don’t know.  I do.  I remember. And that’s when the better parts of my childhood, in the guise of a very tiny tiny lady with blonde hair and green eyes, overtake me.

I miss you, Grandmom.  But don’t worry.  I’ll always Keep the Home Fires Burning for you.

Until we meet again. . .

Sep 222014
 
Naked Legs with Panties

It seems there’s a new scandal about some sweet young thing’ with leaked nude photos just about every day. While I’m sure it’s disturbing to these (usually) young women as their property has been stolen, let me give you a few pointers here.

People Want To See Your Hot Ass

If you’re famous, have a nice ass and decide to have it photographed, those photos are going to command a high price in cyberspace. Guard them well. Go sending them around willy-nilly and guess what? Somebody’s gonna snag ‘em and make a nice, tidy profit. Talk about ridin’ your ass!

If you’re proud of your body. . . I mean, hey, you set up the nude photo shoot, right?. . . then you’re going to get lots of attention and good publicity from this breach of private etiquette.

The Casting Couch Must Be Alive And Well

And I guess the big point is. . . why do you need nude photos of yourself? Is the casting couch still alive to that degree in today’s Hollywood that a beautiful woman has to show it all to get a part? Today’s clothing is pretty skimpy. Not enough dimples showing in that see-through outfit that’s already cut up to Kansas?

Grandma’s Gonna Blush?

To be perfectly honest, a lot of younger women ARE proud of their bods. Nothing wrong with that! If you’re willing to bare it all for a photographer, why do you care if someone else sees the pics? Afraid of them getting back to your parents or grandparents?  Your old teachers? Your pastor? Once they’re snapped, m’dear, it’s already too late to worry about that.

Yes, There Is A Moral Here

The moral of this story is plain, old-fashioned horse sense. If you want the contours of your T&A to stay secret, then don’t bare them for a photographer or anyone else as a commercial enterprise.

If you’d like your body parts to circle the globe, then leak ‘em and claim they’ve been stolen. Get the vapors as you wail, “I have leaked nude photos!” It’s great publicity and you can then flaunt those boob and butt shots with style!

Sadly, though, you can’t have it both ways.

But what do I know? I’m just Old Busted Hotness.

 

Sep 192014
 
PHOTO DB Toledo in Purple

“WHY IS THAT WOMAN STILL IN MY HEAD?” I shrieked, as I threw my vividly purple and very expensive pocketbook onto the car seat. All I heard was my mother’s voice, in her trademark sneer, saying, “Don’t you think you’re a little too effin’ old to be carrying a bright purple pocketbook?”

I’m editing as not to offend. She had a mouth worse than two ships full of sailors.

“No, Mom, I don’t”.

Gone But Not Forgotten

My mother passed from this earth eight months ago. Her legacy is still with me, I’m afraid. The legacy of me being fat (true), ugly (debatable) and no good for nuttin’ honey (WRONG-O!). I can still hear her like she is standing next to me. It still hurts like hell, too.

A Time To Forgive

When I knew she was dying, I realized what I had to do. I had to find a way to forgive her. Did I want to? HELL NO!!! I screamed, cried and cursed quite creatively in multiple languages all the way home that day. But I knew it had to be. I had to do it for me, the one who would go on and not for her, the one who was leaving.

Back I went the next day. I stayed outside for a long time, not wanting to go in. After a while, I steeled myself and headed back to her bedside in the ICU. I’m pretty sure she was conscious, but it really didn’t matter.

It took me a few times to get the words out and mean them. I felt like Fonzie in the old “Happy Days” show, you know, the guy who could never say he was sorry. Finally, I looked straight at her and said, “I forgive you.”  It was one of the toughest things I’ve ever done.

The last request she made of me was to sign the papers to put her in hospice. I did what she asked. She died two days later.

Sister, Sister

The really hard part was that till the day she died, she never had a kind word for me or my sister. We never knew how she played us off against each other almost from the beginning. There is an eight-year age difference between us so early relationships weren’t close. We never found out the extent of her games until it came time to bury her. Now we are trying again. We can’t get all those years back, but we can try to create new ones. . . as sisters, not enemies.

Things Left Unsaid

So, yes, Mom, you’re forgiven. I really DID mean it that day. However, there are a couple of things I still want to say to you.

Mom, I like purple. You’ve always known that. At some point, you decided to buy everything in purple and rub it in my face. Okay. I can accept that.

Yeah, I like Dooney & Bourke pocketbooks. It’s my one cave-in to irrational spending. You liked expensive things, too.  Lots of them. Daddy made sure you always had what you wanted.  I can accept that.

What I can’t accept is how you ran up $30,000+ in debt to copy me and everybody else and then just didn’t pay it. Now they come after me for it, even after you’re gone. I send them to the cemetery. They’re welcome to whatever they can collect from you there.

I still hate all those names you called me, Mom. Your mother is the one who is supposed to love you when nobody else does. Okay. I’ll accept that, too. I often wonder, though, how you taught me to be compassionate, kind and loving while being a hateful, spiteful bitch. One of the mysteries of the universe, I guess.

Now that I think about it, it really doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of the universe. You’re gone and we’ll be here for however many more years we have to try and rebuild what you tore apart. What does matter is that I am going to work harder than anything I have ever worked at in my life to rid myself of your voice.

Mom, one of your common rants was that I never listened to a word you said. You were wrong. I heard every. single. word.

But maybe. . . just maybe. . . you’re finally right.

Sep 182014
 
A 13-year-old was asked to remove her Virginity Rocks tee shirt in middle school.

There’s a story in the news this morning about 13-year-old Chloe Rubiano, an Arkansas middle school student, who was asked to change the tee shirt she wore to school recently. What shocking message did this shirt convey? “Virginity Rocks.” Her school considered it disruptive.

Middle Schools Today

Really?  A message of virginity in middle school is adjudged to be disruptive? The school claims it would lead to discussions of sex. I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings, but lots of things can lead to a discussion of sex in middle school. These kids are what, 11 to 13? Hormones are awakening, folks!

BTW, middle schools hand out condoms and help students get abortions. And you can’t even mention the word virginity? Does it cut down on the condom business?

What’s The Dress Code?

Now turning to the school’s side, it they have a dress code which prohibits the wearing of any message tee shirt, that’s a different story. If that’s the case, they were right in asking her to remove it. It should be noted that Chloe, being the good girl that she is, changed into a gym shirt at the Vice Principal’s request.

A Fix For The Problem?

Maybe the answer here is to just side-step the question and prohibit all message tee shirts. Some schools in my area do it. A lot of public schools now wear uniforms, too.  Problem solved. But is it, really?

Would “Virginity Rocks” disrupt class?  Maybe.  Maybe not.  I haven’t been 13 in many, many years so I’m really not sure.

Our World Is All Sex, Sex, Sex

However, with the emphasis in our culture on sex these days, why is someone prohibited from an opposing viewpoint?  And, come on, this kid is 13! Yes, I’m an old fart. Sorry, but I do NOT believe 13-year-old kids should be doin’ it.

Am I trying to squelch their sexual freedom? No, not really. I just think you need to understand a bit about what you’re doing, not simply insert Tab A into Slot B.  I feel that there’s too much at stake for a child’s mental state at this age if you throw the sex thing into it.

At 13, I was still more concerned with friends, sports and music than sex.

But what do I know? I’m just Old Busted Hotness.

 

Sep 172014
 
Crazy Lady (227x340)

AARP is announcing that they have designed a tablet especially for apparently stupid Baby Boomers. It’s called the AARP RealPad Tablet.

Not Enough Tablets In The Market?

How many tablets are out there on the market right now? I have no idea, but I know they are made by Apple, Samsung, Acer, Asus and my favorite, the MS Surface 2. I have seen them as cheap as $49 so I’m sure there are many more.

AARP says the RealPad Tablet is designed for the over-50 customer who is a “more apprehensive technology user.” Really? I know lots of over-50 folks and they are pretty technology savvy.

What Makes This One Special For Boomers?

The RealPad Tablet has built-in tutorials which are supposedly designed to help educate users, as well as adding a “RealQuick Fix” feature which is a trouble-shooting menu. And if you still don’t know what happened, there will be phone/online 24/ support. No word yet on if this support is included in your purchase or it comes at an additional charge.

Should I Be Insulted?

Maybe I’m reading this wrong, but I’m sorta kinda insulted by this. I never had a tablet until last summer. I got an iPad Mini. It ultimately wasn’t what I wanted, so I traded up to a MS Surface 2. Guess what? I figured out the iPad Mini and then I figured out the Surface 2.

And the Surface 2 had the dreaded Win 8 on it, too, something I never used before. No problemo! Took me about 15 minutes to get around on it.

I am a pretty average computer user. I know my way around my computer and a variety of laptops, including a Chromebook and now the Surface 2. And. . . GASP, HORROR, SHOCK. . . I’m over 60! While not a complete technoeejit, I don’t consider myself particularly technically adept either.

I can, however, figure out which buttons to push, be it on a laptop, keyboard or touch screen. Is it that hard that we need a special tablet that screams OLD FART???

Deets If You Want One

However, if you feel the need, the RealPad Tablet will sell for $189. You can pre-order it now or wait for a few more weeks. It will be on sale at Walmart in mid-October, complete with a one-year AARP membership included.

Technical specs:

  • 1.2GHz Intel Atom processor
  • 16GB memory
  • Android 4.4 KitKat OS
  • 7.85-inch display
  • 5.0 megapixel rear camera
  • 2.0 megapixel front camera
Sep 012013
 
No more sensible old lady here!

No more sensible old lady here!

This morning, I was perusing an online Avon brochure when I came to the bras. The featured bra was described, in large letters, as “soft and sensible.”  There was this beautiful young girl wearing what was obviously an old lady Playtex bra. She was looking oh so happy. Obviously, she’s an actress.  My age starts with a six and I wouldn’t wear that thing!

It made me think.  I don’t want to be soft and sensible!  Okay, maybe soft, but I am so sick and tired of being sensible I could scream! I want to be wild. I want to be out there. I want to be anything BUT sensible. I want to see and do things I wasn’t allowed to do as a girl. I want to have adventures I would never have dreamed of as a young woman because somebody might notice me or, worse yet, make a comment!

At this point in my life, I’m like. . . bring it on, baby! I used to say, “When I’m older, I’ll do X, Y and Z.”  It was always “when I’m older.” Well, all it takes is one long, hard look in the mirror to know that I am older and it’s time to break out of that sensible mindset that’s held me prisoner for so long.

Now please don’t misunderstand me.  I’m not planning on running down the street naked and screaming obscenities or anything like that.  It’s just that I no longer care to buy the black dress; I want the purple one or the zebra print! I no longer want a black handbag and shoes.  I want prints and bright colors, things that sparkle, the wilder the better!

I want to go places reserved for younger folks, places where “they” think old folks shouldn’t go. I want to go to concerts and not the ones for old farts with groups who can barely make it on stage because they’re older than me. I want to go on the rides at the amusement piers. I want to do it ALL before I die.  Tempus is fugiting rather quickly at this stage of the game so I need to get busy.

The last thing I want to be is sensible, but my mind is fighting me. That sensible mind of mine guides my hand to the brown eye shadow instead of the purples and greens I love. It sends me to the “old lady” racks of clothes instead of the fresh, young kicky stuff I long to wear. It’s screaming at me as I stand in line to buy tickets to some band whose members are about the age of my grandkids.

I have to shut it up. No, I must shut it up! There are things I want to do yet, things I need to do. There are things I want to learn. I want to be the one who proves that you can, in fact, teach an old dog new tricks.

The one thing I do NOT want to be is sensible. Strange, eccentric, a little daft, maybe, but not sensible.  Anything but that! No more sensible for this old lady. It’s been a long time coming, but sensible will now give way to all those adjectives in the beginning of this paragraph; in other words, the real me. It’s finally my time.

Apr 092013
 

Ladder of successLast week I wrote a post called “Ladder Up.” I use Facebook ladders to build one of my business pages. I gave a basic explanation of what and how.  Since that time, though, I’ve seen a lot of disgruntled folks on ladders and I think it comes down to two things: (1) Not using ladders properly and (2) Having unreal expectations about what you’re going to achieve with a promotional ladder. This may get a little long, but Old Busted Hotness is going to try to clear things up a bit. I am a supreme technoidjit, so if I can learn to use these things, you can, too. 😉

Continue reading »

Apr 072013
 

Bally's Beach 2 (800x600)Most of you who know me know I work quite a bit in Atlantic City, NJ these days. I was raised with my toes in the sand every single summer since I was six months old. As an adult, I lived in or near all of the best Jersey Shore areas. I love the beach. I have always loved the beach, but I no longer live by the beach. Sometimes life dictates things other than your ideal situation.

Well, yesterday, we were headed down to Atlantic City to see the Johnny Mathis show so I could write a review (coming soon to Ms. Atlantic City). When a hotel is packed out, oftentimes you don’t get your pick of rooms; you take what’s available. Well, when I opened the door to our room, I gasped. We’ve had ocean views before, but not quite like this. I could see from the door through a very clean window and it honestly took my breath away.

Since we were fairly early for what we had planned to do, we turned our chairs towards the window and sat and just looked out. It’s quite a difference from the woods I now live in. Peace like a river. . . it may be a cliche, but there it was. And I realized that the beach was indeed “my place.” We’ve been talking about moving back and that view cemented my resolution.

This morning, I woke up to a sunrise over the beach and the peace flowed once more. Double dose of cement to the resolution. It will take a bit of doing, but it’s definitely doable. I have to go back there to have peace. So I will. I keep mixing I and we, but hubby feels the same way I do.

The beach is “my place.” What’s yours? To some it’s a farm. To some it may be mountains. To others it may be a city sidewalk. I much prefer a place where things are happening to total peace and quiet. I live out in the woods now. That may be “your place,” but I’ve been here ten years never cared for it. Life’s little circumstances plopped us here and here we’ve stayed, but it’s not “my place” or even “our place.”

My hope for you is that you find “your place.”  It took me a long time to realize why I kept returning to the beach. I have lived in a lot of places and in different parts of the world, but I could never stay. The beach kept calling me back. Now I know why. Soon I will go to the beach and stay.

Apr 022013
 

Lady on LadderDo you know what a Facebook ladder is? No? Well, until about a month ago, I didn’t either. Basically, it’s a way to promote your fan or business page by liking others’ pages and having them return the favor, all in a somewhat organized chaos.  Here’s how they work.

There are Facebook pages specifically dedicated to hosting ladders. When a ladder is advertised, you like that page and then you like other pages as instructed. When you get to the bottom, you tag your page and hope for the best.

I’ve been doing these for about a month now in an attempt to build my Ms. Atlantic City page. I’m not selling anything, just building an audience for a proposal I want to make in the near future. Has it helped? Yes, it has. Is it a lot of work? Yes, it is.

Ladders DO work, so I’m going to give you some tips and tricks I’ve learned over the last month.

  1. Read the instructions carefully before clicking anything! They are basically the same, but there are subtle differences. For instance, some sites only want you to like a comment if you are a new fan, not if you are what they call an AAF or “already a fan.” Some want you to like all comments.
  2. Now that you’ve read the instructions, follow them! These ladders are watched pretty closely, from what I can see. If you drop your tag and run or simply don’t follow the instructions they’ve posted, you will be banned.
  3. Watch the timing!  Again, read the instructions. If you see a “15-minute ladder” posted 14 minutes ago, you won’t get much out of it if you’re at the bottom. Wait for the next ladder to post. It’s better being near the top.
  4. Watch for the closed sign.  At the end of a ladder, a host will usually put something like “Ladder now closed” with some graphics to catch your attention. If you keep going after that sign, the others don’t have to like you.
  5. Don’t do the ladders on holidays. People are home, but they’re not thinking ladder. . . they’re thinking family fun. Wait until the regular business week begins again and you’ll have much more success.
  6. If people come on the ladder after you, they may like your page and send you a message that they’ve done so and offer their page for return like love.  Make sure you do this and answer that message, every single time. You don’t want to get a reputation for not returning the love.

How do you find these ladders? There are hundreds of them, probably thousands. You can put “networking ladder” (no quotes) in the Facebook search window and you’ll get a bunch.  Here are a few of the more successful ones for me that you can try. How do I know? When folks leave me those messages, they usually tell me where they came from. 😉

You’ll find that as you hit like on the ladders, you’ll see more and more ladders so you will build your stock of ladders to try very quickly.

A lot of the larger ladder services also offer “paid likes,” meaning they’ll feature you on the links everyone must like OR you pay for so many guaranteed likes.  You’ll have to check the individual pages for what packages they’re offering.

Way back up top I said I was doing this to build an audience. But what if you sell things? Well, most people DO sell something on a biz page and there are tons of similar biz pages out there for the various direct sales plans. However, it’s a numbers game. The more folks like your page, the more orders you will get when they want to purchase.  I have a lot more “stuff” in my news feed now, but I’ve found several fascinating businesses and have made lots of new friends.

So. . . if you want to build your FB page, jump on that ladder and start climbing!