SO REAL, SHE'S THE TOTALLY UNREAL HOUSEWIFE

Salud, Kids!

Had enough of reality shows?

Well, then you need to cast your bloodshot eyes upon, Vivienne Rae. She's so real...she's UNREAL!

Episode One of this, um, Florida debutante, is now available...absolutely free on YouTube. Kids, I won't even make you bother going to YouTube. Introducing, Vivienne Rae, Totally Unreal.

Get to know, The Totally Unreal Housewife of Palm Beach Gardens...Vivienne Rae. You're gonna love her wine-swilling, stiletto-rambling ways.

Check out her Facebook page and friend her.

Oh, be sure to watch the video until the very end. You don't want to miss it, I promise.

More to come. That's more a threat than a promise!

See ya 'round the beaches-real or virtual.
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LOVING SOME LUSH WITH A SPLASH

Salud, Kids!



Around my domicile you just never know WHAT will jump out at ya when you open the fridge. Mostly whatever it is would definitely NOT be considered blog-worthy. However, on the rare occasion it definitely IS.

Take the other day when I reached in for juice and yogurt and right there, hanging out with the Splash, I found some product called LUSH staring back at me. Just waiting, with a little note.

LUSH?

You may not realize it, but I pride myself on being spot-on with new products of all sorts. But, LUSH?

Confusion ran through my brain. Was someone trying to tell me something? I mean I have a glass of wine here-and-there and the occasional vodka cocktail, but LUSH? Hardly.

With trepidation, I removed the product for closer inspection. What in the world was LUSH, I pondered?

Reading the instructions left behind by the invisible gift-giver, I smiled.

Although I freely admit I had never heard of this brand, I know about it now. Not only was there a cool (literally) gift in the ice box (love that old-school terminology, don't you?), but there were more scattered about. Oh, what fabulous gifts I had received.

Do you kids know about this stuff?

I mean I think hand lotion in the form of a bar of soap is quite spectacular. But, maybe I'm easily impressed. No, that can't be it.

If you aren't a LUSH lover, as yet, here is why you should consider becoming one.

Call me lazy, I'm good with that moniker, because I let Wikipedia 'splain the factoids of LUSH to ya.

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From Wiki...Lush (trademarked in capitals as LUSH) is a handmade cosmetics company headquartered in Poole, Dorset in the UK. Incorporated by Companies House in 1994 originally under the name Cosmetic House Limited, Lush adopted their current name on 10 April 1995. There are now more than 600 stores in 43 countries. Lush produces and sells a variety of handmade products, including face masks, soaps, bath bombs, bubble bars, hand and body lotions and hair treatments. In 1994, husband and wife Mark and Mo Constantine opened the first LUSH store in Poole.

LUSH uses fruit and vegetables, essential oils, and synthetic ingredients in all products produced. In addition to not using animal fats in their products, they are also against animal testing and perform tests solely with volunteers instead.

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Sounds good, huh? Sounds good and IS good.

My giver-of-gifts quite accurately understood I would need coaching and considerately placed little star-shaped stickies on each product, explaining their name and use. Don't be giving me the old squint-eye until you have some bar lotion of your own.

So, there you have it and doesn't it all sound simply too divine? Who wouldn't want to get bath bombed? Oh, wait. Can you do that without vodka? Hm.

Still, I am curious as to why my dear friend, British-Brian, failed to mention LUSH to me. I mean, it is a UK product, he is a UK product, and it is sort of a small kingdom, so how hard could it be for him to be a sharing LUSH-LOVER?

See ya 'round the beaches-real or virtual.
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EXCLUSIVE MAIL, COKE AND LATEX ANIMALS

Salud, Kids!

Oh, to feel special and above the crowd. Isn't it grand?

Personally, I have no idea, but the other evening while perusing the mail-just for an instant, I got euphoric. Gazing upon words emblazoned across the left side of a nondescript brown envelope, my lips curled into what some would call a smile. Granted, others would deem it a smirk, but that's another blog.

Kids, just for an instant, I felt, well, special. The mail never lies, the contents of this particular envelope was meant for my eyes and only my eyes. No others were being invited to the party going on inside the sealed brown paper.

Fantastic! I HAD to be just as special as could be, and I had the United States Postal Service backing my claim. Flying high was I until glancing to the actual address label and saw that it was meant for the addressee, OR...CURRENT RESIDENT.

What's this?

Crushed and ego deflated, I realized I was no more special than any random current occupant.

Made me think back to breakfast at a Pancake House last weekend. Roaming around the restaurant, WAY too early, was some latex artist.

Oh, there she was, moving from table-to-table, creating balloon masterpieces for all the kiddies. Made them feel special I'm sure.

The kid in me kind of wanted one, but my breakfast mate threw shade on my idea of calling her over and requesting that she make me a balloon Mercedes. Damn him!

Can't get special treatment, even at a Pancake House.

But, wait. There are more ways to feel special than junk mail. Oh, yeah.



And, here you go. Your basic, old-fashioned Coke Float, made with love, and the loving hands of someone you love. And, it's meant specifically for one person, not any old person hanging around.

Now, THAT'S special.

Mail, balloon animals or what-have-you...I know when I've got a special thing going and I'm grateful.

See ya 'round the beaches-real or virtual.
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DOGGING EMMY'S, FACEBOOK COMMENTS AND DOG COATS

Salud, Kids!

Watching that ridiculous Emmy Awards show last evening proved to be, um, interesting.

Oh, I'm not blathering on about the show, the idiots on the show, the clothes on the idiots on the show or watching Charlie Sheen (I did NOT call him an idiot). See, I decided to doll-up a bit, grab some grub and nestle in for a LONG evening of watching. No one around me wanted to join in my folly, so I had to go it alone.

But, wait. This is where having technology all 'round us means never having to be truly alone while watching vapid small-screen shenanigans.

Thanks to technology it was texting to a Minnesota chum and Facebooking to the unfortunates who also happened to be socially networking during the Em's.

Quite fun to interact remotely, but this is where it also gets dicey and annoying. The Facebooking part. Commenting on Facebook continues to rankle me (you've heard it before and now you hear it again).

The way I see it, other folks commenting on the status of a mutual friend do NOT give a tiny rat's ass what I have to say to a random someone on Facebook. Sometimes I don't care.

YET, commenting on a status statement (clear?), begins an endless domino effect. Unfortunately, you not only get to see ALL the other comments-they are FORCED to gaze upon your random ramblings. It is absurd and makes me extremely hesitant to bother commenting, even when I really want to contribute my thoughts (and, I do have some). Nah, mostly, I simply hit the Like button. Of course, sometimes Like is not adequate. So, as you can see by my, Indiscreetly Us, status...I don't like to comment on Facebook, even when I DO it, I don't like it!

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Summer is holding on by a tiny ray-of-light. It all wraps up this week and we fall into Autumn. Much relieved to see that Petco wants dog owners to get on THAT. Season is changing, so grab a dog coat and bundle that mutt right on up.

Naturally, in South Florida, even the idea of putting a furry coat on your canine borders on dog abuse.

Still, just to be on the safe side, if the thermometer dips below seventy, we have it under control.

More likely to appear on a hound in these parts is that other little number. The beach bum outfit.

See ya 'round the beaches.
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FORGET MADMEN, IT IS ALL ABOUT ERLE

Salud, Kids!

Ah, here we go again.

Another month, another awards show. But, this time it has a modicum of respect. Oh, don't be skeptical.

Granted, it could be yet another snooze-fest, but I will tune in. And, why not? Jane Lynch could pull it off without making us want to throw a box of old remote controls at the screen. Could happen.

However, I recommend forgetting about the cast of nominees for 2011 and wrap your head around a winner from, oh, fifty years ago.

The incomparable, Raymond Burr, people. The one and only Perry Mason.

Not only were Perry, Della, Hamilton Burger (get it?) and Paul Drake the coolest cats practicing legal shenanigans, they were quite frequently surrounded by a dreamy support cast.

You couldn't toss a silver ashtray or dog-eared law book without hitting some tight sweater wearing, sex-kitten. Every episode had slinky vamps trailing along with men who were chain smoking, martini drinking scoundrels.

They all looked guilty and it was up to Perry to break 'em down on the stand. Good times!

So, forget about the Emmy nominated, Madmen...it's a shallow imitation...mere shell to the black and white mystery-madness of the suave, Mason and his crew.

So, thank you, Erle Stanley-Gardner, for those terrific characters and stories. Oh, let us not forget one of the best theme songs of all time.



See ya 'round the beaches-real or virtual.
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SCARLETT J NUDE, AND SAUCY LADIES

Salud, Kids!

Oh, my!

Scandal in movie-land. What a shocker. That almost never happens in the land of fakery.

Brace yourselves, but Scarlett Johansson's cell phone was hacked and now nudie photos have been leaked all over the 'net.

I know, I know, you could simply cut and paste this drivel about every other young Hollywood girlie-girl. But, try to stay with me here as I'm talking about some real HOLLYWOOD classics.

Kids, I don't know 'bout you, but these celebu-twits wailing about being hacked (I am NOT condoning this, it is wrong) is getting (insert HUGE bored yawn) OLD. Leaked tapes, leaked photos, leaked voice mail messages...Hollywood celebs (term used loosely) are a MESS.
But, this, um, sexy stuff is not only boring, these kids are clueless compared to the broads (said with respect and affection) of yester-year. They don't know the meaning of really being sexy.

Don't think so? Check out Joan Blondell above, and movies and studio-stills PRE-CODE (sorry, I am not explaining it to you, so look it up).

These dames (see above disclaimer) KNEW what sold and how to sell it. They had help, but they worked it and the public never knew what hit 'em, I suspect.

Slinky clothes, lounging in a sudsy tub, seductive make-up and enticing sets. True glamor.

They kept it mysterious and beautiful with just a dash of HOT!


Even Myrna Loy got saucy in water. No need to be hampered with the likes of a mutt named, Asta.

Take a peek at Joan Bennett, later known for more motherly roles. If that isn't innocently teasing, I'll eat a garage mechanic's shirt (hat-tip to Holiday Inn).

Oh, just for good measure, I tossed in a little bit of the 60's, Kim Novak. She managed to capture the spirit of all things sexy-bath-scene in a modest sort of way.



All these over-indulged starlings, um, starlets today need to heed the ladies that truly paved the way for their naked asses. They should be forced to watch every pre-code movie and write an essay about how they learned something from true artists.

The ladies of the early 30's sold sex the proper way. Innocently. You know, pretending they had NO idea the image of them looking all seductive was anything but Hollywood art. Uh-huh. that's the way to do it, Scarlett and girls. Take notes and study them. Hard.

See ya 'round the beaches!
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DRINKING WITH AUDREY HEPBURN AND CAT

Salud, Kids!

Slinking around bargain stores will bring along the occasional true treasure. Oh, don't you doubt me, it is a fact and I can prove it. As a matter of fact, I have photographic proof right here on this random Monday blog.

It is not every day you nab Audrey Hepburn glasses. These priceless gems now rest within my domicile. And, not just any ordinary ones. Moon River come to mind? If you don't know that song, I pity your existence, but I will get over it. Do you have, Breakfast at Tiffany's, stemware (see how glam I am getting)?.

Go on and scoff at my jelly, um, Audrey glasses,, but I simply adore them, DARLING!

Remember, Cat? Cat, from the movie? I sometimes even hang out with a very similar feline.


Oh, yes. I'm no Audrey, but now I can sip with her and cat can purr and be thankful he's not being dumped into an alley in the rain.

See ya 'round the beaches-real or virtual.
Read me fictionally, The Bainbridges of the Palm Beaches, Barnes & Noble, eBooks.
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SEPTEMBER 11, BRITISH PERSPECTIVE

Salud, Kids!

Hard to comprehend that it has been ten years since that day. September 11.

With the deepest of emotions, each year I remember it. All of that day and those following.

Ten years and it feels as though it were yesterday.

It is comforting to know others, not just Americans, understand the magnitude of that fateful day.

Our friend, British Brian, sends us his thoughts and it means a lot.

British Brian reminds us to check out the final evening of Proms. I plan to check it out and not just because I like the name of the event. I adore anything, BBC, plus I simply adore his spelling...flavor never so good as the British way.

Oh, Brian-Labor Day is a holiday where we do NOT work. How could that concept possibly be confusing (insert major sarcasm).

Please read on...

Contributed by: Brian Wilson
United Kingdom
All rights reserved and copyrighted.

Dear Pam - I have talked about the Proms and the last night is here - well it is on Saturday, September 10.

So, if anyone is interested look on the BBC site - they may well stream the concert -it is well worth it to get a flavour of the British love of music and our eccentricities.

But, many of you - and lots of us over here - will also have in mind the 10th anniversary of the 11th.

There has been so much in our press about the ill heath still being suffered by those caught up in the events - especially the clouds of dust and debris that covered such a wide area and was drawn in people's lungs.

Our 2 countries may have different accents - we may spell things in a different way - but, we have so much history and so much friendship that you can be assured of our remembrance of your "blackest day."

Whilst, in no way comparable in terms of numbers of dead, we have also suffered terrorist attacks - so we know what you are going through.

But, in both of our countries there are innumerable stories of people who helped others, offered assistance, put themselves in danger - or to put it another way - acted as kind human beings.

To change the subject - could you please tell me what "Labor Day" is all about?

Love to you all - Brian and Mo


Brian Wilson
brian@europaassociates.co.uk

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Thanks, Brian.

Here's to Great Britain and th POMS.

See ya 'round the beaches-real or virtual.
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FASHION WEEK IS A CROC, BUT GRACE WAS NOT

Salud, Kids!

Oh, my!

Have you heard?

Fashion Week is catwalking right onto the scene.

Fabulous designers and flop-ulous (made that up, but it fits so many idiots TRYING to thrust their hideous fashion messes upon us) non-designers, roll out all their must-haves for us to cast our unworthy and bloodshot eyes upon.

Although South Florida requires a certain type of fashion almost year-around, I get caught up in all the new styles every fall (or almost fall). I am flawed. Quite.

While I anxiously (not really) wait to see what I will need to find at discounted prices at TJMaxx NEXT fall, I ponder things from the past that are timeless (see Grace Kelly photo), but more importantly creations that never should have been. Not in a million years.

Topping the list?

CROCS!!

Heaven help our retched souls from those monstrosities. Never happened on my feet. Nope.

Uggs? I did do, but only because I lived in a cold-weather state at the time. So, toss me a little forgiveness.

Besides, there are far worse things than wearing UGGS, and I present photographic proof.
.

Step out of that closet and let me know if you have fashion loathes and loves.

Until then, I'm off to TJ to grab a few fashion must-haves which were super-hot...at the last Fall Fashion Week.

See ya 'round the beaches-real or virtual.
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STRAINING AND SLAPPING, COFFEE FINDS A WAY

Salud, Kids!

These days you can't swing a perking-percolator without hearing the words..."in this economy!" Boring, but true, I suppose.

Times are tough and this calls for making tough changes accordingly. Aren't we all making sacrifices and doing our part?

Personally, I know I am. I have never hung around Ross and TJ Maxx so much in my life. And, I think we ALL know I will probably never again clutch a revered, InCircle card (and if you are unaware of this card, all the better for you) in my semi-manicured hands.

But, even in a trying economy we find ways. Remember Jurassic Park? How about those lizards that lose and then grow new tails (I'm reaching, I know)? Yes, we make do with the tools around us. It's the American Way, kids. I'm sure other nations say the same thing about themselves, but I'm American, so I say it's our way.

Perfect example is Britt
and our sputtering and splattering Keurig brewing machines. It makes more than coffee, but we'll limit this blog to java-joe.

Around here, the coffee fans adore our Keurig pod brews. We've purchased four of them and even though they have some flaws, the end result keeps us loyal to this brand. Although our patience is now thinning with these latest pod-challenges. Hm, we may have pioneer spirit, but this blog about our continual Keurig addiction is making me wonder, seriously, about our common sense. Again, that's another blog (that will never come).

Keurig is simple enough. Hot water, a pod filled with ground up whatever, and that's it. Close the lid a needle penetrates the pod lid and moments later you are sipping something divine.

One problem though. Keurig tends to get clogs in their tiny internal lines and there is no effective method to, well, penetrate the clog.

Not that we haven't tried. Oh, we've tried all the suggestions we discovered on the 'net. My favorite is slapping it, hard, on the back. Now, that was just plain fun. It didn't work for us, but it was good for a laugh.

Dragging out the old French Press is always an option, but that means buying MORE coffee and then what do we do with all the pods?

See, in this economy we can't simply toss out perfectly-perfect-pods. I think the Karma-of-the-Coffee-Wasters would rain down upon our caffeine-soaked heads. Not so pretty I'm guessing.

So, here's where Britt enters the scenario with her true grit and genuine pioneer spirit (she comes from good pioneer stock don't ya know). In goes a pod, malfunction time...coffee grinds slide from pod into the coffee. Ugh. But, wait. Britt whips out the strainer!

Strained-pod-coffee! Genius.

Who cares if it sounds like nothing more than a variation of an old-fashioned percolator? We know and we don't care. To quote that guy, you know the one...she made it work.

Living large and glam, huh?


Now, she's trying to figure out how to put those darned pods inside the other types of coffee makers. She's nothing if not adaptable.

See ya 'round the beaches-real or virtual
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WHITE PANTS, NO CLASS, JUST JAMIE LEE

Salud, Kids!

Snap, here we sit, Post-Labor-Day gazing upon the same burning question that pops up every year.

Should I wear white after Labor Day?

What ARE the rules when you live in South Florida?

Well, who cares? I loathe most rules, so I WILL be wearing white.

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Speaking of burning and what to wear makes me think of the cute exercise/dance class attire I have worn in the past.

Crap, I especially miss wearing leg-warmers. Remember THOSE?

Well, I no longer bother with either classes or the cute work-out uniforms. But, let us take a trip down, FEELING-THE-BURN-WHILE-WEARING-CUTE-OUTFITS-LANE, with Jamie Lee Curtis in a film classic. Ah, good times.

That clip may be dated, but xxercise is here to stay and my girl, Britt, just loves to go to Jazzercise Class and wear stylish togs while moving and jivin' to fun music. Go, britt. Uh-huh.

Meanwhile, B, opts for heavy-duty exercising with Spinning (I think this fad is dangerous) and weight lifting this and that. Major. Uh-huh.

Well, you get my point.

Exercise-is-as-exercise does and if you are a fanatic about it, I don't judge you. Hardly. I salute your toned and fabulous muscle-mass-is-is.

My point? And, I do have one.

I am ALL for moving, shaking and getting your muscles whipped into shape. Oh, yes. Shake your groove-thang until you are ripped from top-to-bottom.

So, my point is that if you NEED to wear specific glad-rags and head to a class, groovy.

Me?

I manage to get some (I said, SOME) definition running around doing what needs to be done. Yes, I like things to be fairly tidy...go ahead and send me the slant-eye.

However, proven fact...house chores (and everything that entails) will cause one to rack up considerable points in the exercise department. Of course, you don't get to go to a snappy class and mingle with groovier-than-you-types.

Nope. You pretty much slide into some crappy clothes, pull your hair up in an over sized clip, tune in some work music and get on with it...with a Swiffer handle (who needs weights?) in hand.

Now, there is just one little thing I wonder about. How to assign a caloric-burning-number to specific chores.

You know what I mean?

For instance, how many calories do you burn rinsing dried and hardened milk from a cereal bowl ditched in the sink, inches from the dishwasher (note: I don't eat dry cereal, so you see where this is coming from I am certain)? And, dishes in the sink is just the tip of the "Household-Cise" regime. You get the idea.

Whatever, I'm working it-class or no class.

Jack LaLanne, we owe this exercising awareness to you, I think. So, I applaud you, feeling the burn while loading the dishwasher, dusting, cleaning glass tabletops, vacuuming, cooking, doing laundry and any other task at hand.

For good measure and a well-rounded program, when I have completed all the household fun, I jump in the pool. But, as I do laps I almost always notice more chores waiting to be done around the pool area. So, there you go.

See ya 'round the beaches-real or virtual.
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FRIENDLESS WHILE WATCHING A LABOR DAY PICNIC

Salud, Kids!

May I remind you how I have a love/loathe relationship with Facebook. Okay, I've reminded you.



As I have been busy developing characters and plotlines for my newest fictional creation, Privately Palmer, I decided to create yet another Facebook page to promote, The Bainbridges of the Palm Beaches, as well as any and all other writing projects.

Here's the rub. Facebook will slap you down as SPAM if you try to make too many new friends too quickly. Oh yeah, it happened to me on the one I created for, Indiscreetly Us. Yep, they will slap you with a nasty email message and put your azz in a friending time-out faster than you can say Zucker-Nuts (take that as you will). It's all very elementary schoolish and would be humorous if it weren't so damned annoying.

Still, I press-on with all possible dispatch and the newest FB page is sitting there with six friends, so get yourselves to, Bainbridges Palm Beaches and friend it. I promise to TRY to be entertaining on occasion. I said try. Oh, I don't even ask the same of you. Just knock on my FB door and go on the ride with me. See ya there, okay?

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Friends or no, it is Labor Day weekend...time to get your PICNIC on. Here's how I do it...with Kim and William (and, don't forget, Rosalind). Enjoy your holiday, kids!


See ya 'round the beaches-real or virtual.
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