Can it get worse? I haven't been able to talk to my dad in about a week or so. We're all supposed to head down to Charlotte, NC this weekend for the Coca-Cola 600 and last week he fell in the bathroom and broke two ribs. Or at least, that's what he claims happened. His track record over the past six months suggests that perhaps the Sponge was somehow involved along with some alcohol and maybe a nasty fight. Sadly, their fights tend towards the physical and it's all usually sparked with HER attacking HIM, if you can believe that. Anyway, after he broke the ribs, he started taking some pain killers which just so happen to be HER addiction of choice. Then he needed MORE and MORE and he got sicker and sicker. Knowing my own reaction to Vicodin, I understand. I get violently ill from it. And it's puzzling also since my dad isn't a druggie. Even when he WAS a druggie, pain killers or downers weren't his cup of tea, so to speak. Now all he does is obsess over his liver and what is passing through it on it's way out of his body. No...this does NOT sound like him. Let's hearken back to last December though when the Black Widow - er, the Sponge - wanted to kill him. Would it be so far-fetched to think she's slowly poisoning him now? To be honest, it isn't. And it's damned sad that that's the conclusion I am being forced to jump to. I also hate that I am not welcome there. The Sponge has made it crystal clear that we aren't. My sister isn't anymore. And my dad went along in an effort to "keep the peace." What it did was isolate him which gave her the perfect opportunity. And I am really scared that she's acted upon it. In her mind, his untold millions are a big enough motive to do anything.

Riddle me this Batman Today on the way to work, in my usual zombie state, an ambulance appeared in my rear-view mirror. As a good, law-abiding citizen, I pulled off to the shoulder of the exit ramp I was coming down and let him pass. And then a honkin' SUV who had pulled off behind me, gasses it and nearly rams me as he blows by...completely ignoring my position as FIRST person to pull back on. Right??? That IS the way it's supposed to go isn't it??? You pull off and then you get the right of first return back on before all the other schlepps pulled off behind you...and WAY before those who were behind the emergency vehicle in question. RIGHT? There's nothing really to say about it but the fact remains that it's annoying. You could pull over like you're supposed to and then sit there for an hour until you can get back on the highway. And there's just something so WRONG about that.

What did you think about Survivor? Amber lives in Pittsburgh so on my radio station this morning it was all Amber, all the time. They started comparing Amber and Rob to Bennifer...so would that now be Ramber?? Romber? I have to tell you...I had heard leaks from Day 1 that Amber won the All-Star competition and as time went by and this started to slowly be proven true, I got increasingly ticked off. To be frank...and you know I am...I don't think Amber did diddly squat to win that money. And if you can call being a clinging, coattail rider strategy, then I guess maybe she was better than we all thought she was.

Word for the Day: GROSS! Have you ever heard the song "Into the Night" by Benny Mardones? I think it came out in 1980 or 1981 when I was about 17 or 18 years old and fresh off the boat from my stint in New Zealand. Back THEN, it seemed romantic. TODAY it seems, well, just plain NASTY! My 80's station, Star 100.7, insists on playing it, if not constantly, then definitely consistently. I hear it coming up the hill in the morning... I hear it going back down the hill at night... And, to be honest, listening to this grown man, whom I had previously perceived to be some really handsome, young, African-American dude and who I found out is really a skinny, long-haired, freaky white guy, whine about how nobody understands how he's all short eyes and everything for this 16-year old CHILD really creeps me out. So...I went to his website. That's right, I went to www.bennymardones.net. And there he is. And I'd LOVE to link to an actual picture of the man but apparantly he is extremely possessive of his own image because not only can you NOT link to them through his own website but he must be sue-happy because you can't really find any shots of him elsewhere on the web. I know...I tried. So what, exactly, is UP with that? I mean, this song is just grosser than gross. A grown man pining for a little kid. Well, maybe not little and before anyone comments that I don't understand or appreciate true love when one is a teenager, believe me, I get the point. I see it practically every night on USA when I watch Law and Order: SVU. The fact that all the 80's stations continue to play it and that Benny, himself, proclaims it his signature song just about makes me want to stick my finger down my throat every time I hear it. For heaven's sake, he should just GET it over with and have PEDOPHILE tattooed on his chest. That way he can rip off his shirt as he wails his signature song and everyone will be all down with that pretty much immediately. I mean - really - in today's political and social climate with Amber alerts on TV every Saturday night pretty much, is this really the kind of crap we want our kids listening to? It kind of makes it seem like it's OKAY to be Jonesing for some young kid if you REALLY love her...because well, hey, Benny Mardones says so in his SIGNATURE song that gets more airplay than Celine Dion half the time. Well, whatever. I think it's just gross, gross, GROSS.

Days of Our Sisterhood Last night I went to the Sisterhood Board of Trustees meeting. Somewhere along the way this year I volunteered to be the recording secretary. Rule 1: Always check out who the President will be BEFORE volunteering to serve as the recording secretary. I had to take Evan who actually behaved himself like an angel and really, for the most part, I didn't even know he was there! He played with the rabbi's kid and then was working on a coloring poster in the library. Our incoming President (well, one of them since there will be two but that's another story) is a nutcase, plain and simple. She actually may be very well intentioned but boy, she's a bully. Her manner is gruff and abrasive. Everyone avoids having to directly work with her LIKE THE PLAGUE! Unfortunately, I didn't quite think this through and now here I am...stuck for the next two years...as the recording secretary. I guess it's just me but I find everything coming down to money to be a particularly offensive habit. But with her...that is how every conversation ends. On top of that, while we had an agenda, the conversation went all over the place with no structure and most of the time, little relationship to actual Sisterhood business. I am not quite sure yet if my role is the calm voice of reason or if it's just to back up everyone else as they stand against her tirades. And I have to tell you, I am not dogging her completely because some of her ideas are actually very good. Like having one event a month. That's a GREAT idea! This past year we're lucky if we had one event every three months so I am actually really looking forward to this. But I am not sure how many people are going to be able to deal with the obsession with fundraising, the obsession with how much is being spent by everyone in the synagogue - when and why, and really, the overall obsession with mo' money, mo' money, mo' money. I mean, I KNOW that the Sisterhood provides invaluable financial assistance to the synagogue...we pay the heating bills...but it's also a social organization which, if I didn't know this, I wouldn't imagine in a million years after listening to her for five minutes. My friend who is Treasurer threatened to quit. I told her I didn't care HOW disgruntled she got, she wasn't leaving ME there alone for the next two years! My minutes look like a took them while on the JackRabbit at Kennywood and I can hardly put them together. The conversation was all "Well, the next item on the agenda is the donor dinner..." followed by "How much money DO we pay the custodian???" followed by "That's none of Sisterhood's business...go to a regular board meeting if you want to know THAT!" followed by "Did you SEE in the bulletin what they DID?!" Half the time I didn't know what was going on. Thank goodness I think they like me. Well, after three advil and some quiet in a dark room for a few hours, my migraine abated and I felt a lot better. I only have 23 meetings to go like this. I think I'll start carving the psycho president's initials in my closet door after each one...just to keep count!

My Days as a Mah Jongg Maven Last night I went to my fourth Mah Jongg game. And, sadly, my last for a long while. It all started about four weeks ago when, after a Sisterhood meeting, I heard my friends talking about breaking Pesach by going having pizza at one of their homes. I jokingly said, "Can I come?" That was quite the bold move for me since I am always a little shy about butting in where I don't belong or assuming people like me when, in all actuality, they really don't. It's reached phobic-like proportions with me. But, I boldly went where I usually don't go....and asked. And they said yes! They said they would be playing mah jongg but they could teach me and it would be fun. I have to admit, I wasn't so sure since I thought it would just be girls' night out but I went anyway. Can we all say "fifth wheel" together? I knew we could! And boy, that's what I felt like. I didn't know what the hell was going on, the room was smaller than small and with a card table set up in the center, the best I could do was perch on the edge of the couch to try to watch and hopefully, figure out what the hell was going on. In the meantime, our babysitter (who lives across the street from my friend) and HER friend were there - apparantly, my friend C. has a home away from home for the neighborhood kids. And what made it worse...was that the 14 year olds knew more about what was going on than *I* did! But it was fun and I have to admit, I really enjoyed being with other women and having a good time. So when they invited me for the next game, I was THRILLED. But as luck would have it, I made the sixth person. And while mah jongg can be played with five...it definitely cannot be played with six. Shortly after this ill-fated evening, M. takes me aside after the Family Shabbat and says something cryptic about C. "using" me which I completely did NOT even remotely understand...and I really start to get the picture that I have butted in where I really didn't belong. Of course, M.'s cryptic words made me really start to wonder what the hell WAS going on until I finally said to her the following Sunday morning, "Look, if I am butting in where I don't belong or if you guys don't want me there, just TELL me. I would really rather you do THAT than humor me." M., though, assured me the problem was C. and not me at all but that six people DEFINITELY did NOT work and would not be allowed anymore. I was starting to get the picture, I guess. So, last night was mahj night and I went since I was to be the fourth (as opposed to the fifth or the forbidden sixth.) When I arrived, M. was there and so SHE became the fifth and while I got to play every hand except one, I knew my days were numbered. Now, I am the world's worst mahj player admittedly. I panic, stress, get nervous and make really stupid mistakes (like discarding the 7 Bam last night when I could have exchanged it for a Joker) but I honestly enjoy the game and think I could, someday maybe, be quite good at it. Well, unfortunately, I think my mediocre status has been sealed. After the game, no one made plans for the next time. And I knew it was because they couldn't invite me since the other five would be there. M. asked when the next game was and I could actually FEEL everyone cringe because they had hoped to handle that after I had left or on the phone the next day. I told them I understood and if they ever needed an alternate, I would be glad to play. I thanked them for even considering letting me play and I left. I called Anth and informed him that my days as a Mah Jongg maven had ended. And while I know they'll call over the summer since everyone will be busy with ball games and vacations and trips to Israel - I'm still kind of sad. But, hey, at least they gave me a chance and taught me to play, right? And who knows. Our babysitter seems to know how to play and so does C. and now so do I! There's always the JCC's game right?