Archive for the beer Category

Post #144 – You Ain’t Seen Nothin’ Yet! There is no crying uncle here…

Posted in beer, college, Family, family drama, friends, humor, memoir, nonfiction, relationships, true stories, true stories, Uncategorized, writing with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on January 12, 2015 by tenaciousbitch

This year, my sister, Fiona, received the Merry Christmas, “your job has been eliminated” speech as her box of wonder from her employer in mid-December after 17 years of faithful service. Awesome, is it not? The joy of living in America. Absolutely, give us your tired, your hungry, your poor and/or a dedicated workforce, so we can shred their livelihood after they’ve devoted their blood, sweat and blood to helping a f’ing corporation grow ITS business and/or make it a better place.

And, then, another family member, Mitchell, also got the congrats, it’s a shiny new pink slip for Christmas along with 78 other devastated individuals! And such was allegedly due to a downturn in profits. However, the black and white of it indicates according to the Wall Street Journal –  profits were up 32.9% at XYZ, Inc., where Mitch had been working.

And this kick to the curb occurred not 6 weeks after Mitch received a mega promotion, and one of his now disenfranchised co-workers had also gotten a leg up the corporate ladder as well not 2-3 months ago that included a nice increase in salary. Thanks for that, f’ing bastards!

Ya gotta wonder what their mindset is when upper management or whomever decide to chuck their employees when profits are up. Did they suddenly realize that a 38% profit margin isn’t enough to bid on that third world country they’d been lusting over on Ebay? For fuck’s sake, they can’t have that. What would the neighbors say?

But after Enron and the shenanigans of Bernie Madoff, and the like, we shouldn’t be surprised by corporate deception and greed, right? However, that doesn’t mean we have to LIKE it and doesn’t revoke our right to BITCH about it!

But I digress, as Fiona revealed the details of her occupational severance on Christmas Eve, she started crying/then sobbing (understandably so) and apologizing for ruining my Christmas!

Holy Fuck Balls, no one says the holidays have to be all candy canes and mystery Santas bearing Porsches! And if nobody cries on Christmas, it just ain’t a success, doncha know?

Otherwise, Hollyweird wouldn’t churn out so many dramas about turkeys that never get cooked because bizarre typhoons appear from nowhere on dry land on Thanksgiving, or Kim-Kim showing up in the not-to-die-for dress made of bamboo and Guatemalan mud that Jane wanted to wear but couldn’t fit her fat ass into… sigh.

I tried to convey to Fiona that she has every right to blubber her damned eyes out because I know how devastating it is to get downsized because such happened to me twice in 2005, and the first layoff was from a teaching position that I loved at a junior college where I’d been for almost 5 years.

And the immense frustration of watching someone you love having their life decimated for reasons that make no sense – certainly explains why so many folks begin spraying bullets in the general vicinity of those who had wronged them. However, Fiona is not that kind of person AT ALL.

Regardless, losing your job after 17 years of dedicated service and lots of overtime, and occasionally getting to work at 5:00 in the damned morning?! That fucking blows-PERIOD!

And the thing is, little did I know at the time that I was also about to be sans employment. Yep, I too lost my job as a fraud specialist at Jeans, Inc. a couple weeks after Fiona’s employment cessation. And get this, I found out from an announcement on the company webpage. And such was the first time I’d been canned that my manager had not been the one to convey the news, so that was odd.

With me, however, it’s not as earth-shattering to be cast adrift in the ugly waters of unemployment as it was for Fiona because I had only been at Jeans, Inc., for around 6 months, so I wasn’t as invested in the job, really. Plus, business was down so much that on my last day, they sent me home before I even got logged into my computer. And there were times when we had 8 or 9 orders to work with probably 75 people working. So, unless the phone was ringing, there was nothing to do. But when such isn’t the case, ya gotta wonder…

Plus, fortunately, my wonderful hubby makes enough coin that we shall not be worrying about keeping the lights on, but our cashflow will be a might pinched. Additionally, I tucked away some cash that will help fill the void should the scraps of government alms not suffice (i.e. unemployment compensation) until I find something else.

That said, Fiona, Mitchell and I are intelligent, capable, talented individuals, and we will OVERCOME.

That said, why am I so confident about Fiona and I rising from the ashes of cubicle hell? Well, let’s review our track record. Between the two of us, we have –

1) Obtained college degrees, which were financed largely with our OWN cash – though student loans, et. al. did help enormously.

2) Said FU to Cancer and won.

3) Tangled with the biggest bully who ever lived and.. WON big time (i.e. check out – about evicting my drug addict brother from my Grandmother’s house )

4)  Survived 4 or 8 or 9 divorces (we lost count – okay, so maybe I’m really just talking about me, but you get the NOTION).

5) Survived being cheated on (by those who may or may not have been spouses).

6) Moved to New York City alone with no job in hand, less than $300 in the bank and a 2-year-old in tow and only one human to call a friend in that wild-assed, incredible and somewhat overwhelming metropolis.

7) Defied the laws of fashion because we just don’t give us shit.

8) Married a rock star or two and/or frequently went home with a guy in the band if frequently means once or twice ..:).

9) Held the title of DIRECTOR or VP…

10) Made more than $75K/year – which isn’t astronomical on a world scale, but ’tis nothing to sneeze at, and in West Virginia where we hail from, that sum makes us royalty/rare birds in the earnings department – especially because we’re women!

11) And ONE OF US met with and pitched a screenplay to members of Warner Brothers/CBS/Disney/Bad Robot Prod Co (who produced the TV show Lost and the Transformers franchise) and countless other execs from Tinseltown. And such was done without a trace of nervousness, which was no EASY TASK!

12) And we did not hesitate walk on cracks, skip school, chew gum in church, rip tags from mattresses, occasionally talk back to parents/teachers/cops and in my case threw up on (yeah – check out

…not to mention we don’t hesitate to ask Santa for the big SHINY TOYS.

And we occasionally imbibed alcohol during school hours, got arrested and lived to tell about it, jay-walked at WILL, sweet-talked the guy from the electric company into not shutting off our electric with a Coke and a smile and, maybe, the fact that we happened to be wearing a bikini at the time didn’t hurt…:) cuz that was back in college), and one of us wore a gaudy fedora to Thanksgiving dinner despite the request not to do so.

In other words, we’re kind of FEARLESS…

However, if we’d known we were going to accomplish so much, Fiona and I might’ve chosen different togs for the photo below…
steph and i - pine tree 73 8

And if that photo doesn’t convince you that, nobody is putting BABY and her sis in a corner…I don’t know what will.

So, go ahead universe, BRING IT the fuck on…cuz we’re on the mound waiting to bat – no matter how big or bad the bullshit you might chuck our way! And this blip of joblessness is no exception in the scheme of our lives.

And I shall sign off by saying, well, guess I buried the lead. I just got confirmation that I have a new a job starting 1/19/15 – provided I pass the background check (hmmm…keep you posted on that).

So, stay tuned, boys and girls cuz in the infamous words of Bachman, Turner, Overdrive –  You ain’t seen nothin’ yet…:)

Love and chocolate chip cookies,

Tenacious B and her band of truth-spouting hippies



Post #140 – No, I don’t drink wine – I drink Merlot, and what’s that in your hand, Nana?

Posted in beer, Family, family drama, Food and beverages, humor, memoir, nonfiction, relationships, true stories, Uncategorized, writing with tags , , , , , , , , , , on July 30, 2014 by tenaciousbitch

While visiting Nana Maude down South last week, I took her to Olive Garden, one of her favorite restaurants. I’m not a huge fan of the Garden, but their spaghetti and meatballs are okay.

However, every single time we go there, Nana scowls at the server whenever he or she asks if we’d like a glass of wine because Nana grew up Pentecostal. If you’re unfamiliar with this fundamentalist religion, Pentecostal folks do not partake of spirits.  Additionally, many members of the Pentecostal church equate alcohol with crack, heroin or crystal meth.

And just for the record, I grew up Catholic, and I have nothing against the Pentecostal religion. I just happened to believe in – live and let live. I never preached to Nana about going to confession or praying on a rosary, but, unfortunately, she’s bitched and whined about various tenets of the Catholic church my entire life while I sat silently gritting my teeth and waiting for her to take a breath, so I could change the subject or excuse myself from the room. My Catholicism has been in remission, LOL, for a couple decades now, but I still have to endure her temperance lectures. So, I couldn’t help but pull a bait a switch of sorts to shake Nana up when things went a little sideways at Olive Garden.

“Hi, I’m Jenny,” the waitress said with a warm smile. “I’ll be your server today. Would you ladies like to start off with a glass of wine?”

“I’ll have you know that I do not drink, nor have I ever, and my Granddaughter doesn’t drink wine either!” Nana grumbled emphatically in a rather rankled tone, nodding toward me.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to squelch my laughter, which did nothing to ease the suffering of the poor server, a lovely, 22-ish blonde, who reacted with the horrified expression of one who had just been beamed with a  2′ x 4′.

“What’s so funny?” Nana asked, her sharp blue eyes targeting me.

I shook my head at the freaked out waitress with a button-lipped smile hoping to convey the idea that my Grandmother was a cranky old coot, but Jenny was still wide-eyed and petrified.

“It’s okay. You’ll have to excuse my Grandmother,” I said smiling, and finally, Jenny the waitress began to breathe again.

“Excuse me from what?” Nana snapped.

I grinned again, relishing what was about to transpire. “Nana, do you remember those pictures I showed you the other day?”

“What pictures?”

I began digging in my purse for an envelope full of pictures that I’d brought to show Nana as the harried waitress started to get really antsy. I started stacking the photos of my husband’s new truck, one of my cats, whom she loves, and such on the table until I came to a photo of the flowers my husband had given me for Valentine’s Day because Nana loves that sort of thing.

“See? Remember this picture?”

valentine's photo

“I remember the flowers, but what’s that got to do with the price of tea in China?” Nana asked.

“Take a closer look. See that bottle next to the flowers?”

Nana eyes cut from the photo to giving me the stink eye instantly recognizing the bottle of wine, but I just smiled.

“That’s a bottle of Merlot. That was my other gift from Charlie.”

Nana sighed and said, “I didn’t notice anything but the flowers,” she said in an annoyed tone. “And I remember you asking Charlie to buy you some Merlot when I lived with you, but I just thought it was some kind of juice or something,” she mumbled.

I winked at the waitress who finally smiled nervously and said, “So, today we have a seafood linguine with…”

But Nana dismissed the spiel regarding the specials that day by interjecting with…”I’d like a glass of ice water, please, with lemon,” … in Nana’s foolproof method of trying to act as though nothing unpleasant had occurred by creating a diversion…:) in this case, a request for water.

I ordered a Diet Coke, and the waitress replied, “Coming up,” as she disappeared while most likely heaving a big sigh of relief that Nana’s little tantrum was over.

The rest of our lunch was pleasant and unremarkable. Nana ate most of her chicken and gnocchi soup only complaining a couple of times about the “green stuff” otherwise known as spinach in the soup.

I don’t know if she was incensed by the glass of wine question on this particular day because she’s frequented Olive Garden for more than 20 years and just got fed up, or she was in a bad mood because they lost another pair of her pajamas at the nursing home, or what…but if I wanted to be a real BITCH, I’d send her a copy of this photo below…which has graced the pages of my blog previously…


The lady on the left is my Aunt Shirley (my Mom’s youngest sister), and the redhead is none other than Nana Maude holding a cocktail! And I would imagine the martini glass close to Aunt Shirley’s hand was her drink as well.  I love the fact that Aunt Shirley is smoking because Nana loves to say that when she saw Shirley walking out of community college smoking a cigarette, that she threatened to “Yank her out of college right now if I ever caught her smoking again.”

Funny thing, Aunt Shirley obviously didn’t quit, and she obtained an associates degree in legal studies in 1970. However, I don’t remember ever seeing Aunt Shirley light up a cigarette. So, she must’ve quit before I was born, or shortly thereafter unlike my mother who, sadly, was sucking on cigarettes until she died of lung cancer in 2007.

So, there you have it. Yet another day of conflicting realities in the life of Nana Maude…:), and I must go for now because my Merlot is singing MY NAME…:)

And for my wonderful fans who keep emailing me about my memoir, I’m getting close to finite! 🙂

~Over and out from Tenacious B’s Bar and Grill


© Tenacious Bitch 2014




Post #119 Death to Anthem Insurance and Leo Pharma!

Posted in beer, Family, fashion, humor, memoir, mysteries, nonfiction, relationships, true crime, true stories, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , on October 29, 2013 by tenaciousbitch

Unfortunately, I have psoriasis, which itches and burns so badly it is often painful to wear pants and sometimes even SHOES . For those who might be unfamiliar with this medical malady, psoriasis is an autoimmune disease that causes an overproduction of skin cells that, unfortunately looks like a cross between measles and leprosy, which can often lay dormant for years even decades, which my doctor cannot explain nor predict (sigh).

It’s not pleasant, nor is it pretty. Sometimes though it is often fueled by stress.  However, my stress level has been astronomically better since Nana moved into a nursing home (see  as to why my beloved Grandmother is such a pill).

The ONLY treatment that helps is a topical prescription called Taclonex, which I’ve been using for almost ten years. Originally, it cost around $500, which is a lot for a 100-gram tube of ointment. However, my co-pay was around $35, so I could live with that.

Oh, but that’s not the American way, is it? A mere 80% markup isn’t enough these days.  CEOs can’t really buy a new jet every year on that, can they? Leo Pharmaceuticals might not make the HOTTEST toy this Christmas that every 12-year-old clamors for, however, Leo borrowed the same marketing principles of supply and demand and used them to a very ugly end.

Once Leo Pharm realized that their ointment is the ONLY product that actually gets rid of psoriasis for people with chronic cases (though only short-lived for me), they acted just like your average street corner drug dealer peddling smack by jacking up the price like nobody’s business because they KNEW those of us who have this disease would be REALLY JONESING for more – because it’s so painful.

And additionally, for the first time in 15 years, I experienced being spot free, and I could WEAR SHORTS IN PUBLIC the entire summer here in Ohio when the temps often exceed 90 degrees (around 30 Celsius for my friends abroad). Until this product came along, I often had to go out to dinner on a HOT summer night (say around 80 degrees) wearing jeans because, otherwise, the hostess at the restaurant might notice the red splotches on my skin and ask if I have chicken pox?!! The vitamin D in the sun’s rays helps so tanning salons and sunbathing are an option but NOT a cure.

In the WINTER it gets much worse, so, of course, now I can’t afford the co-pay, which I’ll get to in a minute. And check this out…the recommended dosage from my doctor is 100 grams/week, but the price has escalated so high, my insurance (ANTHEM and most insurances) will only pay for 100 GRAMS/MONTH.

This is what’s wrong with our insurance and healthcare system in America. You have to destroy the capitalism within the system before anything improves. I hate to say that because I grew up in a houseful of Republicans, but it’s true. Capitalism does NOT belong in healthcare but the prickly part is how to remove it. But no one’s talking about or even suggesting such, and this is why OBAMAcare will fail. No, I’m not a communist or a fascist. But the free enterprise model of economics is awesome = except when it comes to healthcare. and I just want medical treatment that VISA isn’t going to SUE ME FOR if I can’t pay for it somewhere down the road, capiche?

In that, I’m not advocating Socialism for the entire country, but with capitalism running rampant within the healthcare system, you can’t try to impose a socialist idea like healthcare for everyone – damned the cost because the system is run by a huge network of greedy bastards who are still going to charge $40 for an aspirin in every hospital in America or $500 for a prescription that cost $80 to make (i.e. Talconex, but now it’s WAY more than that)…And all the folks in Washington seem to be doing is finger pointing. And oh, bloody hell that does a lot of good, does it not?

But politics aside, Leo Pharm and Anthem Insurance are the bad guys here. In that, when Anthem increased my co-pay to $598 for Taclonex in July, I called them. No, I’m not JOKING – FIVE HUNDRED, NINETY-8 DOLLARS! And this product doesn’t cure cancer! It doesn’t heal a hole in one’s heart!! It gets rid of a fucking RASH.

Anyway, Anthem gave me the spiderweb of runarounds. So, I charged the prescription to my credit card in July and August because I was miserable. Then, in September – it was still $598. I wasn’t going to buy any, in October, but my feet bled every time I wore shoes. I called them AGAIN about the $598 copay, and they said my doc needed to call in a Pre-Authorization before they would reduce the copay to $448! Are you fucking SERIOUS? But NO ONE had mentioned this before, and I thought -having danced on this fucking merry-go-round for years – that a Pre-Auth had already been done.

And the whole Pre-Authorization bullshit is a scam anyway if you’ve not had the pleasure of trolling through this corporate quagmire yet. HELLO, If my doctor didn’t think this drug was medically necessary, why the FUCK would she prescribe it? As if my doc just prescribed it just for kicks – just to scribble words on a page. Au contraire, in reality, a pre-authorization requirement is merely a tactic to DELAY the insurance company’s responsibility in paying for the prescription in the hope that the consumer/patient will not want to bother jumping through the WAY TOO MANY hoops required for people just trying to acquire the medical products/services they obviously need.

Anywho, my doctor’s office called Anthem. At which point, they said NO PRE-AUTHORIZATION IS NEEDED. Oh, my FUCKING GOD!!!  Can you say RED TAPE AT ITS FINEST?! I was mute with shock! The nurse kept talking about other scripts I’d tried that didn’t work, and all I could think of was that Athem and Leo were bending me over, and I was now powerless to do anything about it.

And that’s the thing that really gets me by the throat. All these fucking marketing gurus and CEO’S live to bleed as much fucking money they can from the average consumer without one single thought about the consequences to us, their bread and butter.  Everyone has to make a profit and pay their bills, but I do believe by now Leo Pharm has accrued its pot of gold by raising their price every goddamned year. 

So, the nurse called in another prescription. It didn’t do shit. So, I crunched the bullet and paid the fucking $448 for the Taclonex. I don’t know why it wasn’t $598. Maybe, an elf voo-dooed the computer, LOL. I didn’t ask. I just went WEE WEE WEE all the way home before the computer could change its mind! 🙂

However, the thing is – Leo Pharm is losing their patent, which means every Tom, Dickhead and Harry in the pharmaceutical world can produce this wonder drug at a fraction of the cost. So, Leo Pharm only has so much time to EXTORT additional money from their consumers before this particular cash cow is put out to pasture…

My pharmacist, God Bless him, was so sympathetic, that he searched high and low for an online coupon. He found one, but it was for the wrong prescription, and get this…they emailed me (Leo Pharm) actually WELCOMING ME to the Leo Family when this coupon card was activated! Isn’t that sweet…and check out my reply…

From: [mailto:]
Sent: Wednesday, October 23, 2013 3:38 PM
To: ‘’
Subject: RE: Letter from LEO Pharma Inc

Thanks, but that discount card was activated in error. My doctor didn’t prescribe Talclonex Topical Suspension. She prescribed the Taclonex Ointment, so I couldn’t use the discount card mentioned in the letter attached.

And furthermore, I really HATE, despise and LOATHE your company for charging more than $1500 for Taclonex, when a stronger version of the very same product ALSO manufactured by Leo Pharmaceuticals is less than $300 in Canada for 20% MORE of the damned ointment!

I hope your CEO and the majority stockholders at Leo are enjoying their new yachts or new Mercedes they’re able to afford with the outrageous $598 co-pay I’ve been forced to charge to my Visa the last couple of months. And I so love adding to my ever-mounting credit card debt for medical expenses – especially due to the fact that I’ve been unemployed for most of the last 2 years.

I’ve heard that Leo will be losing the original patent on Taclonex in about a year, and I will be drinking champagne and clicking up my heels that day—unless my psoriasis is so bad that I can’t wear shoes, much less click my heels.

So, fuck you and your goddamned USELESS discount!!!

A very unhappy customer.


otherwise known as KENNEDY SMITH

Columbus, Ohio



I feel really bad that I verbally accosted the woman who sent me this form email, but I was livid, and I’ve mentioned my horrendous temper (i.e.  ), which is no excuse, but it’s too late now. It didn’t bounce back, so it wasn’t an automated address.  Maybe, she laughed because she hates Leo too. Maybe, it really upset her, who knows.

I just happened to notice the actual retail price on the receipt from the pharmacy. Talk about STICKER shock. And that’s why the copay has been $598. In that, all drugs that cost over $500 have a 40% copay on my policy, so the Pre-Authorization nonsense are just empty words.  But the poor schmucks answering the phone could never say that even if THEY KNEW why the co-pay had gone nuclear. And I wasn’t fabricating that part about the Canadian product. Check this out (from the website of the Canadian drug store):

You searched for:


Marketed as Dovobet Ointment in United Kingdom and Canada

Dovobet Ointment 0.05%/0.005%


Manufactured by: Leo Pharma
This product is offered for sale by Day Lewis of United Kingdom

From $2.20 USD/gram

All of which is, so fucking typical, and, unfortunately, so fucking American…

Maybe, I should just move to Mexico. The lovely sun would definitely help my skin, and at least if the drug lords come after me down there, I’ll see ’em coming, and I can start shootin’ when I see the whites of their eyes…LOL…instead of yelling at them from cyberspace cuz Leo Pharm doesn’t list the address for their corporate office ANYWHERE online that I can find, probably for fear people like me will show up M-16s BLARING…:)

PEACE OUT from oh, my FUCKING GOD NOT AGAIN central…

Tenacious BITCH and her band of truth spouting hippies….


Post #107 – If you’re weird, and you know it…clap your hands! :)

Posted in beer, college, Family, friends, humor, marriage, memoir, nonfiction, relationships, thrillers, true stories, true stories, Uncategorized, writing with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on August 6, 2013 by tenaciousbitch

First, my mother told me I was weird in high school because I like sci-fi and horror books and movies as well as thriller and action movies. I have many tomes by Mr. King and Mr. Koontz. For some odd reason though since I majored in English/Creative Writing, Mom assumed I should be sitting around reading Milton or Melville or something equally high brow.

However, in college I was usually bored in traditional Literature classes like British Lit 101. That said, there were some authors/books from the required reading list that I liked including:

Charles Dickens. Loved Great Expectations.

Emily Bronte: Wuthering Heights still ROCKS.

Daphne DuMaurier:  Will anyone EVER forget Rebecca? Which incidentally I first read in the 8th Grade. So, perhaps, that makes me doubly strange with a cherry on top…dunno, you be the judge.

Franz Kafka: The Metamorphosis. Those of us who have survived corporate America, can we NOT relate to feeling like an insect?

F. Scott Fitzgerald – The Great Gatsby, the book and the movie (either version)!

1984 by George Orwell.

And there are a few others, but I won’t bore you with the rest. So, ANYWHO…about being weird…

Though he loves me, and he’s very good to me, my husband also thinks I’m weird because:

1) I, like Sally Albright, get cold, occasionally, when it’s below 72 degrees.

2) I wolf down dark chocolate covered in peanut butter once in awhile with a glass of Merlot or a beer. It’s a family thing. My great-grandmother used to eat chocolate with a pint ‘o beer all the time, so I’m in good company. So, maybe, it’s an Irish thing. Dunno…never been to the land of my ancestors though I hope to some day.

3) As I said, I prefer action/thriller/horror/sci fi books/movies to chick lit and chick flicks though I LOVE memoirs.  Unfortunately, I find SOME chick lit to be contrived and boring, and I stopped reading  50 Shades of Gray about 40 pages in (couldn’t relate to anyone that submissive).  But memoirs? The characters are more genuine since they’re about contradictory/cantankerous/flawed humans who are brutally honest about a drug problem, for example (i.e. Portrait of a Young Man as an Addict by Bill Clegg) or maybe they overcame severe circumstances like Jeanette Walls in A Glass Castle and the like. As they say, truth is stranger than fiction. However, I do love FICTION as well, obviously.

However, there are some chick flicks/romantic comedies that I absolutely adore like:

Ahem, When Harry Met Sally if you didn’t get the Sally Albright reference above.

The Wedding Singer

Serious Moonlight

Pretty Woman (what’s not to like?)

Oh, and lest we forget, Moonstruck with my favorite DIVA, Cher.

4) So, why else am I weird besides the fact that I prefer most of the same movies as my husband? Well, because I’m not big on SPOOFS.

I think most of them are stupid. Max and Charlie both LOVE Shaun of the Dead, which annoyed me, and all the Austin Powers movies, which have comedic moments, but they’re just not for me. So, when anyone mentions movies like those, I suddenly have 5 loads of laundry to do.

But don’t think that my taste in movies is logical because I will watch Clerks, Jay and Silent Bob or Dogma all DAY LONG, which some might consider spoofs or spoof-ish. Yes, MEGA fan of Kevin Smith. I even like Comic Book Men. And wasn’t Kevin Smith AWESOME in Die Hard 4? Yes, the WARLOCK rules!

Aside from all that, I’m weird because:

5) I don’t care if my socks match (a navy blue/black combo is commonplace for moi), but I hate it if my bra and panties don’t match and/or if my pillow cases don’t match my bedspread. I know. I know. It doesn’t make any sense, but who SAYS I HAVE TO? 🙂

6) I am OBSESSED with British Television, and my current faves are – Doctor Who (when’s it coming back on??!!!) MI-5, and Downton Abby. And I’ll be distraught after watching the 86th episode of MI-5 on Netflix cuz then, I’ll have nothing to watch after the Old Man goes to bed. I’m also still reeling from the death of Adam Carter, and if he left because of some squabble with a director or something, might just cross the pond to deck the bastard…just so you know! 🙂

7) I don’t care that I’ve never eaten a Big Mac or a slider from White Castle. No loss! Steak n shake is my FAV! Get over it.

8) Though I’ve been accused of not being a girlie girl, I rarely EVER go out in public without makeup even if I’m just going to the grocery store.

9)  It gets on my last nerve if the kitchen and the bathrooms are dirty, but a little clutter doesn’t bother me. A lot of CLUTTER is different. For example…, check out this post   ….yeah, that BOTHERS ME…:)

10) And last but not least: I like working alone. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not antisocial. My friends will attest I can be the life of the party. And I’ve been known to hang out in bars until daylight (years ago, but still). That said, I much prefer working at home, with just my black lab and 2 cats because they don’t GO on and on about every single argument with their spouse over who ate the last muffin or the oh, so exciting plot of the Kardashians or Mad Men, or another broadcast I don’t care about.

So, there you have it. My weirdness cataloged…and, personally, I much prefer being deemed ODD (not to be confused with Odd Thomas cuz I can’t see ghosts)…than being called God forbid…BORING…

See what I mean? What a GEEK I am…this was one of my Facebook posts last week…

TROUBLE WITH TRIBLES  A perfect date night for me and my hubby: a bottle of Merlot and TROUBLE WITH TRIBBLES…:)

So, CHEERS to all of us weirdos, harmless weirdos…not those guys in raincoats who flash people in public…:)

Over and out from fracked up CENTRAL or something like that…:)

TenaciousB and her band of truth-spouting hippies…

© Tenacious Bitch 2013

#67 Cyber rant to my neighbor…

Posted in beer, nonfiction, relationships, true crime, true stories, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on July 5, 2012 by tenaciousbitch

Dear neighbor:

Yesterday, you were in your backyard. Yes, YOU, asshole, playing the shitty, mainstream radio station, which cranked out every single, lame-assed song ever written in the 70s and 80s. Such music that had, in fact, already been tossed about the airwaves to beyond ad nauseum during the aforementioned decades.

And said broadcast was so loud, not only could the tourists visiting the Great Wall of China hear this worthless rot, but the volume caused a fracture in said GREAT WALL. No, I’m not kidding, and btw, cyber chat has it that the Chinese government is quite peeved. That said, I would expect an unpleasant visit forthwith from a Chinese diplomat, bill in hand for the damage you caused …

AnyWHO, I just have a few questions, and I’ll try to be brief:

1)     Why in heaven’s name, would you want to listen to a station that played not 1 but 5 (yes, FIVE) Foreign Man songs over the course of 2 hours? And I thought COLD AS DICE was banned from public broadcasts after that woman in Montana shot herself upon hearing that very song for the 249th time (over a three day period) back in ’81 or 82? I understand that she took her pledge to listen to GOOD rock n roll or DIE quite seriously…hence, the term playing a song “to death” was coined? But, perhaps, I’m mistaken, and that landmark decision was reversed. Either way, WTF?

2)     Are you aware that spewing such atrocious so-called music can cause certain species of birds to migrate South at inappropriate times (i.e. in the summer) to escape this morbidly awful faux rock n roll, which can create a tsunami, particularly in and around the coast of South Carolina and Georgia? Need I mention what damage that could render to the tourist trade in those areas? Obviously, NO ONE in this era of rampant unemployment relishes the idea of turning Myrtle Beach and Hilton Head into ghost towns, n’est-ce pas?

3) Why would you be under the impression that all of we residents of Columbus, Ohio, want to hear your INANE cell phone conversation regarding your Dyson vacuum cleaner and its faulty shaft arm? Were you BORN stupid, or did you cultivate this level of non-intelligence on purpose? To what end?

And just in case you’re curious: I don’t give a FUCK about your broken wanna-be HOOVER, and I doubt the other 17-18 neighbors do either – you know, the other folks whose holiday you also ruined due to your thoughtless noise and jabber…

Therefore, I have a couple of suggestions for you:

The first is a one-word demand, and it’s a compound noun, so pay attention: HEADPHONES, my friend, HEADPHONES…

Secondly, next time, TAKE your stupid-assed 47-minute conversation about bla, bla, bla – INSIDE, or we shall mount a posse to smash your Smart Phone to smithereens, capiche?

And please note these comments/suggestions have been known to cause: aggravation, irritation, burning, itching, nose bleeds, liver failure, heart attacks, liver spots, psoriasis, measles and a strong desire to eat fruit cake. If you have any of these symptoms, please contact your doctor immediately.


Much obliged,

Yours in peace and love, your cranky-assed neighbor/bad influence/e-victor au extraordinaire and crazy outhouse rat, a.k.a. TENACIOUS BITCH and company…

🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂

© Kennedy Smith 2012

Post #63 – My life or some facsimile thereof…

Posted in beer, Family, memoir, nonfiction, relationships, true stories, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on June 1, 2012 by tenaciousbitch

South Beach, Florida, 2008, yes IN the water wearing my cover-up…why… dunno, maybe, ask the hot barkeep who over-served those margaritas…:)

Like most Fridays of late, I could lie down and sleep until 2014 – or maybe only until noon tomorrow, depends on what’s on TV :)…My unbridled exhaustion, however, is not derived from the usual burden of working 27 hours/day, cooking, doing laundry, paying bills, scraping gum off the leg of my coffee table, taking care of Nana while trying to drink like a 12-year-old. Yes, I’m joking. I didn’t like Merlot when I was in junior high. I only drank beer back then, usually my Dad’s Stroh’s (BLEH)… 🙂

No, my need for respite began to peak after cleaning my house from daylight until dawn for three days because my husband’s entire family was supposed to descend upon us for a cookout on Memorial Day. Sadly, only my in-laws were in attendance. That, of course, doesn’t diminish or increase the level of my fatigue. It’s just merely an annoying side note. However, in their defense, Charlie’s Grandmother is not ill through any fault of her own, and when she’s sick, Aunt Darla doesn’t like to leave her alone, so their alleged snubbing of our holiday event is forgivable. And kudos to Darla for being so attentive to her mother. And why weren’t the other members of his clan hanging out with us and eating burgers and ribs that day? Dunno…ask the cat. She seems to know everything these days, including the new secret hiding place my car keys have taken a shine to…

Anywho…so, at this point, I do not have the energy to sit here and spin an 1100-word yarn as per usual, so I give you a few glimpses of my life, both past and present, via photographic image below. ENJOY and have a good weekend!

Ben and I circa 1967. This photo occupied my mother’s dresser until the day she died…

Tim and a newborn Max at my parents’ house, 1992.

Danny and I in Florida in 1973 in the salad days of our youth before CRACK usurped his life…

My husband and I in the hot tub at our old house on the west side of Columbus. Yes, that’s snow in the background. And YES, this was taken in ’99 when I was a double-wide kind of girl…not the quasi-middle, not-so-hefty weight I maintain now….

THIS is what I had to do to keep a FIVE-POUND cat from scampering behind the TV and eating all the cords to the TV, the VCR, the cable box, the receiver, the surround sound, etc.

My good friend, Kathy Griffin, at one of her gigs in Cleveland, back in 2007, maybe? She wouldn’t pose with me, the bitch, cuz she said I’d had too much to drink, and my new hair color was ??? not so good. Actually, I have a photo of the two of us from that night, but it’s NOT for public consumption. I look like I was just released from a prison camp…but she looks AWESOME, the little trollop…and you never know…she MIGHT just cut a bitch…

The beautiful cat, Sasha, in question… 🙂

My favorite photo of Nana Maude, taken in 1963 when she was a mere child of 46.

My husband, the rock star, circa 2010 in a club downtown.

Max’s girlfriend, Amanda, lighting the candles on Max’s birthday cake, which was red velvet with strawberry icing (HIS request…yeah, I Know, right?)…

I kilt another closet, and I think the photo speaks for itself, don’t you? 🙂
Max, ignoring me, April 2011.

One of many photos taken at mine and Joe’s wedding in ’86. Yes, I blocked out his face. No, he’s a very handsome man, but I haven’t spoken to him since ’97, when he fled the country for somewhere in Europe. We have a mutual loathing of each other at best.  So, I thought it best NOT to contact him at this juncture for permission to display his Marlboro-man looking mug on my blog… :).

Max and I on his 18th b’day. He was opening one of my gifts…

Blog #42 – The Fifth Avenue Guy…

Posted in beer, college, Family, friends, nonfiction, relationships, true stories, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , on December 17, 2011 by tenaciousbitch

After divorcing Mitch, I wasn’t in any hurry to get serious about anyone. But I fell in love again anyway, of course. And this time, what I experienced was awe-inspiring, provocative and ultimately life-changing as well as,  nonetheless, dreary, very cold and overwhelming, even repulsive at times. However, let’s be clear, my love at the time – went by the name of New York City.

I became blindly enthralled with every single facet of the city during my first roller coaster jaunt to Manhattan with Morgan** in my sophomore year of college, circa 1985.

The 20-40-storied sky skrapers were otherworldly to me, and knowing there was SO much LIFE and art and opportunity bustling about the city was the most intoxicating feeling I’d ever known.

For most of you, dear readers, my characterization of NYC’s splendor is commonplace, wallpaper you stroll past every day…with a yawn. But can you really look at the photo below and say there is NO GOD? 🙂


That said, I grew up in a cozy, suburban house where the temperature fluttered around a balmy 85 degrees in winter, 70s in summer. Tolbert, however, one of my classmates, lived in a drafty, unfinished hovel.

The exterior walls of Tolbert’s house were comprised of black tar paper on drywall and plastic sheeting across their windows in lieu of glass. In other words, the equivalent of notebook paper and ratty garbage bags separated him and his family from the elements.

While my life was Oz in comparison to Tolbert’s, is it any wonder I was so TAKEN with New York?

ANYWHO, five months after graduation, I packed up and took off for Brooklyn in my Datsun B-210 hatchback, with my beautiful blue-eyed three-year-old nestled into his car seat.

A week later, my FIRST job interview at a literary agency occurred on a beautiful day in 1989 on a dazzling spring day in Brooklyn under a cloudless, primary blue expanse. I was the happiest I’d been in more than a year…until…I climbed aboard the Marcy Avenue train and…

I surfaced in lower Manhattan (near West 27th) into a rippling wall of rather cold RAIN. And I, without an umbrella. Where IS Rihanna when you need her? Oh, wait…she wasn’t born yet (LOL)…

I interviewed for an admin position at Pratt & Pratt, Inc., a relatively prestigious agency. But the look of shock and pity on the elegant interviewer’s face was nearly unbearable. Kelly, a senior agent btw, was very kind, however. She immediately rushed into their little kitchenette in her lovely suit from Saks and brought me a dish towel and a HOT cup of coffee. I tried to dam the torpedo of rainwater spiraling down my face and arms from my unkempt clumps of knotty brown hair, to no avail.

I had on a brand new navy blue suit of the Donna Karan persuasion, and I had decided to attend  the interview despite my scruffy appearance, for fear of being black-balled. I didn’t know the INS and OUTS of the literary world, and I had this ludicrous notion that if I cancelled at the last minute, Kelly and her league of publishing comrades would think I was a flake. Yeah, I know…like they had the TIME nor interest in bad-mouthing an interviewee they’d never met…

Stop laughing and remember…I was only 23 and from WV, and I’d never had one of those REAL jobs that didn’t involve salting French fries or serving beer.

I had dreamed of READING BOOKS for a living since the moment I finished my first Little House on the Prairie tome in the third grade. However, as I sat there listening to the DRIP, DRIP, DRIP of rain splattering from my sleeves onto their pristine tile floor while awkwardly trying to extol my limited dossier, I knew the dream was DEAD.

Just kidding. Of course, one interview didn’t KILL my goal. It was embarrassing, but I knew the odds of getting the FIRST job I interviewed for in the first place was as likely as waking up as a LIZARD 🙂 …and I actually walked out of the interview smiling – even though I knew Kelly and company were guffawing loudly over the hilljack in a suit that had its own SPRINKLER system.

On the other hand, though I didn’t have enough experience for Pratt & Pratt, Kelly actually gave me the name of two well-known firms, who might be looking, and she said I could MENTION her name. So, either she wanted to dump my Elle Mae ass upon someone as a cruel joke, or she was being sincere. I wasn’t sure…until –

“And it’s rare meeting someone who was in the Latin Club, and-” Kelly said, smiling.

“Excuse me?” I asked, stifling a bull-horn-sized laugh.

“Very few people can PASS one semester of Latin, much less, make it through FOUR years with a B average.”

Okay, now we’ve parlayed from Mars/OZ to the Twilight ZONE.

“I see, thanks,” I murmured still not sure whether she was making fun of me or not. “I always thought it was dorky,” I said laughing. “But I thought dorky experience was better than only one other extra-curricular activity on my resume,” I explained, referring to my brief stint as a majorette in ninth grade.

“And I really like your grit, your determination,” she said, smiling again.

By the look on my face, she KNEW, I was baffled.

“Most people would NEVER come to an interview, well, with a hair out of place, much less soaking wet!”

Totally stumped, I said, “Well, thanks, I guess.”

“What I mean is, you’ve got spunk, which might come in handy when you’re trying to push your editor to sign the likes of J.K. Rowling after 20 agencies had already passed, and that’s more important than looking like you’re prepped for a spread in Vogue. You know what I mean?”

I nodded, and she continued, “People in publishing are ALWAYS looking for people who REALLY care about literature. I’ve interviewed a lot of recent grads who just want to have Pratt & Pratt on their resume. They have no interest in books at all.”

I nodded. Now, that made sense.

Therefore, though I’d braved the interview, albeit feeling like an idiot, I felt all the better knowing that I had just met a kindred spirit who could maybe be a friend later on. Maybe, some day I might run into her at a literary function, and we’ll both laugh til we’re all teary-eyed about the little country mouse watering the floors of Pratt & Pratt on her first BIG GIRL interview.

Then, if all that weren’t weird enough, about THREE BLOCKS away from Pratt& Pratt, an odd-looking guy in an ill-fitting suit approached me as I waited to cross the street and said, “Are you looking for a job?”

“Excuse me?” I asked, thinking I’d misunderstood him.

“Your conservative suit,” He explained, “You look like you’re on your way to a job interview, that and your folder with your resume in it, right?” he asked smiling and nodding to my leather binder.

“Yes, but,” I immediately assumed this guy was looking for a date, and not the kind you take to dinner first. “I’m sorry, but I’m not looking for THAT kind of work,” I replied, stepping into the stream of afternoon commuters heading for the subway on 31st.

“No, no, I’m a Fifth Avenue man,” the guy said, strolling along beside me.

I immediately burst into laughter. “I’m sorry?”

He looked really confused and somewhat hurt by my reply and said, “No, really I am.” He handed me a business card, which said:

Tom Blazell
5th Avenue Personnel
886 Fifth Avenue
New York, NY 10023

“Um, okay.  Nice meeting you,” I said disappearing into the stairwell to the subway. I looked back at him at the top of the stairs where he stood grinning as if I were the biggest MORON ever while shaking his overly large head. Maybe, being a “Fifth Avenue Man” meant something to your average New Yorker, but I wasn’t privy to their list of corporate royalty, and at that moment, I really didn’t care.

Little did I know the FIFTH AVENUE man did, in fact, help me to secure an awesome job, a job on Wall Street, believe it or not…


Ciao… ALL …and have a great weekend!

Over and out from FUCKED UP CENTRAL… 🙂


*See Blogs 38-40, beginning with THE GREAT ESCAPE…

**See Blogs  36-37 – NYC OR BUST I and II…all about the LOVE Triangle between me, Morgan, and Delilah, his new and not-so-beautiful, squeeze…