On the Seventeenth Day of Christ*&^%$

On the Seventeenth Day of Christ*&^%$, BaX reveals to you...

Despite the fact I loved Bonnie and Lowell and the Human with the big brown eyes, I screamed for a couple of days straight because I missed my other family so much.

Then my intestines stopped working so good.

Then my skin got hotspots and deep in my ears got infected.

Then I tried to bite a couple of humans.

Then they NEUTERED ME! (I know it wasn't punishment.  I know they're just concerned about the dog population.  Me too.  How do you think I got here?)

Then the Human with the big brown eyes took me home and she became My Human and I became Her Dog.

She is not my mother.

She is my bitch.

She took me to obedience class.

I almost took her fingers off when we were trying to learn "down."

It took Second Human in Command (the wonderful, kind, German Human next door) to teach me that.

Now I do doggy push-ups.

Third Human in Command (the wonderful Human whose skin looks like my fur) taught me how to play good and hard.  We make a lot of racket.

I travel like a pro in planes and trains and buses and subways.

My car etiquette could be better.  I must remember dogs can't drive.  Dogs can't drive. Dogs can't...oh look...a squirrel.

I turn in circles to warn everyone I'm about to poop.

I have many possessions...a house, a hump bed, a little red carrier house, a little red jacket, a lambchop, a baby lambchop, a blue, a sockmonkey, a hedgehog, a rabbit, a bone, a bone, a bone, and My Human.

On the Sixteenth Day of Christ*&^%$

On the Sixteenth Day of Christ*&^%$, BaX reveals to you...

My birthday is January 5th.

I will be 5.

I lived with my other family for almost four years
.They got me when I was too little.

They thought I was a chihuahua / poodle.

I am a shih tzu / poodle.

They loved me, but

The boys liked to "play" too hard with me.

My right front leg turns out funny.

The tip of my tail bends funny...it's broken.

The mom would let me get matted and then cut the mats out.

She cut through my ear.

It got infected.

The Humane Society took me in.

I especially loved Bonnie and Lowell.

My second day there, this human with big brown eyes and curly brown hair pet me through my cage.  She blew kisses at my infected ear.

On the Fifteenth Day of Christ*&^%$

On the Fifteenth Day of Christ*&^%$, TiZ reveals to you...

I've never heard anyone make a compelling argument against better gun control.

My code for hangover is "I feel special."

I feel special.

I stopped drinking for many years because the special was sooooo special.

I still don't drink a lot.

I hate the day in New York where everyone dresses up like Santa, gets drunk and ruins my world.

Today is that day and I'm staying inside.

I'm terrible at telling jokes.

But I heard one yesterday that I liked and it's short and it's in writing so I may not screw it up too much. "Why doesn't Santa have any kids?  Because he only comes once a year...and it's down a chimney."  You're welcome.

It took a year and a half after the renovation of my apartment for me to hang anything on the walls.

And by me, I made my friend A do it because I didn't have the stomach to mar the now not so freshly done walls.

I have my front of house photos from Beauty and the Beast.

They now hang whimsically in my kitchen.

I am a Wendybird.

I'm trying very hard now to cultivate a life where I'm not flying around all the time.

On the Fourteenth Day of Christ*&^%$

On the Fourteenth Day of Christ*&^%$, TiZ reveals to you...

I'm disappointed that you didn't notice that yesterday was the 13th Day of TiZmas, so I went back to ye olde Christ*&^%$.

I screw up with my dog a LOT.

My dog screws up with me a LOT.

We still love one another.

I think that's what people (and dogs) are supposed to do.  If they mean it, say they are sorry, work really hard at not screwing up again and make up. 

Enough with guns.

I don't care about your fucking right to bear arms.

I don't believe this is what anyone one meant when the Second Amendment was put into law.

"I'm sorry" cannot restore lives that are lost due to lack of gun control.

I don't trust or wish to know anyone who thinks they need a gun.

My heart is broken.  

I know this is only twelve and I don't give a flying rat's ass.

On the Thirteenth Day of TiZmas

On the Thirteenth Day of TiZmas, TiZ reveals to you...

I'm working on embracing change.

I do stretches every day now to keep the severely wonky neck headaches at bay.

I am an Official Volunteer Dogwalker at the Humane Society of New York.

Today is my Dad's birthday.

He died 7 1/2 year ago.

I ESPECIALLY suck at these holidays.

I got priced out of a much beloved internist as he didn't take my insurance.

I have an athletic pulse of 56 bpm.

I have an equally fab blood pressure of 100/70.

Because of a family history of high cholesterol, I have been fighting the battle to stay off anti-statins for years...cause everything else works SO DAMN WELL.

Fasting is not for me and makes me an incoherent moron.

I went to the dentist after ten years. (DON'T YELL AT ME. And do not try this at home.)

Still no cavities and a pain-free double wisdom tooth extraction.

On the Twelfth Day of Christ*&^%$

On the Twelfth Day of Christ*&^%$, TiZ reveals to you...

I think you guys are awesome for writing to Patsy Roberts.

There are some people I am friends with and hold dear for the fact they wrote cards to my Mom in the hospital as she died.

Mommy loved those cards.

She was in the hospital during my first two weeks of rehearsal for ON A CLEAR DAY.

Since I was showering in the dressing room at work in the morning, people thought I was doing the walk of shame.

In fact, I was commuting and did a bunch of overnights in the ICU and went straight to the rehearsal hall from Grand Central.

The barca lounger overnights were probably the beginning of a severely wonky neck.

The cobra during the Back Cage Tour did relieve some tension in my severely wonky neck.

I was in the emergency room 5 days prior to the Back Cage Tour because of a 4 day headache due to my severely wonky neck.

It took 1 emergency room trip, oodles of fantastic drugs, 4 chiropractic visits and an amazing massage from a Russian former Olympian in the hammer throw to get rid of the headache.

I didn't know I had a severely wonky neck.  I thought I was sporting a brain aneurism.

Two of the above specialists observed my neck and queried whether I'd been in a car accident.

On the Eleventh Day of Christ*&^%$

On the Eleventh Day of Christ*&^%$, TiZ reveals to you...

My Dead Person Corner is where I have totems and objet d'art of friends and family who are...well...dead.

The Buddha is there too.

I like to think of the Buddha as a friend.  And he HAS been dead for a while.  

I went on a Back Cage Tour at the Cincinnati Zoo.

I pet an elephant.

I rubbed the belly of Charlie the Penguin who liked it VERY much.  He got all flappy and giggly and everything.

I had a boa constrictor placed around my neck.

I do not like snakes.

I figured it was put around my neck for a reason.

I sent a Christmas card to Patsy Roberts.

I would like you to as well.*

*Take a moment and write a card to 87-year-old PATSY ROBERTS.

This sweet matriarch of Rockaway Beach, New York, saved thousands of cards she had received over the decades with the hope of reading them in her final hours, and then Hurricane

 Sandy came along and ruined them. “I was saving them to read when my time came,” she said when her son-in-law told her the cards had been destroyed by the storm surge. “I was saving them so I could read the cards and remember the people I love.”

Out of his own deep love for Roberts, her son-in-law, CRISTIAN DOBLES, is seeking to soften the loss by asking any and everyone of good will to write her a holiday card. He has posted this message on Facebook:

“Patsy Roberts, my mother in law, is the sweetest, most caring human being I know. A true angel on earth ... It doesn’t matter whether you know her or not. Just say something beautiful to her. My goal is to get 1,000 cards to her for Christmas. Please help me with this."

Aiding her voice to the plea, neighbor TARA STACKPOLE posted:

“Mrs. Roberts is the true matriarch of our block. She is the neighbor that prays for you, bakes for you, inquires about each family member, and always has a ready smile. At 87 she will put the neighbors trashcans away on her way home from daily Mass. She is the epitome of what a ‘neighbor’ should be and this block and our family are so blessed to know her.”

Roberts has written thousands of cards herself to family and friends over the years—on birthdays and special occasions, or if she heard of some great success. Sometimes just because she was thinking of them.

Help Cristian and Tara and all of Patsy's neighbors in Rockaway give her a Merry Christmas. Send a card today to:

Patsy Roberts
130-04 Rockaway Beach Boulevard
Belle Harbor, New York 11694

And pass it on to any good souls you know. 

On the Tenth Day of Christ*&^%$

On the Tenth Day of Christ*&^%$, TiZ reveals to you...

Singing in a church choir reminded me of that strange, very insular competitiveness I had blissfully FORGOTTEN ABOUT.

I didn't tell them I'm a professional singer.

I still sight sing like a demon.

My feet are narrow---AA with AAAA heels.

I've had a lifelong fascination with poop.

Probably due to the fact I do not EXCEL at doody duty.

I recently learned if one pulls one's knees up as if one is in a squatting position, doody duty is easy peasy lemon squeezy.

My shoes serve as decoration on a ladder in my home.

For years in NYC I survived with only 1 1/2 closets.

I have a dead person corner.

On the Ninth Day of Christ*&^%$

On the Ninth Day of Christ*&^%$, TiZ reveals to you,

This is the first time I'll be singing in church in years.

I am an agnostic.

I may be an atheist.

The concept of GoD doesn't make too much sense to me now.

The concept of DoG makes much more sense.

I have a Jesus band-aid on my door.

I have no idea how it got there.

I have purchased two new pieces of furniture in my entire life.

I have purchased two used pieces of furniture in my entire life.

On the Eighth Day of Christ&^%*$

On the Eighth Day of Christ&^%*$, TiZ reveals to you...

At times I may seem fancy but I am a townie at heart.

I went on a date recently with someone who snapped his fingers for the waitstaff's attention.  End of date.

I was invited to a society dinner.  The host told me he liked my kind of guest to sing for their supper.

I let him have it...

I may very well be among the working poor.

The realization of this did NOT make me zippy.

I'm repeating this for those who don't know:  I DO NOT DO HOLIDAYS WELL!

I am spending Christmas in my own home for the first time ever.

On the Seventh Day of Christ*&^%$

On the Seventh Day of Christ*&^%$, TiZ reveals to you...

When I was the "go to girl" I named the entire event, "The Blind Leading the Pregnant."

My long-running Broadway show lasted only 4 months.

I was going to buy an apartment from the proceeds.

Instead I got a dog.

I did not name him Baxter.

The Human Society named him Baxter since there were too many Maxes there already.

He responds better to Bax or Baxie.

On the Sixth Day of Christ*&^%$

On the Sixth Day of Christ*&^%$, TiZ reveals to you...

Never fear.  No one can be rougher on me than me.

I think I'm having hot flashes.

I think I'm having night sweats.

I'm not sure what the difference is.

Neither is awful.

I was once the "go to girl" for a friend who thought she was going into labor but wasn't sure what contractIONs* really felt like. 


*I originally wrote contracts.  Contracts?  Can you tell I had an important audition later on The Sixth Day of Christ*&^%$?**

**Put down the blog TiZ.  You are no longer safe.

On the Fifth Day of Christ*&^%$

On the Fifth Day of Christ*&^%$, TiZ reveals to you...

Sometimes I feel like I have a hangover even when I haven't been drinking.

All it takes is a glass of wine for me to hangover.

All it takes is a drastic change in weather for me to hangover.

Too much sugar will make me hangover.

Sometimes I wish I lived in a bubble.  I am Bubble Girl.

On the Fourth Day of Christ*&^%$

On the Fourth Day of Christ*&^%$, TiZ reveals to you...

My team won Charades.

My mother was right, I should NOT play games in public.

I rely on my dog to grease squeaky social wheels and sticky situations.

I guess that makes my dog my social lube.

On the Third Day of Christ*&^%$

On the Third Day of Christ*&^%$, TiZ reveals to you...

I played Charades competitively at a benefit last night.

Because I sometimes write these a day or two in advance, I have NO idea how it turned out and I'm a little nervous.

My mother told me NEVER to play games in public.

On the Second Day of Christ*&^%$

On the Second Day of Christ*&^%$, TiZ reveals to you...

I am terrible at Charades.

I am competitive at Charades.

On the First Day of Christ*&^%$

On the Thirty-First Day of Christ*&^%$, TiZ reveals to you...

It's taken 14 years and a lot of help from friends and dead parents and a stupid little dog for my apartment to look and feel like a home.

12 Days Minus 1

My original most many moons ago...

++++++++++++++++++++++++

12 Days of Christ*&^%$

No...I'm not cursing out Our Lord Jesus. Not at all. I thought it would be fun to do a play on the 12 Days of Christmas with my name but since I haven't used my name in la blogue and adore my relative anonymity (aka, my relatives don't know I'm flogging said blog), I had to throw some crap in after the "t" to throw 'em off the scent. And might as well end on a dollar sign. Hopes for the New Fecking Year.

On the Fist Day of Christ*&^%$ (oooh...a typo and yet I like it...like I'm raising my fist to the heavens screaming, "Why, God? Why?") I will reveal one thing about myself that perhaps you don't know. On the Second Day of Christ*&^%$ , I will reveal two things about myself that perhaps you don't know. On the Third Day of...and so on and so forth. 

And clap on. Clap off.

Sound like a plan? It's a plan. It should get a wee bit weird by the 12th since I'm a pretty open bouncy bunny and don't have many secrets. So I'll have to dig deep. And what would make the game even better-er would be if you would participate. Tell me weird things, unlikely things...even, dare I say it...oooooogy things. My favorite admission submission will get a copy (or two or three. Really. I'm beginning to use them as coasters.) of my cd for Christmas or Hanukkah or Kwanzaa or whatever the hell you celebrate. Or a chocolate chip cookie pie and I use the cd's as nipple rings.

Let the games begin.

++++++++++++++++++++++++

I'm so freaking excited I could puke!

The Twelve Days of Christ*&%^$ Are Coming

The Twelve Days of Christ*&%^$ Are Coming.

Where I get to reveal to you and you get to reveal to me.

To know and be known.

Where I am no longer known as the laziest lard-ass blogger in the whole wide web world.

The Twelve Days of Christ*&^%$ Are Coming...

Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

That is all.

Mitterally - Definition

1. Literally denying that what you've said before was actually said.

2. The manner in which Mitt Romney literally stands/sways on policy.

3. Soulless(ly) shape-shifting (yet once again I wish to kiss Rachel Maddow).