If your mind is too open, your brain will fall out. Warning: Names, identities, descriptions, and pictures have been changed and/or used to protect the innocent as well as the guilty. PollyPeoria should not be used or quoted as a source for your senior college thesis.

Sunday, March 12

GOAL!!!


Yes! I got on scale this morning and was amazed and delighted to see that I had at last obtained my goal/dream/obsession of well over a decade. My weight now corresponds to what I stated it to be on my driver license.

Now I only need to grow another two inches, obtain the same height I stated on my drivers license, and I'll be the perfect woman.

I'm so proud that I'm posting another nudie bubble bath picture. (Forgive the appearance of my bathroom, it has just entered it's second year of "remodeling.")

Kelly Monaco eat your heart out.

Saturday, March 11

I live to Make Bill Dennis Happy....


Bill wanted to see a picture of moi taking a bubble bath. Do you know how difficult it is to take a picture of one's self taking a bubble bath?! My Significant Other screamed at me, not because I wanted to post nudish pics of myself on the internet, but because I was using the digital camera while taking a bath.

I know, does S.O. have the wrong priorities or what?!

Friday, March 10

(Semi) Nude Kelly Monaco Pics!

Not that it matters, but Truth Laid Bare has demoted me from a "Crawly Amphibian" to a "Flippery Fish." The nerve! Well, we'll just see about that.
And there's more where that came from! In fact, I don't who the heck she is, but was difficult finding a non Nude pic of Kelly Monaco. Kelly Monaco really likes to be nude. Kelly Monaco likes to be nude all the time, everywhere! Kelly Monaco even likes to be nude with other nude women.

The stuff men fall for... I tell you, I could be so rich.

Too Many Rats in the Cage.


Every once in a great while, a head hunter will call me with a job offer. Said offer will carry the promise of wonderful new things... adventure, excitement, fame, mental challenge, and a lot more money. So off I go. A for profit corporation paid to have little old me fly Business Class to the Big City for an interview. Business Class! In Business Class one gets five full inches of leg room instead of three! The flight was the first time since I was nine years old where the plane landed and I did not have an impression of my knees indented on my forehead. I know, sexy, eh?!

The For Profit Corporation puts me up in a swank hotel, with room service and everything. No coffee maker in my room. Uh uh. Nope. We've hit the big time, Baby. Make your own coffee? Puhleeze! Pablo wheels in a white cloth covered cart with a large silver pot full of piping hot, fantastic flavorful caffine and an orchid at For Profit Company's (FPC) expense. FPC doesn't seem to mind paying Swank Hotel $16.00 for said pot of coffee. They also don't mind the $4.00 room delivery charge. They wouldn't dream of denying Pablo his mandatory, already included $20% tip. Swank Hotel was kind enough to leave an extra space on the bill in case I wanted to tip Pablo more than 20%. Pablo was very nice, but fully dressed and did not display the abs or pects of the guy in the Solar Flex commercial, so Pablo was forced to make due with 20%.

The bed at Swank Hotel, can I tell you? Wow. Feather bed. Down comforter. 100,000 thread count sheets. I don't think crack could be as satisfying as that bed even if the guy from the Solar Flex commerical was in it with me. Oh, and the bathroom! More square footage than my house. Marble everywhere. And a phone. An Egyptian terry cloth robe that felt heavenly. I don't know what they do to terry cloth in Egypt, but I humbly bow to their superior knowledge and treatment of the textile.

My interview takes place over dinner at an equally swank restaurant. It dawns on me that I have not been to a restaurant where I have had to distinguish between a salad fork and a regular fork in quite sometime. Now I have a plethora of silverware at my disposal some of which I don't recognize including -I discovered later- a pair of "tapas tongs" which are used for olives, I'm told. Over dinner I am feeling like a first class ass, wondering why I've been toiling in the non-profit sector when I could have been toiling for For Profit Corp, which is willing to appropriately pay for my toils, and damn, FPC knows how to LIVE!

Dinner concludes and I'm ready to sign on the dotted line, move across the country, and begin the good life without guilt. Hell, I've done my time working for charity, now it's time for Polly! After all, the stressed induced heart attack I'm doomed to have will not be any less painful should it arrive by profit or non-for profit, so why not live a little before the inevitable coronary arrives? Valet Guy brings my rental car, also courtesy of FPC, to the front of the restaurant (sedan, NOT economy), opens my door and refuses my tip, which he tells me has "already been taken care of." I know, nice touch.

I drive back to Swank Hotel. Or at least I try to drive back to Swank Hotel. More like I make a slow crawl back to Swank Hotel. The freeway is far from free. I slowly inch along, and have the pleasure of paying tolls to do so. I exit from the freeway and inch along even more slowly where I not only stop at every single traffic light, but usually get stuck at the intersection twice before being allowed to move on to get stuck at the next traffic signal. Once I even had the pleasure of being the first car at a traffic light. In the nanosecond it took my foot to leave the brake and get to the gas, four hundred cars behind me honked demanding that I move my slow nanosecond -not jiffy second- sedan ass. It was 9:00 p.m. I thought rush hour would have been over at least three hours ago.

I stopped at the convenience store to buy a Diet Coke. Even though FPC would happily have paid, I just couldn't bring myself to call room service for a tiny bottle of Diet Coke, have them charge $4.50 for it, add a $4.00 delivery charge, and pay the mandatory 20% tip for fully dressed Pablo. At the convenience store I fill my 32 oz cup, and proceed to the checkout line where not one but three people race in front of me to make their dire purchases of Diet Coke and candy bars. Jeeze, if they were buying Tums to cure traffic related heartburn I would understand, but such hyper-combativeness over junk food seems a little extreme.

Once I ventured outside the realm of Swank Hotel and For Profit Corporation, I realized the only people I saw seemed to be stressed, cranky, and unhappy. I also came to realize that open spaces were nearly non-existent and feeling claustrophobic, I also felt stressed out and cranky. Day three in the Big City I had a dire revelation, which came as a result of me honking at someone else to move their slow nanosecond ass at a light. In my defense I had spent an hour in the car and had traveled a total of thirteen miles. Regardless, it took all of three days for me to become just another hostile rat in an overcrowded cage. My third night at Swank Hotel I had dreams of rolling around -completely clothed without Pablo or Solar Flex Guy- in a harvested corn field.

I have been aptly reminded. Peoria may not be perfect or perfectly polite, but I would wager big money -what would have been my new salary- and what would have been my new uppity title that Peoria is at least five, maybe ten years behind the decline in civility that has become standard in the Big City. I may earn myself a cornonary living in either, but it will come sooner in the Big City.

I couldn't get back to Peoria quickly enough. I'm a bit muddy at the moment so I'm going to go take a bubble bath now in my very humble bathroom -complete with peeling paint and pathetic water pressure, and I'm taking an entire six pack of Diet Coke with me. So, please, nobody flush.

Good to be home.

Saturday, March 4

Now Accepting Students! The PollyPeoria Academy of Charm.


"When you feel hurt but do not harm the other, you are truly victorious."
-Thich Nhat Hanh-
Buddhist Monk


I feel for Merle Widmer, I do. A member of the "Greatest Generation," Merle has worked hard his entire life and has done his damnedest to make the world a better place. He asks little in return. Just a bit of respect, perhaps. He wants us to display a little bit of decency for fellow inhabitants of the planet. These days decency and respect are getting harder to come by and that is a bitter pill for Merle to swallow. So, I can understand how a punk teenager/passenger on a school bus traveling on the highway, who threw a soda can out of the bus window, served as a the straw that broke the camel's -or Merle's- back.

I don't agree with Merle's response, which was to force the driver of the school bus to pullover, allow Merle to board, and read the riot act to the kids, Coach, and bus driver. In fact, if one of my nieces had been on that bus, I'd probably be whining that Merle spend a night or two cooling his temper off in jail. Pulling over on the side of a freeway is an inherently dangerous thing to do, even when absolutely necessary. It simply wasn't. In all honesty, I did worse than throw a pop can out the school bus window when I was a teenager. I will wager good money that so did Merle. We all have regrets from our youth, when impulse won out over good sense and common decency.

Nonetheless, I feel a great deal of sympathy for Merle. Most worthwhile human beings allow their passions to get the best of them now and again. Anyone who reads Merle's blog on a regular basis knows that he is greatly saddened by the rudeness and the lack of work ethic that seems -at least at times- to be overtaking our society.

I know some think that posting The Ten Commandments in the classroom is the solution to society's ills. Others think high schools should require ethics courses in order to graduate. Me? Well, Polly thinks Charm School is the answer. Not just for little girls in the South. Everyone should attend charm school. It should be required along with reading, writing and arithmetic in elementary through high school. College and graduate school as well. Anyone who wants a driver's license, a gun, a liquor license, the right to vote, buy a pack of cigarettes, hell, purchase a friggin cell phone... anything that could possibly endanger society, should have to prove they have a firm grasp of basic manners.

You see, manners are nice. They serve to include people. Good manners attempt to make everyone feel comfortable and welcome. Charm School doesn't have to be the stereotypical sexist, debutante type variety. I don't care if you know how to waltz or can tie a superior Windsor knot. I want to know that you can say "Please" and "Thank you" when required. Before a someone can buy a cell phone, I want to be assured that they know how to use their "indoor voice." I also want to know that they understand what it means to be discreet, and that it is fully possible to ruin another patron's meal by describing in full detail that afternoon's visit to the gynecologist.

You want a driver's license? Great. Along with having to prove that your eyesight is good enough to drive safely and that you understand traffic laws, I also want you to prove that you understand that signaling is polite and necessary. I want to know that you understand that it is better to miss your exit and be late for that all important business meeting than swerve into my lane, cut me off, and endanger the lives of me and mine.

You want to drink liquor? No problem. Prove that you are of a legal age, that you know that too much of the sauce will undoubtedly make you stupid, unworthy to drive, and that being drunk in no way gives you a worthy excuse for waking up your old college girlfriend (who you dumped during final exams right before graduation, you bastard) by calling her at 3:00 a.m., begging forgiveness and pleading that she take you back. Because that would be rude, you drunk nitwit.

You want a pack of cigarettes? It's your lungs. Just make sure of that. Take due consideration of those around you. If you don't smoke around me and send me running to the emergency room with a full blown asthma attack, I will refrain from flipping you off. The world will be a kinder, gentler place. Otherwise, I will be forced to pursue legislation that will forbid you from your guilty pleasure, and I don't want to do that. Really.

There are things about this modern world I rather like. I like how global the world has become. My niece, a fifth grader in District 150, has two best friends. They are from Pakistan and Syria. They are two of the sweetest, politest girls I've ever met. My niece hasn't learned tolerance and culture from t.v. shows like "Different Strokes" or magazines like National Geographic, she lives it. I wasn't exposed to different people from different cultures until college. One of the benefits of a global economy is that the world has become smaller, and we have the opportunity to know each other a bit better. It makes life more interesting. It also makes for much better cuisine, but I digress...

I realize that good manners and Charm School in the "Good Old Days" lived comfortably beside racism, the tendency to judge others on how they looked, and their social economic status rather than how they behaved. Being charming and having good manners doesn't have to be a matter of law. It should be a matter of education. There are many among us who derive a perverse pleasure and power by being rude. Yeah, hold a gun to my face, demand my purse, and you will most certainly have power over me... but not my bowels. It is a false power- unearned, and completely unaccompanied by respect.

True power must be accompanied by respect. People willingly follow those leaders who show both competency and concern for those serve under them. I want kids to learn the value and power in looking someone in the eyes, giving a firm handshake, and enunciating each spoken word- just as they learn how to read, write, and share their toys. I want adolescents to learn that at some point they will be wrong, and that it won't kill them to admit it. How rare, but refreshing, it is hear someone say, "Oh. You are right. I was wrong. That was my mistake. I am very sorry."

I want college and graduate students to be reminded that making money should always come second to family. I want them to prove that they know ambition, hardship, deadlines, or pressure are not valid excuses for cheating, lies or breaking the law. Test them to make sure they understand that yelling at a waitress, secretary, or anyone forbidden from yelling back is cowardly.

Elders are not exempt. Making it to a ripe old age does not give you the right to cut in line, snap at exhausted mothers trying to soothe their crying offspring, or trying to control what your daughter-in-law serves for Thanksgiving dinner. It also doesn't give you the right to mortify others because they disrespect you. No matter how much they deserve it.

Earlier this week a really tough looking guy- tattooed, leather adorned, long haired, a biker type held the door open for me as I entered my office building. I smiled and said, "Thank you." He smiled and replied, "You are very welcome." A little shared politeness and we both felt a little better about the world.

Monday, February 27

Things that make you go, HUH?!


A foreign company cannot own a television station in America...

but it can own a water company...

and operate our ports.

Huh.

Screw the TSA!

Hell, lets allow an UAE or an Egyptian corporation "secure" our airports too. I bet Osama Bin Laden would certainly put in a low bid.

Jeeze. Talk about stupid.

Friday, February 24

IT'S OVER!

Yup. I caught him with another woman. Considering the competition, I can't say that I blame Russell. Much. Nicole is lovely and Russ is slightly less crazy and much taller than Tom. Still... love hurts, you know?
Russ gave me a courtesy call from the tub this morning to let me know we were through. Nice.

You know, the very least the prissy Aussie could have done was brought Nickie home once to share before dumping me. Jerk.

Sunday, February 19

An Open Letter to Rob at, "A Storm in the Port"

Dear Rob,

Politically speaking, you and I probably agree on very little. However, I do enjoy your blog. It is good to know where the other side is coming from. You have successfully convinced me to at least reconsider my views, and on rare occasions, even change them.

Would you kindly consider dropping the @#!$%* "Bravenet Exchange" pop up/virus I must endure in order to read your blog? It is hard to get rid of and annoying as hell. (Think quail hunting with Cheney type annoying.)

Speaking of Cheney, I wanted to leave a brilliant comment on your post regarding this latest V.P. mishap, but Bravenet went ballistic, reproduced, and wouldn't allow your "comments" window to even open. Maybe Bravenet doesn't like conservatives?

Of course, perhaps you enjoy annoying the hell out me, which is most certainly your right. This is America and you can be wrong if you wanna. Anyway, it is just a suggestion.

Best wishes.

Love,

Polly

Saturday, February 18

Just a "few" extreme religious fanatics?

Another day, another riot, and more people die over an anti-Muslim CARTOON. Is anyone else getting the feeling that the war we are fighting is against more than just a few deranged, radically religious extremists/terrorists? I very much doubt that all those protesting and rioting around the globe are members of Al Qaida. Clearly, the terrorism threat we face isn't just from a few religious zelots, and it isn't just America they despise. It is the WEST.

The attacks on 9/11 were not about Israel, oil, or the first Gulf War. I don't think the hi-jackers hated us because this is a country of Christians, or because of our wealth, or our morally filthy society. Puhleeze. I remember reading reports that the 9/11 hi-jackers spent their last days at strip clubs. Guess they couldn't wait for the virgins.

No, these people hate us because we aren't -for the most part- Muslims. Their specific brand of Muslim, anyway. Didn't the hi-jackers scream "Death to the infidels!" as the planes hit their targets? This brand of Muslim doesn't believe one should freely choose God, Christ, Allah, or Mohammed. It seems they have no problems with religious commitments made under duress, and turning the other cheek is certainly not an option. Nor is religious freedom.

A sobering thought: Recently on PBS, an expert stated the most pro U.S. Muslim country in the middle east is Iran. I'm getting the feeling that there are many, many, many little Muslim boys across the globe growing up on a steady diet of hatred for the West. This isn't a war about economy, democracy, or human rights. For them, this is a religious war. Muslim vs. The Christians/The West/The Infidels.

After watching footage of the riots, I don't hold much hope that anyone will be able to persuade these folks to live and let live. We will not be able to eliminate them-this type of Muslim is sizable in number, spread across many different countries, has the support of many governments, and is remarkably willing to die for their cause.

How can either side win this war? The West isn't -for the most part- ever going to claim Mohammed as their prophet. This type of Muslim will never agree to disagree. How will we ever be able to claim victory, bring our troops home, and sleep well at night?

I'm sick of Gidwitz



It is the Steve Forbes/Blair Hull/Dave Ran$burg type of campaign. You know, "I-have-more-money-than-God-or-any-of-my-opponents-so-I'm-gonna-remind-you-early-and-often-of-my-wealthy-and-superior-existence." Gidwitz might want to look up the results of the Forbes/Hull/Ran$burg elections. No one likes a show off.

Every week I receive an oversized, glossy, non-recyclable postcard from Gidwitz informing me of his ever so original ideas regarding government. Better education. Less taxes. Less crime. Eliminate corruption. Golly. Polly wants to know why no other candidate has come up with these answers.

Gidwitz has now begun running attack ads against Judy Baar Topinka. Gleefully breaking the Ronald Regan commandment"Thou shall not speak ill of another Republicans" Gidwitz's attack ads are an obvious ploy designed to make Republican front runner Topinka expend her financial resources early.

Ron, save the attack ads for Blago. There's plenty of ammo and you won't do damage to your own party, Dorkwad.

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