Betty Crocker

5 posts

It’s Never Too Late To Deliver the Perfect Retort

The situation happens faster than you can blink; someone says something or does something so awful to you that you freeze in shock, anger, or both. Much as Betty eloquently described, your face turns red, you feel that hot embarrassment flush across your face, and you mutter some quick reply and the situation dissipates and the moment is over.

Hours later, or even minutes later, the perfect retort comes to your mind. You want to run back and find the insensitive prick that insulted you, mocked you, or annoyed you, and shout at them your perfectly formed, scathing, ego-bruising remark. Unfortunately, they are long gone.

Here is your chance, fellow Crasstalkers, to join me in “What I Wanted to Say.” Below are some situations in the past couple of months that have truly annoyed me (some less than others), and what I wanted to say:

To the Girl Who Always Takes My Spot at Gym Class

I hate you. I put my water bottle down, I go get my step, and I come back and you are a foot away from my spot. Do you not see my water bottle there? Why are you so rude? Why can’t you just have basic gym etiquette like the rest of humanity and respect the water bottle markage? What do I have to do? Pee on my spot? Please go away.

What I Wanted to Say: “Hey, I was here first. That’s my water bottle. (Bitch)”

What I Actually Said: Give a dirty look (that she doesn’t catch) and move my spot.

To the Girl Who Told Me “This Is My Seat.”

I hate you too. I’m sure this is your seat – IN THE FOLLOWING CLASS. I’m sorry I take too long for you, princess, to gather up my belongings and move my rotten ass out of the way, but I’m SLOW, okay? And not just MENTALLY. Please, just stand there an extra thirty seconds, and I promise I will be out of your way.

What I Wanted to Say: “Great, BITCH.”

What I Actually Said: “I’m in the previous class. I’ll be out of your way in a second, honey.”

To My Mother Who Made Me Feel Like Shit For Being Financially Irresponsible

Mom, I’m sorry I have no money management skills and have no money to pay for my cell phone bill right now. You’re right – if you weren’t paying it, it would be turned off. You’re right, I did buy a new dress for my friend’s engagement party. No, I shouldn’t have charged on my credit card. Yes, you are enabling me.

What I Wanted to Say: “When you said you would support me no matter what my decision was regarding law school, I guess that didn’t mean financially.”

What I Actually Said: I left and went back to my apartment in NYC instead of talking about it.

To the Hot Boy That Returned My Cell Phone

This guy found my cell phone, hung up signs around the school until I saw them, and then gave me my cell phone back. He was also smoking hot. Did I take this opportunity to form a connection with another human being in law school? Absolutely not.

What I Wanted To Say: “Hey, thanks! Where did you find it? Do we have any classes together? We should get together some time and study. And bone. Either or! Call me!”

What I Actually Said: “Thanks so much! I didn’t even know I lost it.” (truth)

To the Dumb Sales Guy at Lush Who Said “Oh my GOD I love your BAG!”

Hey, buddy. Relax. I’m going to buy some bubble bath, don’t worry about your sale. The bag is hideous, and it’s a typical black tourist bag with “Amsterdam” written over it. I’m pretty sure they have them in Times Square and they say “New York City “ all over them. Mine is not any prettier than those. Please cut the phony sales routine and give me my damn bubble bath.

What I wanted to Say: “Thank you!”

What I Actually Said: “Thank you!” – after all, it’s a compliment, no matter how phony, no need to be excessively rude.

To My Leasing Agent Who Said You’d Take Care of My Broken Mirror

You said that the super would come fix my mirror a month ago. Nothing has happened, and my mirror is still cracked. When it shatters and I cut my foot on glass, I will have malformed feet and I will sue you for pain and suffering. I will theoretically also not be able to practice my future career, and will request compensation for that as well.

What I Wanted To Say: “Dear Rude Ass, my mirror is still broken and I have no fucking hot water in my kitchen except on random weekend mornings. Can someone please fucking fix this so I don’t have crusty ass dishes?”

What I Actually Said: Nothing. I’ve had to call the super twice, once to let me in after I locked myself out of my apartment, and once to turn my oven off when I left it on and went back to Long Island for the weekend. I feel like I’ve used my quota up.

* * *

Okay! Now your turn! Share your most infuriating story in the comments below, and tell us what you said – and what you really wanted to say. Or, if you’re one of those people who never hold back, give us your best retort – tell us about the time you put that douche bag right in his place – and be sure to describe in detail your smug satisfaction for all of us to take vicarious joy in.

How to Have Your Hybrid Tea Roses…. Coming Up Roses

Hybrid Tea Roses – A primer!

Hybrid Tea roses have a bit of a reputation as pampered princesses in the garden which require a lot of work. To some extent, this is true. However, with a bit of preventive care, any weekend warrior can enjoy the mesmerizing beauty of these wonderful flowers.

Why Hybrid Tea?
Flowers of early cultivars were said to smell of tea, though citrus and berry scents are very prevalent today. These roses are grafted onto a hardy rootstock. In the nursery, you will be able to see this as a small round knob (called a bud union) near the base of the plant. More on this when we get to actual planting.

Location / growth habit: full sun, and well-drained soil. They need to bake in the sun all day if possible, though 6 hours of full sun will produce a good result. Roses are usually planted in groups because this makes care easier. Roses do not like wet feet, so heavy clay soils will need to be amended to include some sand and organic matter. Sandier soils will require the addition of organic matter and plenty of mulch around the base of the plant. Tea roses grow from 3 to 6 feet in height. Generally, they produce one flower at the end of each stem and flower from early summer until fall.

Varieties: A few favorites of mine, which Dad had me plant at The Ancestral Family Split Level as a 30th anniversary gift to MomCrocker. We chose mainly vintage varieties for their proven performance and spectacular fragrance.

Mr. Lincoln – deep red, fragrant: http://www.rose-gardening-made-easy.com

Tropicana – coral, citrus fragrance: http://www.waysidegardens.com

Peace – pink, yellow… and historic! http://scvrs.homestead.com

Garden Party – white with faint pink and yellow – http://www.rose-roses.com

Queen Elizabeth – breathtaking clear pink – http://www.rose-gardening-made-easy.com

Midas Touch – sun yellow and citrusy – http://www.rose-gardening-made-easy.com

Medallion – deep apricot – http://www.heirloomroses.com

We added others later, but tried to give the garden a vintage style that fit the nearby slate terrace and the woods behind our backyard. A solar-powered small fountain attracts birds. Now, after 20 years of TLC, Mom’s roses are what draw people out of the kitchen during summer parties. This isn’t hers – we used lavender as a border – but it’s close enough to give you the idea.

So you’ve selected your rose, hopefully a container-grown sturdy specimen with dark glossy leaves. How to plant? In general, that bud union goes an inch or two below ground in places with harsh winters, and an inch or so above in temperate places. Your local nursery owner can help you decide. Put some well-rotted cow manure or compost in the hole along with a light application of fertilizer such as Rose Tone or Osmocote. Mulch your new charge with shredded cedar, keeping the mulch an inch away from the stem. And always water from beneath, keeping water off the leaves, lest ye get…

BLACK SPOT! Sworn enemy of tea roses, black spot can ruin an entire garden. It’s a fungal disease that attacks the leaves, eventually moving on to the stems and killing the whole plant. Dust-type fungicides are helpful, but you must attack this immediately if you see it. Any leaf with a yellow spot and a black center must be removed and discarded – never in the compost pile.

Another enemy is aphids, an insect which sucks the life out of the buds and new growth of plants. These are easily controlled with an dust-type insecticide. Organic types may wish to try manual removal (smush them like a Jersey Shore DTF’er) or by purchasing live ladybugs, but my experience is that ladybugs keep some alive and use them as “cows”, petting them with their little legs until nectar is secreted. Yuck.

Fertilize carefully and well, following package directions. Pull back the mulch, work the fertilizer gently into the soil with your fingers, water, then put the mulch back. Don’t fertilize too late in the season, as this will encourage tender growth which can be damaged by frost. Prune in late winter, removing any damaged canes or canes that cross each other. Aim for an open shape and remove no more than 50% of the old growth. (Note – some roses prefer a more serious pruning. Check with the grower.)

Companion plants: Some people like to plant a low border around their rose bed. I have found lavender to be excellent for this purpose, as it likes the same growing conditions and the silvery gray foliage and purple or white flowers are a nice contrast. Heather also looks good because it blooms way before the roses do. Low growing annuals such as Sweet Alyssum or Lobelia can provide summer color as well.

Try a Hybrid Tea in a sunny spot. You may be surprised at how easy they are and how prolific their flowers are.

Why have a kitty?

Well, why not? Let’s understand something first. You never HAVE a kitty. The kitty has YOU. In The Sims 2, a dog goes from Stranger to Friend to Master, and a cat goes from Stranger to Friend to Mine. Someone at EA Games understands cats, really, REALLY well.

Oh, dogs are wonderful. There isn’t anything like a Golden Retriever or a Chocolate Lab or best of all, a German Shepherd. A Shep will give his life to protect you, your wife and kids. A cat will do this too. But it’s more like a favor than an obligation. I’ll never understand “dog people” vs. “cat people”, though frankly I think cat people are smarter. That said, I just love animals, and if my space was bigger, a German Shepherd puppy would be a lifelong friend of mine, well until his whiskers turned gray.

But cats. Especially smart breeds like Siamese or Maine Coons or Orange Tabbies. There is nothing like coming home to a furry friend who meows his face off to say hi. I pick up our Maine Coon Tuxedo cats every night when I come home, because they yowl if I don’t. Edmund rubs his head on mine, and Lucy buries her face in my neck. While they cuddle with me, when it’s Mike’s time to come home they stand at the door and bitch him out, like “Where the hell WERE you?!?!” Once that’s done, it’s all about dinner. Mike sings the “I got a can!” song and they yowl and it’s pretty damn hilarious. My life is kinda awesome because of this. Yeah, because cats are imperious and snotty and not affectionate. Not.

Let’s not understate dogs. A cop in Penn Station a couple of months back had a great conversation with with his canine buddy. Very politely, he said “Ouw, ouw ouw!” The dog looked at the ceiling and let out the most amazing , echoing “Arooooo!” I’ve ever heard. People applauded.

So both kinds of animals are Man’s Best Friend. Cats have dignity. Dogs have respect. Both are our very best companions.

Another crazy thing that cats and dogs both do is that they know when you’re sick and they sit right by you as you recover. They detest the smell of Nyquil and Robitussin, but it does not matter. That cat or dog will sit by you until you are well. Doctors have issued a clinical study that a purring kitty reduces stress. I’ll go out here and say that a dog laying his head on your leg does the same thing.

In short, it’s only an either/or thing if space and time is an issue. Dogs need more room and more maintenance. It’s not fair to either of you to have one if you can’t care for one properly. Get a kitty instead, if that’s your deal.

Call me irresponsible…

Guyz!

I have completely checked out of my job emotionally, and that means that on Thursday and Friday, I just didn’t show up. This is bad. It’s not how I was raised and it’s not who I am or want to be. I have deep personal issues that need to be addressed so that this doesn’t happen for the next place. Here’s the problem. When you’re gay, and you parents are Mr. & Mrs. SuburboWASP, they usually send you the following message: you don’t have to BE perfect. You just have to look as though you are. What they don’t realize is that sending this message is incredibly destructive and can do horrible lasting damage, because it installs a very powerful button that other people can push, long into adulthood. It surely plays hell with your self-esteem.

It’s done damage to the perception of my professionalism, because the untenable and unchangeable fact is that the CFO is my de facto boss (even though that’s point blank illegal). The conflict of interest in such an arrangement is so obvious a kid could see it. If I’m responsible for enforcing the rules, and the guy in the best position to break them is capable of hiring or firing me and dictating my compensation, I’m in a bit of a bind.

I could almost deal with this if he wasn’t undermining me at every turn. So, I dropped my standards to the level of his expectations. And I blame my boss-on-paper, the CEO, for knowing about this situation and doing nothing about it. But at the end of the day I’m responsible for me. And when you quit, you should at least tell the guy who signs your paycheck.

It’s done a bit of damage to me and the Cap’n, as well, although he’s got the patience of a saint and is one of the kindest, most generous men who ever lived. (He ain’t perfect either, but being late to a dinner party shouldn’t trigger an uncharacteristic screamy rage-y meltdown in the car. And it was his fault, but still.)

Lessons For My Crasstalk Friends: It’s clearly time to make some changes, but recognizing that I require and deserve to be treated with respect is a real good start. Add to that the concept that I should tell people who don’t / can’t / won’t respect me to f-off very clearly rather than being passive aggressive.

Never – ever – give an unethical person so much power over you that he causes you to lose self-esteem, self-respect, lower your standards, or compromise what you know to be true. Certainly don’t let them drive you to do self-destructive things. It’s just wrong. I do enjoy a cocktail, but my limit is two. Friday night was a full-on Barfy Billyburg Barfly Booze Bacchanal. Unacceptable for someone my age and it ruined my Saturday, too. I even got the side-eye from Crocker Kitty Edmund – I’m told I picked him up and sang “Sweet Child O’ Mine” in his face and he hates loud noises. Then I puked in the guest room bathroom and he stepped in it. No more ‘tinis for me for a while.

So, my fellow Crasstalkers, this little Internettythingamabob that we have here has definitely been – and will continue to be – a safe spot for me to vent, brag, observe and complain, and that’s the fault of all of you. I’ve never been a part of such a diverse, fun, funny, brilliant club in all my life, and it’s making my wee crisis a lot more… wee. Thanks for that.

Interview 2 with the I-bank is on Tuesday. Wish me luck, because I think I need it.

Update – After taking the weekend to chew it over, and to rehydrate after a rollicking Saturday AM hangover, the Cap’n and I reached some conclusions. We’re going to just take this as it comes – if they can me (which would be bad for their business), Cap’n will take overtime to keep us afloat.

Hallmark Has No Homos

48 comments

“I want you. Now.”

Well, who doesn’t want to hear that? So, despite the alarm going off, a curious kitty, and a pillow gone askew, I found myself right where I belonged – under 280 pounds of muscular manly man who required my presence and devotion.

At a rather critical moment, he stopped his attentions. In a Brooklyn-y growl, I was informed: “Ya bettah know that you’re the best thing that evah happened right heah.”

I couldn’t help it. This is so not like me, but I busted out crying (f’n Valentine’s Day and hormones) and buried my face in his big be-tatted shoulder. He grabbed my chin, kissed me, and recommenced driving me insane.

Without being more graphic I will tell you that I was his and he was mine.

So what’s that all about?

Well, I think it’s a bit different with two guys as opposed to a hetero couple or two lesbians. The underlying motivation – sharing physical pleasure with your beloved, and being as close to them as possible – is the same no matter what plumbing one has. But with two men there is more freight. I think, for a man, opening yourself up to a woman has a bit less risk. She doesn’t inherently understand what being a man entails. What she knows and feels is that the person with her is giving 100% – but 100% of what? Some women can understand the concept of manhood – the expectations of responsibility, the stifling of emotion. I must point out that many women are emotionally stronger than men because they have to be. But being a man is not a thing which is easily explained to someone who isn’t.

Two men in love are often opposite sides of a coin. Where there’s overlap – ego, stubbornness, appreciation of art, beauty and life – they simply nod and accept it. Where there’s conflict – largely due to jockeying for position in the relationship – it can either make or break a couple. When two dudes fight over a lamp, the lamp is very often not the issue. It’s a struggle for who’s going to run the show. Smart gay men – like smart straight men – figure out pretty fast that the person who appears to run the show often doesn’t.

I keep our home clean, and I make sure that Cap’n has tasty noms, clean clothes, and gets to the doctor and dentist when he needs to. I also manage our finances. That could be subservient, but it’s not. I have not had to worry about car maintenance for 7 years, and any chore I wish to defer will be done by him. I write notes and leave flowers, he sneaks up behind me and gives me stealth hugs, often with fantastically dirty commentary. I have not had to drive to a family event since 2003. He shines all our boots and shoes, I plan our vacations. We plant flowers on our terrace together. It works. I am one of the luckiest Gays that ever Gayed.

When I am very old, I will look across a well-worn Ethan Allen dining table at the Cap’n, and while his jaw will be a bit less square and his skin a tad more papery, I will find myself in those caramel-colored eyes and want to rub those big arthritic shoulders.

There is no Hallmark card for this. But that’s all right.