Tag Archives: Jerry Lewis

The Thrill of Victory

1 Aug

Once every four years:

I decide that I probably could have been an Olympic swimmer.  Maybe for some landlocked country where the men are “eh”-looking and the women can crack walnuts under their arms.  But then I heard a horrible rumor that swimmers have to do sit-ups.

I watch Women’s Gymnastics while spouse goes on and on about how Women’s Gymnastics is a misnomer: because the athletes have no hips.  (I’ll never understand why those girls have to do a floor routine set to music but I figure that Burt Bacharach (or his cousin- Stavros Bacharach XIVIIM) was at the first Games.)

My neighbor Cory will say something like: “You know, if they put that balance beam on the ground instead of in the air, I bet anyone could do it.  It’s the height that gets you.”

I go to the Village Pool and try some wacky new cannonball off the board- a Grande Fromage or a one-and-a-half Lewis (named for beloved actor Jerry Lewis) and I am humbled.

And once every four years is enough of that.

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Why I Roller Skate

24 May

I skate because Interskate 88 is the only place I know where for $4, politics, religions, opinions and chores are set aside as people unite and work hard to not run over each other.

Sure, there’s a disco ball, twinkly lights and awesome music (hello?  Gloria Gaynor anyone?) but what draws me to the rink is the opportunity to generate g-force using my body mass.  (Ha!  And you thought I was just chubby; I am all science.)  Also let’s not overlook the intense concentration it takes to prevent a faulty wheel from initiating a random turn that takes out small children (they are like rubber when they fall, though) and the rush of feeling  six pounds lighter by simply removing those bad boys when you’re done.

Other times, my mental soundtrack plays Dire Straits’ “Skateaway” and I connect with my inner rollergirl whose outstretched arms are filled with grace and power, whose thighs are strong and mighty and who in that moment, will  either wobble and fall or accelerate, close her eyes and fly.  Of course I look like an Ethel Merman/Apollo Ono/Jerry Lewis mash-up but, damn it, I’m taking chances.

I YMCA, chicken dance, limbo and, when I’m feeling unstoppable (literally), I grease lightning.  I am too busy trying to stay up to think about how I look or care about how you look.  This is no time to judge others- although, if you must, I recommend sitting at the counter as it faces straight into the rink.  (Also an opportune time to discreetly wipe roller sheen from your face, bangs and hands.)

I skate because it’s fun.  I skate because my kid will do it with me without having to be seen around me.  (Unless he needs money for snacks.)  I skate because the rink is the Grand Equalizer- where we are all in another’s shoes while paying for the privilege to be so.

That, and there’s some pretty fine light bulb cooking: hot dogs, pizza and hot pretzels IN ADDITION TO ice cream, soda and candy.

Skating is not for sissies.  It’s not for posers, liars or anyone on a diet.  It’s for couples, trios and me.  I skate because I’m me.  I fall because I’m spastic but the skating part?  All me.

If You Give Your Mom a Bagel

10 May

If you give your mom a bagel, she’ll want a gated community to go with it.

She’ll sell the house in which you were raised (at an awesome recession-defying price) and find a bunch of like-minded seniors to share manicured lawns and prohibit swing sets with.

She’ll ask for some cream cheese.  To get the cream cheese you will drive around the Food King until you find a pull-through spot.  (No one backs up here; it’s too dangerous.  Mrs. Gershon had a fender bender last week and she beeps the horn before she even starts the car.)

After eating the cream cheese, she’ll want to walk off the calories (what?  It would’ve killed you to get low-fat?)  At the fitness center, one of the residents will tell you that jogging, no matter how slow, violates the treadmill speed limit which is embarrassing because:

a.  your husband says that you look like Jerry Lewis when you run and,

b.  you are way too sweaty for someone moving oh so slow.  So you and mom will leave.

On the way home, she’ll spot an unauthorized lawn ornament in the neighbor’s yard.  She’ll want to report it to the Front Desk.

She’ll ask you for a pen and paper to fill out the complaint.  You will have neither because everyone today uses an iphone to send complaints.

So she’ll want an iphone of her own.

You have to take her to the Apple store.

When she is all finished, she’ll decide that “getyowza” is her favorite website because she and your father can dine out at significant savings in restaurants that are close to Bravo Living- An Adult Community which is nice because of all the recent automobile crashes (see above).

When the shopping is done, she’ll realize that she’s hungry.  She’ll ask if you want to stop at the diner where she’ll order a bagel.

And chances are, when she gets her bagel, she’ll want a security guard and some Mexican landscapers to go with it.

Happy Mother’s Day!

(I love my mom and bagels.  Just not together.)

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