It's around midnight. I have to be at work in the morning. I can't sleep. My mind is in 4th gear. I'm not under to any drug. The only thing I've drank tonight is Pepsi. I had a good meal earlier. I just can't sleep. It happens to everyone sometime. It just so happens that tonight, it's happening to me. I'm thinking.....

About the date I had Saturday night. On a 10-scale, it was about 6.3. Maybe I'll see him again. Maybe.

About how I'd love to be wasting time in a secluded beach cottage, with the lovely sound of the waves crashing. Loudly. And, I'm not alone in that image.

Of several handsome actors, past & present, simultaneously, and how I would just love to make a composite man out of them. If that could happen for real, I don't think I'd survive the night. What a way to go.

About a man carrying me. Point made.

About my ex-husband, and how beautiful things were early on, and wondering how things went so wrong later on. I already know the answers to that. I'm just going through the whole thing step-by-step. Again.

Of someone no longer in my life, who was a very busy man, but when in private, was never in a hurry. mmmm.

Of the disk jockey I used to know who had the sexiest voice I ever heard a man speak, who would read me poetry over the phone, and drive me stark, raving mad. He was also short, fat & impotent. Damn.

About the night I rode in the passenger seat of a British sports car going North on a secluded part of Pacific Coast Highway. Nothing more needs to be said.

Of the very intense lover I haven't seen in a long time. I didn't let him get away. He moved on. It wasn't my idea. Even being emotionally hurt by him was somehow beautiful in it's own way.

About how I love love. Or, at least the concept of it.

About wearing my underwear, garters, stockings, and heels. And nothing else, when the environment is right.

About certain sounds, and how they can turn a woman on, especially me.

About times past when I've stopped thinking, and let my purely animal instincts take over. Gladly.

About that one particular trip on an Amtrak train, and the empty, unlocked sleeping room. Clackety-clack.

About how I do wish that someone truly special was in my life.

About how even holding hands can be a turn-on. Some men are much better at hand-holding than others. I don't know why. They just are.

Of my first time way back when, and how beautiful it was. I was truly a lucky young lady.

Of how for some reason, the second cup of coffee is never as good as the first. No translation neccessary here.

About the time I was at a party, and was cordially invited to play Strip Poker. I was told that there were no losers.

About how I would love to be married again.

About how I hate feeling like this when I'm alone. And, it's a weeknight.

My thoughts are so beautiful. And sad.

The 21st century has broken itself in, and Bob Dylan was right, the times, they have been a changin'. Some of those changes are downright scary. Most were totally inconcievable in the 20th century. Is Hell freezing over? Consider:

A total imbecile who looks like Alfred E. Newman not only is President, but he was somehow elected to a second term.

An African American man is the head football coach at a Southeastern Conference school.

The USSR has broken up into several republics, has free elections, and not a single shot was fired in the process.

Major rock stars like the surviving Beatles and the Rolling Stones have done TV commercials.

Justin Timberlake is a star.

The Chicago Cubs, while not winning a pennant or World Series, won a postseason series for the first time since 1908.

A Chicago baseball team actually won a World Series.

The Boston Red Sox and Anaheim Angels actually won a World Series.

The Houston Astros actually won a pennant.

The Tampa Bay Buccaneers actually won a Super Bowl.

The New York Yankees, if you don't count the year 2000, which was actually the last year of the 20th century, HAVEN'T won a World Series.

Words like "suck" and "piss" are actually considered part of acceptable language.

I'm using the word "actually" too much, I know.

The diversity at major Southern universities is increasing, while the diversity at the University of California is decreasing.

A worse actor than Ronald Reagan (is that possible?) is Governor of California.

The Elks Club and the Daughters of the American Revolution have admitted African Americans as full-fledged members.

Wrestling is mainstream entertainment.

The Simpsons, a show no network would have touched back in the days of 3-network television, is now considered "family entertainment."

Self-appointed would-be TV censor Terry Rakolta has been very quiet of late.

An NBA team lost to a team from Greece.

Bob Dylan is hosting a radio show.

Major music events now have major corporate sponsors.

A TV show and 2 major movies have been titled "Jackass."

A show like "Jackass" even existed.

Disneyland has hosted Gay & Lesbian nights.

Signs of the Apocalypse? Maybe not, but just to be safe, I'll be looking out the window for flying pigs.

OK, my imagination is running a little wild today. So sue me.

BAILIFF: ALL RISE FOR THE GRAND ENTRANCE OF JUDGE IRENE!

The gallery rises in awe & respect, wondering what designer I'm wearing under the form-fitting black robe. As I take my plush leather seat, the bailiff says:

YOU MAY BE SEATED!

JUDGE IRENE: I see what our first case is today. Sir, what crimes will you be confessing to?

DEFENDANT: I'm not confessing to any crimes, your honor. I'm not guilty.

JI: Not Guilty? Not possible. Once again, I ask you, what crimes are you confessing to today?

D: None! I'm guilty of nothing!

JI: Confess to your crimes!

D: No!

JI: Confess!

D: I haven't done anything!

JI: Will you not confess? Do I have to convict you without a confession?

D: Your honor, you have no proof that I did anything!

JI: You're on trial in my court, and that's enough! Now confess!

D: No!

JI: Confess!

D: Never!

JI: CONFESS, DAMN YOU!

D: NO! NOT EVER! NEVER!

JI: (exasperated) Tell you what. If you confess now, instead of the usual 3 minutes between conviction and execution, I'll give you a full 3 minutes and 10 seconds. How does that sound, hmmmm? (wryly smiles)

D: No!

JI: OK, OK, I'll make it 3 minutes and 15 seconds, but that's my final offer. Take it or leave it!

D: NO!

JI: According to your paperwork, I see that you're originally from Canada. Do you confess to your Canadian crimes?

D: NO!

JI: Well then, do you confess to your crimes as a Canadian?

D: NO!

JI: Come, come, my boy. I can save the Canadian courts some time & trouble. Confess!

D: I haven't done anything!

JI: CONFESS!

D: NO!

JI: DAMMIT, CONFESS!!!

D: NO! NOT EVER! NEVER IN A BILLION YEARS!

JI: GUILTY! GUILTY! GUILTEEEEEEEE!!! YOU ARE SOOOOO GUILTEEEEEE! I SOOOO CONDEMN YOU!!! YOU ARE REALLY SOOOO GUILTEEEE!!!

(dramatic pause of about 33 seconds.)

JI: Are you as turned on as I am?

D: Hell, yes!

JI: CASE DISMISSED!! I will see the defendant in my chambers. Court is in recess until further notice!

Would this be a great TV court show, or what?

My grandfather once told me that the local courtroom was the best free show in town. I think I know what he meant.

Vote Irene for judge. I'll be glad you did.

These are answers to questions that I always get asked. If you've been around the block even just once, I think you can figure out the questions.

Irene.
I have a cubicle job.
Old enough to remember President Carter.
No, I'm not. I used to be.
None. I hope someday, though.
Nobody right now.
5-8 1/2.
Candlelight dinners. Movies. Dancing. Weekends in Las Vegas or at the beach.
I've been there once. Highly overrated.
I don't much care for that genre.
Seventeen.
When you start buying my clothes, then you can ask me that question.
Well, I used to be married to one.
Nah, that doesn't sound like a lot of fun.
It was a gift from a former boyfriend.
Usually 4" heels.
I don't do drugs, or hang with anyone who does.
I'm busy that night.
I have to wash my hair.
Well, it was nice meeting me. See you somewhere.

20 questions? Not me. I give 20 answers.

I am going to absolutely, positively SCREAM AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS if...

I see one more man urinating in public! Guys, guys, guys, here's a news flash for you: THEY'VE INVENTED INDOOR PLUMBING! Have you no pride or shame? What the hell kind of parenting did you have, and even more importantly, what the hell kind of parents are you, if you even care about being a parent? And don't even think about hitting on me. I only date civilized men.

I see one more non-football story about Terrell Owens! Puh-leez. The man has been an attention whore from day one. I would not be the least bit surprised if his latest shanigans with the pills was a "work" to temper his upcoming return to Philadelphia. I know that Philly sports fans take a bum rap about who and what they boo, but I hope that they boo T.O.'s inhaling & exhaling. He could easily just stick to playing football, and on his ability alone, he would be considered a great man, but, nooooooo! I am soooo sick of this guy.

I hear one more Einstein say "MY BAD!" Geniuses, the correct phrase goes "I'm sorry, I made a mistake." Or, "I goofed." I would settle for "I screwed up." Read carefully, please: "MY BAD" IS HORRIBLE GRAMMAR! IT SOUNDS ABSOLUTELY, POSITIVELY, WITHOUT ANY QUESTION WHATSOEVER, STUPID!!! And people who say it look stupid. If you have to say "My bad", then you don't need to talk to me. Just keep adding to your rap sheet.

I hear one more "clever" sportscaster or one more fan's sign refer to the Miami Dolphins as "The Fish". You've seen those signs, "SQUISH THE FISH", or something like that. Or some media dork goes something like "The Fish have their work cut out for them against the Bills." Let me just say this, as quickly, and succinctly, and as subtle, as I, Little Ol' Irene, your friendly neighborhood blogger, can possibly say it:
DOLPHINS ARE NOT FISH, MORONS! THEY'RE MAMMALS!!! SCHOOLS TEACH YOU THAT FACT AROUND SIXTH OR 7TH GRADE!!"

Here's a late addition to the topic table: You're talking to someone, could be on the phone, could be over dinner, anywhere, really, and you're telling them a story, or anecdote, or something. You are just about to get to the payoff part, the punchline, the highlight, and then suddenly THEY JUMP IN AND FINISH THE STORY! And not as well as you would have. If they're going to tell my story, then there's really no point in my telling it in the first place. This has happened to me several times, especially on dates, and it drives me up the freakin' wall! Then they wonder why I won't see them again. Instant deal-killer. JUST LET ME FINISH MY GODDAM STORY! Is that so damn hard? A little courtesy, please? That is sooo rude.

There, I've said it. Yes, I do feel better. Breathing into the paper bag helped a great deal. I may be pretty, but my screaming isn't.