narcissists, Twitter

Scottish by blood, Ex? Really?

More ragging on Ex. You’ve been warned.

I had kind of a crappy weekend. We had bad weather. Bill had to leave for another weeklong business trip yesterday. Saturday night, I found an enlarged lymph node on Arran, which indicates that the chemo is starting to fail. Arran is still acting like himself. In fact, he let me stay in bed until about 4:15am, when I finally got up by my own choice and asked him if he wanted to eat. He practically leapt out of the bed and danced all the way downstairs. I think we were all hungry, because I didn’t make dinner last night. I was too busy watching Body Cam cop videos on YouTube and drinking beer. I only had two, though, so that wasn’t bad.

I started reading a compelling new book last night. I’m already well into it, because I didn’t sleep well. I woke up at about 2:00am, and couldn’t get back to sleep. I finally dozed off for about an hour, and Bill sent me a private message, which made my watch vibrate. I do love that man… but now I’m feeling kind of cranky and snarky. I see the weather is still kind of yucky, too. So, I might as well rag on Ex again. Why not?

Last week, I mentioned that I found out that I have ties to the Fraser clan in Scotland. Ex also proudly claims to have ties to the Fraser clan. We seem to have ties to different branches of that clan, which fills me with relief. I’m not particularly proud to have ties to the Fraser clan. I don’t know much about them. But, if I have to have ties to them, I’d prefer them to be distant from Ex’s professed ties. She’s not someone I want to share DNA with at all.

Truth be told, according to, I have ties to quite a few different clans. Make no mistake, though… I am an American. I was born there, and have spent most of my life living there– in Virginia, mostly. Germany is catching up in terms of the number of years where I’ve lived. It’s now in second place. I’ve spent about ten years in Germany– a total of six living in Baden-Württemberg, and so far, four in Hessen.

I’m still an American, though… even though 23andMe has only found a slight trace of Native American DNA. If I were to go only by my DNA, I’d definitely be a Brit… and most likely, a Scot. However, it’s been a few hundred years since my ancestors last lived in Scotland and other parts of the British Isles. Most of them moved to the United States in the 1600s and 1700s. So, I think calling myself Scottish would be impractical, disingenuous, and kind of pretentious.

Sure, I definitely look the part, and I definitely enjoy Scottish humor and libations, and sometimes I wish I could be anything other than a US citizen, especially given the dark road our country has been on of late. But Donald Trump is half Scottish, so that’s reason enough for me to embrace some of my other heritage. 😉

Ex, on the other hand, is convinced that she’s a Scot. And not only is she a Scot, but she’s downright aristocratic. She never misses a chance to brag about it on Twitter, either. She’s a super fan of Outlander, which I just realized is on Netflix. I’ve never seen the show, and before I started watching Ex’s Twitter feed, had never heard of the author of the books or the actors who portray the characters. Ex is apparently obsessed with them, and has now adopted Scotland as her “home”. To my knowledge, she’s never even been there to visit, but she does have an active fantasy life.

A few days ago, she was all excited about Robert Burns…

Thanks for this lovely tribute to Robert Burns!! Sam is a great example of how much we Scots love him and all he does for the heart and soul of Scotland. I for one long to go home to Scotland and just breath… Slàinte Mhath, Tash!! Happy Burns night!!

Um… I’d love to know if Ex even knows the most basic of poetry written by Robert Burns. Oh, maybe she knows “Auld Lang Syne”. I remember the first poem I knew was written by him, but I learned it due to being in a choir. It had been set to music, just as “Auld Lang Syne” is. Below is the version we did in 1991, done by a different university’s choir.

Aw….how pretty. Makes me want to join another choir. I still remember the soprano part and the words. Music is a good partner to the English major.
This version is beautifully done. Better than the one above, in my opinion. The first version is probably more like what my choir sounded like. We didn’t have enough really good male singers.

I’d be surprised if Ex even knows the poem, “A Red, Red Rose.” But maybe she’s gotten into Scottish poetry and reads it in bed, after an Outlander watch party. Bill says when they were married, she was obsessed with Ireland. They even had claddagh rings. Older daughter has an Irish first name, too. It was chosen by Bill, but Ex downplays that fact. Now, she’s obsessed with Scotland…

Funny thing about Ireland. Bill’s surname is Irish, and to me, he really looks Irish. But, according to our DNA tests, I’m more Irish than he is. 😀 My maiden name originated in England, and I’d always assumed we were mostly English by ancestry. Apparently not.

I’d barely recovered from Ex’s crowfest about Robert Burns, complete with fake “Scottishisms”, when someone posted another photo of her dream man, Sam Heughan (who looks a lot like Ron Howard, to me). Ex wrote:

I love this pic on the right. He was out and about when he saw a fan trying to snap a picture… so he flashed them his sweetest smile. He loves the fans and respects them… let’s make sure we ALL reciprocate!

But then she is gently corrected…

It wasn’t a fan, it was paparazzi.

So then she writes:

Ohhh that actually makes me sad, then. I’d heard it was a random fan. I wish the press would leave celebrities alone and concentrate on matters that need our attention, dire or uplifting. Extra pics of our favorites can’t make us love them more after all!!!

Um… she wants the press to leave celebrities alone, yet she’s constantly tweeting at them and asking them to give her daughter an internship. See Mark Hamill, Sam Heughan, Chris Evans, and Diana Galbadon… I guess she doesn’t see herself at the same level of peskiness as a paparazzo. Based on what happened to Bill during his relationship with her, I would say she is every bit as damaging, if not more so.

Next, there’s a gushy post about how handsome Sam Heughan is, and another poster writes:

Today, I told my long time husband, “I apologize for never being slender.” It’s not in my DNA. I said it because I see him perk up at women, who I don’t think are attractive, but they’re slender. Then I said, “You can apologize for not being a 6’3″ buff ‘red’ haired young man.”

Ex responds thusly:

Och aye!

It’d be hypocrisy to objectify @SamHeughan (&@ChrisEvans) best looking men I’ve seen, but I don’t think it’s just looks that make me feel that way. I think it’s his heartfelt philanthropy, genuine desire to help others be healthy, the way he lives his best life.

It seems to me that Ex would be best off not ever meeting her heroes. I doubt they would live up to her impressions of them. I also know that her ideas of the perfect man are constantly evolving. She demands that her men play a role, rather than be who they are. What I think is sad is that she had a truly wonderful, caring, willing partner in Bill, but he wasn’t good enough for her. So now, she’s with #3, who apparently never even bothered to give her a wedding ring. See below:

Yeni… I have been married nearly 21 years and do not have a wedding band.

…I’m totally there with you! The teacher should have returned this and apologized. IMHO!

The above comment was in response to a post someone made about a teacher who had confiscated a love note from a 7th grader who had given it to a classmate. The note quoted When Harry Met Sally. “Yeni” had said she never got something so romantic from her husband, and Ex decided to throw shade at #3, I guess.

She did have a ring with Bill, but they were cheap, gold plated affairs. When Bill and I got married, we bought platinum rings from Mervis Jewelers in the Washington, DC area. That was important to him. He wanted good wedding rings for our marriage, so our marriage wouldn’t resemble a country song…

I don’t think Bill knew this song in 2002, but I think he and Ex actually got rings from a pawn shop.

Next, she crows about a new season of the show, complete with a clear indication of her priorities.. Ex isn’t “from New England”, either. She just lives there right now…

I’m from New England, US. I put it on my family calendar so I would NOT forget to watch & share. I labeled it “Mom Unavailable”. When that popped up on my phone I didn’t know what it was for!

Spent all day trying to remember, how could I forget this:

That actually makes me laugh, because it’s as if she ever is available to her kids. I happen to know that her kids were generally expected to take care of themselves, often to criminal levels. They were also expected to take care of her, too… as in doing all of the cooking and housework. Woe be unto anyone who made a dish Ex doesn’t want to eat, either, even if there’s no food in the house.

Of course, now four of the five of the kids are adults, but they mostly raised themselves. It’s a shame, too, because Bill had really wanted to raise his kids. She wouldn’t allow it. And now older daughter is taking care of her youngest… whom Ex describes, after a tweet about Tyre Nichols:

This terrifies me. I’m mother to a large, strong non-compliant autistic boy. If they told my baby to sit down, he would; but he would run away home the second he could. This beating could have happened to my son, anyone’s son. There is no service or protection here just murder.

Yes… and she uses that “boy” every opportunity she can, to prop up her “caring supermom” facade. Meanwhile, instead of looking after her son, she tweets at more strangers with creepy preludes like this:

I’m only 45 minutes from Boston! We’re neighbors! When the cast comes again, let’s go together!


Och aye!!! I want to come and make your acquaintance!! I’ve been doing my genealogy and have traced my mother’s line to the Frasers du Lovat up in the Highlands!! We’d have so much fun!


Oh Cat, we love you so… love your hat #samwho too btw!! Without Claire, there would be no Jamie to swoon over. I’d say, just as many swoon over Claire and the way in which you play her, as swoon over Jaime and the way @SamHeughan plays him.

I wonder if the actors and authors Ex tweets are weirded out by these breathless, gushing, adoring posts?

I was going to ignore all of this stuff, though. I really was. I keep telling myself that I need to find a new topic to write about. Maybe do something more serious and useful to the general public or something… but let’s not kid ourselves. This is just a blog, right? And I’m just the interloper who married her divorced ex husband, whom she totally screwed over on every level. I decided not to ignore it when I saw this. Yet another declaration of her being Scottish by blood…

She can’t just say she’s disgusted. She has to bring up her alleged fancy Scottish heritage again… to a perfect stranger. LOL… Then she moves on to Lynda Carter’s page, where she swoons and sucks up some more. It’s enough to make me want to hurl. 😉

I’m beginning to feel like H.G. Tudor on YouTube, who has made so many videos about Meghan Markle. I think Ex and Meghan have a few things in common, although Meghan is younger, prettier, skinnier, more famous, and much wealthier. H.G. Tudor would tell me to stop paying attention to what Ex does… but he doesn’t really follow his own advice, because he makes so many videos about people he claims are narcissists. But then, H.G. claims that he’s a narcissist, too.

I don’t claim to be a narcissist. It’s possible that I have narcissistic traits, as most people do. But I don’t have that particular personality disorder. If I did, Bill would be long gone by now. I think I’m just a garden variety eccentric, made dysfunctional by alcoholism and neglect on the part of my parents. I have empathy, especially for Bill. I appreciate him for all he does. I don’t even get crushes anymore. He’s absolutely the right man for me, and boy do I miss him when he has to go away for the week. I will always be grateful to Ex for dumping him.

Actually, as Bill and I were talking about Arran and how he will probably be leaving us, soon, we both expressed appreciation for his original adopters. They kept him for nine months, calling him Marley. Then they brought him back to the rescue. He’s turned out to be a wonderful dog for us. We’re grateful they brought him back to the rescue, even though I know it really hurt Arran to be “dumped”.

Likewise, as disgusted as I am by Ex’s spectacles on social media, and the way she gushes at celebrities and strangers, as she abuses people she supposedly loves, when it comes down to it, I feel gratitude, too. Because when she divorced Bill, she gave me a tremendous gift. He’s the right man for me. I’m genuinely glad he wasn’t “good enough” for her.

Still… I totally cringe when she claims to be a Scot… and I kind of wish many more of my people had hooked up with some French and German people, instead. 😀 Then I remind myself that, yes… I am an American, as Ex also is, and as an American, I should try to be a good example of our people to the Germans I live among today. So I think I’ll end this post and do something constructive… play some guitar and maybe cook a roast, or something. That will make Arran happy, and maybe I’ll be less hangry tomorrow. Ciao.

memories, musings, silliness

Underoos are fun to wear…

Something funny happened last night. I discovered yet again how my thinking is extremely tangental. I went from wine, to old movies, to old TV shows, to underwear in the course of a few minutes. Here’s how it happened.

I posted in my food and wine group about some Italian wine we were enjoying and a group member shared a picture of the white wine she was drinking. We were marveling about how easy it is to find good, inexpensive wines in Germany… well, really, in Europe. She finished her comment with a “Zum Wohle!”, to which I responded:

“Atta girl…” Drinkers unite!

I noted that you have to be a certain age to get the above reference, a clip from the 1980 film, 9 to 5. I was eight years old in 1980, and I saw 9 to 5 in the movie theater. The other lady was 6 in 1980, and also saw this movie in the theater. Incidentally, this was the second incident yesterday in which I commented that you have to be a certain age to get the cultural reference. Another friend made an oblique reference to an 80s era Army recruiting ad when she posted about her bagel making business. I told her I hoped she was “being all she could be”.

“Hey First Sergeant! Good morning!” Bill says that would never happen… First Sergeant would probably make that guy do 50 push ups, then bitch out the guy’s superiors. I wouldn’t know, of course. The Army isn’t my vocation. I’m just a “dependa”.

After a few comments about 9 to 5, I remarked that Mr. Hart’s mansion in 9 to 5 was also used in the old 1970s TV show, Wonder Woman. (and it was also used in Murder, She Wrote and a bunch of other shows and movies)

I wasn’t living in America, nor was I old enough to enjoy the original version of the show, which aired on ABC for a couple of years starting in 1975. The first version of the show was set in the 1940s and had Wonder Woman fighting the Nazis. In one episode, Wonder Woman ends up being “detained” (read tied up) in a mansion. It was the same one Mr. Hart “lived in” and, in fact, was also tied up in on 9 to 5. I happened to notice it last year, when for some inexplicable reason, I binge watched all the episodes of Wonder Woman, then watched 9 to 5. Gee… what a kinky mansion that was back in the day!

I didn’t get hooked on Wonder Woman until the late 70s, when the show became The New Adventures of Wonder Woman and was moved to CBS. It aired every Friday night at 8:00pm and was set in the “present day”, circa 1979. Wonder Woman’s costume changed. She traded her silver bracelets for gold ones and wore slightly different star spangled bottoms. Now that I’m older, I think I like the World War II version of the show better.

I was 6 or 7 years old and I thought Wonder Woman was the absolute shit! I liked her so much that I had a used Wonder Woman doll– it was actually pretty lame. I think I got it at a yard sale. The one pictured at the top of this post is the kind I had and, in fact, looks about as well loved as mine was. I also had a pair of Wonder Woman Underoos. I hope to God we bought those brand new. Actually, I’m pretty certain we did, since I remember the cheesy plastic packaging they came in, complete with cardboard backing.

This commercial is burned on the brain.

I remember being so excited about my Wonder Woman Underoos. Then I opened the package… and they were kind of yucky. They were made of cheap polyester and only the front was decorated, at least on the girls’ version. The back of the Underoos were white, which really kind of ruined the fantasy. I also didn’t like wearing camisoles/undershirts, especially polyester ones that were clingy and hot. I probably should have gone for the Supergirl or Batgirl versions.

Looks like the boys’ version was better. At least the backs of their t-shirts weren’t white. I bet Wonder Woman’s Underoos were the best selling of all of them. Everybody loved Wonder Woman back in the day.

While I didn’t really like the Underoos to wear under my clothes, I did like the idea of wearing a costume. I had a very fertile imagination when I was growing up, and while I did have a few neighborhood friends, my best friend was a boy. It’s funny… that’s been a recurrent theme in my life. Most of my best friends have been males! In any case, since my best friend back then was a boy, I was left to play Wonder Woman in my Underoos by myself. I’m pretty sure he had Incredible Hulk Underoos. He was a fan of the Hulk.

Anyway, one Saturday evening in 1979, I was up in my bedroom in Fairfax, Virginia. I was alone and, I guess, really bored. My parents were throwing a cocktail party for their friends and I had been relegated to my room to play. I started playing Wonder Woman and put on my Underoos, which didn’t quite transform me into the superhero. Besides being short and kind of petite as a little girl, I also had short, golden blonde hair. But I did have red knee socks, which I figured could substitute for the knee high boots I didn’t have. I also had a florescent yellow hair ribbon that I figured I could use as a “golden lasso”. I had no golden tiara or magic bracelets, so I imagined those… and I pretended the back of my Underoos were like the front.

My favorite version was season 3’s, even if the plots had really jumped the shark.

I guess I must have felt like the neighborhood could benefit from my crime stopping efforts, because for some very strange reason, I decided to run downstairs in my Underoos and introduce myself to my parents’ friends. I leapt from the stairs and twirled around. I remember my mom was mortified as I paraded in front of her guests in my polyester Underoos, pretending to be Wonder Woman.

“JENNIFER!” my mom bellowed, absolutely horrified, “For God’s sake!”

I suddenly realized I was in big trouble and instead of retreating to my room, I ran outside. I’m sure the neighbors were amused to see me practically streaking across our suburban lawn, my parents yelling at me the whole time. I don’t remember how their guests took my little interruption. They probably thought it was hilarious, especially if they were drinking… which they most assuredly were. Aw hell, it was just innocent, clean fun… Remember, I was maybe 6 or 7 years old! Maybe this incident is why I don’t have issues at German spas.

Cathy Lee Crosby’s 1974 version of Wonder Woman can’t hold a candle to Lynda Carter’s T & A version.

I don’t remember exactly what happened after I flashed everyone at my parents’ party. I have a feeling I couldn’t sit down comfortably for awhile afterwards. I look back on it now and realize it was probably quite funny to those who weren’t my parents. I don’t know why I never got involved in drama. I probably missed my calling in yet another area. That’s me… embarrassing and annoying people since 1972.