What Am I Doing On Tumblr?!

Well it seems as though this was set up in 2006. Obviously it has not been touched since then.

So here we go.

Care to see anything current? How about posts spanning the last six years? No? too bad.

For those of you who are interested check my WordPress blog


That is all.

~Miss R

Life is a Series of Rooms

And who we get stuck in those rooms with make up our lives. One room at a time. One minute at a time.

One day at at a time says Bill W. Oh and I had a 12 year personal relationship with Bill. Thinking of healing our relationship and talking again. Couldn’t hurt. Might help. We’ve been out of touch for a while. Life has become peculiar, but not due to the fissure with Bill. Life is…-insert favorite platitude here-. May put up a poll soon on this subject. Have to say El Guapo’s polls can’t be beat though!

Listening to Damien Rice. If you don’t know who he is go out. Listen. You’ll be hooked and caught like a child in a world of wonderful but frightening magic.

Have to thank El Guapo for reminding me to mention the music that plays as I write. He does it with every blog. If you’ve any wasted time to go back to, oh  2006 through 2008 or 2009, you’ll see the same thing was always mentioned at the end of all the YoYo-Dydne posts. Not sure when I stopped. Thanks EG.

This blog is a  Chex Mix (TM in case of sue-age) theme.

So I’m going to choose Door Number One  and go with Carol Merril:  Music!

The ONLY reason to use auto-tune would be the following video. Let’s face it: if you need auto-tune to make your own recording… you suck.

Oh, my quiet honesty. So lovely and sweet. And no room at the Inn…


~Miss R

The Ballad of Newt Gingrich and His South Carolina and Florida Klan Fans

A Re-Post from a very favorite blogger/writer/musician/ bon vivant/intellectual and man about town…

Mr. Powers writes the clean line. With style and truth.



The Ballad of Newt Gingrich and His South Carolina and Florida Klan Fans.


Inspiration Point, Idyllwild Ca

Inspiration Point. Idyllwild, Ca.

Today is the anniversary of my father’s death. Maurice W. Black MD.

It may be the 4th or 5th year. Try not to think about it. The obituary says the January 7th, but I believe it was actually the 6th.
I couldn’t bear to attend your funeral for several reasons. Staggering guilt, sadness and abrupt bouts of tears overwhelmed each day. Never seeing your grave was a constant mental blow to my heart and conscience. Finally, after several years and with the help of counselling I’m alright with that. There is no guilt nor even one reason to visit the cemetery. You are gone forever. that grave is cold stone.
When the phone rang with the news of your sudden and  unexpected death I immediately flew into LA from Reno. The other 2 of our immediate family were there and insanity reigned. My half-sister loved you, despite spending  time and money proving that she was not your daughter. I’m so happy that you never found out. Your wife, my step-mother, loved you too.

They both took control. My words and wishes were meaningless. Watching my step-mother and sister casually disposing of your things, going through your closet and items held dear while you were lifeless in the morgue. When my step-mother’s children arrived I was asked to sleep under the dining room table. This was to allow one of my step-mother’s children to take the bedroom. Their decision to bury your body in California and not in the family plot in Pennsylvania Then the selfishness shown in deciding the time of the funeral was preposterous. Well it couldn’t be in the morning because my sister and step-mother’s shoes would get wet from the dew. Jesus I thought you would never be laid to rest.
If they had made a credible and faster decision you would at least have been able to roll over in your grave.
My half-sister making sure that all of the Black family possessions went with her. Her excuse later was that she had it for ‘safekeeping.’ From what?! She wasn’t even a Black. An excuse to get her way and belittle myself, life, and feelings. Innuendos were made, lies were spread. Why? You would have told them to shut the hell up and knock off the nasty bullshit gossiping.
It was an indisputable fact that the Knabe piano went to me. Dad we shared the passion for music and the beautiful piano. No one could deny that one thing to me. The circus in your beloved Idyllwild mountain home was literally unhinged. After a desperate phone call to a good friend I fled the vultures. Dad, you would not have stood for that fatuousness either. It was an atrocity and there was no reason to continue feeling forced to participate. So I missed your funeral. Know that you understand.

My father was the only person in my life that encouraged me to go where life took me. Music and not Medicine, Life and not fleeting Love, Happiness and not Hopelessness. When I was finally willing, sobriety and not self-destruction.

At the age of 40 I wanted to end my current career as a successful businesswoman and musician; to go to Med School. He gave me the down and dirty about life in the medical field today. He convinced me that 20 years ago (when I graduated from college) it would have been the right choice… but no longer. God that conversation became hilarious. A great memory.

I miss you dad. You gave me my love for learning. For history, travel, gourmet food but most of all music. From Classical to Show Tunes to Big Band. To learn how to play the piano, to find my own path, and all with unwavering love and support.

The last night of your life you called me. I didn’t call back, opting to call back the next day. Hate the phone, and email. So did you. Our conversation every week was an exception.
By the next morning you were already dead of a massive stroke; on your way to help others. At the age of 75 you still went to work every day to head the county mental health division. You didn’t need to work.

Doing my best not to dwell on the events that occurred upon your passing.
Only that you loved me the most. Being the favorite was my blessing from you. I loved you the same way.

~Miss R

Luck: When Opportunity Meets Preparation

Watched an interesting, intriguing and fun flick today ‘The Kid Stays In The Picture.’  The film, and autobiographical book it is taken from, is about Robert Evans.

Now I consider myself a film aficionado. With the caveat that it stops with The Jazz Singer. Love them silent films.

Bob Evans turned Hollywood around, but especially kept Paramount from closing forever. As a kid growing up in Southern California, movies were everything to me. Every last penny was spent at the theater, even solid silver dimes from my coin collection. Hell, I was very active in local theater companies back from the age of 11.

Eye on the 1920’s, a kid’s version of being discovered, and the allure of a Hollywood long gone.

Turns out I was, looking back, a below-par actress. On the best day. Luckily the piano and tenor sax saved me from utter obscurity later on. Especially the voice-overs and commercials a few years ago! Or not. Don’t see my name on IMDb.

Just realized something ironic: my last job, prior to being an Executive Ne’er Do Well Trying to Survive on SSD In Reno, was as an Executive Producer for Warner Brothers (The WB, then The CW). Heh. Never thought about that until now.

Anyway, the beginning of the film and Evans’  life in ‘the industry’ begins with his meeting Norma Shearer at the Beverly Hills Hotel pool. She saw him and asked if he would play Irving Thalberg (her late husband) in a film. It was Man Of A 1000 Faces, a cinematic biography of Lon Chaney.

If you don’t know who Thalberg, Shearer or worse Chaney was, then stop reading right here.
Oh alright I’ll wait while you Google.
And get off my lawn you hooligans.

The point of this piece (hello tertiary threads) is that I wasn’t AWARE of Robert Evans’  influence on film. Being an idiot it was a focus on directors, cast and studio. This film melted away a skewed view of thinking, as well as causing me to laugh uncontrollably.

See if it’s available on Netflix, or somehow pops up on TV, which is doubtful. Robert Evans is probably 81 now, but his autobiography is still in print. He is a quite self-effacing writer and funny as hell. According to people who worked with him though… total dickhead. That’s my kind of guy. The man not only made the true change in bringing back audiences to the movies (Rosemary’s Baby and The Godfather for two) but was married seven times.

Fuck I’ve only been married and divorced twice, and get no royalties. –makes sign of  L on forehead-

A final personal note regarding Norma Shearer.

Lived in Long Beach, California  (again) in the early 90’s. My best friend at the time (a fellow musician in our band) lived in a fabulous Deco building,  in a town decorated with them. The Villa Riviera, on Ocean Boulevard. He made friends with the guys who rented (all of the apartments are privately owned now) the penthouse.

Norma Shearer, back in the 20’s, had rented the penthouse. She had contractors build a hidden door and extra apartment which also led to the roof. Verboten to tenants. Even the renters. As if that ever stopped any of us reading this.

I spent many a wonderful night on that roof. The view of beautiful coastline, city lights, the feeling of being amongst friends and of course… my childhood dreams.

 ~Miss R

The Versatile Blogger Award

I’d like to thank the Academy

Most Versatile Blogger Award

The Versatile Blogger Award

Was stunned and surprised to be nominated -which means winning and what beats  that?- The Versatile Blogger Award. Big thanks to El Guapo; king of Guapola, all that is pointless on the Internet and music music music.

Would also like to thank my producer, Mom and Dad, cinematographer, my Burning Man family (that make me look 20 years younger than my age), my Mom for being a Luddite and being unable to read the crap I write, my daughter for being herself and of course any small mammals  cogent enough to vote.
Not all of them, as most have no taste whatsoever, but there are also several invertebrates that should be included as well. You know who are!

Let me make this short since I can see some bastard with a hook stage left.

Have no idea why I’ve been nominated three times but MUST thank the nominators. Let’s give them all a hand shall we? Not to mention a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue as a thank you and obvious bribe for next year’s nomination

-Cue applause-

So let me present tonight’s nominees…

Which have been kept strictly confidential and contained in this
mayonnaise jar hermetically sealed by Price-Waterhouse.

YoYo-Dyne’s Nominations….in no fucking order whatsoever

  1. Refrigerator Magnate : SIG, have no idea if you’ve been nominated before or not, but your photos and use of graphics make me cry. In a very good way.
  2. Celluloid Blonde: The Sometimes Suspect Musings of Max Adams.  If you don’t know Max you don’t know nottin’. President and Lead Professor of LA’s prestigious Academy of Screenwriting and a damned hoot as a blogger and human being.
  3. Ahmnodt Heare for President. Not only does Ahmnodt have his own site, as an obvious independent politician (Ahmnodt here for America! Ahmnodt here for you!) This blogger tackles subjects ranging from family values (okay his own family) to gardening in the DC area. Vote and remember…. Ahmnodt Heare!
  4. While Vegas Sleeps. My fabulous alter-ego and southern neighbor Chris details all of the places you want to hit…and avoid, in Vegas. Being a Nevadan this is an important part of life. His blog is so well read in Vegas that he has many Guest bloggers as well. Check it out before throwing all of your money on to Flamingo Blvd. and the Strip. As I do….
  5. Swimming Upstream. Not depressed? Not Bi-Polar? Too bad for you! Not to mention the lack of soup. This writer tackles everything from mental illness to just being hysterically mental. Check him out. Take a fishing vacation…
  6. Confessions of a Serial Insomniac. All I can say is… Pandora rocks. Looking for a topic? It’s here. Looking for a bitch-slap to your personal beliefs? It’s here. Looking for a friend and ear to listen? It’s here.
  7. All of the other bloggers who have nominated me. Damn! Everyone I read has something that touches me or I wouldn’t bother. If I didn’t mention you please contact me. I’ll add you. Until then this list isn’t complete. After all it’s late.

Next Verse Same As The First

Okay supposed to list 10 things no one knew about me. Screwed up and deleted it. Trust me it WAS damned funny.

Yet true.

More tomorrow. Time to make cookies.

~Miss R

Addendum: Barkinginthedark was the first to nominate me. Stop on by and check out his writing and music; not to mention proofreading genius

YoYo-Dyne Loves Physics and Music

This is fabulous. Not just because it has to do with physics, quantum ideas and some of the best scientists on the planet, but you can dance to it.

GAH,  already wrote this blog and was cut off by a power outage. That is the real reason. Not going to re-write the brilliance which was the fist post. So here’s the juice of it.

I can only say that Science Symphony rocks and this is the most recent tune  they have drawn my brain into.


WARNING: IF you watch a shitload of TV and/or collect baseball cards just move along…


Miss NYC. Die Hipsters

Spent ten years of my life in NYC. In the 1980’s. Worked in finance and was -cringe- yuppie scum.

Well not really. Lived in Brooklyn, because who can afford Manhattan unless your grandmother died and you got the rent controlled apartment?
Wore the Yvonne Piconne suits, Reeboks on the subway and $200.00 heels under my desk. In my Rock Center office.

Did I make a shitload of cash?
Hell yeah.
Did I have a rent controlled enormous apartment?
Hell yes.

Did I have the standard issue 80’s cocaine habit?
Hell yes.

Do I miss New York?
Of course, most of all my friends.

Glad I’m missing The Hipster Years though.

~Miss R

Dammit forgot the offensive part! Joke is only funny if you’re a Hebe


God went to the Muslims and said, ‘I have Commandments for you that will make your lives better.’

The Muslims asked, ‘What are Commandments?’
And the Lord said, ‘They are rules for living.’

‘Can you give us an example?’

‘Thou shall not kill.’
‘Not kill? We’re not interested..’

So He went to the Blacks and said, ‘I have Commandments.’

The Blacks wanted an example, and the Lord said, ‘Honor thy Father and
‘Father? We don’t know who our fathers are. We’re not interested.’

Then He went to the Mexicans and said, ‘I have Commandments.’
The Mexicans also wanted
an example, and the Lord said ‘Thou shall not

‘Not steal? We’re not interested.’

Then He went to the French and said, ‘I have Commandments.’

The French too wanted an example and the Lord said, ‘Thou shall not commit
‘Sacre bleu!!! Not commit adultery? We’re not interested.’

Finally, He went to the Jews and said, ‘I have Commandments..’

‘Commandments?’ they said, ‘How much are they?’
‘They’re free.’

‘We’ll take 10.’

Only 5 Shopping Days Left until The Apocalypse!

For your Pre-Apocalyptic enjoyment here are a few suggestions to ease the transition.

Oh, you weren’t aware that the world was ending on the 21st? Well here’s some proof. PROOF I tell you!

If in doubt please send all of your now worthless, cash, stocks, bonds, title to your home(s) gold jewelry (We Pay Top Dollar for your old gold jewelry! Just place it in a handy envelope and Fed-Ex it to me. Hurry before the Fed Ex drivers dissipate) to me. I’ve built a specially equipped Anti-Rapture Safety bunker to keep all of your potentially worthwhile trinkets, spare chhange and Bentleys safe.

NOTE: All items may be returned if Judgement Day is cancelled due to snow, rain, ice, flooding, illness, errant arks or Acts of God. For a small fee. See contract for extra-fine small print.

Of course there are certain religions that adhere to the idea that only 144,000 of the ‘chosen’ will ascend (I’m looking at you Jehovah’s  Witnesses) and leave their jewelry, dirty diapers and 1974 Cameros propped up on cinder blocks. We can pick and choose this stuff. KNOW your neighborhoods!

The one and only ORIGINAL Looter Guy

For the rest of us Jews, atheists, Hindus, Muslims, Buddhists and other pond scum all we have to do is take the next few days and study up.


Apocalypse Tips from the folks here at Yo-Yo-Dyne!

Tips, Links and How to safely Dispose of those Pesky Earthly Shells Left Behind!

Continue reading


stephen hawking that dumbass

Nice try Stephen. I’ll still kick your ass.

Sorry that the posts have been sparse. The surgery was far more intense (read: fucking painful as hell) than I’d imagined.

Sitting here with a cup of coffee and my medication is about all I can accomplish before getting my aching back and body into bed and the oh so lovely surgical corset. Gotta say, this corset is a sex magnet for every paraplegic for miles. Given the two large general hospitals and VA hospital close to the house, leaving the confines of the porch would be dangerous.

This post is really is a note to let you kids know the surgery went well. Also a note to all of you wanna-be writers and the hurdles you think are facing you.

This blog is brought to you by a  two-hour spinal surgery, two hung-over surgeons, a six-inch incision  across/through the abdomen, two walkers (one of which I’ve painted black with flames and skulls and shit (that slacker Hawking has GOT to agree to that race now. Yellow bastard)  two types of Oxycontin 3x a day, 10 mg of Valium 2x a day and of course my morning nurse…Ms. Espresso Double-Shot (she hyphenates her last name).

More later. Assuming I can find the laptop again. Where’s that bell? Hey Double-Shot it’s time for my sponge bath!

~Miss R

A Big Fish Story

Taken by fish line

Set the alarm clock for 4:30 am. Spinal surgery tomorrow so today was nuts. Running errands to pick up supplies for my return in 5 days.

This left one final chore. Little did I know it would take all afternoon and lead me from one end of Reno to the other, and every damned place in between.

My holy grail?  1.6 MM  width fishing line. This is some big-ass line. Started at Wal-Mart. Nope. Sent to another sporting goods store. Nope. Then Cabella’s. Nope they were out. Mind you I had a sample of the width I wanted. Finally was recommended to Sportsmen’s Warehouse.

I approached a young clerk first. He couldn’t help me. then he called over an old-timer who had appeared to have been at the store since it opened…probably in the 50’s.

The senior clerk shook his head and headed to the back room. After about 10 minutes he returned empty handed. I thanked them and turned to leave. That’s when the old guy said ‘Say! what do you need this for?’ It’s over 100 pound test. both employees looked at me. I replied  ‘Well, I have surgery tomorrow and have to remove my nipple piercings. They’re metal.’  The poor rednecks’ chins dropped as I said ‘Well you asked!’

They howled with laughter as I walked off smiling.

There was a happy ending (no not that kind you perv). I’d had the fishing line recommended by the piercing shop, but I had also ordered two plastic retainers online. they looked way too small.

Returned to Black Hole (the piercing shop) and told them my dilemma. At which point the owner said ‘No what you need is weed-whacker plastic.’ I said ‘Look, can you just try these retainers and see if they work.’

They fit. Barely.

Good thing. I’d hate to see the expression on the guy in the garden department at Sears when I explained it to him.

See you next week. Gone fishing.

~Miss R

Whiney Whiney Look Out Behind Me

Imagine long hair curly hair. It could happen, With Me.



Dammit. Spent the day havering my hair done.  4 hours. Have a hell of a lot of hair.
Black with purple highlights. As usual. Die young and leave a good corpse.

Forget which punk said that but still live it.

Ciggies and champagne do it. Laughter and being amusing helps

Going to be 50 this year. Fuck middle age. Will live to at least 100.

~Miss R

Tomorow look for the pictogram illustrating how to get out of Co-Pay hell. assuming you live through surgery. Otherwise, who the hell cares!

And.. my hair looks way cooler than the pic above. Hoping to leave black and purple hair dye stains on the white hospital pillows. Bills alone make it worth it. Just sayin’