Red Headed Temper Tantrums

Children are the future....uh-oh.

2010-08-30T18:00:00.000-05:00

Classes started in the junior high school where I work a few weeks ago. Our students who have tested into the gifted program were given the opportunity to take a foreign language this year. This is one year earlier than the typical curriculum in our system and it will give them high school credit.

Today, one of the girls who had opted to take Spanish came to my office and she was quite upset. She asked me if she could drop the class. I told her that of course she could, but she would just need to get permission from her parent. This seemed to frustrate her and she asked if her entire schedule would change. When I told her it would, she became even more distressed. I took this apparent hesitation as my opportunity to try to convince her to stick it out a little longer to see if she would adjust to the class.

I asked her, "Why don't you want to take the class?" and she replied that it confused her because everything was presented in Spanish.

(Brow wrinkle...)

I told her, "Umm...it IS Spanish class." She replied that she understood that, but she just was not aware that she would be forced to learn so many Spanish words.

Sigh.

I finally convinced her to stay in the class by telling her that I knew for a fact that 2-year-old children in both Spain and Mexico were able to speak Spanish, and if they could do it, then couldn't she, a 13-year-old gifted student, also do it?

She thought about this for a while and then finally agreed that, yes; she should in fact be able to learn the same things a 2-year-old could learn. She did not know why it was so easy for them, but so difficult for her.

Sometimes, my job is just too easy.

Feeling...

2010-05-06T16:52:00.001-05:00

...surrounded by incompetence.

Shut up. You know you were thinking it.

2010-05-03T16:38:00.000-05:00

Dear Pedestrians,
Just because you have the right of way does not mean you have to take your sweet time crossing in front of me. Also? If you're texting and walking, I cannot be held responsible for my actions
Love,
Tabitha

Dear Big Black Truck Blocking the Entire Front Entrance,
I'm truly sorry your passenger is handicapped. That really sucks. But did you know that there are 4 empty handicap spots available just for you guys only 3 feet away? And did you see the little old lady who was having to walk around your huge ass truck, leaning on her buggy and using a cane? Did you see how far she walked and the effort she put into it? Yeah, I think you can do it too. And if you block that little old lady's way again, I'm going to kick your moronic ass.
Love,
Tabitha

Dear Jackass with the I Heart Palin Shirt on Riding the Motorized Wheelchair,
You were rude to me. I was nice to you anyway. Get your ass out of the wheelchair and walk. You're fat, not crippled. Walking might do you some good.
Love,
Tabitha

Dear Toothless Bread Man,
No. You may not put your hotdog in my bun. What the fuck?
Love,
Tabitha

Dear Self-Checkout,
Yes, I know I am supposed to put my item on the scale after I check it. But could you give me one goddamn minute?
Love,
Tabitha

Dear Ugly Bastard with the Ugly Car,
Get that huge garbage bag out of your backseat and you might be able to see me, thereby avoiding pulling into my lane and nearly running me off the road. What is that anyway? Your clothes? Also? Get the college sticker off your car. You know you didn't go to college and your ugly car is making it look bad.
Love,
Tabitha

A seat belt is not always safe.

2010-04-21T18:12:00.000-05:00

A friend of mine called me today at work to tell me that she was driving down the interstate and there was a truck driver who kept waving and smiling at her. He was following beside her and every time she changed lanes, so did he. She was on her way to pick up her little girl from daycare, so she really didn't have time for a quicky. But, that's another story for another time.

It reminded me of a time when I was in college that something similar happened to me.

I'm sure every woman out there has been honked at or leered at or whistled at, at some point in her life. And if you say you don't like it, you're full of shit. You do like it. It's a self-esteem boost, no matter how many teeth the guy may be missing or how big his pot belly may be.

When I was in college I drove a Mustang that was low to the ground and had a sunroof. It was easy to see into the car from a higher vantage point...such as from the cab of an 18-wheeler. I had learned that, if I wore a skirt or shorts, at some point on my journey at least one truck driver would honk and wave. Whatever, it didn't bother me. But on this one particular occasion, I was driving down the interstate and a truck driver honked and waved and was all smiley. Then a second did the same thing. Then a third. At this point I'm thinking, what the hell is going on? Is something wrong with my car? So I'm looking in all my mirrors to check my tires and I can't find anything.

On this particular day I was wearing a halter top. The kind with the bra built in. Hence, there is no bra underneath. It was only after looking around for a few minutes, and being honked at two more times, that I finally looked down and saw that when I had pulled my seat belt on, I had pulled my shirt over way too far to the right. You'd think that exposed boob would have caught a draft, but no such luck.

All I could do was laugh and thank God that those truck drivers would never see me again!! I suppose I made their journey a bit more pleasant.

Dear Gov. Haley Barbour (MS) (and Every Other Far Right-Wing Jackass Who Has Said This),

2010-04-11T11:24:00.000-05:00

People who are PRO-CHOICE are not PRO-ABORTION. There is a difference. Perhaps we should start calling you ANTI-CIVIL-LIBERTIES? Now that wouldn't be right either, now would it? Chode.

Oh yeah...

2010-04-08T23:18:00.000-05:00

Did I tell you guys that Jake and I are getting married? Yup, we are. Sometimes my feet get cold, but then he does something really awesome and sweet and perfect and I realize how lucky I am :) We've been planning the wedding since last Fall and now we only have about 2 months left. Time has flown by! I'll be a Mrs. soon...wow!

Wouldn't it be awesome...

2010-04-08T09:58:00.005-05:00

...if somebody would create a tool for people to use in their vehicles that would allow other people to know when they're going to turn?

I mean, really, think about how useful this feature would be.

How many times have you been sitting patiently on a side street, waiting to turn right onto the main road while car after car passes by? You just sit and wait, and then lo and behold another car turns, giving you the perfect window of opportunity to turn onto the main road? Had this feature been created, you would have known that car was going to turn and then you could have turned as well!

And how many times have you been driving along happily, only to have to slam on your brakes because a car in front of you had to turn? Again, if cars had this Hey-I'm-Going-to-Turn-Now mechanism, you would have had sufficient warning and already slowed down, thus eliminating the need to slam on your brakes.

Just imagine how much easier our traffic world would be with this feature.

Oh...wait...that's right. It already fucking exists and, in fact, comes standard on even the most basic vehicles! No need for a luxury package... (Jake - This post is not written with you in mind.)

How about you people realize that you're not the only person on the road and attempt to use your turn signal?

And you know what? While I'm at it? Slower traffic is supposed to keep right. If it helps, that's the side where most road signs (you know, the ones that post the speed limit and sometimes even say Slower Traffic Keep Right) can be found. The left lane is for passing or faster traffic. It's a pretty simple concept when you think about it.

And? When you're driving along on the interstate and you see a police officer waiting on the side of the road for speeders? If you're not speeding, he's not waiting for you (unless you stole something, in which case you probably should be speeding). There is no need to slam on your brakes and go below the speed limit. I promise, they will not give you a speeding ticket for actually going the speed limit. Seriously. They won't.

I'm thinking...

2010-04-06T18:01:00.002-05:00

...of going off my meds so I'll have more to bitch about. Unfortunately, with Spring in the air and my synthetic chemical balance, I'm in a really good mood. That really pisses me off.

Well I'll Be Damned...

2010-04-06T11:57:00.003-05:00

So one of my friends pointed out to me today that my favorite author and blogger, Jen Lancaster, wrote about the blog of one of her good friends, Poppy. Upon looking at Poppy's site, my friend found that she is following my blog. Six degrees of separation? Try 2! Woo-hoo! Yes, this excites me.

I suppose this means I really need to start doing a lot more bitching. Well, I guess it actually means that I need to start writing a lot more about all my bitching...

Happy 2010 (and kiss my ass)

2009-12-31T18:44:00.005-06:00

It's New Years Eve, so I have other things to do than blog (who am I kidding? I'm currently sitting here in my pajamas). But let me just say this: Before you comment on a blog (or on anything for that matter), please consider honing your reading comprehension skills. Otherwise, you just make an ass out of yourself.

This? Is my blog, so it gets to be about me and what I think and about my opinions on things. And it gets to be full of my rants. This is the one place that I get to be totally and completely, 100% selfish. I get to be a bitch. I don't have to back up my opinions with "facts" (and let's face it, there are facts out there to prove just about any side of a story). I get to say whatever I want, whenever I want (and that really doesn't seem to be very frequent, does it?). At any point, please feel free to insert your opinion (I may or may not reply...depends on how bored I am); but really? Make sure you know what you've read. And please don't seek professional opinions on blogger.com. I can't believe I even have to say that.

Yes honey, here? My red hair will show. All. The. Time.

Happy 2010!!

ADHD and Other Bullshit

2009-08-14T16:30:00.000-05:00

Let me preface this post by saying that I am not a proponent of ADHD. I know that many medical professionals and parents would disagree with me, and that's fine. It's debatable. But I'm only going to delve this far into the debate: ADHD is a load of shit. It's a lack of organization, a lack of paying attention, an inability to problem-solve or just the refusal to take responsibility for one's actions (or for one's child's actions). Mostly, it's the simple lack of learning coping skills. Let me tell you, if ADHD exists, I sure as hell have it. Who doesn't?

Now, I don't think I'm smarter than all those doctors who say ADHD is a real thing. I'm willing to concede that there may be some cases in which medication is necessary. I will, however, go to my grave swearing that it's extremely over-diagnosed.

But here's what gripes my ass: There is a mother who constantly bitches about her child not doing well in school. He's in the special education program and is also diagnosed with ADHD (he has a disability other than ADHD that places him in special education). The kid has already got a couple of strikes against him. Now let's add in the fact that he was absent for over 30 days last school year. Is it difficult for you to put the pieces together on why he may not be succeeding in school? I didn't think so. It's hard to educate a child who does not attend school.

But here's the kicker: He is supposed to take medication for his ADHD. Mom refuses to give it to him because it might stunt his growth and she doesn't want him to be short. By all means, folks, check out the possible side effects of medication before you take it or before giving it to your child. Discuss it with your doctor and make a decision from there. But really? Is it better to be tall than stupid?

And So It Begins

2009-08-12T11:13:00.005-05:00

I just received my first passive-aggressive letter of the 2009-2010 school year. I'm sure it is the first of many to come.

I have an abundance of donated school supplies in my office. They are used for children who come from needy families. I don't sale them to students (we do, however, have a supply store) and I don't give them to students who have simply forgotten their supplies at home. Imagine that. A counselor not rewarding irresponsibility or laziness.

On the first day of school I gave a bag of school supplies to one of our students who I knew, from years past, has a dead-beat lazy mother who can't be bothered to take care of her 3 children. The woman is literally a fat-ass who sits at home and sometimes shows up at the door naked when a school employee comes to pay a visit. I do not lie. Anyway...

This little girl (we'll call her Sarah) happened to mention to a friend of hers (we'll call this one Nikki) that I had plenty of school supplies in my office. In turn, Nikki comes to my office and asks for a set of markers. She explains to me that she has gone to a bunch of different stores and cannot find the correct markers. I told her that I could not just give out school supplies, but that I was sure that if she waited a week or so, the stores would be fully stocked again after all the back-to-school shopping, at which time, she could most likely purchase the markers.

Today I checked my box and there was a letter in the box from Nikki's grandmother. Now keep in mind that I was in my office and very available and happy to talk to her when she came by to drop off the letter. She chose not to do so.

This letter starts off in a kind way and at first I feel kind of bad for the lady and wish she didn't feel as if she needs to apologize. Kids, after all, will be kids.

Next she goes on to explain how she is a single grandmother who is struggling to pay for her abandoned grandchildren. At this point I realize that this family does, in fact, qualify for assistance and had I known any details the day before, I would have been happy to stock the kid up on any school supplies she needed. I make a mental note to call Nikki down and see what all she needs.

And then I read more...Grandmommy saw fit to make sure I knew that this kind of situation was in no way the child's fault and that they have always worked hard to get by and they will just continue to do so without the school's assistance and that Nikki was only trying to help her out by asking for the markers...passive-aggressive passive-aggressive passive-aggressive...blah blah blah.

Let me tell you, I sure learned a lot. It's a damn good thing she set me straight on that. I never would have imagined that such a situation might be difficult for a child, and for a grandparent. Good thing I know that now and that I learned it only 3 days into the school year. I'm going to send her a Thank You letter.

Other than that...the school year is going great! I'm really glad it happened because I was beginning to think I may not have anything to bitch about for quite a while!

ADDED NOTE: Grandmommy called and apologized. What the hell? What is going on here?! Have all the parents finally decided to act like normal human beings and take responsibility for their children's (or, in this case, grand-children's) actions? Or even better yet, for their own actions? If so...there's not going to be much to write about here. Nobody likes to read happy stories!!!!

T-minus 24 hours

2009-08-06T19:56:00.001-05:00

Started back to work today...I predict I will have things to bitch about in about 24 hours. Will keep you posted.

Gran Torino

2009-06-15T23:40:00.004-05:00

If you haven't already seen Gran Torino, I highly recommend that you do.

I'm not a Clint Eastwood fan, but this movie is great! It will touch your heart and tickle your funny bone all at the same time. Plus? It's full of hilarious racial slurs (and morals, don't worry!). It really doesn't get much better.

Jake and I saw it in the movie theater, and we watched it again tonight with my brother and his wife. My only regret is the heartburn from the Papa John's pizza...or maybe the wine. Either way. Carry on.

2009-06-14T12:06:00.003-05:00

Dear Jake,

Yes, I know I haven't updated this in a long time and yes, I know that I should update it daily. However...I have nothing interesting going on in my life. Maybe you could remedy that?

Love,
Tabitha

On paint matching

2009-05-27T13:15:00.000-05:00

Jake and I got the bright idea to do some touch-up painting around the house. We have 3 rooms that we needed to fix, so he cut 3 holes out of the walls, took the chips to Lowe's, and had them match the colors. Only? They didn't match. At all. After 4 tries and an hour of freaking out on their asses and calling the home office, we have lots of free paint and are trying this yet again. And praying. Really hard. Because if this doesn't work? We have to re-paint three rooms! One of which is a two-story foyer. And I don't know about you, but my happy ass is not climbing up on a two-story ladder to paint!

So this morning I'm at work and Jake is at home trying the paint colors. I'm nervous to find out whether or not the 4th time is a charm, so I call him.

Me: Do the paint colors match?

Jake: Nope. The one in the hallway is way too light.

Me: Shit! Did the one for my bathroom work?

Jake: I haven't done it yet. I'm doing it now. (Pause. Pause pause pause.) Shit! Well shit!

Me: What? What is it???

Jake: I used this one in the hallway!

Me: You used the bathroom in the hallway?!

Girl sitting next to me: raises her eyebrows....guess that didn't sound right when you can only hear one side of the conversation?

Your Civic Responsibility

2009-05-22T10:15:00.000-05:00

According to Passive-Aggressive Notes, the guy who posted this sign is “a local candidate for county commissioner [who] claimed that he was going to run the county like he runs his businesses. You know: straight talk, no bullshit, that kind of thing."

I would totally vote for this guy.

Check it out here.

How can I already feel this lonely?

2009-05-21T16:09:00.002-05:00

Jake moved in on Saturday and we've been busy all week getting things settled in. And by "we" I mean "he." It's been nice to come home from work every day and find things looking so much better than they did in the morning when I left!

I had a bit of a mental breakdown Saturday night when I realized that most of my stuff was gone and was replaced by his things. It all of a sudden hit me: "Oh my God, I'm living with a boy!" But we worked through it and so far I'm loving this! I have to be the luckiest girl in the world for him to put up with all my crazy shit! He is truly the most patient person I know.

Jake left this morning to go back to his apartment and clean it up and check-out. Then he'll leave from there in the morning to go on a guy's weekend to the beach. I have to say, testosterone and large amounts of beer is rarely a good idea. Nothing good can come from it. It seems like his friends have their heads screwed on tightly though, so I don't worry.

But I do miss him! And it's crazy because we're used to going 4 or 5 days without seeing each other since we were living so far apart. I guess it's just a new mindset now and I hate that he's not home. I hate coming home to an empty house. I guess I haven't reached that point yet where I'm happy to have the house to myself.

So for the weekend, I rented a bunch of girly movies (he'll be happy he missed that!) and I plan to spend the majority of the weekend parked in front of the TV in my pajamas. It will at least be a welcome break from all the busy-busy-busy it's been this last week. But also thrown in there is a pedicure (I was thinking I couldn't afford one right now, but really? I can't afford to NOT get one. Eeks.), a day shopping with my Mom, and a play on Sunday with Jacki.

And if you'll notice, there was no report on Obedience Class #2...and that's because Gracie did awesome! There was absolutely nothing funny to report. And that sucks. How am I supposed to have blogging material if nobody does anything stupid? Hopefully Obedience Class #3 will be a disaster.

Thinking....

2009-05-20T21:34:00.002-05:00

I really shouldn't be drinking this much wine when I have to get up in the morning. Jake has the hiccups. I think it's time for bed.

100 Calories

2009-05-18T11:31:00.001-05:00

Did you know that 100 Calorie packs don't really count as 100 calories if you eat 3 of them? Who knew.

Ummm....

2009-05-17T20:12:00.002-05:00

Is it really worth having a TV that takes more than 3 hours to set up?!?! The verdict is out...

Moving...

2009-05-17T16:51:00.002-05:00

We spent all day yesterday moving Jake's things out of his apartment and into our house. Still putting stuff together. I hurt. Everywhere. We have still not killed each other. More later.

McAlphabetization

2009-05-15T09:35:00.000-05:00

Remember back in, what was it? Second grade? When you learned to alphabetize? The rule was that 'Mc' came before 'M' because 'Mc' implied 'Mac.' So, if a person's last name is 'McCloud,' then that person's last name would be filed before the person with the last name 'Mallord,' right? Because 'Mac' comes before 'Mal'...

Why doesn't anybody do this anymore? My computer program at work doesn't even alphabetize names like that! Was this rule changed and nobody told me? Why didn't anybody tell me?

Stuff and Things

2009-05-14T16:00:00.001-05:00

Yesterday Jake came to help get ready for the "big move." We'll be going back to his place on Friday, and then moving him back to my place (our place!) on Saturday.

We went to Lowe's and bought wood flooring...I'm so excited! We won't actually be installing the flooring for a couple more months, but it's nice to already have it on hand. We also bought a kick-ass new grill. I'm a Charcoal Girl and he's a Gas Guy (haha...Gas Guy...), so we go a grill that handles both. I'm in love!

Last night I taught Jake everything that Gracie and I learned in her Obedience Class. We're supposed to practice everything twice each day, so I did one practice session and a few hours later he did the other. Gracie is not quite as willing to obey Jake as she is to obey me, but she did pretty well.

The funny thing was watching Jake try to give her positive reinforcement. He's just not a dog person and his "good girl" sounded exactly like his "sit" and "down," which doesn't really offer much positive reinforcement since Gracie doesn't speak English. So I showed him how to be excited about it, to sound happy and enthusiastic. His "good girl" became "GOOD GIRL," which scared the piss out of her (not literally, thank God). At one point I asked him in a very enthusiastic voice, "Can't you mimic this voice?" And he was all, "No, I'm not a girl." Ummm...I've totally heard you talk to the cats like that before, dude.

Anyway, he gave it a good, patient effort and that just makes me love him all the more!

Obedience Class - Day 1

2009-05-12T22:30:00.002-05:00

Gracie and I attended her first Obedience Class tonight and it went pretty well. I was mostly worried that she would piss on the floor during class, but she didn't! Go her!

When we first arrived, she was cowering down and hiding behind my legs. Then she snapped at a Poodle (I don't blame her...I don't dig Poodles either). Then she started barking her head off at the other dogs. All the other dogs sat nice and politely by their owners (and shook their heads in disgust at Gracie).

So you can understand that when I saw a young guy walk his huge dog into the class late and then trip over the rug because his dog was pulling him so hard, I was relieved. I told Gracie, "Woohoo! You are not the Dunce of this class! We've got one dog beat!"

Tonight we worked on basic commands that she already knows: sit, down, heel, come. She's great at walking on a leash, she comes when I call her, and most of the time she sits with no problem. But for some reason, she takes issue with down. When I tell her down, she just cuts her eyes up at me. Then she looks around at all the other dogs and is like, "Yeah, see how I'm not going to do this? All you guys are losers for laying your belly on that nasty floor."

We have "homework," so tonight we practiced everything. I tell her come, she does. I tell her sit, she does. I tell her down, and she looks at the cats...to assert her authority! I know it! She draws the line at sitting. She will go no lower.

Usually when I hold a Cheerio in front of her face, she'll comply. But at class, the Cheerios just weren't cutting it. She was like, "Hey, umm.....that dog over there gets a liver treat. Fuck the Cheerios." She's such a potty-mouth, that one.

Gracie

2009-05-11T16:00:00.003-05:00

A few years ago I briefly dated a guy, Matt, who was the epitome of clingy. I was just coming out of a 5-year relationship with a drut (see if you can figure out what that word means) and getting back into the dating scene. Whatever that is.

The first date I had with Matt was great and I was pretty happy because we seemed to have a lot in common; or, at least, he didn't repulse me like all the other guys had so far. We actually went out again the following day. We ended up seeing each other nearly every day for the next 2 weeks...and I was extremely unhappy about this by about the third day.

The thing is, he was a nice guy. He was smart, fun, loyal, kind and attractive. I wanted to like him. But, oh my God, he blew up my phone with text messages; he emailed several times each day; he called constantly. When we would go out, he wouldn't let me out of his site. He followed me. Like a dog. Dogs are nice. They're smart, fun, loyal, kind and fuzzy. Matt wasn't fuzzy. So I broke up with him and got a dog.

Enter Gracie, an American Cocker Spaniel I got when she was just 8 weeks old. I picked her out of the litter because she was red (totally matches my hair!) and the runt. Not a tough decision. As a kid, I had owned dogs before, but I had never been fully responsible for a puppy. An inside puppy. Who likes to shit and piss on the carpet.

I should have known from the beginning that Gracie wasn't going to be your average dog. I needed to potty-train her so I did lots of research on the Internet, I read books, and I consulted with my vet. They all said the same thing: crate train her! It's that easy!

Gracie didn't read those books. She would have none of it. From the very beginning she would scream at the top of her lungs (and yes, I mean scream...this dog screams!). She would chew her paws so much that she would be soaked in her own spit by the time I could take her out of the crate. The metal on her crate is rusted from all the spit. Her teeth are curved in where she has carved them on her crate. One time she even managed to kick the bottom out of her metal crate and proceeded to dig a huge hole in my carpet.

I came to realize that it wasn't so much the crating that was disturbing her. She did not want me to leave. Ever. When I first got her I was living in an apartment. I went next door to visit with my neighbor and Gracie dug a hole in my kitchen wall, trying to get through to see me.

By the time I bought my house, she was about 1-year-old and was doing a little better, so I stopped crating her during the day while I was gone. She was great...never chewed anything she wasn't supposed to chew and rarely had an accident inside. It seemed as if we had finally reached an agreement, Gracie and I.

But then came Jake. Jake and I have spent the last year traveling back and forth between his home and mine (he lives 2 hours away). Gracie comes with me when I go to Jake's and she acts like a loon. At first she shit and pissed all over his carpets, but then she got tired of that. Then she took to growling and snapping at him whenever he would come near me (all 12 pounds of her were very frightening), but she grew bored of that as well. So now she just sits in her crate (I have to crate her at his house because the one time I left her un-crated when we went out, she scratched all the paint off his front door.) and screams and chews her paws. We've come full circle!

One Saturday morning after getting no sleep because Gracie cried all night because she wasn't at home and wasn't able to plunge herself up my ass, I called my vet and pleaded for drugs. He prescribed a tranquilizer. I took it and it worked great. But then I realized that they were intended for dogs, so I gave one to her the next night. She walked around all night, with droopy red eyes...and cried. A tranquilizer could not stop her anxiety.

So next, the vet suggested Klonopin. Nothing. From there we tried Elavil. Nothing. We went through a tranquilizer (a freaking tranquilizer!) and two anti-anxiety medications. This. Dog. Is. Stubborn. And crazy. She got it from her Mama. No, really, she did.

Next on our list? Prozac. We started with the smallest dose...then increased it 2 weeks later...and then finally went to the largest dose 2 weeks after that. My vet wasn't positive that this was completely safe, since he had never actually had to use a dose this large. But we did it, and she's healthy, and we've seen some improvement. A lot of improvement actually. She has not pottied inside at all since she's been on the Prozac. She doesn't tremble quite as much or scream quite as loud when I put her in her crate. She doesn't randomly tremble while sitting on the couch. She sleeps happily in her bed next to mine and doesn't cry about it. Things are looking up.

Part 2 of my plan to make my dog sane is to take her to Obedience Classes. She knows some pretty simple commands, but that's not the point. I want her to work and to have a sense of accomplishment. I want her to be around other dogs. Mostly, I want her to feel like a dog. So classes start tomorrow...wish us luck! I'm almost scared to disrupt her schedule again...

Pooh on the Swine Flu

2009-05-10T14:12:00.002-05:00

(Thanks for sending me this Lee!!)

A picture is worth 1000 words and that's good because I have nothing interesting to say

2009-05-09T08:23:00.000-05:00

Charlie with Jake's sock

Okay, before people start getting pissy, you should know that Charlie is not your typical cat. He enjoys having a sock on his head (I know this because he told me)! This is the same cat who will let you tug his tail, dance him around on his back legs, and hold him upside down. It's amazing what a wonderful cat he is, because he was a real bastard when I rescued him as a kitten.

...bring May flowers!

2009-05-07T07:40:00.000-05:00

April Showers

2009-05-07T07:39:00.000-05:00

How hard is your wood?

2009-05-06T11:00:00.000-05:00

Jake and I recently learned that we will finally be able to afford to lay our new wood floor! We are so excited! With two cats and one dog, the carpet can get pretty hairy and I think a wood floor will be much easier to keep clean. Plus, we'd like to put our house on the market in the next year or two, and this will definitely be a selling point.

The other day, Lee and Jake were discussing the merits of real wood vs. manufactured wood or laminate. I had heard on HGTV, which Jake and I have recently become addicted to, that there are some materials that will hold up better against scratches and such, which is imperative with little four-legged creatures slipping and sliding all over it.

I couldn't remember which kind it was that was supposed to hold up better, or what it was about it that was supposed to make it more durable. The material? The actual finish?

Lee answered that question for me when he said, "Well, I suppose it depends on how hard your wood is."

Yes, I suppose it does. I suppose a lot of things depend on that.

Pretty in Plaid comes out today!

2009-05-05T20:51:00.000-05:00

Pretty in Plaid by Jen Lancaster comes out today and I am pumped! This woman is a self-proclaimed bitch and I adore her! She. Is. My. Hero. She says just exactly what everybody else is thinking and makes no apology for it.

When I picked up her first book, Bitter is the New Black (which are the "confessions of a condescending, egomaniacal, self-centered smartass" whose life takes a major turn when she goes from a six-figure salary to the Unemployment Office) at Barnes and Noble, I had never heard of her. I read through that book in less than 24-hours and I have been hooked ever since! I quickly started telling all my girlfriends, "You have to read this book!" and then started sending them to her blog. My first copy of Bitter is rough and worn because it has been to the beach, to Italy and through the inner-office mail multiple times. I had to buy a new one!

By the time I "discovered" Jen Lancaster's first book, her second book was already out, so I immediately ran back to Barnes and Noble to purchase Bright Lights, Big Ass, the story of a "self-indulgent, surly, ex-sorority girl" who realizes that life in the city isn't nearly what TV portrays it to be.

By the time I finished Bright Lights, Big Ass, I was addicted. And having withdrawals. Literally, I could not get enough of this woman. I felt like I connected with her because, finally, here was somebody who had the balls to say what everybody else was thinking! I think this is what has really drawn in most of her readers. It's like breathing in one collective sigh of relief when we realize, I'm not the only one who was thinking that?

I finally got my next fix when Lancaster's third book Such a Pretty Fat hit the stands. It did not let me down! Jen describes Such a Pretty Fat as "one narcissist's quest to discover if her life makes her ass look big." In this book, Lancaster humorously describes her personal struggle with dieting and exercise.

I pre-ordered Pretty in Plaid, but I'm really pissed off right now because I recently received my shipment confirmation from Amazon and it looks like I won't have it until Friday at the earliest. Bastards!

Men vs. Panties

2009-05-04T20:15:00.007-05:00

Friday night Jake and I went out for drinks with one of our dearest friends, Jacki (if she would ever get her blog up and running, I would post it here!). We met Brittany*, a friend of mine there. She was, as usual, over an hour late, so my temper was already a bit hot by the time she got there. Having to listen to her childish drama did nothing to improve my mood.

(Side note: It is so infuriating when people are late!)

Brittany and her husband divorced a little over one year ago. Since then, that girl has been changing her men more frequently than I change my underwear (and? I pack 4 pairs of underwear for an overnight stay, so that should give you some idea of what I'm talking about). The most recent ones include a friend of mine I introduced her to (a one-night-stand that turned into a frequent flier with no strings attached); a really decent guy (who was a 30-year-old virgin until meeting Brittany); and her latest conquest: Alex*, a pedophile.

(Side note: I hate when people are hookers.)

So Brittany comes into the bar and it's so obvious that she's anxious to tell us about her latest relationship-gone-bad. Let me give you a little background here: Brittany has dated Alex for about 2 months. During that time, she let him use her credit to purchase a car for himself and let him move in. With her. And her three-year-old son. Here's how that came to be:

After a few weeks of dating, Brittany is a bit suspicious of Alex's behavior. One day at work she tries to call him and he doesn't answer. This goes on for a couple of hours, so she decides to leave work and go to his house to check up on him (RED FLAG #1). When she gets there, who does she find? His ex-girlfriend, who is also the mother of Alex's 6-month-old baby (RED FLAG #2). Ex-girlfriend comes out of the house with Alex and Brittany throws a fit and tells Alex he has to choose between the two of them (WHAT?!?! He has a choice?!?). Alex chooses her and he gets in the car and leaves with her. They drive around talking and Brittany tells him that if they're going to be together it has to be on her terms.

And what are her terms you might wonder? He has to move in with her. So she can keep an eye on him. He agrees. And they live happily ever after.

Except they don't.

Oh, and did I mention that his ex-girlfriend is 17-years-old? Yup. That means that she was definitely 16 if not 15 when she got pregnant. Which makes Alex a grimy pedophile (RED FLAG #3). Sick.

Jerry Springer much?

*Names have been changed to protect the guilty.

Porky (This Blog is Named After a Pig.)

2009-04-28T13:34:00.004-05:00

Have you guys seen this or this? Are you freaking kidding me???

According to an Israeli official, the term "swine flu" is offensive to Jews and Muslims because their religions consider pigs to be unclean.

Huh?

Yes. And? What is your point?

If swine is a bad thing, why would you have a problem that a flu (another, umm, bad thing) is named after it? If you detest swine, why would you care if a flu is named after it (I am, safely I think, assuming that people also detest the flu?)? If you believe that swine are unclean, why would you care if we associate the name with a VIRUS (which is also, I believe, quite unclean?)?

And you really think it would be better to call it the Mexican flu? Because I can't imagine who THAT might offend....

If you're offended by that, it's time to hop down off your high horse. However, I think the most likely culprit of this absurdness is the media. Though, they would never blow anything out of proportion, would they?

Tequila or Lexapro?

2009-04-28T11:03:00.003-05:00

Yesterday was a bad day in that I realized I would have to live my life surrounded by people.

Until. I. Die.

And it's not that I'm suicidal, but the thought of no longer having to deal with this stupidity on a daily basis is very appealing.

Yesterday I came home from work and promptly curled up on the couch under the afghan, with all the lights off and went to sleep at 3:30pm. When my dog took on the behavior of hiding under the afghan when she was stressed, I put her on crazy pills.

Of course, she was also chewing her paws and wetting herself, and I haven't reached that point. Yet.

Who's responsible for your child being bullied?

2009-04-24T13:48:00.010-05:00

The story of Jaheem Herrera has been in the news lately and it's extremely touching.

Working in a junior high school, I deal with bullying on a daily basis. We try to help the Victim by empowering each child and teaching methods for building self-confidence. It doesn't always work.

We try to punish the Bully by methods such as detention, in-school suspension and Saturday school. It doesn't always work.

We try to encourage students to not be Bystanders. To stand up for one another and to not tolerate this type of behavior from their peers. This almost never works.

We have assemblies; we have guest speakers; we have classroom guidance; we have individual counseling; we have the children sign anti-bullying pledges; we pay to send our staff to training. None. Of. This. Works.

This story, and others like it, are horrible. They make me feel so awful and make me terrified to have children of my own. Because, wow, what a huge responsibility! As a parent, I will have the responsibility to teach my child to not be a bully; to foster self-esteem in my child so that when (not if), she faces a bullying behavior, she will know how to handle it or where to turn for help. I will also have the responsibility to teach my child to care for others, to stand up for the rights of others, and not to just sit idly by while another person is being hurt.

That's right...that will be my responsibility as a parent.

I find it interesting that the first thing the media does in a situation like this is to blame the schools. What could the schools have done better?

I understand that. After all, the bullying was taking place in the school. But what could the parents have done better? What could the parents of these children who were making Jaheem's life so miserable have done better to raise them to be more tolerant and respectful? What could the parents of the children who sat by and watched Jaheem being tortured day after day have done better to teach their kids to stand up for the under-dog? And what could have Jaheem's parents done better to make him more equipped to handle this situation or what could they have done better to make themselves more aware of the fact that he was not handling this situation? Why isn't anybody asking those questions? Why is it always thrown back on the schools?

Let me first clarify by saying that I am in no way criticizing Jaheem's mother. Yes, she immediately pulled her other two children out of school for home-schooling. I don't blame her. The woman has gone through a tremendous shock and has every right to mourn and to pull her babies close to her. Also, I don't know what steps she took to protect her child. I don't know how many times she went to the school. I don't know how many times these behaviors were reported.

This is not about blaming somebody for Jaheem's suicide. This is about learning from our mistakes and working to prevent it from happening in the future to another child.

All I know is my own experience and I can assure you that Jaheem's school did not ignore this behavior. I am quite certain they did everything in their power to stop the behavior. But guess what limits their power? You do (maybe not you specifically, but you know who you are).

Every time a parent complains about the school punishing their child, you limit our power to solve problems. Every time a parent fails to teach their children right from wrong, you limit our power to solve problems. Every time a parent believes a 12-year-old child over an adult, you limit our power to solve problems. Every time a parent threatens a teacher for holding their child accountable, you limit our power to solve problems. Every time a parent sues a school system because they don't like to follow the rules, you limit our power to solve problems.

Why is it so hard to see that, even as the media and the public are outraged at Jaheem's school for failing this little boy, that that is exactly where the problem lies. Everybody has responsibility to accept in this matter and in other matters like it; but ultimately, it is not the school's responsibility to raise your child.

I just wish that, when parents complain about public schools, they would stop for a moment and think about what makes up public schools: Their kids. Their kids are the ones causing the problems. It's not always somebody else's kid and it's not always somebody else's responsibility.

Grow up. Be an adult. Be a mother or a father and teach your child how to be a responsible, caring, loving, empathetic individual! And when the school tries to teach these lessons? Support us!

Books are my crack

2009-04-21T20:04:00.006-05:00

Recently finished reading It Sucked and Then I Cried: How I had a Baby, a Breakdown, and a Much Needed Margarita because Dooce has an awesome website.

Currently reading Mr. Maybe because I keep getting to revel in the fact that I have my Mr. Right every time I read the title of the book.

Planning to read 4 Blondes because I found it at the Goodwill for $.50 and then Pretty in Plaid because Jen Lancaster rocks my socks and I can't wait to see her on her book tour!

Here's a quarter...

2009-04-20T12:44:00.005-05:00

I was recently reading this article, No More Classroom Paparazzi!, which quotes "Schools plainly have the right to ban cell phone and video cameras in class, and they can punish students who disobey these rules."

No kidding. It is sad that a court had to determine that.

We have a constant problem with cell phone usage at our school. Kids constantly text each other, but that doesn't really piss me off. Kids have also been known to take pictures or videos of teachers in compromising positions, whether it's the teacher yelling or just bending over (for some reason, kids are fascinated with teachers' asses). That's annoying and over the line, but it's also not what pisses me off. These are 12- and 13-year-old kids. They're expected to do stupid things and even to break some rules every now and then.

No, what really pisses me off is that parents (otherwise known as adults) text their kids during school. And then get pissed off at us for taking up their cell phones. Apparently, it is against their parental rights for us to not allow cell phone usage during school. Um, no. No, it's not.

Now tell me this: Why would you WANT to interrupt your child's school day? What is so important that you can't wait until your child gets home from school? And how old are you anyway? Grow. The. Fuck. Up.

What about the rights of the kids to have an uninterrupted lesson? What about the kids (and parents!) who have chosen to follow the rules because they can see the value in education? What about their rights? Because let me tell you, their rights are the ones we need to be worrying about.

And also? If a school suspects that your child has inappropriate content on his/her cell phone, that school has the right to go through every bit of that cell phone to search for that information. Remember that your rights only extend to the limits of interfering with others' rights; protecting other students and staff from harm (or even potential harm) trump your privacy rights. You don't like it? Follow the rules and leave your cell phone at home. You don't want to do that? Then go ahead and sue and let's see how far that gets you. I can't wait to see you counter-sued for child pornography
or for interrupting the educational process or for posting sexually connotative pictures of a teacher or other school staff member.

Bring. It.

Have an emergency? Call the front office. Does your kid have an emergency? They get to use the front office phone as well. And it's free! Imagine that. It is actually safer for you and your child to use the land line provided during an emergency. So don't even give me that argument.

It is your child's right to attend school, and it is your responsibility to teach your child to value this right and to get as much out of it as possible. Its not ur rspnsblty 2 teach ur child 2 txt.

Here's a reminder for you parents...

2009-04-20T11:40:00.003-05:00

When you bitch at school employees about YOUR rights and you find it necessary to remind us that your taxes pay for public schools and for my salary?

Remember this: SO. DO. MINE.

That's right...MY taxes pay for part of MY salary every month so that YOUR brat can have access to, and choose to ignore, a free education. I contribute to MY OWN PAYCHECK.

Jackasses.

Quick rant...

2009-04-19T21:53:00.004-05:00

Today when Jake and I were leaving his apartment complex we witnessed a woman walking her dogs in the common area without a leash. I gave it a quick glance and it irritated me slightly, but I shrugged it off as yet another irresponsible pet owner.

However, by the time we got to my car, her two dogs had run away from her and were in hot pursuit of a kitty, Murphy, who belongs to Jake's neighbor. Murphy managed to run safely up a tree, but when the dogs' owner walked up (ever so calmly), I pointed out that her dogs had chased a cat up a tree. Her response: "Well, cats should be inside."

I looked at Jake. What??? "What did she just say? What did that selfish, irresponsible bitch just say??"

So I yelled after her, "Woman, this isn't your damn backyard!"

After Jake and I managed to coerce poor Murphy out of the tree, we went and told his owner. The next time we see that woman out with her dogs, we're going to follow her to see where she lives so we can report her. It's not about being tattle-tales or being mean; it's about her respecting the rights of others and keeping her pets safe.

The thing is, I'm in full agreement that a cat probably shouldn't be roaming around at an apartment complex. It's dangerous for the kitty and nobody likes to step in cat shit. But, there is no law against roaming cats. There is, however, a law against unleashed dogs. It's not only irresponsible for a dog owner to allow his or her dog to run free like this, it is also illegal.

I love dogs and cats, but I'm actually more of a dog person. I take responsibility for my dog's actions and I control her and keep her safe by keeping her leashed. What in the world would make a person think they have the right to do otherwise???

What I didn't learn in Kindergarten

2009-04-16T20:09:00.010-05:00

My very first room was tiny...and I mean tiny! Before my parents remodeled our house, I had a room off the kitchen and I'm pretty sure it was meant to be a closet. To give you some idea of how small it was, after my parents remodeled the house my old room became the laundry room and that is AFTER they added on to it to make it big enough to be a laundry room!

I only lived in that room until I was about 4-years-old, so it didn't bother me to live in a closet. But my parents had some guilt for sticking me in there. After the house was remodeled, I got what was actually planned to be my parent's room, the master suite. It was nice and large, with two closets and a connected bathroom. Both of my older brothers, Lee and Chris (who had actually shared a room, albeit larger than my own, before the remodel), got their own rooms, but their rooms were considerably smaller than mine. That did not go over well with them, since I was the youngest. But, that's the way it was and I lived in that room until I moved off to college.

My room was my domain. I would go in my room, shut the door and call all my friends or read for hours. I was by no means anti-social, but when I was home, I liked my privacy. I wasn't trying to avoid anybody (I have a great family!); I just always loved having my own space. My room was always neat and organized and I had it decorated exactly the way I wanted it. It was mine and I loved it.

When I was a senior in high school, Lee, who was at the time a sophomore in college, brought home a friend from school. You might think that a 17-year-old girl would follow her brother and said friend around, checking out the college guy, but I didn't. I said hello and then went into my room, shut the door and yacked on the phone or read my books or did whatever it was I did in my room by myself in my space.

Ten years later, I started dating that college friend of my brother. I saw Jake off and on throughout the years at parties and other events, but I never really spent a lot of time with him. But then I saw him at Lee's wedding and it was as if it was the first time I ever met him. A year or so later we started emailing each other and a few months after that we were spending every weekend together. Now, a year later, we're moving in together.

Moving in together. I have to share my space. With the boy for whom I couldn't even be bothered with enough to leave my bedroom door open.

When I went off to college a year after meeting Jake for the first time (and closing my door in his face), I had a private dorm. I had a roommate for a while, but when her drug dealers started calling at all hours of the night, I had enough....but that's a story for another time. Living in a private room got to be really expensive, so I had a few other roommates sporadically throughout my college years. And I loved it, I did. I loved my roommates. They're all still some of my closest friends. In graduate school, I shared an apartment with a girl I knew from undergrad. We shared our space well. But then I graduated, got my own apartment and eventually bought my own house. I've been living by myself with no roommates (other than my dog, Gracie and my cats, Milton and Charlie) for 5 years. And I have reclaimed my space dammit! It's mine.

When Jake and I decided to move in together I didn't even consider what it might be like to give up some of my space. I guess I thought I'd just tuck him in with all my other stuff. Guess what ladies? It doesn't work like that! Men have stuff! Combining two households is not easy at all! Why didn't anyone tell me this? When I bought my two-bedroom house, why didn't my realtor laugh in my face and point out to me that some day I would be inviting a boy to live in my house and two bedrooms wouldn't cut it?! Don't they learn this in realtor school? Why do they even make two-bedroom houses???

And it's not just about the space. It's about the stuff. Whose dishes do we use? Whose pots and pans do we use? Whose furniture do we use? We have had more fights in the past couple of months about bed comforters, plates, couches and rugs than we have had during our entire relationship! I packed 15 boxes of stuff to go into the attic and gave away four times that many to the local Goodwill. He has two boxes packed for the attic. Two. Two. We still have some work to do.

In the past couple of months, in preparation for him to move in, we have painted my (our) bedroom (it was a light shade of pink...not very conducive to a male occupant), put shelves in the garage for extra storage, rearranged the living room, kitchen and dining room to make room for his furniture (we're moving most of mine to the garage for now), decorated the guest bathroom for him and converted a small storage room into a walk-in closet. I might share my kitchen, but I'll be damned if I'm going to share my bathroom or closet. I believe the key to a happy relationship is his and hers as far as that goes.

We have one month to go until his move-in day and we're about as ready as we'll ever be. I'm ready to share my space with the man I love. As long as he stays out of my bathroom.

I know what they're famous for!

2009-04-15T19:28:00.005-05:00

Setting: 7th grade geography class. Students are studying the Republic of the Congo by completing an open book assignment.

Cynthia: Mr. Edwards, I can't find the answer to #24, "Who lives in the Congo?"

Mr. Edwards: Really? Because I can actually see the answer in your book from where I'm standing. It's in bold print.

Cynthia: (Looks down at her book for a few seconds) I still don't see it.

Mr. Edwards: Look closer Cynthia. It's in bold print, right there in front of your face.

Cynthia: Well, the only bold words I see are Congolese people.

Mr. Edwards: Yes, Cynthia, and where do the Congolese people live?

Cynthia: Well, I've heard of the Congolese, but I don't know where they're from. (Thinks for a moment...) I know what they're famous for though!

Mr. Edwards: (Surprised) You do?! What are they famous for?

Cynthia: Rice...I've definitely heard of Congolese Rice !

I wanna be an OB-GYN when I grow up!

2009-04-15T09:17:00.005-05:00

Setting: School computer lab. The 7th grade kids are taking a career inventory test.

Matt's results: You might consider being an OB-GYN.

Matt: Mrs. Ceger? What's an OB-GYN?

Mrs. Ceger: Well....That's a lady's doctor...

(Slightly uncomfortable pause.)

Matt: Sweeeetttt!!!

Y cant u kidz spell?

2009-04-14T23:11:00.005-05:00

During my second year working in a school I heard a 7th grade girl talking to one of her peers about an upcoming project they had in geography. The assignment was to do a project on any country of their choosing. The country she chose? Paris. Yes, Paris.

But even more concerning than the fact that our kids do not seem to grasp basic geography is the fact that they are clueless when it comes to elementary grammar usage and spelling skills.

Most kids I encounter cannot write or read cursive, but I think that's okay. After all, how necessary is that really?

The meat of the issue is that adolescents today cannot write or even identify a simple sentence. The spelling is atrocious and they use shortcuts for everything. I attribute this to text messaging and instant messaging. Texting seems to have become a language all its own. It is bleeding over to school essays and even verbal speaking.

I believe it's important that we encourage our kids to write in full sentences and completely spell out words when doing any type of texting, even if that is not the easiest or most time saving thing to do. In the long run, it is much more beneficial that our kids learn to read, write, spell and speak correctly. As parents, we should be monitoring our kids' activities on the Internet. We know we need to protect them from child pornography and other types of pedofiles. Why not monitor the habits they are forming as well?

On being a good parent

2009-04-14T09:36:00.007-05:00

I am an education administrator. Of junior high school children. Yeah, I know...the first reaction I always get to that is: "Eww" or "Oh, you poor thing" or "How admirable! You must be so patient to be able to work with pre-adolescents!"

No. I'm not patient. I don't have a patient bone in my body. 90% of my day is spent constraining myself. The other 10% is spent failing to constrain myself. And let me tell you, it is not the kids. It's the parents! The parents are fucking morons! Parents amaze me. Every now and then a child will amaze me as well, but mostly, it's the parents.

If you are one of those parents who thinks your child does no wrong, get a fucking clue. News flash: 12-year-old children lie. No kidding. They do. A lot.

A child's first place of education comes from the home. Guess how many students your child's teacher has? At lower levels, where students don't change classes, they probably have approximately 30 kids. Well, I'm talking about jr. high where they do change classes. They have about 30 kids per class...and 6-7 classes...for 50 minutes out of a day....50 MINUTES OUT OF A DAY! How long do you have your child? That's what I thought.

Education is first and foremost the parents' responsibility. We count on you guys not only to teach your kids some basic pre-school fundamentals before we get them in public school, but we also count on you to teach them how to behave...how to respect adults...how to handle conflict...how to interact appropriately with other children. And we count on you to continue teaching them these things throughout their childhood and adolescence. We need you to help them with their homework. We need you to impress upon your children how important education is. Oh, and? We need you to send your child to school. On time! A family vacation is not an exused absence. Sleeping late is not an excused tardy. Look at what you're teaching your children! Basically? We're going to need you to act like adults, please. Because you're producing irresponbile, bratty, and I will even dare say ignorant children.

Teachers can only do so much. They have to deal with those little fuckers who won't shut their mouths. The little fuckers who won't bring their materials to class. The little fuckers who won't do their work. The little fuckers who interrupt class because they cannot get there on time. And then? They have to deal with the parents of the little fuckers who think their little fuckers never do anything wrong. So if your kid is one of the good kids? Sorry...our time is being wasted by the little fuckers. Really? Guess who runs the school? The little fuckers and their parents. We administrators can only do so much, but our hands are tied since most school boards and superintendents are elected...by the little fucker's parents!

Are you thankful for your poptarts?

2009-04-13T23:42:00.005-05:00

When I was 16, I used to babysit for a family with five children. They were good kids and I loved their family. But there was one little boy, Jordan, who was quite a....challenge. Jordan was about 5-years-old at the time and that child was all over the place! I might could keep my two eyes on the four other children all at one time, but if I took my eyes off that boy for two seconds, he was getting into something, pushing around another kid, or out the back door. He kept me constantly on my feet.

Now don't get me wrong, I loved that child (he's 18 now and I still adore him), but I usually just wanted to smack the shit out of him. There was one night in particular when Jordan had just worked on my last nerve. That was over 10 years ago, so I don't recall what it is he did or why he had me pushed to my limits. But I do remember that I carried his 5-year-old ass to bed early. As was custom in their family, before he went to sleep, he got on his little knees and said his prayers. He went through what I like to call the "thank you for Mommy"'s prayer. But somewhere in the middle of it he said "God, thank you for my pop-tarts." That one little sentence touched me in a way that is hard to imagine. Here was this little boy, being put to bed early for bad behavior, thanking God for this tiny little thing in his life. It got me thinking about all the small things in my own life for which I don't take the time to be grateful. For many years after that, when a small thing in life would strike me, I'd close my eyes and think, "God, thank you for my pop-tarts."

I'll admit, I hadn't really thought about that story for a long time...nor had I thanked God for my pop-tarts in too many years.

A few weeks ago, my boyfriend, Jake, and I (mostly I) got into an argument about the food he keeps in his kitchen. I stock the kitchen with his favorite food and drinks and it really got to where it bothered me that he didn't do the same for me. What's in his fridge? Sliced ham and milk. On this particular Saturday morning, he offered me pop-tarts for breakfast, and I just flew off the handle. Hey, I'd love some damn pop-tarts IF YOU HAD THE FLAVOR I LIKE! See, for a guy, it's just food. For a girl, it's showing her that you're thinking of her wants and needs. And dammit, I wanted, I NEEDED chocolate pop-tarts.

This morning he texted me from the grocery store: "What kind of pop-tarts would you like?" That text message probably warmed my heart more than if he would have proposed in it, and without thinking I closed my eyes and said "God, thank you for my pop-tarts." Only, I wasn't really talking about the chocolate ones.

Pet Peevin'

2009-03-27T23:43:00.001-05:00

Seriously people. If you're going to go the speed limit or below, drive in the damn right lane. The left lane is for passing. How hard is this to understand? I wish I had an old piece of shit car so that I could ram it right into your old piece of shit car. Because really? Haven't you noticed that stupid people who drive slowly in the fucking left lane tend to drive old piece of shit cars? Wonder why that is.

Christmas Memories

2008-12-25T07:30:00.002-06:00

It is 4am on Christmas Eve morning, and my current inability to sleep is a product of entirely too much caffeine the day before. But for some reason, one of the first thoughts when I woke up at 3am was a memory of being a child and waking up around the same time on Christmas morning with the anticipation of Santa's visit.

My brothers, Chris and Lee, and I would congregate in one of our bedrooms, entertaining ourselves until we thought it was late enough to start trying to wake up our parents. Around 5am, one of us would be selected by the others to be the spokesperson whose responsibility it was to tip-toe into our parent's room, kneel down on Mom's side of the bed and whisper "Can we get up yet?" Then the bargaining would begin and the spokesperson would tip-toe back down the hall to report to the others on what time we could go to the Christmas Morning Meeting Place: in the hallway behind the closed (and booby-trapped) door leading to the living room, right outside our parent's bathroom, where my brothers, my Dad and I would wait (im)patiently for my Mom to take her famous Christmas Morning Shit before we could open the door and see what Santa brought.

As the years passed, waking up early to see what Santa brought was replaced by the stronger desire of a house full of teenagers to sleep as late as possible every morning during our Christmas holiday from school. I don't really recall the first time my parents woke before us, but I bet they do. Thinking about it now, I imagine the two of them waking up, looking at each other, and wondering why the sun had been allowed to rise this Christmas morning without one of their three children tip-toeing into their room. Thinking back, it must have been a bit sad for them, to realize their children were growing up. It must have been then that my Dad took on the job of waking up the family on Christmas morning by booming down the hallway, "HO HO HO! GET UP!"

This Christmas is the first year my family will spend without my paternal grandmother, and thinking about this as I lay in bed this morning made me recall some Christmas memories (the memories of the actual events, I am sure, are skewed with time): making a cassette tape of me and Lee singing Christmas carols with my Grandfather; laying in bed on Christmas Eve and praying that I had been good enough throughout the year to warrant a visit from Santa; my Dad pointing out a red light in the distant sky to us and telling us it was Rudolph (and knowing full well that it was not Rudolph, but in fact a radio tower); the year my heart's desire was a Red Ryder BB gun (no wait....that was A Christmas Story); the year we discovered the box from my brother's keyboard, delivered by Santa, out behind the old storage garage and asking my Mom how it got there (she told me that it fell out of Santa's sleigh); that same year, discovering that there was no Santa Claus; the year my family got our first computer; the year I had my first "real" boyfriend and had to go through the agonizing task of trying to discover what in the world boys (other than brothers and fathers) want us to buy them for Christmas; the first year we were not all home for Christmas (Chris was away at Army Boot Camp); my oldest nephew's first Christmas; the heart-wrenching first year I came home from college for Christmas after my parents were divorced...the house was empty since my mom was out with her new boyfriend, and I curled up under the Christmas tree and cried; the first year I spent Christmas away from my family; the first year I hosted the family Christmas Eve at my new house.

Even as each of us can recall special Christmas moments and memories that involve those we love, do we ever stop to think about what kind of memories we are creating of ourselves for others? For instance, when I think back about specific Christmas memories of my Grandmother, I recall sitting in her lap and looking through a toy catalog and then sitting at her kitchen table and writing letters to Santa, carefully listing those toys we had chosen (sometimes even giving the specific page number in the catalog so that Santa wouldn't screw it up); spending Christmas Eve with the entire family at her house before my Grandfather passed away; and of all the visitors on Christmas morning, she was my favorite person to drag back to my bedroom to show off all my toys from Santa.

But what I remember most when I think about my Grandmother on Christmas comes from a more recent memory, only a couple of years ago. We had all spent Christmas Eve at my Dad's house, opening presents of pajamas and Christmas ornaments, eating too much and drinking eggnog. After one (or five) too many eggnogs that night came the task of getting my nearly 80-year-old Grandmother down the long, steep, dark flight of stairs outside my Dad's apartment. It was a long way down, and she had people bracing her from all angles, telling her to watch her step, to be careful, to hold the rail, and about halfway down she stopped and replied to all the safety directives: "I don't wanna fuck up Christmas!"

...

This is the first memory that will pop into my head every time I think about my Grandmother at Christmas time and I think she would appreciate that. If I could share this with her now, I think she would raise her wine glass and say "Cheers!"

I wish all of you a Merry Christmas, and may the memories continue!

On Dogs and Cheese

2008-09-13T23:44:00.003-05:00

I'm going to a party tomorrow. Today I decided to make some yummy cheese dip to bring to the party...complete with fresh veggies to dip in it, since I've recently started a low-carb diet. I went to the grocery after work and loaded up on all the goods. I decided to get a jump-start on melting the cheese, since it takes a few hours to melt 6 pounds of Velveeta. I turned the crock-pot on around 6ish this evening...then promptly fell asleep on the couch.

I was woken from a nice, deep sleep by my high-pitched dog, Gracie, barking her head off. I was mad as could be at first... I was sleeping good! Then I realized that she was barking her head off at me, while running back and forth between the kitchen and the living room. Did you know that cheese can burn in the crock-pot? It can...and it stinks!

What a great dog, right?! So I'm thinking Gracie should be on CNN...a hero dog...with a big metal around her neck! "Dog saves owner from impending cheese fire." But then, I'm looking at the crock-pot and thinking she could have woken me earlier...you know, BEFORE the cheese burned. I am so ungrateful.

And now my whole house smells like scorched cheese.

And Gracie keeps looking at me in an accusatory manner, silently cursing me for burning perfectly good cheese (her favorite food, other than her own shit).

So now I'm thinking about just throwing away the crock-pot rather than cleaning it....and wondering what to do with all of these veggies. Because seriously? I don't do veggies without cheese. Which is probably why I have to go on this diet in the first place.

But fat thighs and scorched crock-pot aside, how cool is it that my dog is now a famous hero?

Dish Demons

2008-07-13T23:45:00.003-05:00

I may or may not have sent the Demons at Dish Network the following email:

Dear Dish Network People,

After my satellite went out for the 5000th time since I've had it (a little over 1 year), I decided to call tech support (AGAIN) this afternoon. After being transferred, hung up on, and "disconnected," I finally had the wonderful experience of waiting on hold for 11 minutes and 47 seconds. Now this may not sound like a very long time, but I'm sure you can understand that my patience was just a bit thin by this point (because really? I've been waiting for 7 months). It was somewhere around the 6th minute of today's phone call that I decided I really should just cancel my service. After all, no company is worth risking my health, and yours is definitely making my blood pressure increase.

Think about it, people, if you have to move "to report an outage in your area" to your first menu option (thank you for that, by the way), you have a serious issue. And honestly, I'm no longer willing to pay for that issue. I do not have service more often than I do. If it rains 3 states over, my satellite goes out. This is not okay with me. I've called, I've been nice, I've complained, I've reasoned, and I've been a bitch. Rudeness at least accomplished a "free" visit for a technical support guy (really? Free? Am I supposed to be thankful for this?). They worked their magic and it lasted for about 2 months. Fortunately for you guys, I just wasn't home enough to really care that I'm paying +/- $50/month for a service that doesn't work. So congrats, you've made a buck or two. But now it's time for me to cross on over to DirecTV. And you know what? They're going to give me a free DVR!!

So please contact me ASAP about terminating my service. You may do so at the phone number provided. It may not be your policy to pick up the phone and return a call, but let's put it this way: My happy ass isn't paying you another fucking penny and I'm sure as hell not going to wait on hold for you any longer. I don't think that leaves any other options.

Thank you so much for your time and have a fabulous day!

My encounter with the Secret Service

2008-01-27T23:45:00.006-06:00

Senator Barack Obama came to Birmingham, AL today for the second time in 7 months. First, let me say how exciting it is to me that a presidential candidate (especially a Democrat!) is giving this much attention to this little city in Alabama! Have I just not been involved, or does this never happen?

I've been volunteering with the campaign for quite a while. It's been so much fun and I've met some really wonderful people! Today, I decided to volunteer at the "Stand for Change" Town Hall at Bartow Arena on UAB's campus. Jacki and I drove the 3.5 hours to Birmingham and we had about 150 volunteers there...to usher in and organize approximately 9,000 people!

I was working with the ADA section, finding people who looked like they really couldn't stand in line for hours (and I do mean hours...the line wrapped around about 2 city blocks) because they were physically handicapped in one way or another. This quickly turned into "crowd control," directing some little cheaters who thought they could skip the line (although many people had been standing in line for several hours). Jacki and I stood outside the arena, with several other volunteers, from 8:30am until 1:30pm, kindly (as kindly as possible...) telling people where the end of the line was.

It really amused me to see the tricks people would attempt, hoping to skip past us. There was the obvious and old trick: "My husband/wife/sister/mother/father/brother is waiting up there at the door for me!" (Sorry about your luck). And then there was the I'll-put-my-cell-phone-to-my-ear-and-rush-past-you-looking-super-important-and-maybe-you'll-fall-for-it-and-won't-stop-me. Yeah, you just look like a jackass. That didn't work either.

Let me tell you how much it didn't work. At one point, the number of people trying to skip line and bust through the ropes really increased. At this point, I'm just stopping people without really looking at them and redirecting them. I really wasn't paying attention to who I was stopping. So, when two rather large men in nice suits tried to rush past me, I thought nothing of reaching out, placing my hand somewhat firmly on one's arm and saying, "Excuse me sir, you can't come through here. The end of the line is around the block." The difference is, this man didn't give the typical "I got caught" chuckle and turn and walk away. He stopped and stared down at me as if I was nothing more than dog shit on the bottom of his shoe. I stared right back up at him and his buddy, not afraid of the challenge. And it was at that point, that locking of eyes, that I saw the tiny yellow pin on the men's lapels and realized I had my hand on the arm of one, and was detaining two, Secret Service men. Both men did at least have the good grace to look amused when I quietly said "Oops!" and backed away, rather embarrassed. But it gave me a great story to tell, right?!

New additions to my family

2007-10-03T23:46:00.003-05:00

I brought home two new little kittens last week.

Do I need them? No.
Did I want them? Not particularly.
Could I resist them? Not even a little bit.

Lee has been bombarded with kittens and puppies (it's a long story and entirely not his fault, since he responsibly spays and neuters his animals!). I've been feeling a bit sorry for these poor little guys who probably wouldn't be adopted at the humane society, and my heart was really going out to my brother and sister-in-law, who have grown quite attached to these little guys. So I thought I might do my part and give one of them a good home. I chose to take the ugliest one (side note: I don't think she's ugly, but it seems that I'm out-voted on that issue), since her chances of being adopted were pretty low! But, before I could take her home, another one decided to adopt me and completely flirted her little way into my heart. So I did what any sensible person who already finds herself short of cash some months would do...I took both.

They happily played in my guest room this weekend, waiting for me to take them to get their shots and have them spayed. They have been warned that, after healing time, they will be banished to the yard....except for when it's cold...or really hot...or stormy weather...or maybe not at all.

So anyway, I took my new little kitties to the vet Monday morning to have them spayed. My vet called me later in the afternoon to tell me that all went well...except for one little problem...

(Please keep in mind that my vet is a very good vet...I trust him, and pretty much only him, completely with all of my pets.)

The first kitty he spayed presented him with no problems, no complications.

Upon putting my other kitty on the operating table and cutting open her tiny little abdomen, however, he found that she had no uterus. She had no ovaries. No need for spaying, right? She did, though, upon further inspection, need to be neutered.

This poor little kitty was not a blessed kitty. She (He?) had been inspected by myself, my brother, and the vet tech. We all determined that she (he?) was a girl. No little boy parts could be seen by the naked eye. This makes me wonder if maybe she (he?) didn't even really need to be neutered? I mean, what kind of action would he (she?) have gotten? I can see the the lady cats laughing at him now, "Oh please...what do you think you're going to do with that?" They would laugh so hard it would certainly damage his ego, so maybe it's a good thing he's been rendered genderless.

I may have the only cat in the world who has been both "spayed" and neutered all in one day. And he's a cross-dresser because I love his hot pink collar. It looks great on him! I've always wanted a gay boyfriend, so now I have one.

Life Lessons

2007-07-03T23:47:00.001-05:00

Old men do not know how to bag groceries. And they don't like when you ask them, even kindly, if you can do it yourself. Lesson Learned: Smashed bread does not taste any different than un-smashed bread.

When one has a drippy kitchen faucet, it is rarely a good idea to pop it with your hand and scream "DAMMIT" in hopes that this will miraculously fix the problem. It does not work. It causes a more serious problem which requires one to shut off the water all together and lose all use of one's kitchen sink. Lesson Learned: The bathroom really isn't that inconvenient. And the fucking faucet doesn't drip in there!

Pushing a buggy through a parking lot with an incline does require both hands on the buggy. One hand pulling your hair out of your face while the wind throws it right back, and the other hand trying to catch a bag that's falling out of the buggy results in a chase through the parking lot while people inside the store laugh at you (shut up, I know they were). Yelling "come back" does not work. Lesson Learned: Always wear hair in a ponytail while shopping.

A yellow curb with rails does not necessarily denote a ramp. Lesson Learned: It does hurt to fall off even a small curb.

New Year's Resolutions

2006-12-30T23:47:00.001-06:00

My 2007 New Year Resolutions....well, it's more of a To-Do list:

1. Lay off the brownies.

2. Always check for paper when leaving the restroom.

3. Save enough money to re-do my floor. De-claw my dog.

4. Refrain from shooting at the neighborhood children with a BB gun.

5. Get a bit more creative with my landscaping...possibly hire a yard boy...a foreign yard boy. Or, at the very least, cut my grass at least twice during the summer.

6. Defeat a ninja in hand-to-hand combat.

7. Continue to bite my tongue when my new 20-something neighbor boy throws loud parties at 2am. He knows he's not living in a college dorm. I don't need to yell it at him. Even though it would make me feel better.

8. Plot revenge on neighbor boy.

9. Drive the A-team van.

10. Save a friend from a bear.

11. Ride a luck dragon.

12. Get rich in the stock market.

13. Solve the mystery of Smurfette...

14. Become less OCD. Or at least not be offended when somebody points it out to me. Accept my OCDness?

15. Make a pair of slippers out of actual bunnies.

You Ain't No Peacock

2006-12-18T23:48:00.003-06:00

Nothing is worse than seeing a friend try to explain her faults away as if they are positive character attributes. The confrontational nature in me wants to call her out on this...but the part of me that realizes that we all have our faults, some that we don't like to admit, knows it's better to just sit back and let her realize this in her own time, in her own way.

Through the safety of an Internet blog, where I'm speaking only to an anonymous person, I ask you to ask yourself, if you're truly jumping head-first into life, why is it that your life remains stagnant? Are you stuck in a rut, or are you just comfortable enough to complain?

If you're going to dive, dive. But if you're going to tread water, just shut up and tread. Accept that you're an extraordinary person happy to live an ordinary life. And if that's the life you choose, then just be happy that you don't sink....

...cause if it walks like a duck, and talks like a duck...then it sure as hell ain't a peacock!