Happy... to ya!

HAPPY HOLIDAYS...
MERRY CHRISTMAS...
HAPPY SOLSTICE...
JOYFUL JESUS DAY...
Whatever you celebrate... make it a good one.

Stop me if I'm wrong...

Would this piss you off?



I'm at work. My husband calls, like he does at least four times every day when he's not mad at me. I pick up the phone. He asks if I'm busy. Well, I kinda am, but I tell him no. So he makes a request...



...he asks me if I will go online, because he's sent me an email to my Gmail account. Can I get the file he sent, which is a Christmas card in Russian, then convert it to HTML and send it back to him so he can post it to the comments section of the Russian Playboy Playmate on his MySpace friends list?



WTF???



I'm at work, first of all, and although I use my lunch break (and Friday afternoons, and days when it's slow, etc.) to make blog posts and occasionally pop onto MySpace to see if my old military friend has left me a message, I don't usually take requests. And I don't always have time to just jump online. (Obviously I do now, but this really pissed me off.)



Now, you must take into account the fact that I am really upset and bitter at this man every single day of my life, primarily because I have to drag my morning-sick, first-trimester-tired butt to work every morning while he snoozes away under warm covers, happy as a lark. Even more ingratiating is that he won't even LOOK for, let alone actually GET, a job, any type of gainful employment whatsoever, even though we are falling desperately behind in such key areas like power bills and gasoline and diapers. Oh, and food, let's not forget that one.



We are in terrible need of a second income. So he reminds me that I did say I was going to get a second job, whatever happened to that? We found out I was pregnant again, that's what!!! But hey, don't complain if I'm not willing to work those extra hours.



The fatigue I have with this, the sixth pregnancy, is worse than any I have experienced before. Probably because this is my SIXTH baby!! (Just guessing, here.) The morning sickness is low-grade nausea and food aversion that lasts from approximately three minutes after I wake up in the morning to three minutes after I fall asleep at night. That's just the physical aggravation...



Factor in that Christmas for my 4-year and 2-year was effectively canceled. Not one single gift under the tree. I am not exaggerating. I finally broke down and registered with a charity group, and luckily I got the kids adopted by a lady in the area, who went out and purchased Christmas gifts for them both. Still, I have to take half of my check this coming Friday and pay the midwife the downpayment for her services, which was unexpected (just lucky it's there) and will probably result in the heat and lights getting turned off. The entire next check has to go for rent. The half left over this next week will have to be saved towards rent (one whole check won't do it - I only get $600 every two weeks) and somehow in there I have to find money for food, gasoline and diapers.



It's not going to happen. It's just not there.



Meanwhile, he spends 6-8 hours a DAY online, mostly on MySpace. The rest of the time is looking for "sexy" pictures to put on his MySpace. And adult sites, let's not forget those. He spends more time on MySpace than the average lonely 17-year old. My computer has more porn-site viruses, adware and trojans on it than I ever thought possible.



While this is happening, there's his excuse for not working: the children. They are crammed into a 720-square foot one-bedroom apartment all day. Never get outside to play. PBS is on the television at least 12 hours straight. Their toys are locked in the closet (because HE doesn't want to pick them up). They read their books, sometimes color, run back and forth between the living room and the bedroom and cry a lot. They get 2, sometimes 3, peanut butter (no jelly) sandwiches a day (because it's quick, and he can get back online in a matter of moments) and endless cups of juice (to the point of giving them diarrhea). No milk, no hot meals, no playful interaction... that's it.



And he wants me to get a second job so he can continue this pattern. What happens when I give birth? Well, I don't know, if I don't get that second job, how are we supposed to save money for the four weeks I can't work? (Six weeks at my main job, but I won't be able to afford to take that long off altogether.) He's gotta be able to take care of all three kids, after all, and I'll have to bring home money for that to happen.



Dammit, now I've made HIM angry. I told him I wasn't wasting my lunch hour converting files so he could message the whores on MySpace that he's all hot and bothered over. He could figure out how to do it himself. So he got snippy and said "Sorry I bothered you." I hung up on him.



So tell me.... would it have pissed YOU off?

I got this bridge in Arizona...

Some people will buy absolutely anything.

****
A man was sentenced to more than four years in prison for bilking friends and family out of more than $800,000 by convincing them that his wife was a government agent who could arrange to have their medical problems diagnosed by satellite imaging.

Brent Eric Finley, 38, of Rayville, was sentenced in federal court in Monroe to serve 51 months in prison followed by three years of supervised release. His wife, Stacey Finley, was sentenced in August to spend 63 months in prison and both are ordered to jointly pay restitution in the amount of $873,786.94.

The Finleys pleaded guilty in August to wire fraud, according to court records.

U.S. Attorney Donald W. Washington said in a news release following Monday's sentencing of Brent Finley that the couple convinced numerous people that Stacey Finley was a CIA agent and with her contacts she could schedule a medical scan of the victims' bodies by satellite imaging that would detect any hidden medical problems.

The Finleys convinced their victims that, if any medical problems were found, secret agents would administer medicine to them as they slept in exchange for payment, according to a bill of information filed when the Finleys were charged in May.

"These audacious criminals should remind all of us that scam artists will go to great lengths to take our life's savings," Washington said.
****

I'm not so sure I would call them audacious. They just happened to know some very stupid people. Stupid people who apparently had money to spare.

Wow. I wish I knew some stupid, wealthy people. I have some ocean-front property in Central Nevada, very nice view, lots of trees, cool breezes... and I could sign the deed over to ya for dirt-cheap, I swear I'll make you an unbelievable deal...

Virus

I hate being sick.

That's all I got to say about that.

So many warning signs...

The story had all the makings of a modern-day fairy tale romance. The instant attraction, the forbidden passion, the Romeo & Juliet style running-away to rendezvous, the devotion that defied ethnic barriers, continental divides and age-of-consent laws. Ah, young love.

But, it's over now. The light finally shone true for the love-stricken lass, and she was forced to decide...

Okay, enough of that. First of all, the romance started on MySpace. Let me tell you something, I have a MySpace account and I assure you, 90% of the people on there lie. Not just in the way of glossing things over, but flat-out lying their asses off. I know because I've seen my stepson's page, and my sister's page, and even my husband's page, and so there you have it. You can't believe a damn thing on there. Even people who DON'T use MySpace know it's full of liars... who hasn't heard the recent drama regarding the little girl who killed herself over a failed MySpace romance, and it turned out the "boy" involved was made up by the mom of a classmate who lived down the street?

Okay, so warning sign #1 - the thing started on MySpace. What's #2? He's Palestinian, she's American. This in and of itself is not a big deal, but the fact that at age 16 she ran away from home and was caught in a Palestinian airport on her way to see him... well, this does not bode well. Cross-ethnic relationships are one thing, but it's probably best to actually reside in the same, or at least friendly, neighboring countries, before you try the romance thing.

It is also imperative, when mixing cultures, to understand that things are just... well... different in other countries. Especially for women, especially in Middle Eastern countries. For instance:

"(Katherine) Lester told (Abdullah) Jinzawi he was possessive and swore at her. Under questioning by host Phil McGraw, Jinzawi denied being verbally abusive but said he called her names."

Possessive? Verbally abusive? Naaaah. Guys in the Mid East are nothing BUT respectful and loving to their women!!

Oh, and the whole "host Phil McGraw" thing? Well, keeping to the spirit of initiating the romance online and conducting the affair primarily over the internet, she broke up with him on television.

L'amour. Who said romance is dead??

Purple Turkeys

Have a great holiday, everyone!

Sorry, Jerm...

I think Jerm was a bit uncomfortable with the negative personal information revealed in the last post. Sorry bout that, buddy. I was just venting.

So, here: Something new to discuss.

My opinion - she ain't even pretty. Never was. Just drawing out those fifteen lil' minutes of fame into something shameful and pathetic. Playboy can make anyone look pretty with some computer-assisted retouching and creative lighting.

Just changing the subject, heh.

Oh, the weather outside is frightful

Does this look like November to you?

Actually, according to one news station, that temperature on Sunday is supposed to be 80, and on Monday 82.

The "good" news is that the high on Wednesday is maybe going to happen around noon, and then temps will be steadily falling after that. They were saying that on Thanksgiving Day, the highs will only be in the 40s, and it will be rainy and windy.

Now THAT is what I call "Fall Weather." The above forecast would have been rockin', say, the last week of September. Of course, I complain now, but come March I will be dreaming of the warm days of spring... and then it will be cold and miserable. Maybe. I thought this last spring was great, personally. It rained almost every day for something like four months. I haven't been back to the desert in many years, but I grew up there, the first almost-19 years of my life, and so rain is still a novelty for me.

It's just hard to get in a holiday-type mood when it's 84 degrees outside. And when you have no money. But that's another story.

The Other Story

The spousal unit still doesn't have a job. Could it be because he's not looking? Methinks that has something to do with it. Of course, in his mind, it's really my fault because I haven't dropped off the application he picked up and filled out last week. He dropped one off, but it's up to me to get the other to the potential employer. I am more of the opinion that if he was truly serious, he'd fax it to them, mail it to them, or do whatever else it took. Possibly even... hmm... look in other places. It is the holiday season, and many places are hiring workers, and after the holiday season work will be much harder to find. Not that this makes any difference to him, because he really doesn't WANT to work.

He apparently doesn't want to have a place to live or food to eat, either.

But I can't make him get a job. The more I nag, the less he does (not that he's doing anything now). The slowly-encroaching panic I feel also seems to contribute to his total lack of motivation. The more I show that this whole situation upsets me, the more inclined he is to spend his entire day posting suggestive pictures on his MySpace, listening to music on the computer and/or watching movies while not-supervising my children.

Oh boy. This man needs to go away. Far away. Like maybe to his sister's house. That's three hours away. That would be good for a start. He could stay there for like six or eight... years? Eons? That would be even better. If he's not going to be a man and help take care of his family, he needs to move along. I've tried leaving, and I won't put my babies through that again. If he leaves, though, we could get on with things. I know my poor little boy would be happier, that's for damn sure.

Grr... blah... yech...

I feel like crap. Not physically, although I am tired. But mentally. I've been under so much stress for so long my head feels like the guy on Jerm's blog.

That has been bugging me all day, btw. Thanks a lot, Jerm. Now I'll probably have nightmares, too. Just what I need.

:)

I don't want to move. But that's like saying I don't want to breathe. It's not exactly a choice. When the guy who owns the property says get the fuck out, then sooner or later, you gotta get the fuck out. I mean, we could stay and be squatters, and force the landowner to go to court and have us evicted, but then somewhere in the Christmas timeframe, I'd be watching constables literally pitch my possesions onto the front lawn... and somehow I think I'd feel worse about that than I do about having to move.

So I get to look forward to stuffing half of what I own into an over-priced Public Storage garage, and cramming the other half (and all of us) into a little one-bedroom apartment . Happiness, I tell ya. My kids who adore playing in their small but utterly beloved backyard kingdom get to downgrade to a public playground two blocks away. My son, who simply LOVES his own decorated, personalized bedroom, gets to learn how to share a room with me and his baby sister while dad gets demoted to the couch. I could expand forever on how shitty this could be, but I'm trying to be positive. It's not... really working.

Maybe I'm just having a bad day.

Some positive things...
---I have a job. Therefore my truck is not going to be repossessed, because if I have to live in THAT, I will not miss the payment.
---My kids are relatively healthy. My son has asthma but it's under control. No developmental disabilities to cost us thousands of extra dollars, not to mention the extra emotional stress. And we have insurance if someone does get sick.
---We will have a place to live (assuming they have a unit open - I'm trying not to think of the other complexes I've looked into, the slums and ghettos, where we'll be forced to go if this one has no available units). I am still not entirely sure how I will pay the rent, utilities and truck payment while still having to feed us, pay insurance and buy things like, oh, I dunno, gasoline, diapers and clothes for growing kids... but since murdering my lazy, unemployed husband is out of the question, I guess I'll just nag him till he gets a job.
---I have a TV. In fact I have 2. I have a DVD player. Actually, I have 2 of those, also. This means when I get home from work to my itsy-bitsy little apartment and two screaming, cooped-up children, (and the aforementioned unemployed husband) I can always give the kids Benadryl and curl up to watch Firefly on DVD. Wonderful escape, I tell ya.

Kidding. About the Benadryl. Okay, maybe only half-kidding.

Well, somehow I will get through. We always do, don't we??

Kid Swap

A few weeks ago, I read about a couple of kids in some European country (I think these were Czech families) that had been accidentally switched at birth. At the age of nine months, they were going to be switched back to their biological parents. My initial thought was, how could they??! I mean, directly after giving birth to my children, I fell in love with them and spent the ensuing weeks and months bonding and cementing that love into place. At nine months of age, a baby is only just beginning to develop an individual personality and could probably be switched without long-term psychological damage, but the fact remains that in that period of time you have learned to LOVE that child. Replace that child with another baby, biological or not, and it would certainly have a profound psychological effect on ME.

Well, then today, I read about another set of families that had switched children. These boys are four years old, and they are going to swap back. This, I think, borders on completely inhumane. I have a four-year old boy, and I simply cannot fathom giving him to someone else in exchange for another strange four-year old boy. Biological or not, that little one is still a stranger to you and your entire family.

I don't know if it's because I don't have a connection with my own biological parents (though I know them, and in fact, I was raised by my bio-mother's uncle, so the adoption remained within the family) or because I've had enough kids to cherish that bond between baby and mom more than anything in this world, but from my own perspective, my first instinct would be to keep the child I have bonded with. My 4-year old is a unique individual, and regardless of biological relation, I would not be able to simply say, "Here, you take this one, and then give me that one."

People give children up for adoption every day. You live your entire life knowing there's a person out there that you are directly responsible for creating, but you never know them and they never know you. Many of those people go on to have other children in their lives, and although they probably always remember and think of the baby they gave up, I don't think that they are unable to function because they can't be with their child. I have three children that I haven't seen in over six years, and it hurts every day, but I talk to them when I can and I cope. Loving all my children the way I do, I can't imagine giving one of them up in exchange for another child, as if the non-related child never meant anything at all to me.

I guess I was lucky. I never even thought about the possibility of a switch. When my first was born, it was in an Air Force hospital and I was the only one there. By the time I left, there were two other newborns, but mine was the only girl. I knew I'd gotten the right baby when I walked out (with that cute little red birthmark over her eye). My second and third (born a mere fifteen months apart, delivered by the same doctor in the same hospital room) were birthed in a hospital where the baby stayed in the room with the mom. On the one single occasion they had to be taken out for a blood-draw or something, the nurses compared and double-checked the matching ID bracelets on mommy and baby. Babies Four and Five were each homebirths and didn't leave my side until they were, like, fourteen months old.

I know in my heart that love is more than genetic. I wouldn't trade my parents for my bio-units in a million years. They have their faults, but they love me and raised me well, while my DNA-donors couldn't have cared less about me or even the kids they kept. I also know that if someone tried to take my two-year old Tootsie Pop away from me today, for any reason, I would kill them with my bare hands. I know she's mine, but if it came to light that she wasn't genetically mine, while some other two-year old was, I'd have to say okay, let's keep in touch - but you can't have the one I've raised.

I don't know how people do it, just switch like that... as if having the child of your loins is more important than having the child of your heart. I guess for some people it is. I only know it wouldn't be for me.

Thanks, Sneff

Cyclefreak clarified for me that the post below was not actually written by Jay Leno. I'd actually wondered about that, but I was in a seriously bad mood that day so I posted my reply anyway.

I don't mind if anything I say gets debunked by someone who recognizes it as urban legend. Hell, I want you to tell me if I have it wrong, to prevent me from looking like a jackass. I'll do the same for you, trust me.

But at the end of it all, someone wrote that email. Some big-headed, stupid-ass who wanted to feel important, very likely. They pissed me off, whoever they are. And I know for a fact that there are actually wealthy or privileged people out there who have those exact sentiments, which makes me wanna scratch their eyes out. None of my reply contained falsity or exaggeration, regardless of the authenticity of the instigating article.

On a Lighter Note...

Do you know where peacocks come from? My son asked me where they come from. I told him I thought they came from China. He made an exasperated noise and informed me that, NOOOO, they come from the ocean. I must have looked very puzzled because he quickly assured me that they don't sleep in the ocean. They sleep in the subway. And they eat weeds. Grover said so.

Thank you, Sesame Street. You've done wonders for my child's imagination.

Speaking of influences, my two-year old daughter was sitting on the couch next to me the other day, and a brightly-colored Christmas-themed commercial came on the TV, advertising what wonders of the season you could find at some over-priced retailer. Before I could say a word, my daughter popped her juice cup out of her mouth and shouted, "Holy shit!" just as clear as day. It was hard not to laugh as I told her that was a bad word.

Shocking as that may seem, it was nowhere near as stunning as later that evening when I was running her bathwater. She was demanding bubbles. I told her twice that it was too late for bubbles, we were just taking a quick bath and going to bed. After the third shriek for bubbles, I said, "NO, Gabbi, no bubbles!" So she shouted "FUCK!" and threw her plastic boat across the bathroom.

For that, I thank her father. No way she got THAT from Grover or Big Bird.

See what you have to look forward to, future Cheney parents?

Friday 55

Idea courtesy of James Goodman, awesome horror writer extraordinaire, here's a creative nugget from my cluttered imagination, in 55 words exactly:
--------------------------------------------------------

My baby told me there was a monster. I didn’t believe her until I saw the blood, then I had to kill the monster although my baby was already ruined. They put me in cuffs, and asked me why. They don’t believe in monsters, either, anymore than I could believe that I had married one.

---------------------------------------------------------

Click on "Goody's Place" to the right to see his! (Trust me, he rocks.)

Fuck you, Jay Leno

The first part of this horrifically long post is the forwarded email I got from a relative, with something Jay Leno wrote. The second part is the response I bravely fired off to every single person on the distribution list. Comments welcome.

***********************************************

Jay Leno wrote this; it's the Jay Leno we don't often see....

"The other day I was reading Newsweek magazine and came across some poll data I found rather hard to believe. It must be true, given the source, right?

The Newsweek poll alleges that 67 percent of Americans are unhappy with the direction the country is headed, and 69 percent of the country is unhappy with the performance of the President. In essence, 2/3's of the citizenry just isn't happy and want a change.

So being the knuckle dragger I am, I started thinking, ''What are we so unhappy about?''

Is it that we have electricity and running water 24 hours a day,7 days a week?

Is our unhappiness the result of having air conditioning in the summer and heating in the winter?

Could it be that 95.4 percent of these unhappy folks have a job?

Maybe it is the ability to walk into a grocery store at anytime, and see more food in moments than Darfur has seen in the last year?

Maybe it is the ability to drive from the Pacific Ocean to the Atlantic Ocean without having to present identification papers as we move through each state?

Or possibly the hundreds of clean and safe motels we would find along the way that can provide temporary shelter?

I guess having thousands of restaurants with varying cuisine from around the world is just not good enough.

Or could it be that when we wreck our car, emergency workers show up and provide services to help all, and even send a helicopter to take you to the hospital.

Perhaps you are one of the 70 percent of Americans who own a home. You may be upset with knowing that in the unfortunate case of a fire, a group of trained firefighters will appear in moments and use top-notch equipment to extinguish the flames, thus saving you, your family and your belongings.

Or if, while at home watching one of your many flat screen TVs, a burglar or prowler or intrudes, an officer equipped with a gun and a bullet-proof vest will come to defend you and your family against attack or loss.

This, all in the backdrop of a neighborhood free of bombs or militias raping and pillaging the residents. Neighborhoods where 90 percent of teenagers own cell phones and computers.

How about the complete religious, social and political freedoms we enjoy that are the envy of everyone in the world?

Maybe that is what has 67 percent of you folks unhappy. Fact is, we are the largest group of ungrateful, spoiled brats the world has ever seen. No wonder the world loves the U.S., yet has a great disdain for its citizens. They see us for what we are. The most blessed people in the world who do nothing but complain about what we don't have, and what we hate about the country instead of thanking the good Lord we live here.

I know, I know. What about the President who took us into war and has no plan to get us out? The President who has a measly 31 percent approval rating? Is this the same President who guided the nation in the dark days after 9/11? The President that cut taxes to bring an economy out of recession? Could this be the same guy who has been called every name in the book for succeeding in keeping all the spoiled ungrateful brats safe from terrorist attacks? The Commander-In Chief of an all-volunteer army that is out there defending you and me? Did you hear how bad the President is on the news or talk show? Did this news affect you so much, make you so unhappy you couldn't take a look around for yourself and see all the good things and be glad?

Think about it... are you upset at the President because he actually caused you personal pain OR is it because the "Media" told you he was failing to kiss your sorry ungrateful behind every day?

Make no mistake about it. The troops in Iraq and Afghanistan have volunteered to serve, and in many cases may have died for your freedom. There is currently no draft in this country. They didn't have to go. They are able to refuse to go and end up with either a ''general'' discharge, an ''other than honorable'' discharge or, worst case scenario, a ''dishonorable'' discharge after a few days in the brig.

So why then the flat-out discontentment in the minds of 69 percent of Americans? Say what you want, but I blame it on the media. If it bleeds, it leads; and they specialize in bad news. Everybody will watch a car crash with blood and guts. How many will watch kids selling lemonade at the corner? The media knows this and media outlets are for-profit corporations. They offer what sells, and when criticized, try to defend their actions by "justifying" them in one way or another. Just ask why they tried to allow a murderer like O.J. Simpson to write a book about "how he didn't kill his wife, but if he did he would have done it this way"...Insane!

Stop buying the negativism you are fed everyday by the media. Shut off the TV, burn Newsweek, and use the New York Times for the bottom of your bird cage. Then start being grateful for all we have as a country. There is exponentially more good than bad. We are among the most blessed people on Earth, and should thank God several times a day, or at least be thankful and appreciative.

With hurricanes, tornados, fires out of control, mud slides, flooding, severe thunderstorms tearing up the country from one end to another, and with the threat of bird flu and terrorist attacks, "Are we sure this is a good time to take God out of the Pledge of Allegiance?"

Jay Leno 2007 Please keep this in circulation. There are so many people that need to read this and grasp the truth of it all.

*************************************************

Oh yeah. This is great. Especially coming from a guy who will never ever have to worry about that "24-hours-a-day power and water" getting cut off because he had to choose between paying the bill or feeding his kids... America is absolutely tits-and-ass for the 10% of the population that possesses 90% of the money. The rest of us watch oil prices reaching record highs and stay awake at night wondering how we will buy gas for our financed vehicles to get us to the pitifully low-paying jobs that 80% of us are forced to take.

Don't get me wrong, I salute the volunteer forces fighting the foreign war - none of the economic crisis is actually their fault. They're doing what's right and they deserve to be called heroes, but excuse me, they should have never been placed in the position of HAVING to volunteer. Are we all just forgetting, or are we choosing to overlook, that George Bush made up an excuse to invade Iraq ("The British government has learned that Saddam Hussein recently sought significant quantities of uranium from Africa." --George W. Bush, State of the Union Address, Jan. 28, 2003, making a claim that administration officials knew at the time to be false) and how many innocent Iraqi children and non-combantant civilians have died right alongside our valiant soldiers because of it?

Bush was great right after 9/11. All the politicians and leaders were great. I give them full credit for leading the nation through terror and crisis. But after the furor died down, their decisions regarding the response of the military and the search for the terrorist groups behind the attacks was downright irresponsible, completely motivated by greed and political gain. Some of us refuse to see that. There are others that are sick of being blinded, however.

I can support the troops without supporting the war. I can honor the soldiers, and feel pride and fear for them, without honoring their Commander-in-Chief.

We live in the greatest, richest and most willfully-blind nation in the world. We won't let ourselves see what's actually happening outside of our own sheltered little lives. It's not paradise revisited for everyone. All of the amenities are there for those who can afford it, but it gets rubbed in the face of the powerless working-poor who cannot. The media IS behind much of the selfish, greedy attitude of much of the nation - I ask you, however, who Jay Leno works for, and who has made him the coddled multi-millionaire that he is. NBC. One of the greatest drama-queen networks in existence. So who is he to talk?

I love America. Nowhere else would I be able to rant like this. But I hate the politicians who smile and tell us everything is peachy while reaching behind us and either stealing our wallets or just flat-out shafting us. ("You work three jobs? ... Uniquely American, isn't it? I mean, that is fantastic that you're doing that." --George W. Bush, to a divorced mother of three, Omaha, Nebraska, Feb. 4, 2005 ) So I vote, which is all I can do to try and change things. And I work, and watch my family fall farther and farther behind. Inside, I burn with helpless rage as the people around me spend frivolous amounts of money on stupid things I will never be able to afford, like those flat-screen TVs Leno mentioned, or those big SUVs that suck down all the gas I likewise can't afford. All I want is winter clothes for my kids. Screw TVs and new computers and cell phones and iPods. I want the basics - I work my ass off and have to choose between the power bill and a coat for my son, the car insurance or food for a week.

Jay Leno can go bugger himself. After he spends months working his ass off in an average, low-level office job only to discover he's going to be evicted right after Thanksgiving because he can't pay the rent; only after he has to stand back and look at those expensive restaurants, fancy hotels, and bountiful stores brimming with holiday treats and realize that all of that is for the elite, living a life called the "American Dream" but which will never be more than just that for your family; only then will I listen to what he has to say about America being a bunch of spoiled brats. Who is he to talk about GOD in the Pledge of Allegiance? He who has dozens of vehicles worth millions of dollars that he just prances around and looks at?? Yeah, God's been great to him.

I don't want hand-outs - I want it to stop being so god-damned one-sided. And I want the rich to stop telling us all how thankful we should be, when they've never had to skip a meal so their kids would have enough to eat the next day. Don't tell me how wrong it is to be ungrateful when all those men and women are over there dying for our freedom. They're not - they're dying for a political agenda not even THEY understand, in the name of IRAQ'S freedom, which the Iraqis never even asked for. War has never been as black-and-white as "take down Bad Guy A, Liberate Country B, go home victorious." No one wins a war - least of all the innocents who shed their blood and die and watch their children die in the name of someone else's idea of freedom.

If all Americans rejoiced in their freedom and danced around praising one God for all of our blessings, even the homeless children and imprisoned convicts, guess what - the soldiers would STILL be over in Iraq, fighting, dying, being forced to kill, and dreaming of home. They aren't fighting to protect our freedom - because Iraq was never threatening our freedom. The Taliban, and al-Qaeda, located in Afghanistan and headed by the likes of Osama bin Laden, were threatening the freedom of the world. Bush went after Saddam. He got him. But he destroyed Iraq's infrastructure in the meantime, and now we're stuck there in a country that is much worse off than it was before we even arrived.

Go ahead and argue with me - there's always going to be disagreement. Another great thing about America, we're each entitled to our own opinions, and I'm voicing mine, though I am not trying to change anyone's mind. We can all believe what we will. I personally encourage that.

Just remember, George W. Bush is the very one who said, "There ought to be limits to freedom," encouraging his staff's attempt to shut down a politically-biased comedy website (The Onion, to be specific - look it up). How long before the government actually has that power? To limit our freedoms? Think about that next time you're singing the praises of a President who believes this country would run great under a dictatorship... so long as he was the dictator. ("If this were a dictatorship, it'd be a heck of a lot easier, just so long as I'm the dictator." --Washington, D.C., Dec. 19, 2000)

Boo to you!!

Have a spooky day, everyone!!!

Some things money can't buy...

One jack-o-lantern Halloween candy bucket: $0.99

Buzz Lightyear costume, size 3T: $14.99

Pair of shoes to match costume: $17.99

Extra gas to drive kids to Mom's work for Office Trick-or-Treat Day: $25.00

Watching 4-year old son gang-tackle a well-dressed executive in the 6th-floor hallway, pulling on said executive's arms while shouting, "Look at me! Look at me! I'm Tommy!", realizing that well-dressed executive is actually the CEO of the company, having a minor coronary event while rushing to rescue Mr. Boss-Man from sugar-amped toddler, yet having the Big Man himself simply laugh, tell the boy he wins "Best Costume," and give him a high five before extracting himself and going on his way with a smile: Priceless

And that's a Halloween story I will probably be telling my grandkids, with any luck.

Did you know?

Watched this today in a staff meeting. It's being used in focus groups being held by the company in order to promote discussion on how we need to shift our perceptions of the world in order to adapt to a changing society.

Really makes you think. (You might want to mute it, the music gets a little irritating by the 3rd or 4th minute...)





Of course, there are countless skeptics who say all this is either fabricated or greatly embellished. They also say Senator Craig is straight, there's no global warming, the housing market is just fine, and Rudy Guliani would make a GREAT president. Go figure.

Doggone It

So what's the deal with Ellen DeGeneres and this dog-thing everyone's talking about? I watched the whole display yesterday with her bawling on air about the dog-adoption place taking precious little Iggy away from her hairdresser's family, and I'm thinking, is this really worth getting hysterical over?

Long story short: Ellen and her partner, Portia, adopt a dog from an upscale rescue place (that runs out of a pet boutique store) and sign a contract upon the adoption. They spend $3000 on vet bills (who spends thousands on a neuter?) and the dog won't acclimate to life with their cats. So Ellen ever-so-generously gives the dog to her hairdresser, who has two daughters, ages 11 and 12. They bond with the dog, everything's working out, until the adoption place finds out, at which point they say Ellen violated the adoption contract and they go and retrieve the dog.

Then Ellen has an emotional meltdown on her show, and begs the place to return the dog to the heartbroken little girls. The dog-nazis say NO, because their policy prohibits adoptions by families with children under the age of 14. And so it goes. Ellen dedicated another entire show to the issue today, and the dog people have been getting death-threats from devoted fans who apparently have nothing better to do.

Come ON, people!! It's a dog. The kids had it for a month. They WILL get over it. This is not a child, for pete's sake. Are death threats necessary? Would we really regress so far as to commit murder over a stranger's adoption of a mutt? Honestly.

Now, I admit, this doggie-adoption place has their priorities a little skewed. All over the country, millions of dogs are owned by families with small children, and everything's peachy. It's a little on the stupid side to refuse to let this family (who obviously has money - the mom is Ellen DeGeneres' hairdresser) with no history of animal abuse have this little knappy-haired pooch. And also, if someone had taken away my dog when I was 12, I also would have been heartbroken and wailing. But at that point, my mom would have taken me to a shelter and rescued a mutt off of doggie-Death Row to ease the pain.

I can't see spending thousands of dollars to adopt a dog in the first place, and I certainly would not enter into some legally-binding adoption contract regarding said dog. Once I get it home, I don't want anyone doing "routine home visits" to see if I am feeding it nutrionally acceptable food from an aesthetically-pleasing dish, and checking to make sure I've clipped its toenails to the approved length and washed it with aromatic shampoo in water that measured precisely 72 degrees... or whatever. Bottom line is that it would be MY dog in MY house, so the rest of you can get the hell back.

I think animal abusers should be much more harshly punished than they currently are. (In Texas, while animal abuse is a misdemeanor, it's still legal to kill a pet as long as it belongs to you.) I think the world is a sad place where people can't even treat animals with respect, let alone each other. But this makes a parody out of the process of rescuing animals. To truly rescue an animal, one would think this animal was in danger to begin with. Little Iggy wasn't in any danger of euthanization or abuse. He lived in a boutique and had fancier digs than me.

Ellen, do all of us a favor. Shut up. Then, go rescue a dog from a shelter. Fix it up, and give it to the sobbing little girls. Let Iggy go live with some other rich couple. I guarantee the dog doesn't know the difference.

Finally a new post!

Yes, yes, I know. I haven't even HAD a blog that long, and already I have let weeks lapse without a single post. Well, I have been updating the little gas thingie off to the side, but that can get depressing. The good news is that, as of this post, crude is back below $80 a barrel.

More good news

I have recently been made a permanent employee here at American. I've been a temp for over three months, so it's a great stride forward to finally be a "real" employee. The temps here are only given six months to find permanent placement before they're booted out the door. You have no benefits or flight privileges, no overtime and no sick leave. And you only get $9.25 an hour, regardless of what you do.

Most temps move from department to department, filling roles in whatever capacity is needed using their limited access to apply for internal jobs. It's the same as pounding the pavement, handing out resumes and getting interviewed, except you are actually working here while applying to various vacancies within the company itself. They try to get you to limit yourself to three applications a week, as you aren't paid for interview time and it takes away from your temp duties to go and vie for positions. It's also very aggressive - there's over a hundred people in the temp pool, and typically about five to ten positions a week accepting applications.

I got lucky, though. There was a spot open the day I came on as a temp, working as a staff assistant for the HR-Finance director and his direct staff. He needed someone to fill the position immediately, but the job hadn't posted yet on the internal network. The director wanted someone to work the position as a provisional until he knew whether or not they fit with himself and the team. It was tricky because if he decided I wasn't what he was looking for in a secretary, he could cut me loose without a warning, sending me back into the ever-shifting currents of the temp pool, and I'd have lost the time I was working for him against my six months, leaving me with less opportunity to find something permanent.

It was nerve-wracking for awhile. I sat here for over 12 weeks with no indication from him as to my future status. Then he finally posted the job, and I applied, one amongst seven others who leapt on the chance to fill this spot. It came down to two after the initial interviews, and the other one bombed her interview (she wore something slinky and suggestive, as potential secretaries sometimes do, thinking to portray herself as eye-candy to the man she'd be working for everyday... but that doesn't work on a man who is, shall we say, deeply committed to his life-partner - she just came off as cheap and sleazy).

So here I am. Making a lot more now than $9.25 an hour, finally eligible for flight privileges and in less than a month, health insurance for the first time in years. You could probably hear my sighs of relief there in (insert your location here).

And hopefully, it won't be three weeks before I post again.

One more thing...

My little boy got glasses! Pictures coming soon. ((I PROMISE!))

Yarrrr!

It's Talk Like A Pirate Day, maties.

What blimey bilge-rats be comin up with such blubbering nonsense, anyway?

Oh, these guys.

Happy Birthday, Little One

By the way, it's also my darling little Gabriella's second birthday. Happy Birthday, sweet Tootsie-Pop! Mama loves you!!

Gabbi and me two years ago...

Gabbi and chocolate two months ago...

Never-Ending Story

I think it was in 1995. I worked with this guy, name of Gerry, who was the world's most ultimate nerd. For my birthday, he gave me a training manual for Ham Radios - he wanted me to get my operator's license so we could talk on the radio. Now, we worked together, so we talked every day in person, but that apparently wasn't cool enough for him. He was very excited for me. I got about three pages into the book before my geek-alarm went off and I abandoned the concept.

This guy had been in the Air Force for 11 years at that time. I'd been in for two. He still wore his military-issued BCGs, those clunky-framed, plastic-lensed glasses that you expect to see held together with white tape. He always carried around this rather large book, some fantasy novel that he had his nose stuck in at every spare moment. He talked incessantly about his books and his Ham Radios... but this book was part of a series, and he chattered at me to read it. Did I like works of fantasy? Yes, of course - well, I couldn't continue living and breathing unless I read this series, and he pestered me until I took the damn thing to shut him up.

I was instantly hooked. It was a big book, but as a rabid fan of Stephen King, big books were certainly no deterrent for me. I started the first book rather reluctantly, but in a matter of days had stormed my way through it and was clamoring for the second. At this time, I believe fans of this series were anxiously awaiting the release of the fourth novel in the series, the biggest yet in a chain of books that would get progressively larger and more expansive as the years passed.

The series is known as the Wheel of Time, and "Eye of the World", Book One, was my portal into a realm as instantly addictive and breathtaking as anything I'd read since Tolkien. Of course, to any real fan of this series, that catapulting excitement tended to simmer down a bit by, say, Book Six, and I think it was Book Eight that I actually tossed angrily across the room when the plot-line looped back upon itself yet again, but after we fans slogged our dedicated ways through Book Eleven (not counting the damned prequel that reared its unexpected head at us a couple years ago), it looked like the end was FINALLY in sight. The Man Himself, Creator of the Wheel, Robert Jordan, promised that Book Twelve, halle-fuckin-lujah, was the last one. He said, in fact, that if it had to be 2,000 pages long, that was IT. We held our collective breaths, we crossed our collective fingers, we marked our calendars for 2009. It will have taken 19 years, thirteen books and about 12,000 pages, but we shall have our conclusion, our Final Battle on the slopes of Mountain, and the Wheel will be triumphant, dammit.

So, then, yesterday, Robert Jordan died.

Shit.

Book Twelve is in that lovely novel stage known as "notes." The wails of geekdom can be heard echoing across the internet worldwide. Someone will probably pick up those notes and finish the story, but geez. To be so close. He knew he was dying, too. A little rush would have been in order, methinks - lord knows he dragged everything else out, so we would have been okay with a bit of hurry.

But, what can ya do? My condolences to his family, of course - he was an incredibly talented guy despite his falling prey to the lures of mass-market payoffs, hence the horrendously long saga that could have been tidily wrapped up in maybe six books total. He'll be missed in the mainly nerdish world of Fantasy/Sci-Fi. For all of that, I'll probably never think of him again without thinking, callously or not, "Damn... he was SO CLOSE!!!"

Making Headlines

People, things and stories in the news... and my rather cynical thoughts on the whole mess.

Senator Craig
Shut up and go away. You're guilty, you're not guilty... you're resigning, you're not resigning - no wait, you will probably resign... you solicit for sex in a men's room but you're not gay... Damn, who cares anymore!!??

Britney
Your fifteen minutes of fame were up three years ago. Take a hike, you non-talented ho.

Pavarotti
Was talented. Now dead. Let's move on.

6th Anniversary of 9/11
We've been hearing about it since September 1st, and will probably KEEP hearing about it until September 3oth. What better way to further desensitize the American Flock of Sheep to something important than to hound it to death in the media?

Patraeus
He's a liar and Bush's crony. This war ain't going anywhere, regardless of what this moron says.

Buried Miners in Utah
Oh, they finally had a memorial service. It took them six weeks to decide their guys were probably dead?

Hurricanes
Okay, do we truly need a city-by-city report of what amounts to a big rainstorm as it moves across the country?

Parents of Madeleine McCann
It's one thing to be despicable people who would lie to the world for monetary gain (to the tune of $2 million), you see that all the time. But to kill your own child (of course, this hasn't been proven but there's some pretty compelling evidence) and then play off the sympathy of the entire world? How do you walk around wailing and pleading for your baby's safe return, knowing all the while she's dead and you did it?? What the hell is wrong with people, anyway?

And then there's this...
Why? Who cares? What difference does it make? They died 1,173 years ago, who cares how they were related or what they ate? For cryin' out loud.

Emmy in a Box

SNL's Christmas skit featuring the song "Dick in a Box" is actually up for an Emmy award.

See the uncensored version here (probably not okay for work, unless you use earbuds, like I did): http://www.nbc.com/Saturday_Night_Live/uncensored.shtml

I saw this skit when it was originally aired, in its edited form, and I totally laughed my ass off. It's so cheesy but it still manages to pull off an air of hilarity that is vaguely reminiscent of the early-90s SNL. You know, back when it was still funny.

However, for all of that, I can't say that it's Emmy material. I did have to agree with Andy Samberg, who appeared with Justin Timberlake in the skit, when he said he didn't know which would be better, winning the award or knowing they'd have to engrave the name of the song on the award itself. Considering they won't even print the name of it in most media (settling instead for "D*** in a Box" or just SNL's "Box" skit), I wonder how they will tackle the announcing of the nomination.

Samberg also did the infamous "Lazy Sunday" skit, which was just as funny, I thought. Wikpedia says that "Dick in a Box" already won a Primetime Emmy, which I find odd because I didn't realize SNL, which airs at 11:30 pm Eastern/Pacific time on Saturday nights (10:30 for us Okies and Texans), qualified as primetime.

Love in the Heartland

Today, Iowa had its first legal gay marriage. Of course, the judge who overturned the unconstitutional ruling banning gay marriage, issued a verbal stay of his own judgement within hours of the overturning. So, immediately, they had to stop accepting the marriage-license applications. In other words, they allowed a same-sex marriage to take place, but now the state is back in legal limbo on the whole issue, and will probably end up making it illegal again, overturning the marriage that happened today in the meantime.

I don't get this. I mean, I seriously CANNOT wrap my head around it. Why in the name of logic and sanity is gay marriage not allowed? What century are we living in? All these states that are passing these "Defense of Marriage" bills, placing it into their constitutions that marriage is between "a man and a woman" only, are, I swear, the most backwards, idiotic and narrow-minded places in the universe! We live in a world where child molesters walk free on technicalities, sports "heroes" torture and kill animals for profit, politicians vote to spend billions on a pointless, deadly war while half the nation's children are without health care and decent education, and these morons are worried about the fact that two loving people, average everyday people who are not committing crimes or hurting a soul, want to get married but happen to be of the same gender. OH MY GAWD, we can't have THAT!!! It corrupts the goodness and purity of the sacred union of marriage!

Domestic violence shelters are FULL, people. There is not enough room for the women and children who need safety and protection from the legal husbands and opposite-gender boyfriends who are hurting them. The divorce rate, last I heard, was about 60% in the first five years for first marriages, and the vast majority of people are married more than once (my husband, who is my 2nd, is on his 4th marriage). Hate and abuse and misery are rampant - not everywhere, and not just with heterosexual couples, but it abounds nonetheless. My husband, who is verbally and emotionally abusive, can get married unchecked four times, but two gay men who love each other and have never had more than the occasional lovers' quarrel can't even get married once. My sister-in-law, who is an even bigger piece of shit than her brother, can also get married without hassle four or five times, but two honest, hardworking, law-abiding and responsible gay women can't even ask for a license, let alone actually marry each other.

It isn't fair. People are people, and love is scarce. Why are these fools in charge saying that it's a sin and an affront to God for gays to marry, when you know 90% of these self-same politicians are cheating on their wives, cheating on their taxes and who knows what other "affronts to God"? Who are they to make that judgement, anyway? Separation of church and state should take care of this, since theoretically the whole "only between a man and a woman" thing comes from the Bible and the only people who have issues with it are those who are either homophobes or are preaching that love of this kind is a "sin" (usually both).

I'm not gay, but I know plenty of people who are, and their relationships with their partners are a lot more healthy and fulfilling than mine is with my husband. Don't get me wrong, there are plenty of man-woman marriages that are wonderful and strong, but heterosexuality should not be a pre-qualifier to being married. Marriage is a state of mind, a way of life, and although the piece of paper given to you by the state is important in terms of health insurance, legal rights, child custody, etc., that paper is not marriage itself. That being said, it should also not be withheld due to what amounts to gender discrimination.

Hook 'em Horns! WAIT, I'm just kidding!!

This takes fandom to a level that is absolutely nuts (pun definitely intended):

"Church Deacon, OU fan, tears scrotum of UT fan in bar fight."

The thing that made me just shake my head (aside from the idea that having one's nutsack ripped open even makes ME wince... I mean, fuckin OUCH) is when the Sooner's attorney, a guy with the dubious name of Billy Bock, says about his client, "Sure, he's an OU fan. Not necessarily an overboard, die-hard OU fan..."

Say what? Geez, guys, what does it take to be called a die-hard OU fan? If manually tearing open a man's testicles because said man is wearing a Longhorns T-shirt does not qualify you as a completely over-the-top OU fan, then I am not sure I want to know exactly what has to be done to earn that distinction.

The fact that our smooth-mannered Sooner was a church deacon just happens to be the icing on this somewhat gruesome little cake. ONLY in Oklahoma, folks.

Remarkably Smart

My little man started school today. Pre-K, which would be called HeadStart in Oklahoma. I missed the drop-off and pick-up for him, since I'm the Working Parent, but I hear that he bolted towards the classroom so fast his dad didn't even get a chance to tell him good-bye. He's been excited about school for weeks (Tommy, not his dad).

The teacher's assistant reportedly said at pick-up (a whole three hours later) that Tommy was "remarkably smart" and "an absolute joy." Well, I knew that. Dad's chest swelled with pride; mine too, after all I am the one who taught the Boy Genius how to count to 100, spell words like "envelope" and "Cingular", write his name, sound out words, recognize every shape from circles to hexagons, know every color from red to chartreuse, program phone numbers into the phone, build strip malls with Tonka trucks on the computer, etc. His dad taught him the appropriate use of certain cuss-words, how to throw dirty underwear into the corner instead of the middle of the floor, and how to bring him a coke without shaking it up too much. Yes, my child is smart.

I also know he is a joy, with his bubbly personality and infectious laugh. MY chest swells with pride, this I know. At least the pride kept my little guy on his dad's good side the rest of the afternoon. It even earned him a popsicle when he got home. Way to go!

I do wish Pre-K lasted a little longer than 3 hours. It almost seems like a tease to keep them only that long. Especially smarties like my boy. He WANTS to be at school, WANTS to learn and socialize. HeadStart in Oklahoma at least goes most of the day. The issue is probably that there's not enough space for all the kids who qualify to be in the program for a full day. The admittance is based on low-income guidelines, with the idea that if you make over a certain amount of money, you can pay for private pre-school.

Speaking of that, it sure would be nice to celebrate the Back-to-School Season by winning that MegaMillions Jackpot worth $250 million. Of course, I'd take the cash option, so I'd only get about $146 million, pre-tax. Post-tax, I'd stuff it into some big-ass offshore account where the interest can accrue tax-free, then just donate a certain percentage of my annual interest to charities that will actually use the money for worthwhile causes. Better than paying capital gains tax to fund W's Iraqi Oil Extravaganza.

Oh, and I'd definitely share a chunk with y'all in the Bloop. I would! Really! There'd be a helluva party, I swear.

We Interrupt This Broadcast to Bring You...

BREAKING NEWS usually gets your attention.

BREAKING NEWS usually means it's important, at least to someone.

BREAKING NEWS makes you want to get the full story!!!

Unless it's BREAKING NEWS: Police officer arrested, accused of slapping woman's bare buttocks.

How in the hell does someone consider that worthy of its own midday email to thousands of breaking-news subscribers? "Explosion at Downtown Gas Plant" was one thing - that I can understand as interesting, and even important since it closed down two highways for the afternoon commute. "Space Shuttle Lands Successfully Despite Damaged Tiles" was iffy; I could probably have waited on that one, but some people probably cared. "Bridge Collapses in Minnesota; Dozens Feared Dead" was definitely in the breaking news catagory, because I'm sure some Texans had relatives up there.

But this? C'mon, guys. Journalism of this sort makes it a little easier to understand why I wake up sometimes feeling like this country is teetering on the edge of societal collapse. I wonder what's next? "This Just In: President Bush has just completed reading the novel If You Give A Mouse A Cookie, completing the book in just under four days."

Well, no, I guess that actually would be quite amazing.

Moon Fairies

My son has the sweetest little imagination. He's 4-1/2, and just as cute as a button. Big brown cow-eyes and the brightest smile. Last night, after his bath, he came up to me with this look of wonder on his face. He had something in his hands. "Mama, come see!" he whispered.

"What do you have?" I asked, intrigued as to what could be so wondrous and awe-inspiring.

He held up his little hands and in them was a wadded up, dripping wet baby-sized pink washcloth. I must have looked perplexed, because he quickly unwrapped the soaked bundle to reveal a small, plastic Fisher-Price Little Person, which is part of his baby sister's dollhouse set. He then launched into his story of what, exactly, I was looking at.

"She's a moon fairy," he whispered reverently, cradling the tiny, wet doll in his hands. "Her name is Luna, like the big moon, and she came down to me in her pink popper-moon, from where she lives in the blue sky with all the stars and the other fairies."

Now, I don't know what a popper-moon is, nor did I realize the moon fairies lived amongst the stars (I thought they lived in the bushes across the street - that's what he told me last week), but he was just so damn cute, standing there with a wet cloth and a plastic doll, which in his mind was a fairy who came to visit him.

At that moment, I simply could not for the life of me envision how anyone could find it in their hearts to hurt a little child, to abuse a small boy like this, to call him names or treat him like a dog. All too soon he will be a big boy, past the imaginings of fairies and popper-moons and baby-dolls. What will he be like, how will he turn out, if he continues to be treated as though he was stupid and insignificant by the only male authority figure in his life?

I hugged my little boy last night, and wished for him that he somehow manages to always stay this sweet and innocent... and I wished for some vision to come into my head of how I can save him and his sister from this mess I've gotten us into. My gentle little man deserves better.

Signs that make ya go.... Huh?

Standing there, putting overpriced fuel into my truck, I look up and see this sign affixed to the pump I'm using: "Like Fine Wine... only it tastes nasty." Next to a picture of a gas-pump nozzle.

In what possible way is gasoline like fine wine? Oh, I know what they're trying to say... you're putting the absolute best into your vehicle when you use our fuel, etc. etc. But since all of our fuel is refined in pretty much the same way, unless they're putting unnecessary additives into it, isn't it all the same, more or less?

Another sign, advertising fuel for the same station, but this one on a billboard: "Top-Ten Rated... even cleans behind your engine's ears." Now that one's just stupid.

Stuck to the tailgate of a beat-up truck full of what appeared to be individuals born south of America's borders: "Free Hail Inspections."

Damn. And to think, all this time, I could have been getting my hail inspected for free!

Why??

Why won't my last post show up??

Do Not Attempt

Have you ever seen those commercials (of course you have) where the car/truck/SUV is driving super fast around a tight curve, or bouncing merrily through muddy streambeds, or hurling themselves over the tops of sandy dunes? And there it is, in teeny-tiny little print on the bottom of the screen, "Professional Driver. Closed Course. Do Not Attempt." Well, duh. I like my truck. I have no intention of breaking an axle trying to scream over the top of a couple of fallen trees in the middle of the woods. I tend to stick to well-paved surfaces, or at least whatever passes for roads in Texas.

I even saw a commercial with a Ford (I think) that was driving all over the place - literally up the sides of buildings and across ledges with only two tires actually on a surface, like it was driving on the air itself. And the little message popped up on the bottom, but it was tongue-in-cheek: "Yes, this is fake. Cars can't really drive on buildings." or some such.

Then there's this: an AT&T high-speed internet commercial that shows a fast car, signifying how much faster you can go with their service (which is bull), how much more streamlined and cool it is, etc. etc. It has the usual disclaimer at the bottom, Closed Course Do Not Attempt. This is where I'm confused. Attempt what? Because the car, you see, is just driving down the road. It's going fast, yes, but it's just a straight, flat road with no turns, stops or signals. It's even in the correct lane. So.... what is it that this professional driver is singularly qualified to do that the average person should not attempt? Driving straight down an open road? Accelerating? Maybe it's where he stops... not abruptly, but just stops.

It seems to me that these advertising companies have taken the ol' cover-your-ass-with-fine-print-disclaimers thing a little over the top. I'm sure that if someone were to get into a single-vehicle rollover crash and they tried to sue AT&T for having a commercial that showing car driving down the road, disclaimer or not, the case would probably get thrown out of court.

Then again, this is a legal system where wealthy judges are allowed to bring multi-million dollar cases against working-class immigrants over a thousand-dollar pair of pants. So who knows?