Have a spooky day, everyone!!!
31 October 2007
30 October 2007
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
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.
18 October 2007
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.
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.
17 October 2007
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.
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.
04 October 2007
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!))
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!))
19 September 2007
Yarrrr!
It's Talk Like A Pirate Day, maties.
What blimey bilge-rats be comin up with such blubbering nonsense, anyway?
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...
17 September 2007
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!!!"
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!!!"
10 September 2007
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.
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.
07 September 2007
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.
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.
31 August 2007
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.
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.
28 August 2007
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.
"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.
27 August 2007
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.
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.
22 August 2007
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.
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.
20 August 2007
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.
"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.
17 August 2007
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!
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!
15 August 2007
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?
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?
14 August 2007
I'm in!
I made it to the Bloop!! Woo-hoo! Now I am truly complete.
Yeah. Moving right along...
Actually, I am quite excited. I have been reading the Bloop for a long time. So it's cool to be a part of such a great group of people.
Yeah. Moving right along...
Actually, I am quite excited. I have been reading the Bloop for a long time. So it's cool to be a part of such a great group of people.
10 August 2007
Slow news day
You know it's a slow news day when, on every major news website and every local station, there's a "headline" trumpeting a story about a man who beheaded a snake, but the snake bit him anyway after its decapitation. This is news? Hell, this isn't even interesting.
The thing about the miners in Utah, though, that's vexing me. It seems obscene and unfair that they continue to tout their "optimism," cautious though it may be, and repeatedly announce that they're soon going to be lowering food, water, toothbrushes, combs, etc., down to the trapped miners. Like they KNOW the guys are still alive. Why are they doing this to the families of those miners? They are dead. After five days, they'd have died of thirst, shock and probably suffocation. More than likely, though, they were killed in the initial cave-in.
We're talking about seasoned miners, here, guys that are extensively trained in survival and safety techniques, and the foremost of those is to make lots of noise if you're trapped in a collapse, so the rescuers know you're alive and know where to dig to come get you. They've heard not one single tap in the entire time they've been attempting their rescue. No hammers banging, no rocks being smashed together, no shouts or anything at all.
Now, putting aside the "possibility" that they were miraculously encased in a little pocket area, and the fact that they would have had a whopping half-gallon of water each (at the most), why aren't they smacking their hammers against the rocks like they're trained to do? If they were too injured to do so, they'd certainly be too injured to survive this long in those conditions.
It just irks me that there's such unjustifiable optimism for these guys. I know that sounds terribly heartless and cynical, but honestly, if I was a surviving wife, mother, sister, or whatever, of one of these people, I don't think I'd want these officials stringing me along like that. You have to know they're almost certainly deceased, why keep feeding hope to these distraught families, telling them you've got faith the workers not only survived but were able to sustain life in the conditions they're trapped in (they've got breathable air, it's 58 degrees which is not too cold, it's dark but they have water, etc.)... they talk about it like those dudes are sitting around down there, playing cards and smoking cigarettes and just waiting to be rescued.
I actually think it's MORE heartless to feed these surviving family members hope in what appears to be a hopeless situation. In short, they're lying to these people. That's pretty wrong, considering the circumstances.
The thing about the miners in Utah, though, that's vexing me. It seems obscene and unfair that they continue to tout their "optimism," cautious though it may be, and repeatedly announce that they're soon going to be lowering food, water, toothbrushes, combs, etc., down to the trapped miners. Like they KNOW the guys are still alive. Why are they doing this to the families of those miners? They are dead. After five days, they'd have died of thirst, shock and probably suffocation. More than likely, though, they were killed in the initial cave-in.
We're talking about seasoned miners, here, guys that are extensively trained in survival and safety techniques, and the foremost of those is to make lots of noise if you're trapped in a collapse, so the rescuers know you're alive and know where to dig to come get you. They've heard not one single tap in the entire time they've been attempting their rescue. No hammers banging, no rocks being smashed together, no shouts or anything at all.
Now, putting aside the "possibility" that they were miraculously encased in a little pocket area, and the fact that they would have had a whopping half-gallon of water each (at the most), why aren't they smacking their hammers against the rocks like they're trained to do? If they were too injured to do so, they'd certainly be too injured to survive this long in those conditions.
It just irks me that there's such unjustifiable optimism for these guys. I know that sounds terribly heartless and cynical, but honestly, if I was a surviving wife, mother, sister, or whatever, of one of these people, I don't think I'd want these officials stringing me along like that. You have to know they're almost certainly deceased, why keep feeding hope to these distraught families, telling them you've got faith the workers not only survived but were able to sustain life in the conditions they're trapped in (they've got breathable air, it's 58 degrees which is not too cold, it's dark but they have water, etc.)... they talk about it like those dudes are sitting around down there, playing cards and smoking cigarettes and just waiting to be rescued.
I actually think it's MORE heartless to feed these surviving family members hope in what appears to be a hopeless situation. In short, they're lying to these people. That's pretty wrong, considering the circumstances.
My First Post
Wow. Look at me. I'm just so special. After years of thinking about it, I've finally created my very own blog. Now I can join the other 2 million "individuals" out there with their very own blogs.
Maybe I can put my blog on the Bloop, with Random Acts and CycleFreaks and GreenGuru. They're cool. (I think so, anyway.)
Hmmm. Now I'm at a loss for words.
Maybe I can put my blog on the Bloop, with Random Acts and CycleFreaks and GreenGuru. They're cool. (I think so, anyway.)
Hmmm. Now I'm at a loss for words.
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