Karma is the New Black

Karma is EVERYWHERE lately...correction, DISCUSSION of Karma is everywhere. There are Karma cafes, Karma books, Karma dog food, Karma songs, Karma shows, Karma, Karma, Karma. Karma is nearing the status of "fuck" in that it can be an insult, a good thing, an adjective, a noun, a cause or an effect. Long gone are the days that everyone universally pictures Boy George and a color changing lizard at the mention of the word.
But the fact is, good things happen to bad people all the time, and vice versa...mean, stupid, rich people get richer. Nasty people with next-to-nothing to add to the planet, get their words and ideas broadcast daily...hourly. Mother Theresa got sick and died. Innocent people go to prison. Honest people get their heart broken. Children are exposed to war and abuse and divorce.
So the "law" of Karma...doesn't fly for me. "Laws" are sometimes-apply, very possibly-on-Tuesdays type things. Laws are always laws...Karma is considered a type of energy. There are "laws" to energy. For example, energy is never created or destroyed. So how would Karmic energy handle this one if everyone started being do-gooders all up and down the place? What about when war breaks out or a serial killer goes on a gorey spree? Does the planet have to borrow a little bad Karma from the less-bad of the bad? When the world seems to be all turned around, does it take that much less goodness to reap some major benefits? Is it like the stock market?
So do whatever you want to do...and if you do good things- do them just because they make other people happy. Luckily, that makes most people feel good in return so its almost IMPOSSIBLE not to be greedy.

An Informed Flu Shot...

My very passionate and logical, future-nurse cousin was very disturbed recently by the fact that I was receiving a flu shot. Her (completely valid) feelings are that those that receive flu shots are uninformed society-sheep that are propegating a super virus that will ultimately quickly and painfully wipe out the human race as we know it. My flu vaccine was likened to abuse of antibiotics and wasting electricity by not turning off lights. Now, this is fairly new, since the only time I tend to disagree with her is when she's mad at her nearly saintly boyfriend;)- but here is my informed and thought-out rebuttal- mainly based on my education and understanding of how the body works, since you can find arguments in either direction represented as ultimate fact.
First of all, I am aware of the risks of current medical intervention and especially the issues involved with bacterial mutation due to abuse of antibiotics. I am also aware that the flu viruses used in the annual vaccine is an educated guess and is not a sure shot against illness, especially since many winter illnesses are not influenza, but just mirror the symptoms. I am also aware that the viruses are grown in a chicken and that there is possibly mercury as a perservative in the vaccine.
First of all, the antibiotic argument - antibiotics and flu vaccines are not analogous. Antibiotics, in this instance are man made little soldiers that are intended to seek out and destroy bacteria. They are not always specific and destroy their target as well as helpful and natural bacteria, often causing an upset in your body chemistry. Two major problems are that they are over prescribed - for issues that are not always bacteria related, and their intended cycles are not completed by consumers. These factors essentially allow for a Darwinian "survival of the fittest" of bacteria, rewarding mutations that are resistant to standard antibiotics. Another issue is that you can catch the same bacteria many times without your body building a resistance to it - so in an absence of antibiotics (the enemy) bacteria need not mutate.
Viruses on the other hand, have only lasted the test of time because they constantly mutate - and have been doing so from the beginning. When a person catches a virus, their body NATURALLY developes antibodies to that virus. When you catch one strain of the flu, you will very likely, short of a compromised immune system, never get that strain again. That is why many strains develop and spread every year-vaccine or not. A vaccine is the actual (natural) virus - weakened or deadened, in my flu shot's case - intended to inspire my body to build antibodies to it. This is the EXACT same reaction my body would naturally have if I contracted these strains of the flu in "the wild", was on my back for 2 weeks, lost income, possibly missed important commitments, and risked complications.
I don't agree completely with all vaccines, and think over vaccination of young children needs to be more informed and better regulated. I haven't taken antibiotics for years, but if I develope a bacterial infection that my body doesn't fight off, I fully intend to get antibiotics and I hope to gawd that they work.
It would be fantastic if I didn't have to take precautions that were not 100% safe in order to protect myself. But that requires a gamut of social reconstructions that I garauntee aren't going to happen this winter. Workplaces would be clean and open air, endless time would be given for healing and recovery, alternative treatments would be inexpensive and readily available. Yes, someone is making money off of my flu shot, but the herbalist is making money too. And when you do your work, whether it is massively believed to help or hurt, you will make money, too. And tonight I will have fish for dinner, and very likely be exposed to more mercury than I was last night. And I will drive my car home, even though there is a chance that I will side swiped by a bus. Not all risks are uninformed, not all modern medicine is a conspiracy and I doubt there exists any issue that is black and white in this world, and a good argument always considers the other side.

The Bright Side of Life

Ok, call me a total psycho (I'm sure you have already)...but another great depression sounds like it could be just the thing we need around here. If Karma is real-and a real bitch...(another post, for another day) then this will bite me in the ass, but here's how I see it...
From our nations experience, a Great Depression is a time of extreme economic downfall...resulting in the loss of jobs, reduction in value of the dollar, and mandatory page boy hats for the poor. (I have to give Amy Poehler credit for that last observation)
Consider the under 25 population of today. Now maybe I'm just getting old (almost the big 3-0 for pete's sake!)- but kids these days seem like a bunch of spoiled, over-coddled, lazy, entitled wastes of space...for the most part. There's always exceptions to the rule. Seeing this run rampid in people my age, I feel I am actually somewhat an exception. Whatever...as it stands, today's youth wasn't scored in competative sports so that their feelings didn't get hurt, they were/are drowned in positive reinforcement, and "cool" parents that want to be everyone's friend leading them to believe they are entitled to higher education with a caveat that they get to party their faces off in a different zip code than their parents, even if they slid into a junior college. They want to carry/wear designer labels, on someone elses dime. Certain, un-named shows, on certain un-named channels, geared toward youth and pop culture (and in a round about way, toward music)give kids the impression that the 400 kids invited to your sixteenth birthday party should bear witness to your gift of an escalade or bmw or other such status symbol.

And not to just pick on the younger generations...but everyone is far too comfortable with waste...pre-cut, pre-sliced, pre-packaged, disposable, single portions, 3 copies plus an original...made politically correct by using 15% recycled material (does anyone consider that that means 85% brand new, landfill-bound material?) There's a lot that doesn't need to be one-time use...and if you have to stand in line for it, or dig too deep in the pockets for it, maybe, finally...being green will take an actual substantive turn - even if it only has to do with their own interests and not the future of the planet.

So another widely disagreed upon, but good idea, courtesy of moi.

Waiter...there's a fly in my soup.

Well, as a return from a long hiatus, this is nothing but a sorry, sorry excuse. However it must be mentioned.
I'm sitting at my desk and hear this fly buzzing OVER the sound of planes following their flight path that happens to go virtually THROUGH our office. Now...my office is on the 5th floor with no opening windows...for a fly to get in here they would have had to do the following...
Slipped in the door undetected and unassuming, while someone else was using it.
Made its way to an elevator and AGAIN slip in during a 10 second or so time span.
At the final floor (occupied by roughly 50 people) exited the elevator, again, flying in the correct direction in a fairly small amount of time. THEN flying down the hall and AGAIN making it through a door in the small amount of time its in use by one of the 4 occupants of our office space.
PLUS flies have a lifespan of 15 to 26 days if they're LUCKY (aka - not squished), so I have to assume that this journey took the entire life of this fly.
Crazy shit, huh?

How To Have a Garage Sale

Last weekend, G and I had what I would call quite the successful Garage Sale...not because we came away trafillionairs, and not because it was the peak of organization, BUT because I believe it will live on in infamy for years, if not generations, to come. Here's the recipe, but I'm sure it won't come out AS perfect without our special sauce;)
1. Refuse to throw away the most useless of crap WHILE accumulating more for roughly 30 years (results may vary with cooking time)
2. Throw all said "waste of prime real estate" into a room, toss well.
3. Advertise where white trash/"lower class" individuals frequent...craigslist.com
4. The night before, forgo organizing clothes, prepping set-up, checking supplies, or pricing items. Instead make 4 wacky neon signs with false promises, and get to a BevMo to ensure adequate beverages for the event. On the way home, reminisce over hip hop from high school and dance your heart out in an expedition with car seats in the back.
5. Wake up insanely early, run through traffic to hang previously mentioned obnoxious signs, and start setting up - make sure before any children/husbands are released, they must fend off at least one mentally ill early bird.
6. be at least 1/3 set up before buyers start arriving in packs...at this point, start drinking.
7. Continue Setting up, keep drinking.
8. Sell, keep drinking.
9. Get lunch, wash it down.
10. As things begin to slow down, lower the prices...and your field of vision with more drinking [Helpful Hint: Chamagne is not inappropriate at a garage sale if it is in a can]
11. Just short of heat stroke and dehydration, shlep 3 cars full of crap to the nearest Goodwill
12. Celebrate a job well done with a silly movie...and drinks.

Here's a list of DON'Ts:
1. Don't leave anything out/visible/unlocked. If you have tape, pens, chairs, tables, or 1/2 a beer out, some weirdo WILL try to buy it.
2. Don't pick what will inevitably prove to be one of the hottest weekends in CREATION during what has otherwise been a fairly mild summer.
3. Don't pass judgement about your mailman's mate (obviously an inside joke)
4. Don't put kid stuff within reach of kids...they will destroy your chance of getting $3 for that whatever-it-is.
5. Don't lay down in the grass...you WILL fall asleep, and people WILL still buy things from you...
6. Don't take a sleeping pill the night before to ensure "early to bed, early to rise"...just makes the drive that much blurrier.

Hooray for Hormones

This picture is what I imagine such a purely evil element must look like. The complexity of these chemicles could be used of proof that god exists, the effects of the female specific ones would then be proof that said god is not only a man, but a fat, bitter, divorced, ex-frat boy who can't buy a shiney bass boat because his child support payments for his useless ungrateful children are too high. I. Hate. Hormones.
When something is written off as "oh its just hormones" or "she's just hormonal" its like saying, "yeah there's a mushroom cloud, its just an Atom Bomb." Just because it can be explained doesn't mean it isn't atrocious. Hormones come out of nowhere...(ok, these specific hormones come from the ovaries, but at 12-ish when they pop up...nowhere is just as good an explanation). Basically one day your a kid running with other kids, and the next you can't stop crying even though nothing hurts, you hate everyone, a sparce grove of short and curlies appears in a few random places on your body, and the precursers to boobs just make you look like your fat uncle chester (as do your increased upper lip hair, bushy eyebrows,hairy legs and pit stains that your mother insists you're still far too young to worry about).
You spend the next 30 to 40 years trying to find ways to control them. Within years of their arrival, hormones get themselves on a somewhat regular schedule of dropping by. You move from hating your parents, to randomly yelling at roomates, to wanting to drop your co-workers off on Mars (perchlorate and all...for you loyal readers). Here's an example of inner/outter dialogue on days considered basically numbers 27, 28, and 1 of the female cycle:
"Man, this _______ [insert any inanimate object/defense less creature, vegetable or mineral here] is REALLY pissing me off...whoever invented it should be strung up by their toenails and have their teeth burned in their mouth...OUCH, crap! Who punched me in the boobs?!...Dang it...did I wash these pants in hot water again? maybe if I lay down I can zip...Oh christ, WHO is that ugly elephant being in the mirror?! I swear just yesterday I was cute...is it a trillion degrees in here? Am I in the depths of hell?!....What the...why am I CRYING?!!...oooh, are those chocolate pretzels? From when? 6 years ago...that's fine, hand 'em over..."
Sure there are breaks from this cycle where boobs hurt MORE, MORE water is retained, and crying is MORE out of control. And for a possible couple days of hormone induced elation, there is usually the trade off of barfing, weight gain, boob saggage, stretch marks, and generally turning into a train wreck IF all goes well.
There is however an end in sight...and apparently the big punchline is....when these hormones go away, things go all haywire AGAIN!! Flashes of extreme inner heat and sweating, MORE mood swings, a whole new range of hair growth and or loss, and dryness in places where a small amount of humidity is needed for any sort of comfort at ALL.
Yeah for Grrrrl power - and I can't wait to get old either....

Absolute Power Corrupts Absolutely

Apparently Italy has been cracking down on crime. Personally, the only crime in Italy that I can imagine is a man in a buret, a neckerchief and tight striped sweater making off on a bicycle with a loaf of bread...actually, that might be my image of crime in France...no, the Italian guy has a curly mustache...that's the difference.
Soooo, instead of making an effort to crack down by, I don't know...say, having the seasoned lawmakers increase their workload a tad? Or increasing existing law ENFORCEMENT efforts (because I don't exactly see the logic that a lot of crime indicates a lack of laws anyway)?! No, according to this article Italy has handed out law making privelages to its mayors....resulting in some odd laws, for instance:

In Capri, bikinis are A-OK on the beach...but once you step off the sand not so much. I wonder if there's a stipulation for being wrestled off the sand sumo-style? I wonder if tankinis were grouped into the bikini family even though they cover as much as a one piece? I wonder if the male bikini-counterpart, the speedo (aka banana hammock) is suffering the same scrutiny? What about the multitude of other scenarios where bikinis are perfectly acceptable...pools, dressing rooms, pageants, and photo shoots? Or in the office when its made of post-its...
On the beaches of Ereclea, sandcastle building is forbidden. Does anyone else see the irony in restricting the erection of an authoritarian symbol in this manner? And say a person of Shaq-esque proportions shuffles their feet forming a fairly large mound of sorts...can't this be considered a sand displacement and/or structure of some kind?
Restrictions were spread among large groups (and by large, I mean 3 or more people) lounging in a park after dark, PDA's in a car (wow, take me back to high school), and feeding pigeons.
First of all, I am the QUEEN of catastrophic thinking, and I can't figure for the life of me how these things lead to debauchery. Is a bikini off the beach (as opposed to on the beach, because the look itself was not outlawed) anything more than a severe lapse in appropriate fashion judgment? Is a third person in the vicinity while lounging in the park(probably the most non-threatening action next to petting bunnies) a recipe for mass hysteria from mob mentality that will reach epic proportions? Has sandcastle building gotten so wildly out of control on so many occassions that its just not worth the risk to allow kids to flip over their buckets of wet sand? Are there zoning regulations that just can NOT allow the lack of windows common to many sandcastles or is it just the lack of structural integrity and purely an insurance issue at hand? Whatever it is, if there's a potential problem, and I can't come up with it...then it probably simply doesn't exist.
Also...is there a chance that there are ANY existing laws that have already covered some of the potential disturbances of the peace that these situations present? Like a good old fashion indecent exposure statute would cover scantily clad sun bathers from wandering the streets AS WELL AS any vehicular passion from reaching a point of...well, indecency. A closing time on public parks, while possibly not infallable could probably reduce the problems of groups gathering, if in fact this has become a severe issue...
I think its time for Europe's boot to kick ITSELF back into reality. Stop griping, and make me some gnocci!

Things that should be simple, but aren't....

Sometimes, while my mind is wandering, I wonder how something so easy became so complex.
For instance, the whole process of getting a president...who decided at some point that delegates, super delegates, and nearly 2 years of wackiness would make things easier, more fair, or better in any way? I doubt that person is still alive, I DON'T doubt that person is a man, I doubt that I care enough to google it, and I DON'T doubt that my opinion sounds ignorant. Its not researched, just a passing thought I had, that started like this..."hey self, did you ever wonder why once the registration deadline is up, there's not just a president chosen based on number of democrats versus number of republicans. As a general rule, doesn't each vote in their own direction?"
Also, I can't even stop myself from wondering about stopped traffic on the freeway. It happens every day, normally twice a day all over the place...but what the freak?! Freeways have no stops and even when there is an accident it rarely takes up all the lanes. Also the exits are off to the side for a reason, so that doesn't cut the mustard in my mind either. All I can see in my mind, is the 2-5 line of side by side cars at the front of that group of stopped people...stopped for no reason with a big expanse of road in front of him.
Speaking of the freeway...how do they decide which exit is the original exit...the numero uno. Lately I've gotten off on exit number 430 and 200-something...and wondered where #1 was AND if they extend the freeway in the direction opposite of #2, what is done?
So this is definitely not a complete list of things I would oversimplify in my world, it actually isn't even a good representation...but that's it for now.

NEWSFLASH...Mars: Not Earth?!

Yahoo news has once again amazed me...
"Martian Soil May Contain Detrimental Substance"...very interesting considering the recent finding of ice on Mars. Ice means water, which supports life (at least the type of life we know). The point of the article is that a chemicle known as "perchlorate" was found in the soil. But there were some interesting observations that I had to question...
"Scientists previously reported that the soil near Mars' north pole was similar to backyard gardens on Earth where plants such as asparagus, green beans and turnips could grow." - backyard gardens on earth? Kind of sounds like a gross generalization to me. First...how much of the world's soil is actually contained in backyards? I'm pretty sure that the backyard itself is a fairly new creation in the earth's history, a result of industrialization and so forth. This means, its an INFANTILE idea in the scheme of the planet. Also, how many backyard gardens use soil, straight from the earth and its creations, without being altered, packaged and sold? And if they do, I'm guessing they don't often grow successful turnips and green beans in it. Plus, I looked. There are 15 different "Soil Regions" on this planet..and even then, you have to wait for the right climate to grow your green beans.

"On Earth, perchlorate is a natural and manmade contaminant sometimes found in soil and groundwater." Hold on...isn't the point of this article that Martian soil is different BECAUSE it contains this contaminate named "perchlorate"? And in its decscription, its natural earthly occurance AND presence in SOIL is mentioned?

Then one more observation regarding perchlorate caught my eye..."The lander mixed soil with water brought from Earth into a teacup-size beaker and stirred it." Where was it again that this non-earthly, Martian soil distinction substance was naturally occuring besides Earth soil?...OH! That's right...in water.

Now, I'm not a geologist (and my chief geologist is at Shakespear festival this week) but this report seems to leave a few large loopholes, even for the general population. I imagine a frayed, over-worked, under-paid journalist wanna-be with a paper cup filled with coffee, a 1/2 tucked shirt with the sleeves rolled up and files strewn about on their desk...seeing the editor looming towards their cubicle and realizing they don't have a damn thing to report...Googling "Mars," getting bits of a story, and the idiot boss saying "this will be a feature today...nice work Johnson."

UPDATE: By the time I finished writing this...I refreshed the page, and the article had changed to stating that the soil on Mars considered similar to Chile Desert. Chile is still on Earth, unless its been Pluto'd out...

WWFD? (What would Freud do?)

I had a crazy dream last night...which is not abnormal for me. However, it IS abnormal for my dreams to follow a storyboard type sequence so this one is easy enough to explain...
G and I found out somehow that G's 8 year old son, S was being taken through this portal that connected to an alternate universe by untrustworthy folk (aka - bad guys). We had to try to figure out how to get through this portal which was a hole in the overhang right outside her back sliding glass door. We were trying everything, and getting hints from this movie/video game that we had to figure out. Finally, I got some answers...but I don't remember them all...and I was having trouble finding a place to write them down to remember them. I know I needed a certain brand of children's shoes with a character on the side. I decided that because of my small feet (while in real life, G's feet are smaller)- then we had to pull out the pockets of our pants and hold them by the corners and state two different dates...one in October, one in November. There were a few more steps but I couldn't remember those when I woke up. S had helped me figure these out, and I wondered if he was old enough to be able to keep the secret that I now knew. I went to G to tell her and she had decided she didn't believe in the alternate universe anymore, so I was going to have to go through it myself....
So some explanations...I just saw a new picture of S, edited to look like a circular photo...somewhat like a portal. I've seen/ heard about a lot of video games lately...most recently a discussion about "World of Warcraft." (I haven't a clue how I end up in these conversations...) Pant Pockets had to do with doing laundry, I always flatten my pockets and I recently did my jeans and slacks...October and November are S and his brother's birthday months, in fall...which I'm starting to get excited about. And finally, with G going to Hawaii...I will have to handle all my own drama (and by that I mean, only discuss it with friends #2-99) all by myself. Finally the only explanation for the character shoes is that a commercial played on the TV for the new sesame street new balance, while I was asleep.

Bitter Woman...NOT

Ok, so in reading my posts, my dad developed a concern that I am a bitter woman. I'm not...at least not completely;)

I do believe in all people, and that there's good people and people who aren't so good. I think there's plenty of great guys (like said Dad, for instance...or my brother. He's a catch...any single girls, send your resume this way!) I continue to date because there's good guys out there. In fact, a majority of men and/or boys that I've dated are really great guys. I tend not to be attracted to cocky, mean or misogynistic men. I have made some really cool friendships out of failed relationships. I am, however, glad to be single...as the alternative would have been to settle for any of these people who were not right for me.

That said, I've had some interesting and entertaining experience with men, good and bad. Those make the best stories (i.e. blogs) and when there's a funny twist to a situation, that's what I want to tell about. This is being a single woman these days. How fun would this blog be?...

"I said hi to my ex, Mike, on gchat today. He's doing well, his girlfriend is a great girl, much better suited to him than I. We laughed about a movie quote."

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ...no fun.

So no need to worry, dad. These stories are for entertainment purposes only...I still believe in men, and love, romance, and even amicable relationship endings...partially because of you. So, you done good...and OF COURSE I'm voting for Obama.

Hell Hath No Fury...

Now, I feel like this is a matter I have every right to comment on. I've been jilted a time or two, and the most recent jilt should have registered on the richter scale! IN THAILAND! I always come up with some insanely stellar ideas for revenge. One guy sent a roomate to my birthday party to tell me he wanted my TV back...among my plans for him? Taking the TV apart and giving pieces to everyone to whom he owed money or favors. However, in the end, he picked it up, no harm, no foul. Another had lent me a video phone he stole from work...I planned on asking his boss how he would like it returned with a full explanation of WHY I had it. In the end, I gave it back, and he helped me move a desk. Again, pretty uneventful. I even have had the opportunity to out someone who hurt me...and I mean "out"... of the Elton John listening, doing it with other dudes closet....
Anywho...I digress...
I have noticed a lot of media regarding "The Scorned Woman." The phrase "hell hath no fury like a woman scorned" dates back over 300 years. I will be the first to call out generalizations or discrimination, but something that rings true for decades...well, it can't really be argued.
First, Shanna Moakler...former model, actress, reality tv star, and MISS USA for christ's sake! She could probably score pretty much any guy, in any country, of any hemisphere, of any planet- and has with the likes of Billy Idol and Dennis Quaid. She's hot, with a capital H! She dated and married Blink 182 drummer, Travis Barker and broke up in 2006...AND 2007. She had an altercation with Paris Hilton shortly after their first break up amongst rumors of his cheating...and by altercation, I mean an all out bar bitch brawl. MORE recently, she threw a drink on Kim Kardashian at a party...something about questioning her relationship with her (ex)husband while modeling for him. Geez!! The relationship is over. THE GUY is the one who has a responsibility to you and he got OUT of that responsibility. You are gorgeous and famous and have lots and lots of money. Why act like a white trash trailer rat over this guy? There'll be others, I promise. In fact, despite publicly finding out that you're three flavors of psycho - they're probably beating down the door of your rich person house! Really, someone needs to tell this girl that the best revenge is living well. And by being hot and rich, you're already...like, 80% there! Snap out of it girl.
Next, from a discussion about Shanna, I was directed to a video of Trisha Walsh Smith...the YouTube divorce woman. She signed a pre-nup...smart if you ask me for all parties included. Now she's got a video of her ranting about how she herself is an idiot, but her cards (Tarot cards) show that she will be "victorious." Hint: your making an ass of yourself, hence NOT victorious. She calls the secretary, putting an innocent person in the middle of their issues. She feels she is entitled to money that she didn't earn and even calling it "MY pension." A Pension is from WORKING...not marrying. And then she goes into sex...so you're burning him by telling us he didn't have sex with you even though he could?! I would be embarrassed as HELL to admit that. AND she says "can you believe I'm being evicted in 2008 by him even though he has no grounds for divorce!" I'm sorry, is this anti-women's rights in some way? Is it barbaric or archaic in some way that he wants you out of his house, and is offering a sum of 3/4 of a million dollars?! What makes this woman so entitled? And what made these people marry in the first place? Really, the "licensing" process should be a little more strict.
And just as these things are going through my head as a possible blog, JACKPOT...a woman is awarded $150,000 after her fiance calls off the wedding. Now this one makes the most sense...this woman relied on the oral contract of an engagement and relocated, gave up a source of considerable income, and put money into the wedding. So she did have a loss based on reliance of what this man said. That's what civil court is all about. But really...it all comes down to hitting him where it hurts. In the pocketbook. Most men barely blink an eye at emotional pleadings, name calling, or statement so of evil doing. Its the reputation and the pocket book that really brings a tear to their eyes...
And so it goes, with many other seemingly well put together, advantaged women...Linda Hogan, Denise Richards, Christy Brinkley, and Heather Mills (well...ok, she's just all around batshit crazy)...when they are hurt by a man, broken hearted, cheated by love...the claws come out and the game is on. Its like the uterus has a switch (its pretty sensitive, so we'll assume its hidden just behind the clitoris)that instigates CRAZY...with a capital EVERYTHING!!
So men beware. There is nothing like a woman's love...but make sure before you get wrapped up in it, that its THE love you want, or really you have no idea what might be headed your way.

Last Nights Game

Last night was softball game #4, and turned out to be an interesting game to say the least. This was the battle for second place...our team was 2-1 and so was the other team. We all showed up in our Sunday...er, Thursday night, best. Our uniform shirts (nice design Jordan) were all sparkly...and we had plenty of time to warm up. We started throwing around, and the lights came on...and let me tell YOU...night games feel very professional. Now I understand why B almost peed with excitiment on the way over.
So game starts after some suspense over whether or not they would even get enough players by game time...they slide in so close under the wire that they have to send a braless, shoeless player onto the field in order to beat the clock.
Play starts...good rally going on...always those players on the other team that think Jesus' second coming relies solely on THEIR performance on the field (and thusly dress the oh-so-professional part over their fat, old men guts!) And I was in my new fanFREAKINGtastic navy blue and white knee socks.
I'm playing my normal Right Field (que the instrumental of Right Field, by Peter, Paul, and Mary)and come to find out two of these professional city adult softball league players bat lefty...that means balls to me...YEAH!
Soooo, first ball comes out to me...I run like the wind at it, as its foul, but still POSSIBLY catchable...the guy playing center runs at a slightly sharper angle to be behind me in case I mess up horribly...
Now, I need to take a break and mention something. I live with my mom, and I love it. She's a great cook, she's fun, easy going, clean and generous. I try to help, but she never stops being the mom. Last night before the game, when I got home from work...she was just minutes away from putting halibut, roasted veggies, and my favorite...artichokes, on the table. I devoured that (need my energy for the game!). I guess it didn't cross my mind that artichokes have particular tendancy towards creating excess air in the lower digestive tract...
Onward and upward...I'm running for the ball, guy behind me to help...I swoop up the ball (off the ground, where the ball DID in fact, end up falling)and run to throw it...all the while little (BUT certainly audible) poofs of air are escaping from me. OH MY GOD! I'm tooting!! Pretty much crop dusting the crap out of this poor dude.
Fast forward to one of my hits. I get to first...then second...then third. Moving slow but forward....and then off to run home...running with all my might. I cross the line and again, dust the crops that this time consist of the ump...the catcher...and probably all the way up to the announcer.
Of course to me, this sounded like it should have been accompanied by a mushroom cloud and years of genetic deformation. Not sure if this was the amplification of embarrassment or a sad reality. Needless to say...as much as I will assert that girls don't fart...I had some fairly embarrassing something going on during last night's game - and unfortunately we still lost. Now had it provided additional defense, momentary paralysis of the other team, or jet propulsion of sorts, that rockets me around the bases...this would have been a different post.

10 clue's that we're getting older...

Last night G and I went to Valley Fair. This is partially amazing because (clue 1) due to husbands, kids, work, and other such 'adultly' excuses we usually only go once around Christmas.
So far this year, we've been TWICE - pretty much best year ever! So we make (clue 2) appointments at the Benefits counter brow bar. Not to toot our own horns, but for a second visit you know your wit (aka loud shit talking) impressed the staff when they remember you 5 weeks later. Afterwards we try to go shopping, but figure we could be better inspired by some dinner and drinks. We end up (clue 3) in pretty much that same seats at the same bar in the same restaurant as each time that we've been.
After some wine and appetizer that (clue 4) we are both worrying about working off today, we head back up to the four stores we want to hit quick so we can (clue 5) get home at a reasonable time.
First store? Hot Topic. We used to love that place in high school. It UNDERSTOOD us, it SPOKE to our white, middle class rebelion like nothing (except Metallica and Jagermeister) ever had. Now I was walking in wearing (clue 6,7,& 8)a knit top, navy blue Ann Taylor cuffed slacks, and navy blue peep toe pumps...thank GOD I have a nose ring, or I would have never been let it at all!! But due to some liquid courage, we walked in like we owned "punk" and started going through shit and loving it! I got two shirts...one with the Playboy Bunny (kisses, Hef) and one that said, "You totally suck at life." See? I'm still funny in my old age.
I was looking too at the panties and got a little disturbed (clue 9) at the fact that there was something culturally alluring to female youth about have panties covered in pictures of razor blades, no pink, no contrasting cute polka dots or mysteriously poetic roses. I mean, I get the dark Angelina sexiness as much as the next person...but razor blades?! That's like the ghetto version of the dagger! Kind of how the paranormal is cool, schizophrenia isn't...you know? Whatever...maybe I just don't know anything anymore - but my first thought was (clue 10) what kind of message is THIS? Well, ultimately we got to the cash register (I probably could have pushed the clerk out of my own freaking uterus) and he asked if we had frequent shopper cards. I laughed, but nearly lost my shit when G did, in fact, have one. The funny part? The kid asked when it was from because he'd never seen that one...I guessed 1996....
(Bonus: Clue 11) G bought Jellies for her trip to Hawaii because they were so comfortable. When this isn't funny anymore we are really, REALLY old.
So I prescribe for myself some Matlock, a centrum silver, a good power walk, and 3-4 hours bitching about today's grocery store clerks.

AMC - Tell me you're kidding?!

So this morning as I was getting ready for work, I had Project X playing in the background (which I can't even really watch, because those poor monkeys look so sad...oh and Helen Hunt, no surprise, looks so confused). But I WAS watching when AMC (the American Movie Classics Channel) advertised that they would be airing 2 Weeks Notice tonight at 10p. I'm disappointed to say the least. This couldn't be more wrong. Besides the fact that the movie just all around sucks, it can't be considered a "classic" in any sense of the word. Its a fairly recent release (I'm guessing some Blockbusters still have it under "new releases"), was not recognized as anything special at ANY point, and only 1/2 of the main characters is even American! (ok I'm splitting hairs with a literal interpretation there...but come ON!)

Best Children's Cartoon (current)

By far, the best current cartoon, intended for children is Fairly OddParents. This cartoon is on Nickleodeon morning/daytime cartoon that has so many adult and pop culture references that would soar over a kids head, that its hilarious to watch.
There are so many great lines and references it's hard to pinpoint one. But, as an example (and not the best or the funniest)...the babysitter Vikki falls for a guy named Ricky in one episode. Upon being removed from him (or him from her) for some reason, she screeches..."Ricky don't lose my number! You don't need to call Nobody else!!! Send it off in a letter...to YOURSELF!!!"

Wall-E: From My 2000-2001 Perspective

I finally saw Wall-E yesterday after TONS of peer pressure and a well written and RAVING account of the film by Mike Wood. I loved it...most people did. It was creative...most people agree. It addressed some good corporate, enviornmental, and health issues...that was clear. I can't write anything on that because its all been said (and like I mentioned, most eloquently by my baby cousin). However, while I was watching, my brain was instantly shot back to my year of "Womyn's Studies" at UCSB. I was essentially squeezing the major into 3 quarters, so I spent the year analyzing the role of the vagina in everything from Japanese Art History to Lifetime movies to Popular Texts to the Legal System and beyond. This movie jumped out at me as an easy A (even though I'm years out of that)...so here goes what I WOULD have written HAD I been assigned to...

Wall-E is a well done movie and a touching love story. Commentary on the direction of the enviornment, transgressions associated with corporate super stores, and the possible and probable effects of technology on health and good old fashioned human interaction are a very real warning, told with enough light energy so as to reach the masses. Over and above the wonderful animation and original ideas however, Wall-E almost seemlessly breaks down gender roles, adding a layer to the underlying public service of this film. Females and males, for the most part are clearly revealed in this film, Wall-E as the male, Eve as the female, and fairly clear genders among the humans on the ship. Where this film diverges is that unessesary differences and traditional roles have been all but negated without having gender issues thrown at the audience.
Our main character, Wall-E, is a sensitive, slightly flamboyant male character who becomes lost in the throws of love, stumbles clumsily into danger, and often requires rescuing. From the first scenes, we find that Wall-E collects trinkets to adorn his living quarters, where coincidently, he watches the musical "Hello Dolly" and mimics the dance moves. Eve on the other hand is aggressive, almost to a fault. She blasts anything that might be a threat and then swings her gun back into its virtual holster, John Wayne style.
Wall-E falls for Eve fairly quicky and seems to lose himself in the romance. He looks to Eve to fullfill his desire for a narrative much like the old movies, and when it comes down to it, he abandons his life and his purpose to be with her. Eve on the other hand is cautious and looks not to have her directive waylaid. She is independent, and despite her feelings, she follows her objective to pursue the logical line she began. Eve is all business and Wall-E is her hanger-on of sorts.
And the best part is somehow this is all done without coming across forced.
Once on the ship with all the humans, trouble strikes a number of times. Each time, it seems the Wall-E is stuck in a conundrum of some sort, and Eve sweeps in and wisks him away to protect him. Eve also saves Wall-E when he tries to stop a closing mechanism of some sort, and he is not strong enough. Eve comes out the heroic leader over and over, at no detriment to the love story.
Humans too, although made fat, stupid, and lacking in bone density by modern technology, are lacking in traditional roles for the most part. Weight is dispursed the same on all their bodies (don't we wish!). Their clothing, activities, and size do not distinguish them as male or female. When a relationship starts between two humans freed from the grips of their chairs, they seem equally shy and no one is much of the agressor. Also, the pictures of past captains are not all male. Again, making the point subtly but clearly none the less.
The excellent story telling in Wall-E was made more exceptional by the ability to not only portray love, fear, loss, lonliness and hope with very little actual speech but also very little gender stereotyping. Without a second thought, the viewer "gets" the whole story, is not confused about relationships or identities, but is not fed an array of archaic gender notions. Two thumbs up for Disney Pixar YET AGAIN:)

Ahhhh....now if I was only closer to my teens than my thirties, paid $350 in rent, and could run 10 miles a day, and see the ocean from my front door...I would be in college again:)

Red Flags

Ok, so its been a bit since I've posted a dating disaster...not that I'm not still compiling AMPLE data, but nothing has panned out to a complete story yet. So stay tuned, story at 11 (notice, I don't say 11 on which DATE!)
But this flux of dating experience (outside of this too tight circle that I feel I've whirlpooled in for a few years) has caused some discussions about "RED FLAGS." Ones I didn't notice (or did, but ignored), ones we've all seen, ones that at least one of us has experienced or heard at least a 3rd person account of. Some sound ridiculous, some too simple, but you all know these...(and this list is going to be edited as time goes by...)

1. He doesn't call you (see previous dating experience with "happy thumbs") but instead only texts or chats. Inherintly, there's nothing wrong with texting or chatting, but men are lazy. If he can't make it easier on both of you by picking up the phone to see about making plans or ask how your day was, something's up. He's either not single, lying about something that his voice would give away, or a total social reject.

2. He makes the majority of his money illegally. You'd think this was a given, but its surprising how many people who have perfectly good jobs take up side work in the "resale" or "retail" businesses. People are going to find out, you're going to be involved or at least affected...leave it alone. Oh, plus for some reason, this makes guys think they are all around hard asses, and therefore more likely to try to get away with being a "player."

3. Possibly a subcatergory of the above "flag," but men who don't pay their taxes. None of us like them, most of us benefit from them in some way at some time. They're just a fact of life for responsible adults. If he doesn't pay them he's neither responsible or an adult. Again, he's also a guy who thinks he can get away with things - but he won't. And most likely he'll marry you and get his name splashed across your assets moments before he gets caught.

4. Horrible family relationships. Obviously no one gets along with everyone all of the time, BUT I'm talking about those who have cut large portions of family out of their lives. Or really even small. Someone like that is going to be willing to cut anyone out of their lives...doesn't see the importance of family...and won't see the importance of a new family if you create one. Also, this tends to indicate a long line of angry DNA...or even worse, abuse, mental illness, etc. Avoid it.

5. None of your plans include going out in public. Either he's totally cheap, lazy as hell, will get in trouble if he's seen out with a girl, doesn't want to be seen with you, or is running from the law. Really, none of these make for quality relationships, so don't wait to find out which one it is. If he wants to impress you, which he will if he likes you...he will want to come up with something creative for you two to do.

6. He doesn't have any friends. This is like not getting along with your family. Friends are your history, your support, your social network. If there either isn't a soul he has found that can spend time with him, or there isn't a soul he sees fit to spend time with, then why would you want to hang out with him. More importantly, if you become his only friend...he will want ALL your time. He won't understand why you two need to go socialize with YOUR friends, and they probably won't get along anyways. 2 is the lonlinest number...

7. His best friend is a girl...and she's also his roomate, workmate, and his sister's best friend. He's taken...basically married. She won't ever like you, she'll be on half your dates, she'll be there when you guys have a fight, she'll be there when you guys wanna have sex, and she'll be judging constantly. Double extra big flag if she sleeps in his bed, does all his grocery shopping, and organizes his meds. And when you guys break up (after she has a heart to heart about how you've changed him, aka made him less available to him) she'll be there.

8. He doesn't want to have sex with you. This could say a million things about him...but its what a girl believes it says about them that is going to be the problem. This will convince you that you are a direct desendant of Quasimoto and will slowly break down your self-esteem. Its impossible to feel okay when a man in the relationship doesn't want to have sex...and whatever it is that lead to it, will most likely also lead to dumpage shortly...

9. He's a cat guy. Guys should like dogs. Guys should want something strong, loyal, sweet, and personality filled. Also, men are less clean and cats can cause the most diseased, rancid smelling situation without constant upkeep. This argument is poor, but with 100% certainty, every guy I've dated who had a cat was a COMPLETE mental case.

10. He can't make plans more than an hour in advance. Don't listen to his crap about being spontanous, etc. He's waiting for something better to come along, and you're not it. He can have 6 jobs, 3 kids, and single handedly feed a city of poor...he schedules this stuff, and can and WILL schedule you if you're worth it to him.

11. Extreme Mama's Boy. Defined as a guy who's mommy does the majority of his laundry, grocery shopping, cooking, bill paying, decorating, etc. You're never going to measure up. Look up the madonna/whore dichotomy if you don't believe me.

12. (addition) No girl wants to admit it, but nearly everyone has some experience with it, so I'll take one for the team.... He's Married. It should be a given. It IS a given, but these guys can be so sweet and charming, and seem to be so forelorn. Just remember there are two side to every story. No matter how cold, distance, naggy, and demanding his wife is...she has a side too. Part of which turns out that her husband is unfaithful. And despite being all those things, he is still with her and will still be with her most likely long after you're gone. Either because a)she's the only one he ever really wanted, or b) he makes the decision to stay in a miserable situation for one reason or another. Either way, he's a big boy, its his choice, and you aren't going to save hime.


So, if I dated you, Geneen dated/married you, or my hairdresser heard about you...thank you for showing us the light.
Also thank you to my contributors...Geneen, Kaitlyn, Liz, and Susan.

Movie Collection

I love movies, and my (very incomplete) movie collection probably says a lot about me. You be the judge....

Starsky&Hutch, Zoolander, Eddie Murphy:Raw, White Chicks, Old School, Superbad, Grandma's Boy, Black Sheep, Tommy Boy, Billy Madison, Mr.Deeds, Big Daddy, Harold&Kumar Go To White Castle, Wayne's World, Wayne's World 2, Superstar, 40 Year Old Virgin, Kung Pow, South Park, Artisocrats, Mallrats, Clerks, Clerks 2, Jay&Silent Bob Strike Back, Baseketball, Saving Silverman, Super Troopers, Office Space, A Mighty Wind, Waiting for Guffman, Grumpy Old Men, Bringing Down the House, 10 Things I Hate About You, Drive Me Crazy, Clueless, The Sweetest Thing, Little Black Book, The Truth About Cats and Dogs, Nine Months, How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, Charlie's Angels, Riding in Cars with Boys, Last Holiday, Mermaids, When Harry Met Sally, Moonstruck, Terms of Endearment, Hope Floats, The Hours, Cutting Edge, Little Women, Princess Bride, Bridget Jones' Diary, Beaches, Steel Magnolias, Girl Interrupted, American Beauty, Sliding Doors, Antwone Fisher, Big Fish, High Fidelity, Almost Famous, Thomas Crown Affair (new), Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, E.T., Edward Scissorhands, Punch Drunk Love, Welcome to the Dollhouse, Happiness, Little Miss Sunshine, Juno, Napolean Dynomite, Dr. Strangelove, Big Lebowski, Groundhogs Day, Caddyshack, The Man with Two Brains, Airplane, Blazing Saddles, History of the World Part 1, Vacation, European Vacation, Some Kind of Wonderful, Risky Business, Overboard, Goonies, Ghostbusters, Space Camp, Short Circuit, Trading Spaces, Ferris Beullers Day Off, Fast Times at Ridgemont High, Dazed and Confused, Singles, Hedgwig and the Angry Inch, Flash Dance, Dirty Dancing, Moulin Rouge, West Side Story, You'll Never Get Rich, Some Like it Hot, An American in Paris, On The Town, Breakfast at Tiffany's, One Flew Over the Coocoo's Nest, Auntie Mame, The Graduate, The Quiet Man, An Office and a Gentleman, Happy Feet, Bug's Life, Toy Story, Toy Story 2, Shrek 1,2&3, Snow White, Jungle Book, Annie, Yours Mine and Ours (old), Shanghai Knights, Jackass, The Manchurian Candidate (new), Phone Booth, Cabin Fever, Sex in the City (Seasons 1-5), That 70's Show (season 1), Nightmare Before Christmas, Rocky Horror Picture Show, SNL Best of: Dan Akroyd, Mike Myers, John Belushi, Molly Shannon, Gilda Radner and Steve Martin, So I Married an Axe Murderer, My Best Friend's Wedding, Run Away Bride, Four Weddings and a Funeral, My Big Fat Greek Wedding, Wedding Crashers.

Babe-e Dad-e

Ok, I know for a fact I'm not the only who saw their first commercial for Disney Pixar's Wall-E (Waste Allocation Load Lifter -- Earth-Class) and thought...Hey! That's Johnny 5 squished down and animated(ish)! If there's any mystery at all about this baby's daddy...I have the solution.

All I Have to Say About SATC

Don't worry...I won't do a rundown of the movie, how its a little idealistic and predictable for my taste...etc, etc. I enjoyed it to the degree of my expectations, and I'm a HUGE fan of the series.
No...all I'm really going to say is that if you are a guy and you go with your girlfriend, or you are a girl that takes her boyfriend you are serious losers. This is not just a chick flick...this is a culturally female and/or gay male EVENT. And all this says is that you are one of those couples who abandoned all their friends and identities on the side of the single road the second the relationship bus came along and ran your ass over.
To repent, please do the following....remember all your girlfriends? If you don't, check those undialed numbers in your phone...call them and set up something that involves foo foo drinks, foo foo smells and mini forks. While you're gone...send your boyfriend/husband/capteur a la Tom Cruise/little biotch out for drinks with the boys. He doesn't even have to KNOW the boys because either way they shouldn't be "talking" or "connecting"...just have him go to dark, dirty bar where there is crap on the floor and an oversized television with too many pixels showing a contact sport.
If it just so happens that a straight male enjoys SATC in its purest form, first...look up the definition of straight and maybe start "experimenting" and second, just wait. It will be on DVD in a short while and only you and Netflix will know you watched it. Oh, and don't go alone...we assume a man, alone in SATC is going to either murder us or wack off during OUR movie.
(one person gets a free pass on this one...Anne...because she's already seen it twice before...with her family, then with girlfriends, and soon possibly with Matt. If she went to a movie with gratuitous sex with Susan, she has earned it)

The Immortal Bean

7am news...new study out regarding health benefits of 2-6 cups of coffee daily. The study's findings (according to the news caster)? Coffee reduces your chance of dying. Pretty bold statement, considering everyone since the beginning of time has died. And even if that was mispoken...the doctor reporting goes on to mention that although coffee can extend your life (by minutes or years was not distinguished) it can also cause high blood pressure, palpatations, and other health issues. So are we saying those lasting moments of life are going to be spent suffering angina? Perhaps hooked up to tubes and monitors?
This report lead me to 2 conclusions...
1) To all those people thinking that I am losing out on enriching my knowledge by indulging in Adam Sandler, Spongebob, and Rock of Love...at least I come out of those shows entertained, if not any more informed.
2) If you like coffee...drink coffee. Nothing in the umpteen billion years that people have been drinking it have their been any conclusive findings* as to whether its "healthy" or "not healthy." If it feels good drink it. If it doesn't, don't.

*Disclaimer: I didn't look into every coffee research ever done...or ANY for that matter, beyond what I saw this morning. But I figure something conclusive would have made this report null and void...which it was anyways...so there.

Welcome to our world-babies of 2008

Yesterday Finlay Barry was born to my friends Mark and Courtney...he is adorable. He has two of the most kind hearted, fun, witty people as parents, and it will be fun to see the traits he gets from both of them.
While I'm at it...I'd like to also welcome Stone Porter who's mom is just like me (we're twins)! and makes tater tots...he will ALWAYS eat well and laugh a lot...and I am guessing he'll be in some way involved in a marathon within a year.
Katelyn Brian was born to my old babysitter...and she is going to need the laid back sense of humor of her mom to deal with her older twin brothers...
And of course, welcome to Addie and Katie...these two are going to be endless laughs and fun - with their parents, it will be impossible NOT to be...
I'm so proud of all my friends who have recently become mommies (some twice, some again)...
Any babies scheduled for the second part of this year?!

For Ali - the secret to O.P.I. application

I've done extensive research on this subject and developed a method, no...a SCIENCE to making O.P.I. nailpolish work for me. Most likely a revolt against Ali telling me she doesn't like it after I threw out every polish I have that is NON-O.P.I. compliant, because it looks cooler that way;)

Step 1: clean, non-greasy nails -a must.
Step 2: O.P.I. Chip skip...one coat, giving an additional horizontal sweep across the top
Step 3: Don't add a basecoat as recommended, jump right into your creatively named hue...2 coats, 3 if you MUST, but make them light.
Step 4: Wait one minute and apply top coat.
I'm on day 4 with not a chip anywhere and I've done laundry, dishes, and ran my fingers through my hair.
Current Color: Make Love (Wishful thinking, boardering on Dillusional!)

Joys of Dating: Sunday Brunch

Despite the fact that age steals the illusion of happily ever after (as does watching all those fairytales end with lawyers and custody spats...)dating too, gets worse with age...or maybe men have just been steadily devolving as I've aged...
Regardless, here's a date for the record books.
Background...an eharmony date...my first one, because...well...I don't tend to want to spend time with anyone I don't know. Now I remember why...its a gamble. And I am NOT lady luck.
So we spoke on the phone about 5 times and decided to go out...I suggested Sunday brunch. Safe. Lots of people around. No walking to a car in a dark parking lot...and I LOVE brunch food. So, Ralph Machio, we'll call him...agrees on Thursday to a date on Sunday...but calls Friday to see what I'm doing. Not THAT weird, but he pushed..."you're not going to be at dinner all night right?" Ok, we have plans, I like plans. Leave me alone. Same thing Saturday...Arrrgghhh! Guess the guy really wanted to see me...
OR NOT...he showed up 30 minutes late, and even though I had called to ask where he was, he never mentioned being late, an apology, an aknowledgement, a lame brained excuse that I'm growing so (not) fond of in men recently. He saunters right up...to my BOOBS. Lets just say that I think he was using the metric system when he measured himself...not in and of itself a problem, but when you've lied...come on. Did you think I wouldn't notice?!
So we sit (Ahhh, even ground). Its outside, its a beautiful day...neither of those being an excuse to never at any moment remove your polarized sunglasses, so at any point that I look directly at you I'm forced to view my own horrification at the mornings events. Luckily, listening and rarely getting a word in edgewise doesn't require attempted eye contact..
He spoke at length about Karate (get the reference now?) and how he taught it, and how he was going to teach me, and how he could break every bone is someone's body. Sweet...the hobit can hit. My saving grace...the waitress. Poor, poor waitress. I proceed to tell her what I want, guided by this clever piece of paper they had given each of us, otherwise known as a menu. Ralphy though, wants something with just some eggs, pancakes, sausage...I know we've all heard of it - its called a Grand Slam Breakfast, and maybe he thought the waitress at the swanky french place would run over to Denny's and pick one up for him? Not even a thank you...again, horrification (I love this word, I feel like I could make it onto a Bush-ism flip calendar with it.)
Food comes, and now we're deep into every job he's had since age 11...fascinating, really. The fact that I'm sticking a fork in my eye just thinking about it is in NO way indication that I was not enthralled with the life of this little dungeon master. But soon he stops and looks at me (welcome reminder to me that I'm actually present and not just having an out of body experience). He then asks, "Is your hair thin?" I'm sorry...but that immediately brings up images of rogaine and not only being the president, but also a member. Thing is, my hair is NOT thin...I mean relative to some very dark skinned ethnicities, yes, its thinNER, but not thin. I have trouble even voicing a response, so he changes it to "soft." I touch my own hair, look at it, because I believe even my hair is bored to tears...and say I guess so. So he asked to touch it. It was creepy...not sure if it was because I figured if he got ahold of any, a doll in my likeness would be forthcoming. Regardless, creepy. Way creepy.
So we get to the point of leaving (finally - a hundred lifetimes later) and we walk the ugliest stretch Santana Row has...very fitting. I herd us toward the parking lot and walk past my car on purpose. Then turn around when I "suddenly" realize I missed my car. WISH that worked...he took my momentarily turned head to set up for making out. Like I wanna lean DOWN to play tonsil hockey in the middle of the day with farmer's market goers walking by. Not a chance. Ok a chance if the rest of the date didn't suck balls.
And the banger of a conclusion...he walks me to my car (because this most certainly has not gone on NEARLY long enough) and because I am avoiding his advances he decides to make one last attempt at getting closer. And starts tying Boy Scout knots in the rope that went around the waist of my dress...there's nothing funny or ironic enough to say about that. Only that this should indicate to you how fast I jumped in my car, peeled out of Santana Row, and was on my way to terminal single-dom.

Joys of Dating: Happy Thumbs

A wise man once said, (ok, just joshing...my brother once said, and I'm pretty sure its not even his original thought) that "texting is for teenagers and affairs." Ahh, and how right he is. Teenagers are constantly surrounded by the lurking enemy...adults, teachers, parents or other such daunting figures of authority that in a few short years they will all morph into. They have to guard their privacy with a vengence, shown also by other activities native to the teen; note writing, extreme slang use, and my 90's favorite...pager language. When I was younger and a parent was around we'd just say "elephant" meaning, "I can't talk about it right now."
Adulterers, too, have a careful dance of information that must be performed. And all without the person who is closest to them...has probably folded their underwear, knows the locations of their moles, and can perfectly mimic their sleeping positions...finding out. So silent, erasable, and informative communication is a must.
But why is it that men in their late 20's and well into their 30's chose texting as their main form of communication? Its like it falls in line with the "gaming" fad that has created glorified space invaders as an acceptable adult obsession. I get that you can think out what you say a little better, but otherwise its inefficient and lacks personality...not to mention it lacks inflection, allowing for misunderstandings abound.
So a girl walks into a bar...no, its not a joke. Unless you consider my life a joke (which wouldn't be far from the truth). I'm with a friend, and long story short...a man approaches, starts up a conversation, and a lovely evening ensues. 3 girls, one guy, and a few hours of above average stimulating conversation. Said man (I call him "happy thumbs") inquires in great depth about what girls want, best ways to meet girls, etc. Seems intuitive, polite, and intelligent. At the end of the evening, I got a hug, he got my number. Three days later...heavy texting ensues. 4 hours later, we've had the equivalent of a 15 minute call and I've had to put down my read of the week about 8 bazillion times to type using the phone pad keyboard. Something I have admittedly become AS familiar with as the asdf contraption I'm on now. The next night, things seem to begin in the same direction. This is not my first, or even fourth encounter with this method of relationship growth, or dwarfism as the case may be. I make mention (by text ironically, because I'm not going to be the one to make the call - he got MY number) that I don't favor text as a way to get to know someone. He apologizes, says he's quiet when he's tired, and I graciously offer to accept a call the next evening. Call never comes...but a text does. I try to approach from another, less direct road (now you guys see?! you force us into this chickness!)and answer once shortly and then not again. The next evening, he makes clear that he didn't get the clue. He mentions (in phone shorthand, provided the limited space) that he'll be away for the weekend and call me when he gets back. And he does...wait, no he doesn't. He texts. He continues to text...how his day was, invites to hang out, and intentions to get to know each other better. But seriously...if you can't even reach the point in the relationship that I've already hit with every telemarketer this side of the Mississippi...why would I want to explore that facet of our textlationship...much less hang out. Would I have to text him during dinner to see how he was enjoying his chicken picatta? Would I have to work my thumbs when he was handed the bill to see if I could "give u $ 4 that?"? I have to admit, I don't get it and I don't like it.
So men, the new "opening the door" or "walking her to the stoop" is picking up the phone. Dial...risk that ever looming possibility of the voicemail. Throw caution to the possibility of call waiting or an awkward silence or two. Our expectations are SO low after all the Warcrafters and Dungeon Masters we encounter, that a simple call or two gets your feet firmly in the door.
You and your trophy wife can thank me later...

Adventures in hell...

So exciting news!! Coming in Just 33 days is...wait for it...my 29th Birthday. Woo-freaking-hoo. I love my birthday, I love getting presents, I love my friends and family gathering FOR ME, and I love that I'm having birthdays as opposed to the alternative...death.

This year however, my first card was less of a Hallmark, and more of a notice. From the DMV. And not just any notice, but the DREADED notice that proclaims that its just been FAR too long since I've graced the bowels of their gray soul sucking walls with my sunshiney presence. Seriously?! Isn't there ANY other indication that I'm still fit to be licensed? Like...oh, maybe the fact that I haven't been in an accident (that sound was me knocking on my desk)?! Or the fact that I made it to the DMV at all?!! If they were REALLY concerned, they would come to ME...make sure I was safe before I was released back onto the roads. So no, the fitness of my ability to operate a motor vehicle is determined by my ability to stand in line, not catch the dreaded cooties in the filth that millions go into annually, understand why B086 is called before F032 but after G054, and decipher the broken (and I'm talking into a million little shards) English of the person determining my transportation rights.

So I start at the first desk...no, backup...I START by making an appointment, and responsibly notifying my employers of said appointment. BIG fat deal...I get to the first desk and on the left is a sign indicating people with appointments should line up there...on the right, people without appointments. BUT, here's the curveball...the sign in the middle says "start here" and is the only line with an attendant. So I get in this line and say, "I have an appointment" and I get an F number (no verification of said appointment) instead of a B number- obviously saved for the savages that didn't make an appointment. He tells me to sit and wait. Now recall I discussed the order of numbers called? At least 3 B's came before each F. Sweet...only in a mixed up hell with carpeted walls, yet linolium floors would the universe favor those who didn't bother making an appointment.

I'm finally called, after whatever disease was on the seat has sufficiently seaped through to my skin. I had also had a chance to contemplate the fact that if pretty much every adult needs to go to the DMV at relatively regular intervals, then the 90 or some odd people in this building should be a good cross section of society...and if this is true, then the world is doomed. Fashion? Doomed. Hygiene? Doomed. Evolution of education? Doomed. We're all doomed. Anywho...I handed the woman everything she needed...my license, the check I wrote while I couldn't stand to leer at these people any longer, the paper that was mailed to me (fully and correctly filled out), and my aforementioned arbitrary number.

I will suspend my critism of this woman as a person, as well as my rendition of her accent, because that stuff is just petty...plus I've got plenty of ammo without it. She asks am I at the same address...yes, I am. She proceeds to read it loud enough for the world to hear...in fact, wherever that silly Bin Laden is hiding, he probably caught wind of it. For Christ's sake, same address! Then my phone number...I say it slowly but quietly and she repeats it over her own inner loud speaker...SHUT UP!!! Hello?! Could I be the first person in the DMV to not want her personal information displayed in light? Insanity I tell you.

Then there's the eye test...and for those who saw my glasses as a child, it comes as no surprise that one of my eyes doesn't' work too hot. Its lazy. I let it be lazy...because I understand the mentality well. And there isn't JACK that can be done...no surgery, no nothing. So I read the bottom line of eye test 3, cover the left eye, read the bottom of eye test 2, cover the right eye and nothing...she looks like she's never seen this before. I need to go to the "machine" to verify (verify what exactly?! Didn't I just say, I can't see letters with that eye?!) So I go to the forehead activated machine and my hypochondriaced A$$ almost passed out...NO covers...I'm putting my forehead on the forehead of everyone else for who knows how long. I am trying to decide what antibacterial product in my purse will best burn off 3 layers of skin...and I do the machine. She asks, with my right eye covered...can you see line one? Nope...I can't read any of them (aka, release my forehead from flubbers evil twin!) But just to be sure...she asks about line 2. Nope. Line 3. Line 4-8...but individually. UGH! She asks if this has ever been diagnosed by a doctor (uh yup...when I was three)- because obviously, in her many years obviously as an opthamologist who happens to enjoy working for, arguably, the worst government agency around, has never seen an eye with bad vision. She settles on me getting a license (nice choice since I already HAVE one)...but I have to fill out a form. Honest to god (because no one could make this shit up) it reads like this....
"I have vision in my ___right eye, ____ left eye because:
vision impairment _____________________________________________
injury:________________________________________________________ "
I read it twice...then again to her...she nods (yes, stupid). She asks which eye I have vision in...I say both..I'm not blind. "But you can't read the lines." I know, and I know what she meant, but I have vision and I'm gearing up to kick some hiney if I'm not granted my god given right to take an awful photo and lie horendously about my weight! Then I mark that I have vision (and by that, they meant good vision, because THIS is where the DMV decides to save time) in my right eye. But then there's that "because..." well, because nothing. I ate my carrots? Good genes on the right side of my body? Its my cross to bear?! I don't know why...they want to know why lefty doesn't work. Does the DMV not have anyone who edits? (hey Mike...possible job opportunity:) LOVE YOU!)

And then the photo...I step up smiling so he doesn't catch me off guard...I'm well made up, but the camera guy - we'll call him El Freako" topped off sharing all my information with the cream of the crop crowd by projecting out my full name.

You'll be glad to know, I made it out alive. To write this...for you- Sean and Michael.

Scratching...the new Prozac?

Yahoo really knows how to put the hard hitting issues out there at the forefront. And by hard hitting I mean random Cliff Claven type facts with headlines that draw you in like a fly to shit, or honey...yeah, more flies with honey and such.

So this morning I see that Scientists Have Discovered Why Scratching Feels Good...apparently, the act of scratching shuts off the part of the brain associated with bad feelings and memories. What the...?! I'm not idiot and this just doesn't do it for me. You're saying, whether it be my back, the bottom of my foot, the inside corner of my eye, or that spot on your leg you just can't find, so you think its on the inside...when sharp objects move along ANY skin, you shut off certain parts of your brain? That is some crazy Ish-nizzle-nit!!! Kind of kills the whole theory of scratching your head when you can't remember something...that's right Disney! You've misled MILLIONS of western youth. And what about the fact that you don't generally see people in traumatic situations or in states of depression scratching wildly. You'd think if itching was the answer to abolishment of Prozac, the well evolved human physique would find a way to cause massive itching proportionate to the bad feelings and memories someone was having...but no such luck. Although, animals do seem to ALWAYS enjoy a good scratch. And my blind dog, Stevie Wonder, enjoys a scratch more than the average pooch. Could it be that the canine physique has figured out what our bodies have not? Stevie runs into a LOT of stuff...possibly VERY traumatic...so perhaps that's why he's itchy. Along those lines, I'd have to assume that dogs are evolving much more efficiently than people...hence, OBVIOUSLY...dogs will soon be taking over the planet. Practice greeting by ass sniffing ladies and gentleman...this is our future.

On a side note, apparently scratching also awakens the compulsive parts of our brains. Makes sense, the more you itch, the more you want to itch. We'll see how that affects Planet of the Pooches.

DJ Tanner

Do you remember seeing your parents' senior portraits? Or maybe your babysitters' yearbooks? Immediately you could make a connection...every generation, or decade, or fashion era has an group of go-to icons that defines it.
Pictures from the 50's/early 60's....for those of us that missed that time...immediately conjures up images of Leave It To Beaver - with the apron wearing, hair coifed, dress and pump wearing mother or a nameless bobby sock, saddle shoe, poodle skirt Pink Lady. And the rolled jeans, cigarette packs in the sleeve, hair slicked images of West Side Story. School books bound by belts and oozing morality. Also converse...but more on that later.

A yellowed high school photo from the 70's...take your pick- Jan, Greg, Marsha, Peter, Cindy or Bobby...or perhaps the blaring image of a "hippie" in frayed bell bottoms, flowing tie dyed shirts, tassled leather vest, and little round sunglasses...and possibly, some converse?

The 80's...ah, infamous 80's. Everyone was Cyndi Lauper, cut the fingers from their gloves, worshiped Michael Jackson in his red leather jacket, one gloved glory, ratted their hair, and wore neon like it was going out of style (which, surprise, surprise, it did!), and got in shape with Jane Fonda. Basically, you could name the Brat Pack member who was the twin from any school photo...and converse came in those neon colors too by the way.

So I was the 90's. I was in high school from 93 to 97 - and didn't really notice much of a "style." Sure things came in and out...but there was a 60's-ISH style that went around, a 70's-ISH style that caught on for a bit, and even some 50's elements that showed their moth ball smelling faces. I was certain that my generation had no defining "style" and 11 years later, I'm still convinced the defined, quick iconic identity just skipped us (although I loved my converse!).

But THEN...a few days back a friend brought her daughter, currently a freshman at my alma matre over. Of course, like all kids THESE days, they look like they belong on MTV's Sweet Sixteen, wearing expensive labels, "skinny" jeans (doesn't necessarily refer to the wearer), and a shirt that has some witty comment that until these shirts came out- was considered stupid. Oh wait, no. Still stupid. I decided to show her what her teachers looked like "back in the day." She got a kick out of that...and then started looking at the kids, my peers. And do you KNOW what she said?! Do you know what apparently DEFINES my generation?! FULL freaking HOUSE! Uncle Jesse, Joey, the Tanners...I don't know whether to be appauled or excited. I loved the show...okay, I lie. I LOVE the show, present tense. I still get comfort from the three girls with a dead mom, and 3 idiot men trying, and somehow excelling at raising them. But its no "Saturday Night Fever," or "Sixteen Candles," or Woodstock (the original). A pointless drivel of a sitcom. The jury is still out on how I feel about this....

Everybody Says I Love You

Wow...I like movies, but I loved this one. It may have very well just been the best context to be introduced to silly cinema. Raining outside, bored to tears with what was on the television, tapped out on running errands, and sickened by the thought of wiping another counter in the house...I went to On Demand and decided to search the Free Movies. It said "Love" in the title and had Julia Roberts, a combination that could at the very least be mind numbing for almost two hours of daylight and at best could actually grab hold and tug one or two of my cold, leather, titanium plated heart strings. Read on because I can't stand any sort of surprise...its a Woody Allen film. Eh, I can go either way with him. I like a little dark, whiney comedy with sexual undertones all wrapped up in a bag of blatent neuroticism as much as the next guy...but when the lines start to mimic each other, its another Woody Allen movie.
Open to Edward Norton and Drew Barrymore (dressed like my Martha Stewart on Martha's Vinyard fantasies - not as sick as it sounds), frolicking and singing. Correction, Mr. Norton is crooning away, and Drew is virtually silent. Turns out she is the only one who refused to sing...since all actors where told about the singing AFTER their contract were signed. There is a familiar narrator (correction, familiar as a narrator only if you've seen the masterpiece "Slums of Beverly Hills")who begins to explain the family dynamics and stops...and if you pay close attention, never really finishes, so we are left with a little bit of mystery.
The movie has some song and dance pieces that are wonderful...don't let the first song deter you...its far too repetative and boring. Give it a couple of numbers. They get sillier...more familiar (obviously not original numbers)...and the characters are endearing. Well, all except Julia...and I'm a Julia fan, but this movie does her no service. Her with Woody Allen is completely unbelievable and lacking in chemistry...especially after we've learned twice now that she belongs with Richard Gere, regardless of the name of the movie! But I digress...the story line is fun, Alan Alda is a picturesque father, Goldie Hawn should be singing everything she says...and there are some fun twists (hello! A conservativism-causing tumor?!!).
So see it. Or wait a couple weeks, and come by my place...I'm buying it this weekend...with enough movies off my amazon list to get free shipping.