How to recognize them: They watch your every move as a parent. They don’t care what seems to work for you and your child. They feel their experiences are the absolute end all be all of parenting and that’s how it should be. No one else’s opinion matters. They are right. You are clearly wrong.
Frequently heard saying: “You shouldn’t feed your baby so much. You don’t want her to be fat.”
“She’s not hungry. She just wants to suck on something.”
“You can’t just shove a bottle in her mouth every time she fusses.”
Why they bug: Nothing burns my ass more than people who criticize, ignore and sometimes outright undermine my parental judgments and orders. I'm the one with the permanent scars from giving birth. That makes me the boss, not you. Watch me shove a bottle in her mouth when she cries. She IS hungry, asshole. That’s the only time she cries. If she just wanted to suck or chew, she’d take a pacifier. But she spits it out because nothing comes out of it. She’s a growing baby. You can’t just starve her. You never even bothered to ask how much she eats in a given day. My pediatrician is not concerned about her weight. He is a well-educated medical expert. If he doesn’t care, neither should you. She's eating breastmilk, not Big Macs. And why should I take your advice when all your five year old eats is hot dog rolls?
Their retort: “Well, I guess you know best…”
My response: You bet your fat stupid ass I know best what is right for my child. Shut up and worry about your own kids.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Friday, October 8, 2010
A Sappy Open Letter To My Daughter On Her Second Birthday
Dear Anastasia,
I can’t believe you are two years old today. It’s not possible. It feels like your father and I brought you home from the hospital 20 years ago. I’m getting gray hair and bags under my eyes from not sleeping. Your mommy is aging rapidly thanks to you and your sister.
All joking aside, you’ve been the light of my world for these last two years. I never really imagined myself to be the mommy type but you have made it enjoyable.
You were an early talker and a late walker. This would have been fine except you were a really late walker and needed physical therapy for your weak joints and low muscle tone. Watching your strength develop and taking your first steps has been amazing. You are now running and climbing and doing everything a two year old is supposed to be doing, including getting away from me on the playground and getting hurt, leading to bumps on your head and more even gray hair on mine.
Something new comes out of your mouth everyday that makes me laugh. I love that you talked early because you never have a problem telling me exactly what you want (rather than running away from me to go get it). I hope you carry that on throughout your life and you’re never afraid to say what you want or what is on your mind. Today you were carrying your toy car around rather than riding it. When I asked what you were doing, you looked right at me sighed and said, “It’s heavy.” I’m still not convinced that you can’t read. I know sometimes you have your books memorized, but I’m almost positive that you sometimes recognize the words as well.
You have been the best big sister you could possibly be. I have to admit, I was a little scared that you would be jealous of your sister or be mean to her. So far, so good. Please don’t make a liar out of me. Your sister will need you to watch out for her. And I have a feeling she will watch out for you too. Be nice to her. Share your toys. Share clothes. And don’t steal each other’s boyfriends. It’s so important to me that you like each other and get along forever. I know you’ll fight sometimes. But please make up quickly.
You have changed me so much. I’m much more laid back now. I don’t get stressed as easily. My priorities have shifted. You and your sister are the most important things in my life.
This next year will bring us potty training. I’m a little worried about that one but you are already showing signs that you are interested and ready. I’m just not so sure that I am.
I can’t wait to see who you will become. You have such a strong personality already. Don’t be a brat. I love you to the moon and back. You mean the world to me.
Love,
Your Mommy
I can’t believe you are two years old today. It’s not possible. It feels like your father and I brought you home from the hospital 20 years ago. I’m getting gray hair and bags under my eyes from not sleeping. Your mommy is aging rapidly thanks to you and your sister.
All joking aside, you’ve been the light of my world for these last two years. I never really imagined myself to be the mommy type but you have made it enjoyable.
You were an early talker and a late walker. This would have been fine except you were a really late walker and needed physical therapy for your weak joints and low muscle tone. Watching your strength develop and taking your first steps has been amazing. You are now running and climbing and doing everything a two year old is supposed to be doing, including getting away from me on the playground and getting hurt, leading to bumps on your head and more even gray hair on mine.
Something new comes out of your mouth everyday that makes me laugh. I love that you talked early because you never have a problem telling me exactly what you want (rather than running away from me to go get it). I hope you carry that on throughout your life and you’re never afraid to say what you want or what is on your mind. Today you were carrying your toy car around rather than riding it. When I asked what you were doing, you looked right at me sighed and said, “It’s heavy.” I’m still not convinced that you can’t read. I know sometimes you have your books memorized, but I’m almost positive that you sometimes recognize the words as well.
You have been the best big sister you could possibly be. I have to admit, I was a little scared that you would be jealous of your sister or be mean to her. So far, so good. Please don’t make a liar out of me. Your sister will need you to watch out for her. And I have a feeling she will watch out for you too. Be nice to her. Share your toys. Share clothes. And don’t steal each other’s boyfriends. It’s so important to me that you like each other and get along forever. I know you’ll fight sometimes. But please make up quickly.
You have changed me so much. I’m much more laid back now. I don’t get stressed as easily. My priorities have shifted. You and your sister are the most important things in my life.
This next year will bring us potty training. I’m a little worried about that one but you are already showing signs that you are interested and ready. I’m just not so sure that I am.
I can’t wait to see who you will become. You have such a strong personality already. Don’t be a brat. I love you to the moon and back. You mean the world to me.
Love,
Your Mommy
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Sunny Days Sweeping The Clouds Away (A Sesame Place Review)
If you’ve ever met my daughter Stasi, you would know that she is obsessed with Sesame Street, much like John Hinkley Jr. was obsessed with Jodi Foster. Fortunately, we live only slightly over an hour away from Sesame Place. We decided to take her there as her first amusement park trip.
Stasi, who is not quite two, can be a little unpredictable in public. At times, she can be a bit whiney and bratty. Other times, she is bubbly, excited and cute. And sometimes she is a little bit of both. We committed to only a few hours because we weren’t quite sure how she was going to deal.
When we got there, we decided to spring an extra three dollars for VIP parking. This was probably not necessary as there is regular parking for $15 just across the street that was not all that much farther away. We noticed right away that the landscaping was trimmed and planted in the shape of Sesame Street characters. Very cool!
I had already purchased our tickets online before entering. The cost to get into Sesame Place is $53 for everyone over the age of two. The pass is good for two days that don’t necessarily have to be consecutive. I found a discount via AAA. There are also other various coupons available online and through other businesses. We brought a backpack, which contained juice for Stasi. Next time, we will likely bring water as well. After a guard searched the pack and we hit the somewhat crowded bathrooms outside of the gates, we went in.
We were directed by the greeter who took our tickets to a stand that was giving bags to the kids to trick or treat at various points in the park. There were clues that lead to each stand but we didn’t really pay attention to them. Rather, we just collected the candy as we saw the stands. The greeter neglected to tell us where we could get a map of where everything was. We spent the first couple hours orienting ourselves to the layout of the park.
It’s not a huge park. Half of it seems to be water rides, which we have little interest in. It was a hot day, despite already being fall. Many, but not all, of the water rides were still running. Instead, we tried to focus on some of the Halloween activities. We also walked through a small section of the park that is a replica of the Sesame Street set. I intended to get pictures of Stasi sitting on the infamous doorstep, but never got around to it. We were either too busy trying to figure out where things were or tired and ready to leave.
I took Stasi into The Count’s Halloween maze and got lost. Amid the twists and turns, there was a talking Jack O’lantern named Merlin who interacted with the crowd. After watching him for a little from the back of a group of people, we continued. I erroneously thought the curtained exit was another dead end. Knowing that we were limited on time, and that Stasi had decided that she no longer wanted to walk, leaving me to carry her, I panicked a little. Then I followed some other people around until they left. When we came out, The Count was waiting at the end. We got in line to get Stasi’s picture taken with him. She did not look at the camera, though. We found a few other characters in our travels, too. She didn't look at the camera with them, either.
We noticed that people abandon their strollers and other belongings at the rides, shows and at the Dine With Me hall. I was a little leary of this at first but everyone does it. I kept all of my important belongings in my pocket (money, camera, etc.) but no one messed with my backpack anyway. I found this to be kind of amazing. There are also lockers available for other cynics. I do suggest putting a ribbon and a tag with your contact info on your stroller just in case someone mistakenly takes the wrong one.
We made reservations prior to our visit to have lunch with the characters. This was a great opportunity for Stasi to get to meet the characters without spending time in line. The characters all came to the tables, except for Elmo. You had to go to him for a picture, which cost $20. I look like hell in that picture. Stasi also does not look as happy as she really was. We had a hard time dragging her away from him really. The lunch was a buffet. It was okay, similar to what you would expect at a high school cafeteria. There were hotdogs, chicken, mac and cheese, among other things along with cookies for dessert. The food wasn’t amazing but it wasn’t horrible, either. The cost of dining is $25 per adult. Children ages two and up are at a lower cost but I’m not sure what it was as Stasi was free. The characters also performed some songs. It was entertaining and worth it overall, given the cost of food at amusement parks.
Next, we found maps at the information stand near the gate and less crowded bathrooms near one of the water rides that was not in use. Then we were off to Elmo’s World Live. They suggest getting there a half hour before show time. We waited in line for a while and it was fairly crowded. In line, they showed episodes of Elmo’s world for the kids. We were finally seated on bleachers in a small auditorium for Elmo’s Halloween themed show. Stasi seemed to love it. When it was time to leave, she said, “Bye Elmo’s World! See you later, Elmo’s World!”
We left and it was finally time for some rides. We made the carousel our first priority. At first, she cried. But once it started moving, she started to laugh and really enjoyed herself. We decided to hit the rides in the Elmo’s World section next. She went on The Flying Fish with Paul because stuff that goes around in a circle tends to make me sick. Then we hit teacups and finally the flying birdcages.
We hit two of the shops. Because Paul couldn’t make up his mind and left it for Stasi to decide, we bought her both a stuffed Oscar and a stuffed Snuffalufagus. I also bought her a sweatshirt and a Big Bird onesie for my other daughter who was too little to make the trip.
We also wanted to get drinks for the ride home. The food places are all indoors so we decided to hit a snack stand instead. As we approached the first one, the vendor told us that the stand was closed. We got in line at another stand nearby, which had a long line. By the time it was our turn the first stand had reopened. The vendor really shouldn’t take his break inside the stand. They should at least send someone to relieve him. We were hot, tired and frustrated. And that was not a good way to end our day. Still, aside of having to wait to be seated for the show, that was really my only complaint. We got these gigantic character cups (which I believe are refillable at a discount). I noticed while we were waiting in line that the soft pretzels are shaped like Elmo’s head.
In an effort to hit all the rides before Stasi pooped out on us, we skipped the parade. Sesame Place will be retiring this version of the parade by the end of this season with plans to revamp it in 2011. I’m hoping we get to go again before the end of October to use the second part of our pass.
Stasi, who is not quite two, can be a little unpredictable in public. At times, she can be a bit whiney and bratty. Other times, she is bubbly, excited and cute. And sometimes she is a little bit of both. We committed to only a few hours because we weren’t quite sure how she was going to deal.
When we got there, we decided to spring an extra three dollars for VIP parking. This was probably not necessary as there is regular parking for $15 just across the street that was not all that much farther away. We noticed right away that the landscaping was trimmed and planted in the shape of Sesame Street characters. Very cool!
I had already purchased our tickets online before entering. The cost to get into Sesame Place is $53 for everyone over the age of two. The pass is good for two days that don’t necessarily have to be consecutive. I found a discount via AAA. There are also other various coupons available online and through other businesses. We brought a backpack, which contained juice for Stasi. Next time, we will likely bring water as well. After a guard searched the pack and we hit the somewhat crowded bathrooms outside of the gates, we went in.
We were directed by the greeter who took our tickets to a stand that was giving bags to the kids to trick or treat at various points in the park. There were clues that lead to each stand but we didn’t really pay attention to them. Rather, we just collected the candy as we saw the stands. The greeter neglected to tell us where we could get a map of where everything was. We spent the first couple hours orienting ourselves to the layout of the park.
It’s not a huge park. Half of it seems to be water rides, which we have little interest in. It was a hot day, despite already being fall. Many, but not all, of the water rides were still running. Instead, we tried to focus on some of the Halloween activities. We also walked through a small section of the park that is a replica of the Sesame Street set. I intended to get pictures of Stasi sitting on the infamous doorstep, but never got around to it. We were either too busy trying to figure out where things were or tired and ready to leave.
I took Stasi into The Count’s Halloween maze and got lost. Amid the twists and turns, there was a talking Jack O’lantern named Merlin who interacted with the crowd. After watching him for a little from the back of a group of people, we continued. I erroneously thought the curtained exit was another dead end. Knowing that we were limited on time, and that Stasi had decided that she no longer wanted to walk, leaving me to carry her, I panicked a little. Then I followed some other people around until they left. When we came out, The Count was waiting at the end. We got in line to get Stasi’s picture taken with him. She did not look at the camera, though. We found a few other characters in our travels, too. She didn't look at the camera with them, either.
We noticed that people abandon their strollers and other belongings at the rides, shows and at the Dine With Me hall. I was a little leary of this at first but everyone does it. I kept all of my important belongings in my pocket (money, camera, etc.) but no one messed with my backpack anyway. I found this to be kind of amazing. There are also lockers available for other cynics. I do suggest putting a ribbon and a tag with your contact info on your stroller just in case someone mistakenly takes the wrong one.
We made reservations prior to our visit to have lunch with the characters. This was a great opportunity for Stasi to get to meet the characters without spending time in line. The characters all came to the tables, except for Elmo. You had to go to him for a picture, which cost $20. I look like hell in that picture. Stasi also does not look as happy as she really was. We had a hard time dragging her away from him really. The lunch was a buffet. It was okay, similar to what you would expect at a high school cafeteria. There were hotdogs, chicken, mac and cheese, among other things along with cookies for dessert. The food wasn’t amazing but it wasn’t horrible, either. The cost of dining is $25 per adult. Children ages two and up are at a lower cost but I’m not sure what it was as Stasi was free. The characters also performed some songs. It was entertaining and worth it overall, given the cost of food at amusement parks.
Next, we found maps at the information stand near the gate and less crowded bathrooms near one of the water rides that was not in use. Then we were off to Elmo’s World Live. They suggest getting there a half hour before show time. We waited in line for a while and it was fairly crowded. In line, they showed episodes of Elmo’s world for the kids. We were finally seated on bleachers in a small auditorium for Elmo’s Halloween themed show. Stasi seemed to love it. When it was time to leave, she said, “Bye Elmo’s World! See you later, Elmo’s World!”
We left and it was finally time for some rides. We made the carousel our first priority. At first, she cried. But once it started moving, she started to laugh and really enjoyed herself. We decided to hit the rides in the Elmo’s World section next. She went on The Flying Fish with Paul because stuff that goes around in a circle tends to make me sick. Then we hit teacups and finally the flying birdcages.
We hit two of the shops. Because Paul couldn’t make up his mind and left it for Stasi to decide, we bought her both a stuffed Oscar and a stuffed Snuffalufagus. I also bought her a sweatshirt and a Big Bird onesie for my other daughter who was too little to make the trip.
We also wanted to get drinks for the ride home. The food places are all indoors so we decided to hit a snack stand instead. As we approached the first one, the vendor told us that the stand was closed. We got in line at another stand nearby, which had a long line. By the time it was our turn the first stand had reopened. The vendor really shouldn’t take his break inside the stand. They should at least send someone to relieve him. We were hot, tired and frustrated. And that was not a good way to end our day. Still, aside of having to wait to be seated for the show, that was really my only complaint. We got these gigantic character cups (which I believe are refillable at a discount). I noticed while we were waiting in line that the soft pretzels are shaped like Elmo’s head.
In an effort to hit all the rides before Stasi pooped out on us, we skipped the parade. Sesame Place will be retiring this version of the parade by the end of this season with plans to revamp it in 2011. I’m hoping we get to go again before the end of October to use the second part of our pass.
Monday, September 20, 2010
What I've Learned These Last Two Years
As I close in on the second year of being a mother, I’m surprised at what I’ve learned so far. Everyday brings a new lesson. I won’t pretend to know everything about motherhood. I’m still a novice at this. But these are the lessons that immediately come to mind.
1. If your kid won’t eat vegetables, hide them. You can put spinach in smoothies and vegetables on pizza. Kids also don’t know the difference between beef hot dogs and tofu hot dogs. It’s hardly fair fooling them but it works.
2. Pump. Breast milk is the best thing for babies. But some babies don’t latch. And nursing in public can be awkward, especially when you’ve got big knockers. So take the time and pump rather than feeding your baby formula. The baby will still get all the nutritional benefits of the milk. Your significant other can also feed the baby this way while you pump. You will still bond with your child because babies are so dependant on their parents for every little thing anyway. And it’s free. It's best to try to get eight 20 minute pumping sessions in everyday if pumping exclusively.
3. Buy a diaper changer like this one.
They are small and convenient. They fit in your purse and hold what you need.
4. Sleep advice. I could write an entire blog on how to get a baby to sleep at night but I’m afraid I will jinx myself if I do. First, give the baby a bottle before bedtime, whether it’s formula or breast milk. If you are nursing, give up caffeine completely. Use a special blanket to condition the baby. It will trigger the thought process on it being time to sleep. I prefer Halo Sleepsacks because they are impossible to break out of due to their zippers. And try to keep your room temperature low.
5. No butt scootching! It might be cute. And you might think it’s okay because at least your baby is getting around her own little world. But it may take months of physical therapy to correct when your child’s balance is off or her desire to walk is thwarted by a lack of a need. She will figure that there’s no reason to stand up since she can see the top of the coffee table. And why bother crawling or walking when you can carry things in your hand without falling? It takes a long time to break bad habits. Nip it in the bud and do not allow your child to scootch.
6. Real moms don't wear lipstick. I used to never leave the house without lipstick. Now, I find that I put it in my purse or pocket for after kissing the baby good-bye. I also find that I frequently forget to put it on. Sure, the makeup trends of nude lips did not help. But I think it’s mostly because I do not want to leave my daughter looking like Oscar Wilde’s grave.
7. Their falls, bumps and bruises will upset you more than them. I’ve had play dates ruined because little feet have gotten ahead of her and caused her to go way too fast. This has lead to a meltdown which was all mine rather than hers. Scratched glasses, bumps on the head, holding and rocking while she screams, “No mommy! Put me down!” soothe me somewhat. Seeing her run around and forget helps me even more. It's best to not even react. They're much more resilliant than you think.
8. TV is not so bad. The American Academy of Pediatrics can shove their suggestion of no TV for children under the age of two. I believe that TV has taught my daughter how to talk, recognize letters and numbers and possibly even read before the age of two. I think it’s more important to be careful of what she is watching rather than how much she is watching. It’s Sesame Street, not the Sopranos*. She’s not obese. In fact, she’s always been in the lower weight percentiles. And she loves to go outside to run around and take stroller walks. This may change when she is older, but for now I will continue to let her watch Sid The Science Kid. Someday, I hope to hear her sing, “I love my mom! My mom is cool!”
*We do not watch Cailou, however. That kid whines too much and it is strictly forbidden in my house.
9. If you have a daughter, you will find glitter in the strangest places. In the fridge, the bathtub, your hair. No one knows where it comes from. It just magically appears when you have little girls in your house.
10. Men will catch fire if a baby spits up on them. Or pees. Or (God forbid) poops. Or so it seems by my husband’s reaction when these things happen.
1. If your kid won’t eat vegetables, hide them. You can put spinach in smoothies and vegetables on pizza. Kids also don’t know the difference between beef hot dogs and tofu hot dogs. It’s hardly fair fooling them but it works.
2. Pump. Breast milk is the best thing for babies. But some babies don’t latch. And nursing in public can be awkward, especially when you’ve got big knockers. So take the time and pump rather than feeding your baby formula. The baby will still get all the nutritional benefits of the milk. Your significant other can also feed the baby this way while you pump. You will still bond with your child because babies are so dependant on their parents for every little thing anyway. And it’s free. It's best to try to get eight 20 minute pumping sessions in everyday if pumping exclusively.
3. Buy a diaper changer like this one.
They are small and convenient. They fit in your purse and hold what you need.
4. Sleep advice. I could write an entire blog on how to get a baby to sleep at night but I’m afraid I will jinx myself if I do. First, give the baby a bottle before bedtime, whether it’s formula or breast milk. If you are nursing, give up caffeine completely. Use a special blanket to condition the baby. It will trigger the thought process on it being time to sleep. I prefer Halo Sleepsacks because they are impossible to break out of due to their zippers. And try to keep your room temperature low.
5. No butt scootching! It might be cute. And you might think it’s okay because at least your baby is getting around her own little world. But it may take months of physical therapy to correct when your child’s balance is off or her desire to walk is thwarted by a lack of a need. She will figure that there’s no reason to stand up since she can see the top of the coffee table. And why bother crawling or walking when you can carry things in your hand without falling? It takes a long time to break bad habits. Nip it in the bud and do not allow your child to scootch.
6. Real moms don't wear lipstick. I used to never leave the house without lipstick. Now, I find that I put it in my purse or pocket for after kissing the baby good-bye. I also find that I frequently forget to put it on. Sure, the makeup trends of nude lips did not help. But I think it’s mostly because I do not want to leave my daughter looking like Oscar Wilde’s grave.
7. Their falls, bumps and bruises will upset you more than them. I’ve had play dates ruined because little feet have gotten ahead of her and caused her to go way too fast. This has lead to a meltdown which was all mine rather than hers. Scratched glasses, bumps on the head, holding and rocking while she screams, “No mommy! Put me down!” soothe me somewhat. Seeing her run around and forget helps me even more. It's best to not even react. They're much more resilliant than you think.
8. TV is not so bad. The American Academy of Pediatrics can shove their suggestion of no TV for children under the age of two. I believe that TV has taught my daughter how to talk, recognize letters and numbers and possibly even read before the age of two. I think it’s more important to be careful of what she is watching rather than how much she is watching. It’s Sesame Street, not the Sopranos*. She’s not obese. In fact, she’s always been in the lower weight percentiles. And she loves to go outside to run around and take stroller walks. This may change when she is older, but for now I will continue to let her watch Sid The Science Kid. Someday, I hope to hear her sing, “I love my mom! My mom is cool!”
*We do not watch Cailou, however. That kid whines too much and it is strictly forbidden in my house.
9. If you have a daughter, you will find glitter in the strangest places. In the fridge, the bathtub, your hair. No one knows where it comes from. It just magically appears when you have little girls in your house.
10. Men will catch fire if a baby spits up on them. Or pees. Or (God forbid) poops. Or so it seems by my husband’s reaction when these things happen.
Friday, August 6, 2010
Creep Of The Week: People Who Bring Their Sick Kids Around Me And My Family
How to recognize them: They’re carrying coughing and whining kids around that have snot coming out of their noses. The kids are carrying toys that are extremely attractive to your child. And it’s covered with snot, slobber and germs galore.
Frequently heard saying: “They’re not contagious. Not to be gross or anything but their noses are running clear. That means the infection is gone. I would NEVER bring sick kids around a new baby.”
Why they bug: That doesn’t mean that your kid isn’t covered with germs that are going to get the rest of the world sick, brain trust. What is so important that you can’t keep your annoying brats home? You know I have a newborn baby. My toddler is now drooling, sniffling and not eating because you just HAD to take your grimy little little monsters out. And I have a sore throat, too. I'm breastfeeding so there isn't much that I can take for that right now. I swear to God if my baby gets sick I am going to grab you by the testicles and twist, you fucking douche. I'd punch you, but my hands have been rubbed raw from washing them so much.
Their retort: "Oh, it’s just a little cold. They’ll get over it. It’s not like kids sleep through the night anyway."
My response: Well, maybe not YOUR kids don't sleep through the night but mine do…unless they’re sick. And all I want to do is sleep but I can’t because I have a baby that needs care and a cranky toddler who doesn’t feel good. I hope you get sick and run out of tissues and toilet paper, asshole.
Frequently heard saying: “They’re not contagious. Not to be gross or anything but their noses are running clear. That means the infection is gone. I would NEVER bring sick kids around a new baby.”
Why they bug: That doesn’t mean that your kid isn’t covered with germs that are going to get the rest of the world sick, brain trust. What is so important that you can’t keep your annoying brats home? You know I have a newborn baby. My toddler is now drooling, sniffling and not eating because you just HAD to take your grimy little little monsters out. And I have a sore throat, too. I'm breastfeeding so there isn't much that I can take for that right now. I swear to God if my baby gets sick I am going to grab you by the testicles and twist, you fucking douche. I'd punch you, but my hands have been rubbed raw from washing them so much.
Their retort: "Oh, it’s just a little cold. They’ll get over it. It’s not like kids sleep through the night anyway."
My response: Well, maybe not YOUR kids don't sleep through the night but mine do…unless they’re sick. And all I want to do is sleep but I can’t because I have a baby that needs care and a cranky toddler who doesn’t feel good. I hope you get sick and run out of tissues and toilet paper, asshole.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Creep Of The Week: Healthcare Professionals Who Lack Compassion
How to recognize them: Typically nurses, they make you clean your own blood off the floor in your hospital room after you’ve had major surgery. They toss your baby around with little regards to her lack of neck control while taking a blood sample. They squabble with other nurses in front of you about having to take a lunch break. They don’t smile. They have no sense of humor and generally lack patience with you for needing their services in the first place.
Frequently heard saying: “Can you bend over and wipe that up? I’ll hold the garbage can open for you. Yes, I know it hurts, sweetie. Oh, you missed a drop over by your foot.”
“The angrier your baby gets, the easier it will be for the blood to come out. That’s it. Keep screaming!”
“You need to take your lunch break now! Look at what you’ve done to her arm putting that IV in! We’re going to have to call the lab in to get the blood sample. Look at all this blood that you got all over the place. Hopefully, the patient will be able to clean this up before the anesthesiologist gets here and paralyzes her.”
“How dare you take three steps into the hallway to hand your husband a book to read to your screaming toddler! This is a nazi death camp, er, I mean, waiting room! You can’t leave while holding a number! You must give it back now and go to the end of the line. We’re currently serving #67. I know you were #82 and will not be called for a long time. But now you must take #120 instead.”
“Do you realize your doctor’s instructions say that this needs to be done in the morning? Are you aware that it is now 11:40 AM? I hope we’re not too late!”
Why they bug: Some people love what they do for work and other people go into a field for the sake of job security. There is always a need for healthcare professionals and jobs can be somewhat easy to find compared to other fields. But if you’re an asshole, you really shouldn’t work with people, let alone in a field where the client’s emotions and stress levels run high. Not to mention, you are in a position where one mistake can cause someone a great deal of physical pain. I should not have to clean my own blood off the floor after major surgery. I should not audibly gasp when a professional picks up my four day old baby and positions it on a table to draw blood. I’m worried enough as it is having to watch her writhe around in pain as you squeeze blood from her heel. And the whole bleeding more when she is upset is simply not true. Another phlebotomist was able to prick her heel and get a sample just fine without even waking her and several others did the same without making her cry. You just suck at your job. If eating a fucking sandwich is going to put you in a better mind frame for sticking sharp needles and IVs in me, then by all means, go eat. I’m not going anywhere. If I need to tend to my toddler, (who my husband removed from your crowded waiting room because she is not feeling well and afraid of the people in the room in wheelchairs, thereby saving all the other patients from having to endure the meltdown of all meltdowns), give me five fucking seconds to hand my husband the book and the snacks that I found in my purse that might calm her down long enough so that I don’t have to hear her crying in the hallway while I wait my turn. AND, 11:40 AM is still morning, you stupid fucking cunt! You see, when both the big hand and the little hand are on the 12, then it is noon and anything after that is AFTERnoon. Jesus Christ! Where did you get your degree? And I would have been in your office earlier but there’s a long line in your waiting room and I almost lost my turn.
Their retort: The healthcare field is very stressful. We have to shut down some of our compassion or we will lose our shit and go crazy.
My response: I’m not buying it. If you can’t deal, get a different job. There are plenty of other healthcare workers who are more stressed out and sleep deprived who handle their jobs wonderfully. To those folks, the ones who were kind, caring and compassionate, I thank you.
Frequently heard saying: “Can you bend over and wipe that up? I’ll hold the garbage can open for you. Yes, I know it hurts, sweetie. Oh, you missed a drop over by your foot.”
“The angrier your baby gets, the easier it will be for the blood to come out. That’s it. Keep screaming!”
“You need to take your lunch break now! Look at what you’ve done to her arm putting that IV in! We’re going to have to call the lab in to get the blood sample. Look at all this blood that you got all over the place. Hopefully, the patient will be able to clean this up before the anesthesiologist gets here and paralyzes her.”
“How dare you take three steps into the hallway to hand your husband a book to read to your screaming toddler! This is a nazi death camp, er, I mean, waiting room! You can’t leave while holding a number! You must give it back now and go to the end of the line. We’re currently serving #67. I know you were #82 and will not be called for a long time. But now you must take #120 instead.”
“Do you realize your doctor’s instructions say that this needs to be done in the morning? Are you aware that it is now 11:40 AM? I hope we’re not too late!”
Why they bug: Some people love what they do for work and other people go into a field for the sake of job security. There is always a need for healthcare professionals and jobs can be somewhat easy to find compared to other fields. But if you’re an asshole, you really shouldn’t work with people, let alone in a field where the client’s emotions and stress levels run high. Not to mention, you are in a position where one mistake can cause someone a great deal of physical pain. I should not have to clean my own blood off the floor after major surgery. I should not audibly gasp when a professional picks up my four day old baby and positions it on a table to draw blood. I’m worried enough as it is having to watch her writhe around in pain as you squeeze blood from her heel. And the whole bleeding more when she is upset is simply not true. Another phlebotomist was able to prick her heel and get a sample just fine without even waking her and several others did the same without making her cry. You just suck at your job. If eating a fucking sandwich is going to put you in a better mind frame for sticking sharp needles and IVs in me, then by all means, go eat. I’m not going anywhere. If I need to tend to my toddler, (who my husband removed from your crowded waiting room because she is not feeling well and afraid of the people in the room in wheelchairs, thereby saving all the other patients from having to endure the meltdown of all meltdowns), give me five fucking seconds to hand my husband the book and the snacks that I found in my purse that might calm her down long enough so that I don’t have to hear her crying in the hallway while I wait my turn. AND, 11:40 AM is still morning, you stupid fucking cunt! You see, when both the big hand and the little hand are on the 12, then it is noon and anything after that is AFTERnoon. Jesus Christ! Where did you get your degree? And I would have been in your office earlier but there’s a long line in your waiting room and I almost lost my turn.
Their retort: The healthcare field is very stressful. We have to shut down some of our compassion or we will lose our shit and go crazy.
My response: I’m not buying it. If you can’t deal, get a different job. There are plenty of other healthcare workers who are more stressed out and sleep deprived who handle their jobs wonderfully. To those folks, the ones who were kind, caring and compassionate, I thank you.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Another Hiatus
I know I’ve been negligent. I still don’t think anyone actually reads this crap so I don’t feel too bad about not updating for a while. I’m having a baby very soon. So right now, I’m just trying to appease the good hormonal instincts (like the ones the birdies have about building their nests) and repress the bad ones (like the ones that black widow spiders have about killing their mates).
Sporadic posting is better than no posting. I will update dribs and drabs until my life becomes normal again. I don’t know when that will be, if ever, so just keep checking this space, faithful readers. I thank you both.
Sporadic posting is better than no posting. I will update dribs and drabs until my life becomes normal again. I don’t know when that will be, if ever, so just keep checking this space, faithful readers. I thank you both.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Not Everything That Counts Can Be Measured
It’s hard for me to avoid baseball this time of year. My husband and his family are big baseball fans. My dad obsessively watches the Phillies. Many of my closest friends are big baseball fans as well.
It’s not that I hate baseball. I just find it to be very slow. It makes me sleepy. My dad used to watch Phillies games on Sunday afternoons while dozing on the couch. I think I’ve been conditioned to do the same thing. Besides, it’s a game of numbers and statistics. And we all know that I hate statistics.
Tonight, one of those statistics should have been but never came to be due to human error. Detroit Tigers pitcher Armando Galarraga pitched what should have been the 21st perfect game in history. However, when umpire Jim Joyce blew a call on what should have been the last play of the game, his perfect game was blown.
What unfolded after these events is what truly surprised me.
When the press interviewed these two men, they both acted in ways that were refreshing in this day and age. In a time when we have athletic stars who are overpaid egomaniacs, Galarraga smiled and told reporters that he was sure that no one felt worse about the call than the umpire. Here is a guy who had a chance to be a positive historical statistic, make a name for himself and ensure his induction as a hall of fame player. The odds of him ever accomplishing such an achievement again are nil. Most people would be angry, not smiling and practically saying that they felt bad for the guy who made the mistake.
Also, in a society where people are quick to pass the buck and refuse to be accountable for their actions, Jim Joyce remorsefully owned up to his mistake. He admitted that he was wrong at the time of the call. With instant replay, it was easy to see. But in person, from his perspective, perhaps it was not as clear-cut. He’s just a man with his two eyes. Men make mistakes. Great men admit them.
This is the kind of sportsmanship we always teach but rarely see in practice. This is a great lesson for our children. Galarraga’s sportsmanship teaches empathy and to see things from the other person’s point of view when facing conflict. Joyce shows us that admitting our wrongs is the right thing to do.
This is the stuff fables are made of. Sure, this will not go down in the records as a historical moment. But the way the men interacted teaches a lesson far beyond statistics.
It’s not that I hate baseball. I just find it to be very slow. It makes me sleepy. My dad used to watch Phillies games on Sunday afternoons while dozing on the couch. I think I’ve been conditioned to do the same thing. Besides, it’s a game of numbers and statistics. And we all know that I hate statistics.
Tonight, one of those statistics should have been but never came to be due to human error. Detroit Tigers pitcher Armando Galarraga pitched what should have been the 21st perfect game in history. However, when umpire Jim Joyce blew a call on what should have been the last play of the game, his perfect game was blown.
What unfolded after these events is what truly surprised me.
When the press interviewed these two men, they both acted in ways that were refreshing in this day and age. In a time when we have athletic stars who are overpaid egomaniacs, Galarraga smiled and told reporters that he was sure that no one felt worse about the call than the umpire. Here is a guy who had a chance to be a positive historical statistic, make a name for himself and ensure his induction as a hall of fame player. The odds of him ever accomplishing such an achievement again are nil. Most people would be angry, not smiling and practically saying that they felt bad for the guy who made the mistake.
Also, in a society where people are quick to pass the buck and refuse to be accountable for their actions, Jim Joyce remorsefully owned up to his mistake. He admitted that he was wrong at the time of the call. With instant replay, it was easy to see. But in person, from his perspective, perhaps it was not as clear-cut. He’s just a man with his two eyes. Men make mistakes. Great men admit them.
This is the kind of sportsmanship we always teach but rarely see in practice. This is a great lesson for our children. Galarraga’s sportsmanship teaches empathy and to see things from the other person’s point of view when facing conflict. Joyce shows us that admitting our wrongs is the right thing to do.
This is the stuff fables are made of. Sure, this will not go down in the records as a historical moment. But the way the men interacted teaches a lesson far beyond statistics.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Confessions
Taylor Lautner bugs the shit out of me. I think it’s his face. It looks like he got hit in the face with a frying pan. I can’t stand to watch him in interviews and even the characters he plays are annoying.
I can’t read The Lorax with out crying. This isn’t even some hormonal pregnancy thing. I’ve never been able to do it, not even as a child. The part that really gets me is the whole, “Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It’s not.” In fact, I can barely type it now without tearing up.
I’ve never seen the Goonies.
I used to cheat at Heads Up Seven Up in first grade. I would put my head down low on the desk and peek at the shoes of the people walking by.
Snakes bring me great anxiety. I can’t even watch them on television without my heart rate increasing and getting nervous. If I watch them for prolong periods of time, I have nightmares.
I think little boys in rompers look silly. I also don’t like these jiaper things they have out now. In case you don’t know what jiapers are, they are diapers that look like they are made of denim. How about putting some fucking clothes on your kid? Plus, they are made by Huggies. Huggies suck for girls. I have heard moms of boys rave about them, though. I think it’s a boy thing.
I don’t like the term “hip momma.” It sounds desperate. I like to think of myself as fairly modern and up on the latest stuff. But I would never call myself a “hip momma.”
I can’t listen to Sheryl Crow’s song “All I Wanna Do.” The last time I listened to it on purpose, I got a speeding ticket. This was twelve years ago and that’s all I can think of every time I hear it.
I will never understand why women get breast reduction surgery. It’s not the girls. It’s your posture or your bras. Or try losing weight naturally. Boobies are beautiful things that can get you what you want if you point them at something and ask the right person for it. It took me a long time to figure this out. I hated my breasts growing up but I couldn’t imagine “deflating” them now.
There used to be this reality based game show called Everest. The contestants had to perform various physical challenges (hiking, rappelling, etc.) and the winners got to climb Mount Everest. How the fuck is that a prize? “Congratulations! You’ve won an opportunity to do something that is so strenuous and dangerous it can kill you!” I don’t get it.
I can’t read The Lorax with out crying. This isn’t even some hormonal pregnancy thing. I’ve never been able to do it, not even as a child. The part that really gets me is the whole, “Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It’s not.” In fact, I can barely type it now without tearing up.
I’ve never seen the Goonies.
I used to cheat at Heads Up Seven Up in first grade. I would put my head down low on the desk and peek at the shoes of the people walking by.
Snakes bring me great anxiety. I can’t even watch them on television without my heart rate increasing and getting nervous. If I watch them for prolong periods of time, I have nightmares.
I think little boys in rompers look silly. I also don’t like these jiaper things they have out now. In case you don’t know what jiapers are, they are diapers that look like they are made of denim. How about putting some fucking clothes on your kid? Plus, they are made by Huggies. Huggies suck for girls. I have heard moms of boys rave about them, though. I think it’s a boy thing.
I don’t like the term “hip momma.” It sounds desperate. I like to think of myself as fairly modern and up on the latest stuff. But I would never call myself a “hip momma.”
I can’t listen to Sheryl Crow’s song “All I Wanna Do.” The last time I listened to it on purpose, I got a speeding ticket. This was twelve years ago and that’s all I can think of every time I hear it.
I will never understand why women get breast reduction surgery. It’s not the girls. It’s your posture or your bras. Or try losing weight naturally. Boobies are beautiful things that can get you what you want if you point them at something and ask the right person for it. It took me a long time to figure this out. I hated my breasts growing up but I couldn’t imagine “deflating” them now.
There used to be this reality based game show called Everest. The contestants had to perform various physical challenges (hiking, rappelling, etc.) and the winners got to climb Mount Everest. How the fuck is that a prize? “Congratulations! You’ve won an opportunity to do something that is so strenuous and dangerous it can kill you!” I don’t get it.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Creep Of The Week: The Fertility Police
How to recognize them: They stare at you and your kids when you’re out in public, giving what they believe to be sympathetic looks if you have more than one. They get extremely nosey when you only have one child. And they treat you like a barren freak of nature if you tell them you don’t want children at all.
Frequently heard saying: “Oh you poor thing! You must have your hands full! I pity you!” “So, when are you having another one?” “You don’t want kids?!?!” **clutches pearls** “But children are such a blessing! You’re young yet. You’ll change your mind.”
Why they bug: Why do people have such a hard time with the “live and let live” concept? We all make our choices. The number of children you decide to have, or not have, is completely up to you. We have control over these things. We are free to live our lives in whatever way makes us happy. Just because a woman is juggling more than one child, that does not mean her life is miserable. Some people are perfectly satisfied with one child. And if someone decides that parenthood is not something they have any interest in at all, there’s nothing wrong with that, either. We all have our private reasons for these decisions. What if the woman at the grocery store adopted one of her children, saving them from horrible circumstances? What if the woman with one child had financial problems and another child isn’t something they could afford? What if the woman who chooses not to have children reached her decision after learning that she has fertility issues? It’s rude to make assumptions. It’s rude to ask questions. Does it really matter that much to you?
Their retort: “I was just making conversation.” “I was trying to be compassionate.” “I just know how much I love my kids and hate to see people miss out on this joy.”
My response: Get your fucking nose out of my uterus and mind your own business!
Frequently heard saying: “Oh you poor thing! You must have your hands full! I pity you!” “So, when are you having another one?” “You don’t want kids?!?!” **clutches pearls** “But children are such a blessing! You’re young yet. You’ll change your mind.”
Why they bug: Why do people have such a hard time with the “live and let live” concept? We all make our choices. The number of children you decide to have, or not have, is completely up to you. We have control over these things. We are free to live our lives in whatever way makes us happy. Just because a woman is juggling more than one child, that does not mean her life is miserable. Some people are perfectly satisfied with one child. And if someone decides that parenthood is not something they have any interest in at all, there’s nothing wrong with that, either. We all have our private reasons for these decisions. What if the woman at the grocery store adopted one of her children, saving them from horrible circumstances? What if the woman with one child had financial problems and another child isn’t something they could afford? What if the woman who chooses not to have children reached her decision after learning that she has fertility issues? It’s rude to make assumptions. It’s rude to ask questions. Does it really matter that much to you?
Their retort: “I was just making conversation.” “I was trying to be compassionate.” “I just know how much I love my kids and hate to see people miss out on this joy.”
My response: Get your fucking nose out of my uterus and mind your own business!
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Do Not Adjust Your Monitor
I’m about to side with conservatives.
Today, I was informed of a controversy involving my high school alma mater. It seems that the school caved to pressure by certain members of the community to not actively promote or inform parents of the senior class’s baccalaureate.
I have to say I’m surprised that the school board would behave this way, being in, as James Carville would say, “the Alabama part of Pennsylvania.” Having God and right wing ideology is frequently preached and shoved down the throats of members of the community. I would think that the people who have complained about this situation would be silenced or ignored, rather than having the board cater to their desires.
I don’t understand why it would be a big deal to inform the community of an activity that is open to the public and isn’t harming anyone. It’s not mandatory for the students to attend. If it were, my opinion would differ. The students and their families have a choice as to whether or not they should attend the service. As long as no one will be harassed, punished or discriminated against for not attending, what is the problem?
My attitude with religion is to live and let live. If you don’t believe in God, how does prayer harm you? If anything, there is a benefit in that the people doing their praying are just wasting their time talking to someone that you don’t thing exists when they could be engaging in much more dangerous like campaigning for Pat Toomey. It’s conservative busy work; a child’s toy that will keep them occupied and out of the way for hours.
If it goes against your beliefs, don’t attend. Since I’ve always adapted the “I hate Sean Hannity/Glenn Beck/Bill O’Reily so I avoid them” philosophy, it would be hypocritical of me to suggest something else in this case as well.
If we drag an event like this underground by not talking about it, we start to infringe upon the rights of others to practice their religion. That’s not cool. I’d rather have it be well known and open to everyone at his or her own discretion than to have it become a secret meeting that could possibly evolve into a bunch of Bible bangers plotting to do something against others in the name of God.
The most reasonable compromise that I could foresee would be to send a schedule of all upcoming graduation activities such as prom, the class picnic, graduation and the all night party as well as baccalaureate. Many of those activities are also not mandatory. At least the word would be out and people can make their choice as to whether or not they would like to attend. It would not give baccalaureate any additional weight or publicity, just merely inform parents that it had been scheduled.
I guess I really don't like to be left out of the loop when it comes to social gatherings. Who knew it was to the extent that I would side with a bunch of Bible carrying freaks.
Today, I was informed of a controversy involving my high school alma mater. It seems that the school caved to pressure by certain members of the community to not actively promote or inform parents of the senior class’s baccalaureate.
I have to say I’m surprised that the school board would behave this way, being in, as James Carville would say, “the Alabama part of Pennsylvania.” Having God and right wing ideology is frequently preached and shoved down the throats of members of the community. I would think that the people who have complained about this situation would be silenced or ignored, rather than having the board cater to their desires.
I don’t understand why it would be a big deal to inform the community of an activity that is open to the public and isn’t harming anyone. It’s not mandatory for the students to attend. If it were, my opinion would differ. The students and their families have a choice as to whether or not they should attend the service. As long as no one will be harassed, punished or discriminated against for not attending, what is the problem?
My attitude with religion is to live and let live. If you don’t believe in God, how does prayer harm you? If anything, there is a benefit in that the people doing their praying are just wasting their time talking to someone that you don’t thing exists when they could be engaging in much more dangerous like campaigning for Pat Toomey. It’s conservative busy work; a child’s toy that will keep them occupied and out of the way for hours.
If it goes against your beliefs, don’t attend. Since I’ve always adapted the “I hate Sean Hannity/Glenn Beck/Bill O’Reily so I avoid them” philosophy, it would be hypocritical of me to suggest something else in this case as well.
If we drag an event like this underground by not talking about it, we start to infringe upon the rights of others to practice their religion. That’s not cool. I’d rather have it be well known and open to everyone at his or her own discretion than to have it become a secret meeting that could possibly evolve into a bunch of Bible bangers plotting to do something against others in the name of God.
The most reasonable compromise that I could foresee would be to send a schedule of all upcoming graduation activities such as prom, the class picnic, graduation and the all night party as well as baccalaureate. Many of those activities are also not mandatory. At least the word would be out and people can make their choice as to whether or not they would like to attend. It would not give baccalaureate any additional weight or publicity, just merely inform parents that it had been scheduled.
I guess I really don't like to be left out of the loop when it comes to social gatherings. Who knew it was to the extent that I would side with a bunch of Bible carrying freaks.
Monday, May 24, 2010
I'm Talking Out My Ass Here. Please Take With A Grain Of Salt.
I’ve never watched a full episode of Lost. When it started, I was in grad school and communting to Philadelphia twice a week for work. I really didn't have time to get sucked into a series like that. I believe I may have seen part of an episode from the first season at my dad’s house but fell asleep at some point during it. And I’ve seen a few clips here and there. Tonight, not really caring, I watched the last five minutes of the series just so I would have some sort of frame of pop culture reference when talking to other people. You know, like when the Sopranos cut to black, the Seinfeld cast ended up in jail and Bob Newhart ended up sleeping next to Suzanne Pleshette.
I’m not exactly sorry that I didn’t watch the series. I mean, it’s apparently a story about a plane crash and, surprise, the characters are all dead at the end. Gee, I never would have spent seven years wondering if that could possibly happen. But knowing the end now, I can’t help but wonder about the philosophical side of the story.
Fans, humor an outsider here.
I’ve heard and read all sorts of questions regarding the intricate plots and subplots of the story. I’ve read theories and jokes about polar bears, smoke monsters and many mysteries over the years. I’ve heard people not expecting to have their questions to be answered in the last season.
I gather that much of it was a big metaphor for life and what happens when you die. For example, a character is swept away by a big bird in one of the episodes. How many times in life does this happen in a less figurative sense? Someone you know who is always around and a part of your life falls off the face of the earth and you no longer speak. You never know exactly what happened to them just that something happened and they are no longer around. Perhaps that's what that represented.
Perhaps there's an alternate world where our alter egos, dreams and fantasies carry out. Of course, this world exists merely in our own minds. And perhaps our souls, living or dead, meet there from time to time. Maybe sometimes we're all dreaming the same dream. And maybe there's a third world, a sideways world, where you are remembered by others, where they question what you might have done when facing their triumphs and tribulations. Maybe they see you in a different light than you would think they would see you. And maybe they fuck up your stories.
Maybe the Smoke Monster represented cancer or disease in general. I seem to recall fans being surprised that it could kill one of the characters so quickly and easily. That's what diseases do. They attack even the strongest and toughest among us without prejudice.
Another clip that I’ve seen involved the turbulence on the plane where Charlie from Party of Five is gripping his seat for dear life. The turbulence ends and the woman next to him tells him that he can now let go. Some theorize that this is the moment where his life ends and that is why she says it’s okay to let go. The adventure that ensues is perhaps his time in purgatory of some sort. Or maybe he isn’t really dead yet and that he’s going on a big adventure before his death with a bunch of other passengers before they die as well.
Or maybe you just see some really fucked up shit before your die. Who knows?
At the end (the part that I did see), the Party of Five appears to be at a funeral home/church. He is told that the time spent on the island and the people there were the most important parts of his life. Even as an outsider, this puts it all into perspective. We all go through life together, our adventures, our triumphs, our downfalls and our fears. At the end, we won’t know the logic behind every little detail. And it’s not important that we do. What’s important is the people who were with us along the way during our journey.
Or maybe, as I've always suspected, it's just a lame TV show and I'm up way too late theorizing about something I know absolutely nothing about.
But why the fuck wasn’t the dog in the church? I guess there’s a separate heaven for animals after all. Take that, Sylvia Brown.
I’m not exactly sorry that I didn’t watch the series. I mean, it’s apparently a story about a plane crash and, surprise, the characters are all dead at the end. Gee, I never would have spent seven years wondering if that could possibly happen. But knowing the end now, I can’t help but wonder about the philosophical side of the story.
Fans, humor an outsider here.
I’ve heard and read all sorts of questions regarding the intricate plots and subplots of the story. I’ve read theories and jokes about polar bears, smoke monsters and many mysteries over the years. I’ve heard people not expecting to have their questions to be answered in the last season.
I gather that much of it was a big metaphor for life and what happens when you die. For example, a character is swept away by a big bird in one of the episodes. How many times in life does this happen in a less figurative sense? Someone you know who is always around and a part of your life falls off the face of the earth and you no longer speak. You never know exactly what happened to them just that something happened and they are no longer around. Perhaps that's what that represented.
Perhaps there's an alternate world where our alter egos, dreams and fantasies carry out. Of course, this world exists merely in our own minds. And perhaps our souls, living or dead, meet there from time to time. Maybe sometimes we're all dreaming the same dream. And maybe there's a third world, a sideways world, where you are remembered by others, where they question what you might have done when facing their triumphs and tribulations. Maybe they see you in a different light than you would think they would see you. And maybe they fuck up your stories.
Maybe the Smoke Monster represented cancer or disease in general. I seem to recall fans being surprised that it could kill one of the characters so quickly and easily. That's what diseases do. They attack even the strongest and toughest among us without prejudice.
Another clip that I’ve seen involved the turbulence on the plane where Charlie from Party of Five is gripping his seat for dear life. The turbulence ends and the woman next to him tells him that he can now let go. Some theorize that this is the moment where his life ends and that is why she says it’s okay to let go. The adventure that ensues is perhaps his time in purgatory of some sort. Or maybe he isn’t really dead yet and that he’s going on a big adventure before his death with a bunch of other passengers before they die as well.
Or maybe you just see some really fucked up shit before your die. Who knows?
At the end (the part that I did see), the Party of Five appears to be at a funeral home/church. He is told that the time spent on the island and the people there were the most important parts of his life. Even as an outsider, this puts it all into perspective. We all go through life together, our adventures, our triumphs, our downfalls and our fears. At the end, we won’t know the logic behind every little detail. And it’s not important that we do. What’s important is the people who were with us along the way during our journey.
Or maybe, as I've always suspected, it's just a lame TV show and I'm up way too late theorizing about something I know absolutely nothing about.
But why the fuck wasn’t the dog in the church? I guess there’s a separate heaven for animals after all. Take that, Sylvia Brown.
Friday, May 21, 2010
Creep Of The Week: People Who Call You At The Wrong Phone Number And Then Get Pissed When They Can't Reach You
How to recognize them: They have about 20 entries on your missed call list. They’re pissed because they really need an answer to a pressing question like, “What day does the rotary club meet?” or “Where are you?” and you are nowhere to be found.
Frequently heard saying: “Hi. I’m calling your cell phone because I know you told me you were going to be at a different number but I forgot. I need you to call me back ASAP. I have an important question. What’s the URL for Google? I mean, there’s nowhere to really look that up.”
Why they bug: I fucking told you where to call me! Did it ever occur to you that I gave you a specific number to reach me because I’m going to be in a place where my cell phone doesn’t work? And your questions are dumb and not that pressing. You’re just being lazy by not taking the right number down. You have no right to bitch about not being able to reach me if you can’t follow the specific instructions that I left you. And while we’re at it, if I’m calling you from a different number and you see it on your caller ID, don’t call me back on my cell phone! If I wanted to talk to you from my cell phone, I would be calling from my cell phone. Chances are good the battery is dying or I don’t have good service.
Their retort: “Well, I left you a message.”
My response: Joke’s on you. I rarely check my messages. Try using bing.com next time you need an answer.
Frequently heard saying: “Hi. I’m calling your cell phone because I know you told me you were going to be at a different number but I forgot. I need you to call me back ASAP. I have an important question. What’s the URL for Google? I mean, there’s nowhere to really look that up.”
Why they bug: I fucking told you where to call me! Did it ever occur to you that I gave you a specific number to reach me because I’m going to be in a place where my cell phone doesn’t work? And your questions are dumb and not that pressing. You’re just being lazy by not taking the right number down. You have no right to bitch about not being able to reach me if you can’t follow the specific instructions that I left you. And while we’re at it, if I’m calling you from a different number and you see it on your caller ID, don’t call me back on my cell phone! If I wanted to talk to you from my cell phone, I would be calling from my cell phone. Chances are good the battery is dying or I don’t have good service.
Their retort: “Well, I left you a message.”
My response: Joke’s on you. I rarely check my messages. Try using bing.com next time you need an answer.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Things I Wish I Could Say On Facebook
Driving to the Jersey shore is not a road trip.
Okay. We get it. You’re in love. Stop being gross with the mushy stuff.
Oy with the fucking Farmville shit already!
Did we not attend the same classes in high school? Why does your grammar suck so badly?
I voted for Specter because I don’t think Sestak has a shot in hell in November. And Toomey scares the holy fuck out of me. You may as well give him the keys to the office now. Thanks.
I’m not going to pray that your child and dog do better with their potty training. I’m pretty sure Jesus has more pressing issues than where your child or puppy take a shit.
Sue Sylvester is not a real person.
You don’t have to piss on my birthday cake to put the candles out. (Actually, I might make this one my status one of these days.)
Your quotations are inspirational and all but given your profession, you should be giving us more original updates.
You’re a hypocritical douche.
You’re an arrogant hypocritical douche.
You were a douche in high school. I see nothing has changed.
Look, we know Sarah Palin is an idiot. Are there really people out there who take her seriously?
Holy crap, you got fat!
Your child does not need a six month birthday party.
One of my ex-boyfriends has very ugly children.
I think your next wardrobe should consist of wrinkle free fabrics. You seem to spend a lot of time ironing.
Yankees suck!
Pretending to be a nice guy might get you laid but she’ll figure it out eventually.
Pretending to be a Republican might get you laid but it also makes you look like a douche.
Jesus Christ! Will you find a new job already? I’m sick of seeing you bitch everyday.
I might offend you when I bash your religion but you offend me when you bash gay people. So fuck you.
Bon Jovi and his goofy grin are partly responsible for the decline of heavy metal music. Rock stars should be angrier, fucking everything with a hole and a heartbeat and not married to their high school sweethearts.
Going to church and posting little “God bless you,” quotations does not make up for fucking another woman’s husband, you whore.
Come to think of it, it’s always the bible bangers that do the most fucked up shit.
Those pictures of yourself all look the same. Maybe you should just pick one.
Okay. We get it. You’re in love. Stop being gross with the mushy stuff.
Oy with the fucking Farmville shit already!
Did we not attend the same classes in high school? Why does your grammar suck so badly?
I voted for Specter because I don’t think Sestak has a shot in hell in November. And Toomey scares the holy fuck out of me. You may as well give him the keys to the office now. Thanks.
I’m not going to pray that your child and dog do better with their potty training. I’m pretty sure Jesus has more pressing issues than where your child or puppy take a shit.
Sue Sylvester is not a real person.
You don’t have to piss on my birthday cake to put the candles out. (Actually, I might make this one my status one of these days.)
Your quotations are inspirational and all but given your profession, you should be giving us more original updates.
You’re a hypocritical douche.
You’re an arrogant hypocritical douche.
You were a douche in high school. I see nothing has changed.
Look, we know Sarah Palin is an idiot. Are there really people out there who take her seriously?
Holy crap, you got fat!
Your child does not need a six month birthday party.
One of my ex-boyfriends has very ugly children.
I think your next wardrobe should consist of wrinkle free fabrics. You seem to spend a lot of time ironing.
Yankees suck!
Pretending to be a nice guy might get you laid but she’ll figure it out eventually.
Pretending to be a Republican might get you laid but it also makes you look like a douche.
Jesus Christ! Will you find a new job already? I’m sick of seeing you bitch everyday.
I might offend you when I bash your religion but you offend me when you bash gay people. So fuck you.
Bon Jovi and his goofy grin are partly responsible for the decline of heavy metal music. Rock stars should be angrier, fucking everything with a hole and a heartbeat and not married to their high school sweethearts.
Going to church and posting little “God bless you,” quotations does not make up for fucking another woman’s husband, you whore.
Come to think of it, it’s always the bible bangers that do the most fucked up shit.
Those pictures of yourself all look the same. Maybe you should just pick one.
Monday, May 17, 2010
In Support Of High Tech Births
Last week, I chose my child’s birthday.
On that day, or perhaps a few days before that if she decides she wants out sooner, I will arrive at the hospital, be prepped for surgery, cut open and have her removed abdominally rather than vaginally. This is the birth I have chosen.
I’m probably a decent candidate for a VBAC (vaginal birth after c-section). I don’t know for sure because I have not really discussed it at length with my OBGYN practice. At my first prenatal visit I made it clear that I had no interest in a VBAC. I was told at that point that if I did not attempt a VBAC this time, I would not be able to attempt one with any subsequent pregnancies. That’s fine with me since I don’t intend to have any more.
I don’t get why I have to defend this choice to some people.
I also don’t get why some people are so gung ho to use technology to get pregnant via fertility treatments. Yet, once they are pregnant, shun every possible piece of technology available. Why is one okay and not the other?
I also question why the very same people will fight tooth and nail to have a safe and high tech abortion when the outcome is that the fetus does not survive. These women would not want to do such a thing at home. Yet, they would love to have a home birth. If something did go wrong in those circumstances, they may not have the medical equipment available to ensure the child would survive.
Isn’t it ironic? Don’t ya think?
People will say that the act of giving birth is a natural process and not a medical procedure. I disagree. If there’s blood involved, it’s medical. If someone’s life is at stake, it’s a medical procedure. If you have an opportunity to mitigate your pain and plan ahead, why not do it? This is not a third world country. You do not have to suffer or be inconvenienced.
When I went into the hospital to have my first child, I was asked if I had a birth plan. I told them, “You’ll probably do this more times today than I’m going to in my entire lifetime. I’ll just follow your lead.” Perhaps I am giving up control of my experience but that’s okay with me. I just want everything to be done safely. So I’m going to leave it up to the experts and professionals.
So I will spend the next few weeks planning childbirth, as much as anyone can plan childbirth. But at least I have a definite date that I can’t go back. To me, childbirth is not a means to an end but rather a means to a beginning.
On that day, or perhaps a few days before that if she decides she wants out sooner, I will arrive at the hospital, be prepped for surgery, cut open and have her removed abdominally rather than vaginally. This is the birth I have chosen.
I’m probably a decent candidate for a VBAC (vaginal birth after c-section). I don’t know for sure because I have not really discussed it at length with my OBGYN practice. At my first prenatal visit I made it clear that I had no interest in a VBAC. I was told at that point that if I did not attempt a VBAC this time, I would not be able to attempt one with any subsequent pregnancies. That’s fine with me since I don’t intend to have any more.
I don’t get why I have to defend this choice to some people.
I also don’t get why some people are so gung ho to use technology to get pregnant via fertility treatments. Yet, once they are pregnant, shun every possible piece of technology available. Why is one okay and not the other?
I also question why the very same people will fight tooth and nail to have a safe and high tech abortion when the outcome is that the fetus does not survive. These women would not want to do such a thing at home. Yet, they would love to have a home birth. If something did go wrong in those circumstances, they may not have the medical equipment available to ensure the child would survive.
Isn’t it ironic? Don’t ya think?
People will say that the act of giving birth is a natural process and not a medical procedure. I disagree. If there’s blood involved, it’s medical. If someone’s life is at stake, it’s a medical procedure. If you have an opportunity to mitigate your pain and plan ahead, why not do it? This is not a third world country. You do not have to suffer or be inconvenienced.
When I went into the hospital to have my first child, I was asked if I had a birth plan. I told them, “You’ll probably do this more times today than I’m going to in my entire lifetime. I’ll just follow your lead.” Perhaps I am giving up control of my experience but that’s okay with me. I just want everything to be done safely. So I’m going to leave it up to the experts and professionals.
So I will spend the next few weeks planning childbirth, as much as anyone can plan childbirth. But at least I have a definite date that I can’t go back. To me, childbirth is not a means to an end but rather a means to a beginning.
Friday, May 14, 2010
Creep Of The Week: Public Smokers
How to recognize them: They’re standing directly in front of the doors of the smoke-free place that you wish to visit (the mall, a restaurant, the hospital, etc.). You may have a hard time seeing them as there is a gigantic smelly cloud surrounding them.
Frequently heard saying: “I have a right to smoke. You’re infringing upon it.” “Well, something is going to kill me. It may as well be this.” “There are plenty of smoke free areas where you can go.”
Why they bug: What about MY right to breathe air that isn’t contaminated by cancer causing agents? What about my child’s right? What about my UNBORN child’s right? Surely, you wouldn’t blow smoke in a baby’s face. But if a woman is pregnant and not showing, you are doing exactly that without even knowing it. Look, I don’t care if you get cancer or emphysema. I’d be more than happy to have your dumb ass out of my gene pool. But don’t drag my kids or me down with you. Sure, there are areas designated as smoke free ones. But it defeats the purpose if I have to walk through your pollution to get to them. If you want to smoke in your own home, that's fine. You do have a right to do what you want with your body on your own property. But when your right infringes upon mine, it's just not fair. I didn't ask for that.
Their retort: **Cough**
My response: I just don’t see the point of smoking. Sure I tried it for a little while during my bad girl phase when I was 13 or 14. But knowing everything that we know about the harms, I just don’t understand what benefit could possibly outweigh them.
Frequently heard saying: “I have a right to smoke. You’re infringing upon it.” “Well, something is going to kill me. It may as well be this.” “There are plenty of smoke free areas where you can go.”
Why they bug: What about MY right to breathe air that isn’t contaminated by cancer causing agents? What about my child’s right? What about my UNBORN child’s right? Surely, you wouldn’t blow smoke in a baby’s face. But if a woman is pregnant and not showing, you are doing exactly that without even knowing it. Look, I don’t care if you get cancer or emphysema. I’d be more than happy to have your dumb ass out of my gene pool. But don’t drag my kids or me down with you. Sure, there are areas designated as smoke free ones. But it defeats the purpose if I have to walk through your pollution to get to them. If you want to smoke in your own home, that's fine. You do have a right to do what you want with your body on your own property. But when your right infringes upon mine, it's just not fair. I didn't ask for that.
Their retort: **Cough**
My response: I just don’t see the point of smoking. Sure I tried it for a little while during my bad girl phase when I was 13 or 14. But knowing everything that we know about the harms, I just don’t understand what benefit could possibly outweigh them.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
For The Birds
Five years ago when we were house hunting, we discovered a listing for a home that sparked an interest. The house was in a subdivision that was desirable to both of us and was set at an awesome price. I set up an appointment with the sellers’ agent. I gave her my work number and told her she could contact me there, which she did on one occasion. She seemed super excited about where I worked for some reason.
We met with her a few days later at the house that was for sale. The owners were home but quickly left with their two gigantic collies in tow. The house was a single level ranch with hardwood floors that needed some work. The realtor fully acknowledged this. She also told us that, while there were ducts in place for central air, a unit would need to be installed.
We toured the backyard, which had a dog pen. Since we are definitely not dog people, this was something that I found to be an unnecessary eyesore.
“They really need to find a farm out in the country. That’s where they belong,” said the agent. I nodded and smiled. I didn’t understand why having two large dogs would automatically make you country folk, but whatever.
I was about to find out what she meant. I definitely was not prepared for it.
When we went back inside to view the basement and the realtor quickly added, “This is where they keep the birds,” I figured maybe they had a pair of exotic parrots or cockatiels or something.
I was terribly wrong.
As we descended the wooden stairs, we saw two walls with easily two dozen cages filled with parakeets. Apparently, the homeowners were breeding these birds. They were squawking and carrying on in an unfinished portion of the basement. Toward the back of the basement, were two children’s bedrooms, one of which contained two large aquariums with large lizards. To this day, I can’t decide what is more horrifying – the lizards or the fact that there were two children sleeping just a few feet away from hundreds of birds.
As we were leaving, the realtor asked me a confirming question about where I work. Then she asked, “So how is Bob doing?” The only Bob I knew at my work was sales rep who had been fired months prior to that day. Apparently, she did not get the memo. I just smiled and said, “Oh, Bob is on the road so much. I rarely see him.” Then she went on and on about Bob and what a great guy he was. I could tell by her raving compliments that we were not talking about the same person.
We said our goodbyes and told her that we’d give the house some consideration. This, of course, was an empty pleasantry. I had absolutely no desire to live in a bird house. I told her that I’d tell Bob that she had asked about him as per her request. Then we turned our backs to her with smirks on our faces, hightailing it to the car.
When we got in the car and were safely out of earshot, we both let out a giggle.
“I just have one question,” I said to my husband.
“What’s with all the birds?” He asked.
“No. Who the fuck is Bob?”
I later realized that there is an abstract company with a name that is very similar to the company where I worked. Bob must have been an employee at the abstract company and she probably thought that’s where I worked.
A few days later, the realtor called me back. I told her that we had moved on with our search and that the home wasn’t the right fit for us. She then tried to entice me with a $1000 credit to have the floors redone.
Yeah, because THAT was the problem.
We met with her a few days later at the house that was for sale. The owners were home but quickly left with their two gigantic collies in tow. The house was a single level ranch with hardwood floors that needed some work. The realtor fully acknowledged this. She also told us that, while there were ducts in place for central air, a unit would need to be installed.
We toured the backyard, which had a dog pen. Since we are definitely not dog people, this was something that I found to be an unnecessary eyesore.
“They really need to find a farm out in the country. That’s where they belong,” said the agent. I nodded and smiled. I didn’t understand why having two large dogs would automatically make you country folk, but whatever.
I was about to find out what she meant. I definitely was not prepared for it.
When we went back inside to view the basement and the realtor quickly added, “This is where they keep the birds,” I figured maybe they had a pair of exotic parrots or cockatiels or something.
I was terribly wrong.
As we descended the wooden stairs, we saw two walls with easily two dozen cages filled with parakeets. Apparently, the homeowners were breeding these birds. They were squawking and carrying on in an unfinished portion of the basement. Toward the back of the basement, were two children’s bedrooms, one of which contained two large aquariums with large lizards. To this day, I can’t decide what is more horrifying – the lizards or the fact that there were two children sleeping just a few feet away from hundreds of birds.
As we were leaving, the realtor asked me a confirming question about where I work. Then she asked, “So how is Bob doing?” The only Bob I knew at my work was sales rep who had been fired months prior to that day. Apparently, she did not get the memo. I just smiled and said, “Oh, Bob is on the road so much. I rarely see him.” Then she went on and on about Bob and what a great guy he was. I could tell by her raving compliments that we were not talking about the same person.
We said our goodbyes and told her that we’d give the house some consideration. This, of course, was an empty pleasantry. I had absolutely no desire to live in a bird house. I told her that I’d tell Bob that she had asked about him as per her request. Then we turned our backs to her with smirks on our faces, hightailing it to the car.
When we got in the car and were safely out of earshot, we both let out a giggle.
“I just have one question,” I said to my husband.
“What’s with all the birds?” He asked.
“No. Who the fuck is Bob?”
I later realized that there is an abstract company with a name that is very similar to the company where I worked. Bob must have been an employee at the abstract company and she probably thought that’s where I worked.
A few days later, the realtor called me back. I told her that we had moved on with our search and that the home wasn’t the right fit for us. She then tried to entice me with a $1000 credit to have the floors redone.
Yeah, because THAT was the problem.
Monday, May 10, 2010
What I Want For Mothers Day 2011
1. An alcoholic beverage - I was too pregnant to party this year. Every year, my mother in law requests Outback for lunch. Next year, I want a Walaby Darned, damn it!
2. To sleep in – I don’t want to get up to go to church. I don’t want to get up with cranky kids with messy diapers. I don’t want to get up to remind my husband to call his mom and find out what she wants for lunch before she goes to church. I just want to sleep and wake up when the time is right.
3. An uninterrupted nap – Even if I sleep in late, Sunday afternoon naps are awesome. I tried this year but a very cranky baby with tummy troubles interrupted it. Moms truly never have a day off.
4. Jewelry that fits – My husband got me a bracelet that is too small because he thought I had small wrists. What. The. Fuck? He’s known me for 10 years, bought me other bracelets even. I’m a solid girl of eastern European stock. Why would I have dainty little wrists? I know I’ve bitched and moaned about having my grandmother’s stegosaurus like bone structure on several occasions over the last 10 years. At least he can take it back and get something that fits.
5. A clean cat box without having to ask or remind someone to clean it - This one is self-explanatory. Never mind the fact that I couldn’t clean the box right now, even if I wanted to due to my pregnancy. The deal when we got the cats was that they were his responsibility and he would take care of them.
6. To not have to pick up everyone else’s garbage and throw it away - Apparently, the fairy that is supposed to rinse out recyclables before putting them in the bin does not know where our house is. I often find empty Mountain Dew cans next to the sink.
7. To not have tummy troubles. - Hopefully, this sickness is just pregnancy related. I will spare you all the details. You’re welcome.
8. Red velvet cake ice cream from The Ritz in Allentown - This was the highlight of my Mothers Day. They have awesome ice cream in there.
9. My father in law to have a new kidney - The poor guy has been in the hospital almost every Mothers Day since I’ve known him. I really hope his health gets better. I think this is what he needs.
10. My children and their father to be happy and healthy, as well as the rest of my friends and relatives - As much as I whine and bitch about everything else, it could all be worse. The important thing is that we’re all happy and healthy. The rest is just small details.
2. To sleep in – I don’t want to get up to go to church. I don’t want to get up with cranky kids with messy diapers. I don’t want to get up to remind my husband to call his mom and find out what she wants for lunch before she goes to church. I just want to sleep and wake up when the time is right.
3. An uninterrupted nap – Even if I sleep in late, Sunday afternoon naps are awesome. I tried this year but a very cranky baby with tummy troubles interrupted it. Moms truly never have a day off.
4. Jewelry that fits – My husband got me a bracelet that is too small because he thought I had small wrists. What. The. Fuck? He’s known me for 10 years, bought me other bracelets even. I’m a solid girl of eastern European stock. Why would I have dainty little wrists? I know I’ve bitched and moaned about having my grandmother’s stegosaurus like bone structure on several occasions over the last 10 years. At least he can take it back and get something that fits.
5. A clean cat box without having to ask or remind someone to clean it - This one is self-explanatory. Never mind the fact that I couldn’t clean the box right now, even if I wanted to due to my pregnancy. The deal when we got the cats was that they were his responsibility and he would take care of them.
6. To not have to pick up everyone else’s garbage and throw it away - Apparently, the fairy that is supposed to rinse out recyclables before putting them in the bin does not know where our house is. I often find empty Mountain Dew cans next to the sink.
7. To not have tummy troubles. - Hopefully, this sickness is just pregnancy related. I will spare you all the details. You’re welcome.
8. Red velvet cake ice cream from The Ritz in Allentown - This was the highlight of my Mothers Day. They have awesome ice cream in there.
9. My father in law to have a new kidney - The poor guy has been in the hospital almost every Mothers Day since I’ve known him. I really hope his health gets better. I think this is what he needs.
10. My children and their father to be happy and healthy, as well as the rest of my friends and relatives - As much as I whine and bitch about everything else, it could all be worse. The important thing is that we’re all happy and healthy. The rest is just small details.
Friday, May 7, 2010
Creep Of The Week: Samplers
How to recognize them: They stand in long lines for a die-sized cube of cheese at the grocery store.
Frequently heard saying: “Tuna and mayonnaise on a Ritz cracker? Sounds like an awesome lunch! I’ll take five. Oh, I can only have one? Well, I guess I’ll just have to get back in line.”
Why they bug: It’s one thing to grab a quick sample if you’re just walking by. But why stand around in line and take up so much space? You’re in my way, damn it! I’m trying to get in and out of the store before my toddler figures out how to unhook the cart’s seatbelt and jump out. And did I mention she’s screaming her head off because the cart is at a standstill since I can’t get around you? Don’t get me wrong. I’m the first to speak up when I feel that I’m owed something. Heck, I once got a guy fired over a free Snuggie. But that’s another blog for another day. A complimentary squirt of Purell is not the same thing.
Their retort: “I have to wait in line. What if they run out?”
My response: Well, wouldn’t that suck? Maybe you should dig some change out of your car’s cup holder and, oh I don’t know, buy a two-dollar box of cookies and get the fuck out of the store instead of standing in my way while eating them.
Frequently heard saying: “Tuna and mayonnaise on a Ritz cracker? Sounds like an awesome lunch! I’ll take five. Oh, I can only have one? Well, I guess I’ll just have to get back in line.”
Why they bug: It’s one thing to grab a quick sample if you’re just walking by. But why stand around in line and take up so much space? You’re in my way, damn it! I’m trying to get in and out of the store before my toddler figures out how to unhook the cart’s seatbelt and jump out. And did I mention she’s screaming her head off because the cart is at a standstill since I can’t get around you? Don’t get me wrong. I’m the first to speak up when I feel that I’m owed something. Heck, I once got a guy fired over a free Snuggie. But that’s another blog for another day. A complimentary squirt of Purell is not the same thing.
Their retort: “I have to wait in line. What if they run out?”
My response: Well, wouldn’t that suck? Maybe you should dig some change out of your car’s cup holder and, oh I don’t know, buy a two-dollar box of cookies and get the fuck out of the store instead of standing in my way while eating them.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Book Suggestions For Your Mom For Mothers Day
It's that time of year. Many bookstores, magazines and news magazine programs are offering advice on what books to get your mom for Mother's Day. I can honestly say that, as a mom, these suggestions are always really lame. I'm not crafter. Gardening makes me itchy. I'd be insulted by Rachel Ray cookbook or something called "Hello, Cupcake!" I have no desire to read another Jodi Picoult book. So here are my suggestions for moms who don't fall under the umbrella of normalcy.
For the mom who is not quite Martha Stewart and has a really good sense of humor about it,
I Like You: Hospitality Under The Influence by Amy Sedaris – Sedaris, best known for her role in Strangers With Candy, as well as being the sister of humorous writer David Sedaris, offers some very handy tips for entertaining in this book. She is an advocate of stuffing your medicine cabinet with marbles to find out who is a nosey guest. She also gives great etiquette advice. For example, when speaking with the bereaved, a bad question to ask may be, “Where were you at the time?’ I have given this book as a gift many times. The first time was shortly after someone asked me about a friend who had died in a car accident. “Was she drunk?” she asked. I responded, “Well, it was 10 AM on Christmas Eve and she was on her way to work. So, probably.”
For the mom on Prozac,
What Girls Learn by Karin Cook – This is a fictional story about a mother of two young girls who remarries and moves to a different state. Shortly after she is married, she finds out that she has breast cancer. It’s also quite a coming of age tale that became a Showtime Original movie and later a Lifetime Movie Channel classic. I dare anyone to read it and not cry like a baby. Being on Prozac is your only hope.
For the mom who works so much she has little time to enjoy arts and crafts,
Extreme Office Crafts: Creative & Devious Ways to Waste Office Supplies & Company Time by Jimmy Knight and Tom Chalmers - Let mom save time by giving herself a manicure with Liquid Paper during a long boring conference call. She can make fun little toys out of erasers and paper clips. Let her get in touch with her creative design side and make a mosaic picture out of post it notes. It’s all in this fun craft book.
For the mom who lives under a rock,
Twilight Collection by Stephenie Meyer – Although, she’s probably already read it. We all know moms are the real targeted audience.
For the mom who is a Bravo Junkie,
Secrets of a Jewish Mother: Real Advice, Real Stories, Real Love by Jill Zarin, Lisa Wexler, and Gloria Kamen
And
Little Kids, Big City: Tales from a Real House in New York City (With Lessons on Life and Love for Your Own Concrete Jungle) by Alex McCord and Simon van Kempen
As of press time, I have not read either of these books. I ordered them from Amazon. They’re being sent to me regular mail and we all know what a bunch of fuck ups there are in the Blandon post office. I expect to have them sometime next January. But I will give you my take based on the viewing habits of my present television viewing guilty pleasure, The Real Housewives of New York and a couple online reviews that I’ve read. Alex’s book rules! It’s funny, not at all pretentious and an overall good read. Jill’s book sucks. She’s a bitch and probably writes her own reviews to combat fans of the show who gave the book a bad review as a result of her snide behavior.
For the mom whose wild life has been tamed by sniveling brats like yourself,
Mommies Who Drink: Sex, Drugs, and Other Distant Memories of an Ordinary Mom by Brett Paesel - If your mom didn’t mind labor because she was drugged up to her eyeballs, this is the book for her. It follows a mother of two and her girlfriends who enjoy a good cocktail, each others’ company and the adventures in mommyhood. Plus, the cover is super cute with its wink at Goodnight Moon
For the mom who is in denial and/or can't take a hint,
Mom, Dad, I'm Gay.: How Families Negotiate Coming Out by Ritch C. Savin-Williams – Chances are pretty good your mom has already figured it out. I mean, hello! You spell Ritch with a “t” in the middle. She’d probably prefer some nice flowers or a charm bracelet. But if you really feel the need to have a long discussion on a day that’s supposed to be light and happy for her, go for it. Just promise you’ll take her shopping or dancing another time.
For the mom who is horny,
Porn for New Moms: From the Cambridge Women's Pornography Cooperative by
Cambridge Women's Pornography Cooperative, Susan Anderson - A nice collection of hot men handling babies, talking about how they’ll change the diapers and do the laundry. Ah, a girl can dream.
For the new mom who is a bit clueless,
Safe Baby Handling Tips by David Sopp and Kelly Sopp – This illustrated board book offers great advice such as the following.
It also offers The Wheel of Responsibility for the couples to divvy up the tasks that pesky little babies demand so frequently. Never again will you have to play rock, paper, scissors to decide who has to change the next poopy diaper.
For the mom who is a misinformed Republican,
That's No Angry Mob, That's My Mom: Team Obama's Assault on Tea-Party, Talk-Radio Americans by Michael Graham - Then smack her upside the head with it for me.
For the single mom who makes bad decisions,
If You Want Closure in Your Relationship, Start with Your Legs: A Guide to Understanding Men by Big Boom – Another one that I’ve never read. I never really needed this advice. But I know a lot of people who do, including your mom.
For the mom who is not quite Martha Stewart and has a really good sense of humor about it,
I Like You: Hospitality Under The Influence by Amy Sedaris – Sedaris, best known for her role in Strangers With Candy, as well as being the sister of humorous writer David Sedaris, offers some very handy tips for entertaining in this book. She is an advocate of stuffing your medicine cabinet with marbles to find out who is a nosey guest. She also gives great etiquette advice. For example, when speaking with the bereaved, a bad question to ask may be, “Where were you at the time?’ I have given this book as a gift many times. The first time was shortly after someone asked me about a friend who had died in a car accident. “Was she drunk?” she asked. I responded, “Well, it was 10 AM on Christmas Eve and she was on her way to work. So, probably.”
For the mom on Prozac,
What Girls Learn by Karin Cook – This is a fictional story about a mother of two young girls who remarries and moves to a different state. Shortly after she is married, she finds out that she has breast cancer. It’s also quite a coming of age tale that became a Showtime Original movie and later a Lifetime Movie Channel classic. I dare anyone to read it and not cry like a baby. Being on Prozac is your only hope.
For the mom who works so much she has little time to enjoy arts and crafts,
Extreme Office Crafts: Creative & Devious Ways to Waste Office Supplies & Company Time by Jimmy Knight and Tom Chalmers - Let mom save time by giving herself a manicure with Liquid Paper during a long boring conference call. She can make fun little toys out of erasers and paper clips. Let her get in touch with her creative design side and make a mosaic picture out of post it notes. It’s all in this fun craft book.
For the mom who lives under a rock,
Twilight Collection by Stephenie Meyer – Although, she’s probably already read it. We all know moms are the real targeted audience.
For the mom who is a Bravo Junkie,
Secrets of a Jewish Mother: Real Advice, Real Stories, Real Love by Jill Zarin, Lisa Wexler, and Gloria Kamen
And
Little Kids, Big City: Tales from a Real House in New York City (With Lessons on Life and Love for Your Own Concrete Jungle) by Alex McCord and Simon van Kempen
As of press time, I have not read either of these books. I ordered them from Amazon. They’re being sent to me regular mail and we all know what a bunch of fuck ups there are in the Blandon post office. I expect to have them sometime next January. But I will give you my take based on the viewing habits of my present television viewing guilty pleasure, The Real Housewives of New York and a couple online reviews that I’ve read. Alex’s book rules! It’s funny, not at all pretentious and an overall good read. Jill’s book sucks. She’s a bitch and probably writes her own reviews to combat fans of the show who gave the book a bad review as a result of her snide behavior.
For the mom whose wild life has been tamed by sniveling brats like yourself,
Mommies Who Drink: Sex, Drugs, and Other Distant Memories of an Ordinary Mom by Brett Paesel - If your mom didn’t mind labor because she was drugged up to her eyeballs, this is the book for her. It follows a mother of two and her girlfriends who enjoy a good cocktail, each others’ company and the adventures in mommyhood. Plus, the cover is super cute with its wink at Goodnight Moon
For the mom who is in denial and/or can't take a hint,
Mom, Dad, I'm Gay.: How Families Negotiate Coming Out by Ritch C. Savin-Williams – Chances are pretty good your mom has already figured it out. I mean, hello! You spell Ritch with a “t” in the middle. She’d probably prefer some nice flowers or a charm bracelet. But if you really feel the need to have a long discussion on a day that’s supposed to be light and happy for her, go for it. Just promise you’ll take her shopping or dancing another time.
For the mom who is horny,
Porn for New Moms: From the Cambridge Women's Pornography Cooperative by
Cambridge Women's Pornography Cooperative, Susan Anderson - A nice collection of hot men handling babies, talking about how they’ll change the diapers and do the laundry. Ah, a girl can dream.
For the new mom who is a bit clueless,
Safe Baby Handling Tips by David Sopp and Kelly Sopp – This illustrated board book offers great advice such as the following.
It also offers The Wheel of Responsibility for the couples to divvy up the tasks that pesky little babies demand so frequently. Never again will you have to play rock, paper, scissors to decide who has to change the next poopy diaper.
For the mom who is a misinformed Republican,
That's No Angry Mob, That's My Mom: Team Obama's Assault on Tea-Party, Talk-Radio Americans by Michael Graham - Then smack her upside the head with it for me.
For the single mom who makes bad decisions,
If You Want Closure in Your Relationship, Start with Your Legs: A Guide to Understanding Men by Big Boom – Another one that I’ve never read. I never really needed this advice. But I know a lot of people who do, including your mom.
Monday, May 3, 2010
Excuse Me While I Bitch At The Marketing People
Dear Department Store Designers,
Why do you insist on putting your maternity and baby clothes in the corner of the store that is the farthest from the store’s entrance? Do you know who is buying these items? Fat, tired, pregnant ladies who don’t have the energy to walk from one far end of the mall or shopping center to the other.
I completely understand if you don’t want to put these items at the front of the store. After all, they are for a targeted market and do not have mass appeal. But do you really have to put them all the way in the back? Just the mere thought of trying to tackle the mall for what I want makes me tired, especially on a hot day. My lungs are being crushed by my ever expanding uterus. My feet are swollen from the heat. And sometimes, I'm dragging a year and a half year old around with me. Please, have a little mercy.
Perhaps you think it’s best to keep these departments near the restrooms, as I will need to get there as well at some point. I appreciate that line of thinking. Perhaps you think I need exercise. That’s probably true. But you really aren’t doing yourself any favors. I can very easily shop online. And while this might not hurt your company’s overall bottom line, it will hurt the local store as a profit center.
Love,
A Big Fat Pregnant Lady Who Loves Shopping And Is In An Uncomfortable State
Why do you insist on putting your maternity and baby clothes in the corner of the store that is the farthest from the store’s entrance? Do you know who is buying these items? Fat, tired, pregnant ladies who don’t have the energy to walk from one far end of the mall or shopping center to the other.
I completely understand if you don’t want to put these items at the front of the store. After all, they are for a targeted market and do not have mass appeal. But do you really have to put them all the way in the back? Just the mere thought of trying to tackle the mall for what I want makes me tired, especially on a hot day. My lungs are being crushed by my ever expanding uterus. My feet are swollen from the heat. And sometimes, I'm dragging a year and a half year old around with me. Please, have a little mercy.
Perhaps you think it’s best to keep these departments near the restrooms, as I will need to get there as well at some point. I appreciate that line of thinking. Perhaps you think I need exercise. That’s probably true. But you really aren’t doing yourself any favors. I can very easily shop online. And while this might not hurt your company’s overall bottom line, it will hurt the local store as a profit center.
Love,
A Big Fat Pregnant Lady Who Loves Shopping And Is In An Uncomfortable State
Friday, April 30, 2010
Creep Of The Week: Friends And Family In One Sided Relationships
How to recognize them: They invite you to their dog’s birthday party or some other inane event and expect you to attend (with a gift or a dish, because after all, that’s just good manners). If you decline, they guilt trip you. And when it’s your cat’s birthday, suddenly they’re all allergic and shit. Or they have to go fishing.
Frequently heard saying: “Sorry I can’t come to your banquet. I have a pedicure scheduled that afternoon. But congrats on winning the Nobel Peace Prize! You’re still coming to my Longaberger Basket party, right? Can you bake a batch of those cookies I really like and bring them? The ones you make at Christmas time from scratch?”
Why they bug: I take the time to put your boring ass event on my calendar, sometimes turning down or even cancelling other plans. I sometimes have to find a sitter in order to attend. I go out of my way. But I don’t get the same from you. I'm not even sure if you know that I've had a child. You've never bothered to come see her. But the puppies your dog had last week are super cute!
Their retort: “No one asked you to get a sitter. Just bring the baby along. I don’t understand why she cries whenever I hold her, though.”
My response: It’s called stranger anxiety. She doesn’t know you because you don’t make an effort. And I no longer feel bad about it. You’re the one missing out.
Frequently heard saying: “Sorry I can’t come to your banquet. I have a pedicure scheduled that afternoon. But congrats on winning the Nobel Peace Prize! You’re still coming to my Longaberger Basket party, right? Can you bake a batch of those cookies I really like and bring them? The ones you make at Christmas time from scratch?”
Why they bug: I take the time to put your boring ass event on my calendar, sometimes turning down or even cancelling other plans. I sometimes have to find a sitter in order to attend. I go out of my way. But I don’t get the same from you. I'm not even sure if you know that I've had a child. You've never bothered to come see her. But the puppies your dog had last week are super cute!
Their retort: “No one asked you to get a sitter. Just bring the baby along. I don’t understand why she cries whenever I hold her, though.”
My response: It’s called stranger anxiety. She doesn’t know you because you don’t make an effort. And I no longer feel bad about it. You’re the one missing out.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
How To Spot A Douchebag
-He’s wearing an Ed Hardy t-shirt.
-He’s uptight and condescending.
-His favorite sports teams are the New York Yankees and/or the Dallas Cowboys
-He smiles when he is presenting news that will not be well received.
-He has to drive the Corvette because the Hummer was repossessed.
-Works so much that his own children don’t recognize him and has no idea that Dallas and Dynasty are no longer on television.
-He lacks logic when it comes to political issues. He’s not very informed and is likely a Republican.
-He's staring at your boobs right now.
-When he’s not working, he’s doing additional work either on his home or some sort of volunteer work. He talks about it incessantly and expects the world to kiss his ass. He’ll do anything to be a hero but again, his kids don’t even recognize him.
-He hits on married women.
-He listens to Nickelback.
-He plays a lot of poker.
-He reads nothing but bad mass market paperback books written by authors like Stephen King, James Patterson and Dean Koontz. He also thinks that he’s an intellectual because he reads at all.
-He enjoys a good pun.
-When you ask him what he does for a living, he says where he works but doesn’t necessarily tell you what he does.
-He frequently vacations in Vegas.
-He’s a hypocritical Christian.
-He reads my Creep Of The Week blog and says, “I hate people like that, too.” In the meantime, it was written about him.
-He’s uptight and condescending.
-His favorite sports teams are the New York Yankees and/or the Dallas Cowboys
-He smiles when he is presenting news that will not be well received.
-He has to drive the Corvette because the Hummer was repossessed.
-Works so much that his own children don’t recognize him and has no idea that Dallas and Dynasty are no longer on television.
-He lacks logic when it comes to political issues. He’s not very informed and is likely a Republican.
-He's staring at your boobs right now.
-When he’s not working, he’s doing additional work either on his home or some sort of volunteer work. He talks about it incessantly and expects the world to kiss his ass. He’ll do anything to be a hero but again, his kids don’t even recognize him.
-He hits on married women.
-He listens to Nickelback.
-He plays a lot of poker.
-He reads nothing but bad mass market paperback books written by authors like Stephen King, James Patterson and Dean Koontz. He also thinks that he’s an intellectual because he reads at all.
-He enjoys a good pun.
-When you ask him what he does for a living, he says where he works but doesn’t necessarily tell you what he does.
-He frequently vacations in Vegas.
-He’s a hypocritical Christian.
-He reads my Creep Of The Week blog and says, “I hate people like that, too.” In the meantime, it was written about him.
Monday, April 26, 2010
There's No Need To Try So Hard
I am the first person to bitch when I’ve received what I feel is bad customer service. I also praise and reward good service that goes above and beyond what is expected. But when companies try too hard, we all lose.
When I woke up this morning, the power was out. We had some bad weather over night. I assumed that the outage had something to do with that. I did my usual putzing around and by the time I finished it was back. By the time blinking on my oven, I assumed it had only been out for a half hour or so.
At three o’clock this afternoon, I received a prerecorded phone call from the power company explaining that the power had gone out this morning for a half hour. NO SHIT DICK TRACY! WHERE DID YOU HIDE THE SQUAD CAR? Even if I had not been home, I’m pretty sure I could have figured out that the power went out by the blinking clocks all over my house. Is it really necessary to call my house and possibly wake my napping baby?
Amazon.com also tries too hard with their customer service. When a customer makes a request to be removed from their automatic promotional email list, they send an email confirming that they’ve been removed. Um, thanks. I just told you that I no longer want emails from you and you send me an email to tell me that you will no longer be sending me emails. Here’s an idea. How about you just stop sending me emails? I will figure it out that you are no longer emailing me by the lack of emails from you in my inbox.
Maybe I’m just cranky. Maybe I should applaud these companies for taking their customers into consideration. Maybe I’m just smarter than the average bear and don’t need an explanation for every. single. thing. But at some point, over serving becomes a disservice.
When I woke up this morning, the power was out. We had some bad weather over night. I assumed that the outage had something to do with that. I did my usual putzing around and by the time I finished it was back. By the time blinking on my oven, I assumed it had only been out for a half hour or so.
At three o’clock this afternoon, I received a prerecorded phone call from the power company explaining that the power had gone out this morning for a half hour. NO SHIT DICK TRACY! WHERE DID YOU HIDE THE SQUAD CAR? Even if I had not been home, I’m pretty sure I could have figured out that the power went out by the blinking clocks all over my house. Is it really necessary to call my house and possibly wake my napping baby?
Amazon.com also tries too hard with their customer service. When a customer makes a request to be removed from their automatic promotional email list, they send an email confirming that they’ve been removed. Um, thanks. I just told you that I no longer want emails from you and you send me an email to tell me that you will no longer be sending me emails. Here’s an idea. How about you just stop sending me emails? I will figure it out that you are no longer emailing me by the lack of emails from you in my inbox.
Maybe I’m just cranky. Maybe I should applaud these companies for taking their customers into consideration. Maybe I’m just smarter than the average bear and don’t need an explanation for every. single. thing. But at some point, over serving becomes a disservice.
Friday, April 23, 2010
Creep Of The Week: People Who Think They're Cooler Than They Really Are Because They Live In A Place With Nice Weather
Blogger's Note: I know this isn't the most timely of pieces. I saved this blog for this time of year on purpose. I wanted to prove a point that bad weather is only a temporary problem, lasting only a few days. Living in a city of dicks is year round.
How to recognize them: They live somewhere like Las Vegas, Southern California or Hawaii. When there’s a snowstorm in the Midwest or the Northeast, they text or post annoying things on Facebook regarding the weather.
Frequently heard saying: “It must suck to have to shovel snow. It’s 70 degrees here and there isn’t a cloud in the sky.” “I have to go to the doctor to get myself checked for skin cancer. I’ve been spending way too much time in the sunshine.”
Why they bug: Just because the weather is nice where you live, that doesn’t mean there aren’t other problems that far outweigh the good. Las Vegas is crawling with douche bags. Californians are flakes. The cost of living in Hawaii is high. It still rains in most of these places. Give me the northeast, where not everyone is ultra obsessed with superficial things like their appearance. Poor weather also breeds a sense of urgency. We want to accomplish things before the bad weather arrives and get home before the roads suck.
Their retort: “While you’re out rushing around, I’ll be poolside.”
My response: I’m willing to sacrifice a few days where I’m snowed in and can’t get where I need to be. Sometimes it’s nice to avoid the rest of the world.
How to recognize them: They live somewhere like Las Vegas, Southern California or Hawaii. When there’s a snowstorm in the Midwest or the Northeast, they text or post annoying things on Facebook regarding the weather.
Frequently heard saying: “It must suck to have to shovel snow. It’s 70 degrees here and there isn’t a cloud in the sky.” “I have to go to the doctor to get myself checked for skin cancer. I’ve been spending way too much time in the sunshine.”
Why they bug: Just because the weather is nice where you live, that doesn’t mean there aren’t other problems that far outweigh the good. Las Vegas is crawling with douche bags. Californians are flakes. The cost of living in Hawaii is high. It still rains in most of these places. Give me the northeast, where not everyone is ultra obsessed with superficial things like their appearance. Poor weather also breeds a sense of urgency. We want to accomplish things before the bad weather arrives and get home before the roads suck.
Their retort: “While you’re out rushing around, I’ll be poolside.”
My response: I’m willing to sacrifice a few days where I’m snowed in and can’t get where I need to be. Sometimes it’s nice to avoid the rest of the world.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Suck It, Lactation Consultants!
Consider this your warning. I will likely be telling you this during my hospital stay when I have baby #2.
This baby has 36 hours to figure out how to latch and nurse properly. If she doesn’t get it, I’m going to pump. I’m sure you will have an opinion on this. I’m sure you will try to use it to influence me. I simply do not care what it is.
Last time around, the nurses gave my daughter a few ounces of formula while I napped. I didn’t need your snippy little comment about that later. If you had a problem with it, you should have said something to the nurse who gave it to her, not me. I was not even conscious when it happened. The baby was turning yellow and was obviously hungry. So she ate. I, her mother, was not bothered by it. So I don’t know why you should be.
All parties also became extremely frustrated in our previous experience as well, including the baby, my husband, the hospital staff and me. I reached a point where I was dreading my child waking up because I didn’t want to deal with it. Motherhood should not feel that way. Enjoying your child is imperative. When I finally decided to pump exclusively, I felt as though a gigantic weight had left my shoulders. I relaxed and had fun with my baby.
I'm not the picture of dietary health. If my child has to supplement with formula, it might actually be better than passing along all the processed foods that I consume. After having major surgery, I don't foresee having the ability or even the desire to go out and shop and cook fresh foods. I can barely do that now with a toddler. It's baby formula, with iron, vitamins and nutrients. It's not like I'm slapping a nipple on a bottle of Clorox.
I don’t want to hear that it’s “double duty” or “a lot of work.” It’s not. With my pump, I can produce twice as much milk in 20 minutes than she would likely take in a 45 minute nursing session. My husband can give her a bottle while I rest and recover. I can store the excess milk for a later time, which will keep her fed longer. I know exactly how much she has eaten, if it’s too much or too little. My first child also slept through the night by 11 weeks. Many breastfed children have trouble sleeping because the parents are unable to monitor and control how full the baby’s stomachs are. I never had that problem and was able to sleep well throughout the night as well.
And I never had to whip out my boob in public. Sure, carrying milk around can be a pain in the ass. But with two kids under the age of two, I don’t think I’m going to be going too many places anyway.
You may be an expert on nursing but I am the expert of my family. I managed to make this work last time and I’m willing to try again. Ultimately, I am the one who is going to have to live with the decision. My child and I will later be forgotten and inconsequential to you. I know it’s your job but this is my life.
This baby has 36 hours to figure out how to latch and nurse properly. If she doesn’t get it, I’m going to pump. I’m sure you will have an opinion on this. I’m sure you will try to use it to influence me. I simply do not care what it is.
Last time around, the nurses gave my daughter a few ounces of formula while I napped. I didn’t need your snippy little comment about that later. If you had a problem with it, you should have said something to the nurse who gave it to her, not me. I was not even conscious when it happened. The baby was turning yellow and was obviously hungry. So she ate. I, her mother, was not bothered by it. So I don’t know why you should be.
All parties also became extremely frustrated in our previous experience as well, including the baby, my husband, the hospital staff and me. I reached a point where I was dreading my child waking up because I didn’t want to deal with it. Motherhood should not feel that way. Enjoying your child is imperative. When I finally decided to pump exclusively, I felt as though a gigantic weight had left my shoulders. I relaxed and had fun with my baby.
I'm not the picture of dietary health. If my child has to supplement with formula, it might actually be better than passing along all the processed foods that I consume. After having major surgery, I don't foresee having the ability or even the desire to go out and shop and cook fresh foods. I can barely do that now with a toddler. It's baby formula, with iron, vitamins and nutrients. It's not like I'm slapping a nipple on a bottle of Clorox.
I don’t want to hear that it’s “double duty” or “a lot of work.” It’s not. With my pump, I can produce twice as much milk in 20 minutes than she would likely take in a 45 minute nursing session. My husband can give her a bottle while I rest and recover. I can store the excess milk for a later time, which will keep her fed longer. I know exactly how much she has eaten, if it’s too much or too little. My first child also slept through the night by 11 weeks. Many breastfed children have trouble sleeping because the parents are unable to monitor and control how full the baby’s stomachs are. I never had that problem and was able to sleep well throughout the night as well.
And I never had to whip out my boob in public. Sure, carrying milk around can be a pain in the ass. But with two kids under the age of two, I don’t think I’m going to be going too many places anyway.
You may be an expert on nursing but I am the expert of my family. I managed to make this work last time and I’m willing to try again. Ultimately, I am the one who is going to have to live with the decision. My child and I will later be forgotten and inconsequential to you. I know it’s your job but this is my life.
Monday, April 19, 2010
Finding My Niche
Over the weekend, I attended a writers’ conference. One of the seminars centered upon building a brand and finding your niche. It was a great presentation but it left me feeling a little lost.
The point to finding your niche is to become an expert at a topic you are passionate about, writing about it and marketing your work. There has to be money in the topic. Somewhere, someone has to be buying and selling something surrounding the subject. It has to appeal to businesses or trade publications so that you can sell your work.
This left me questioning what my niche is, exactly. Once upon a time, it may have been finance or credit. And it could still be, possibly. My hobbies include concert going, scrap booking and just about anything that the marketing types would call “experiencing,” such as hot air balloon rides or visiting new restaurants and bars.
Lately, however, my life has centered on being a mom and all things to do with babies and toddlers. I would never consider myself to be “an expert mom,” as I have sort of been fumbling through the motions figuring this whole thing out. My own mother has been deceased for ten years, so I don’t have her to turn to when I have questions. I rely on friends, my sister and mommy message boards for advice. I suppose I could take these lessons and pass them along to others like me. I try to keep my topics here diverse, as not all of my readers are parents and I don’t want to bore them. Try as I might to avoid the subject, this blog seems to gravitate to mommy issues. I should add that the "niche blog" would be its own entity, separate from this blog.
The problem is that I hate “mommy blogs.” Unless I know the author or her children personally, I tend to not care or be bored by their stories and pictures. I don’t want to be “that mom.” I don’t want it to be personal for other reasons as well. The internet is a scary place where weirdoes congregate. I don’t want them to learn too much about my children. If I did a real mommy blog, I would probably take a page out of Michael Jackson’s book and put masks or paper bags over my children’s faces before taking a picture that I would post. Or, if they were really bad that day, I’d use plastic bags.
Maybe that’s where the answer lies. Maybe I need to be that mom that does things a little differently; the one that isn’t offended when the Elmo Camera says, “Work it baby! Give it to Elmo!” Or I could be the mom who openly admits that she lets her daughter stay in her jammies all day and feeds her leftover cold pizza for lunch and apple juice that isn’t organic. The mom that’s different or alternative.
Or maybe I should just write about concerts.
The point to finding your niche is to become an expert at a topic you are passionate about, writing about it and marketing your work. There has to be money in the topic. Somewhere, someone has to be buying and selling something surrounding the subject. It has to appeal to businesses or trade publications so that you can sell your work.
This left me questioning what my niche is, exactly. Once upon a time, it may have been finance or credit. And it could still be, possibly. My hobbies include concert going, scrap booking and just about anything that the marketing types would call “experiencing,” such as hot air balloon rides or visiting new restaurants and bars.
Lately, however, my life has centered on being a mom and all things to do with babies and toddlers. I would never consider myself to be “an expert mom,” as I have sort of been fumbling through the motions figuring this whole thing out. My own mother has been deceased for ten years, so I don’t have her to turn to when I have questions. I rely on friends, my sister and mommy message boards for advice. I suppose I could take these lessons and pass them along to others like me. I try to keep my topics here diverse, as not all of my readers are parents and I don’t want to bore them. Try as I might to avoid the subject, this blog seems to gravitate to mommy issues. I should add that the "niche blog" would be its own entity, separate from this blog.
The problem is that I hate “mommy blogs.” Unless I know the author or her children personally, I tend to not care or be bored by their stories and pictures. I don’t want to be “that mom.” I don’t want it to be personal for other reasons as well. The internet is a scary place where weirdoes congregate. I don’t want them to learn too much about my children. If I did a real mommy blog, I would probably take a page out of Michael Jackson’s book and put masks or paper bags over my children’s faces before taking a picture that I would post. Or, if they were really bad that day, I’d use plastic bags.
Maybe that’s where the answer lies. Maybe I need to be that mom that does things a little differently; the one that isn’t offended when the Elmo Camera says, “Work it baby! Give it to Elmo!” Or I could be the mom who openly admits that she lets her daughter stay in her jammies all day and feeds her leftover cold pizza for lunch and apple juice that isn’t organic
Or maybe I should just write about concerts.
Friday, April 16, 2010
Creep of the Week: Bloggers Who Go on Unannounced Hiatuses
How to recognize them: They brag about blogging on a regular basis (Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, for example) and even tout a special feature every Friday. Then one day, all of a sudden, they just stop.
Frequently heard saying: “Read my blog!” “Follow me!” And then **crickets**
Why they bug: They brag about their set schedule, get you hooked on checking in on certain days and then disappear, completely slipping up on daylight. And really, how hard is it to write up a couple hundred words about your kid or some other mundane topic that no one cares about? Or do a silly formatted "column" that is only funny to you?
Their retort: “I’ve been really sick. Everyone in my house has been sick. The kid, the husband, even the cat is puking like nothing I’ve ever seen before. I’m knocked up and in charge of this infirmary. The blog just had to take the back burner for a week. I’ll be back in full force next week. Promise!”
My response: You better, bitch!
Frequently heard saying: “Read my blog!” “Follow me!” And then **crickets**
Why they bug: They brag about their set schedule, get you hooked on checking in on certain days and then disappear, completely slipping up on daylight. And really, how hard is it to write up a couple hundred words about your kid or some other mundane topic that no one cares about? Or do a silly formatted "column" that is only funny to you?
Their retort: “I’ve been really sick. Everyone in my house has been sick. The kid, the husband, even the cat is puking like nothing I’ve ever seen before. I’m knocked up and in charge of this infirmary. The blog just had to take the back burner for a week. I’ll be back in full force next week. Promise!”
My response: You better, bitch!
Monday, April 5, 2010
An Open Letter To The Church Ladies From A Chreastian
Dear Church Ladies:
Today I attended services at The Church of the Good Shepherd UCC in Alburtis, PA. I don’t consider myself to be a particularly religious person. I grew up Catholic and hold a lot of bitter sentiments toward the church's ideology. My husband is a member of your church and would like to raise our children to believe in God and Jesus Christ. I’m not opposed to the idea. I think that churches can teach positive values. Since your sect seems fairly open minded in regards to women and homosexuals, I feel most comfortable with your beliefs.
I’m not all that thrilled with your congregation, however. As an outsider and self proclaimed “Chreastian” (someone who tends to only attend services for Christmas and Easter), I just don’t feel very welcome in your church. One of the first women that spoke to me started asking questions about my daughter. They were not your typical, “What’s her name? How old is she?” kind of questions. I believe the exact question was, “You don’t bring her here much, do you?” My response was that we were just coming out of a long winter where she did not have a flu shot. I also told her that I am pregnant and also did not get a flu shot. I don’t think I’ve even gone to a grocery store since October. The flu in our house this winter would have been disastrous, possibly even dangerous. She didn’t say much else but when it came time for the neighborly “peace of Christ be with you” handshake part of the service her eyes immediately dropped to my bulging tummy and my ring finger. Isn’t it good manners to make eye contact when shaking someone’s hand?
The minister was fairly friendly today, although on other occasions he has passed along a guilt trip for not showing up. I know it’s his job to make sure people attend services. I won’t keep showing up if you’re going to be an ass to me. But I won’t dwell on past incidents since today you were cool. You didn’t even beg for money during your sermon, which from what I hear is commonplace. I don’t know if your wife was in attendance today or not. It seems that other times I have been there she was missing. I will forgive this, though, as I’m sure she’s very busy keeping that glass house of yours clean.
I do have to call the minister’s leadership into question as it appears that he lets a lot of you Church Ladies, especially those of you involved with the various choirs, run the show. I chose to attend Christmas services at a different church this year because your choir chose to have its cantata on Christmas Eve rather than a traditional service. To me, this gives the impression of wanting to show off to the people who don’t attend services as much, capturing a bigger audience. The problem with this is that I have a toddler and another baby on the way. Stretching what could be a 45-minute service out to an hour and a half is taxing on her and taxing me, especially my balance and bladder. I had to hold both the baby and my pee for a very long time this morning. I also got a little dizzy. And I was patiently waiting for my daughter to throw a fit or blow out the diaper under her pristine white bloomers. But we got lucky today. Since I only attend services twice a year, I have no reason to believe that this is not typical. I can’t make it through the hour and a half every week. I just can’t. As I mentioned before, I grew up Catholic. We had services on Saturday nights so that we wouldn’t have to get up early on Sundays. Those services also only lasted 25 minutes or so. I’m conditioned for a sprint, not a marathon.
Perhaps if I got the warm fuzzy feeling at your church, I would visit more often. Perhaps if we could compromise on how long and involved the service is, I’d feel more comfortable and even enjoy what’s going on. But this just feels like an awkward chore, or like high school gym class all over again. Everyone is checking me out and it’s too long and physically laborious. I guess I’ll just see you all again at Christmas, unless you decide to do the Cantata again.
Love,
A Chreastian
Today I attended services at The Church of the Good Shepherd UCC in Alburtis, PA. I don’t consider myself to be a particularly religious person. I grew up Catholic and hold a lot of bitter sentiments toward the church's ideology. My husband is a member of your church and would like to raise our children to believe in God and Jesus Christ. I’m not opposed to the idea. I think that churches can teach positive values. Since your sect seems fairly open minded in regards to women and homosexuals, I feel most comfortable with your beliefs.
I’m not all that thrilled with your congregation, however. As an outsider and self proclaimed “Chreastian” (someone who tends to only attend services for Christmas and Easter), I just don’t feel very welcome in your church. One of the first women that spoke to me started asking questions about my daughter. They were not your typical, “What’s her name? How old is she?” kind of questions. I believe the exact question was, “You don’t bring her here much, do you?” My response was that we were just coming out of a long winter where she did not have a flu shot. I also told her that I am pregnant and also did not get a flu shot. I don’t think I’ve even gone to a grocery store since October. The flu in our house this winter would have been disastrous, possibly even dangerous. She didn’t say much else but when it came time for the neighborly “peace of Christ be with you” handshake part of the service her eyes immediately dropped to my bulging tummy and my ring finger. Isn’t it good manners to make eye contact when shaking someone’s hand?
The minister was fairly friendly today, although on other occasions he has passed along a guilt trip for not showing up. I know it’s his job to make sure people attend services. I won’t keep showing up if you’re going to be an ass to me. But I won’t dwell on past incidents since today you were cool. You didn’t even beg for money during your sermon, which from what I hear is commonplace. I don’t know if your wife was in attendance today or not. It seems that other times I have been there she was missing. I will forgive this, though, as I’m sure she’s very busy keeping that glass house of yours clean.
I do have to call the minister’s leadership into question as it appears that he lets a lot of you Church Ladies, especially those of you involved with the various choirs, run the show. I chose to attend Christmas services at a different church this year because your choir chose to have its cantata on Christmas Eve rather than a traditional service. To me, this gives the impression of wanting to show off to the people who don’t attend services as much, capturing a bigger audience. The problem with this is that I have a toddler and another baby on the way. Stretching what could be a 45-minute service out to an hour and a half is taxing on her and taxing me, especially my balance and bladder. I had to hold both the baby and my pee for a very long time this morning. I also got a little dizzy. And I was patiently waiting for my daughter to throw a fit or blow out the diaper under her pristine white bloomers. But we got lucky today. Since I only attend services twice a year, I have no reason to believe that this is not typical. I can’t make it through the hour and a half every week. I just can’t. As I mentioned before, I grew up Catholic. We had services on Saturday nights so that we wouldn’t have to get up early on Sundays. Those services also only lasted 25 minutes or so. I’m conditioned for a sprint, not a marathon.
Perhaps if I got the warm fuzzy feeling at your church, I would visit more often. Perhaps if we could compromise on how long and involved the service is, I’d feel more comfortable and even enjoy what’s going on. But this just feels like an awkward chore, or like high school gym class all over again. Everyone is checking me out and it’s too long and physically laborious. I guess I’ll just see you all again at Christmas, unless you decide to do the Cantata again.
Love,
A Chreastian
Friday, April 2, 2010
Creep Of The Week: Facebook Reposters
How to recognize them: They spew propaganda on facebook that is uninformed, inaccurate and unoriginal in thought. They have nothing interesting going on or imaginative to say so they repost stupid crap. They usually have something to do with religion, politics, their children or some sort of disease.
Frequently heard saying: “The US Military walks on water and turns water into wine. Barack Obama does not want to give them any money because he wants the Muslims to take over the country because he is one. 99% of Americans will not have the guts to repost this because they don’t believe in God. Those people are unpatriotic Americans. They also don’t love their daughters, hate children with autism and think all women should die of breast cancer.”
Why they bug: Seriously, would it kill you to think for yourself? Do you realize how stupid this makes you look? Or, I don’t know, actually check your facts before spreading a bunch of bullshit on the internet? Why do we have to continue to polarize Democrats against Republicans, believers against non-believers? Can’t we all just get along? Do you really think that your facebook status is really going to make a big difference and change the world? Are you even registered to vote?
Their retort: “Those soldiers are dying in Iraq so that you can even have this blog. God bless America! It’s the greatest country in the world.”
My response: Holy crap! The Iraqis are trying to censor my blog?!?! I would have thought they had more pressing issues, what with all the bombing going on in their country. Who knew?
Frequently heard saying: “The US Military walks on water and turns water into wine. Barack Obama does not want to give them any money because he wants the Muslims to take over the country because he is one. 99% of Americans will not have the guts to repost this because they don’t believe in God. Those people are unpatriotic Americans. They also don’t love their daughters, hate children with autism and think all women should die of breast cancer.”
Why they bug: Seriously, would it kill you to think for yourself? Do you realize how stupid this makes you look? Or, I don’t know, actually check your facts before spreading a bunch of bullshit on the internet? Why do we have to continue to polarize Democrats against Republicans, believers against non-believers? Can’t we all just get along? Do you really think that your facebook status is really going to make a big difference and change the world? Are you even registered to vote?
Their retort: “Those soldiers are dying in Iraq so that you can even have this blog. God bless America! It’s the greatest country in the world.”
My response: Holy crap! The Iraqis are trying to censor my blog?!?! I would have thought they had more pressing issues, what with all the bombing going on in their country. Who knew?
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Things I Will Miss About Being Pregnant
I figured I would give the opposotion equal time after my last blog.
1. Feeling the baby move. I know it’s cliché but it really is the coolest thing about being pregnant, even if my husband thinks it’s creepy.
2. Having an excuse to take it easy. Naps, heavy lifting, having an excuse not to go somewhere because you’re not feeling well will be missed.
3. Only having one kid to keep under control. God help me on this one.
4. Non-leaky boobs. I really don’t need an excuse for extra padding. My girls are big enough.
5. Healing quickly. It always amazes me how quickly my cuts, scabs and blemishes heal when I’m pregnant. I'm like that cheerleader on Heroes. Lord knows my c-section incision and pain will not go away that fast.
6. Thicker hair. On my head anyway.
7. Sleeping peacefully. For the most part, as long as you exclude getting up to pee five times every night and rolling over 20 times so that my shoulder doesn’t fall asleep.
8. Maternity pants. Pants with elastic waists are so comfy.
9. Looking fat and not being judged by skinny people. This is the one time where you can work a big belly and not have the Judgy Judgersons give you a look of disgust.
10. Not having my period. My doctor has advised against endometrial ablation along with my tubal ligation, despite my asking, “If you’re going to close the factory, what is the point of continuing to send smoke out the smokestack?”
1. Feeling the baby move. I know it’s cliché but it really is the coolest thing about being pregnant, even if my husband thinks it’s creepy.
2. Having an excuse to take it easy. Naps, heavy lifting, having an excuse not to go somewhere because you’re not feeling well will be missed.
3. Only having one kid to keep under control. God help me on this one.
4. Non-leaky boobs. I really don’t need an excuse for extra padding. My girls are big enough.
5. Healing quickly. It always amazes me how quickly my cuts, scabs and blemishes heal when I’m pregnant. I'm like that cheerleader on Heroes. Lord knows my c-section incision and pain will not go away that fast.
6. Thicker hair. On my head anyway.
7. Sleeping peacefully. For the most part, as long as you exclude getting up to pee five times every night and rolling over 20 times so that my shoulder doesn’t fall asleep.
8. Maternity pants. Pants with elastic waists are so comfy.
9. Looking fat and not being judged by skinny people. This is the one time where you can work a big belly and not have the Judgy Judgersons give you a look of disgust.
10. Not having my period. My doctor has advised against endometrial ablation along with my tubal ligation, despite my asking, “If you’re going to close the factory, what is the point of continuing to send smoke out the smokestack?”
Monday, March 29, 2010
Things I Can't Wait To Do Once All This Baby Stuff Is Over
1. Try Zumba. It looks like so much fun! And I will need to work off the baby weight.
2. Drink a big glass of sangria. Oddly enough, sangria was the last alcoholic drink that I had.
3.Wear my wedding rings again. I’ve been wearing a fake on my swollen fingersfor a few months.
4. Eat a hoagie. I’m too paranoid about this whole listeria thing.
5. Breathe normally. I’m now in that uncomfortable stage where my lungs are being crushed, causing a lot of fatigue.
6. Finding a guilty pleasure late night show on TV to watch while nursing. Last time, I learned a lot from the Trivial Pursuit game show at 4 AM.
7. Drink a giant iced tea from the kiosk place in the lower level of the Lehigh Valley Mall. I’m thinking pineapple tea would be good.
8. Whiten my teeth. Despite avoiding caffeine, they are turning yellow.
9. Stop answering the question, "How are you feeling?" I do feel kind of crappy but I'm pretty sure no one wants to hear about it.
10. Sleep on my stomach. No more pins and needles on my shoulder, unless I choose to do some acupunture.
2. Drink a big glass of sangria. Oddly enough, sangria was the last alcoholic drink that I had.
3.Wear my wedding rings again. I’ve been wearing a fake on my swollen fingersfor a few months.
4. Eat a hoagie. I’m too paranoid about this whole listeria thing.
5. Breathe normally. I’m now in that uncomfortable stage where my lungs are being crushed, causing a lot of fatigue.
6. Finding a guilty pleasure late night show on TV to watch while nursing. Last time, I learned a lot from the Trivial Pursuit game show at 4 AM.
7. Drink a giant iced tea from the kiosk place in the lower level of the Lehigh Valley Mall. I’m thinking pineapple tea would be good.
8. Whiten my teeth. Despite avoiding caffeine, they are turning yellow.
9. Stop answering the question, "How are you feeling?" I do feel kind of crappy but I'm pretty sure no one wants to hear about it.
10. Sleep on my stomach. No more pins and needles on my shoulder, unless I choose to do some acupunture.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Creep of The Week: Cyclists
How to recognize them: They wear the little spandex outfits, complete with helmets, padding and sunglasses. They travel in groups of 80 and take up the entire road, especially ones with blind turns. Oh, and they’re on bicycles. You know, your main mode of transportation when you’re ten.
Frequently heard saying: “Share the road!” “Watch it, lady! You’re gonna kill somebody!”
Why they bug: They cry and scream about safety, yet they break traffic laws. They rarely ride single file. They never stop at stop signs. Yet, I’m the asshole who nearly runs them over when I pass them. My Prius is nearly silent behind them, too, because I have to go so slow behind them. They don’t hear me. And they ride in places that are just not safe. There are plenty of safe places to go, yet they choose to ride to these places by taking unsafe roots.
Their retort: “Biking is great exercise.” “It’s better for the environment than your hoity toity hybrid car.” “Stopping for a stop sign is going to slow me down and ruin my workout. I don’t need to stop. Just stay out of my way.”
My response: Find a bike path or drive to a place where it’s safer for you to ride, like a bike park. If you’re going to put yourself in a dangerous situation by going somewhere unsafe or disobeying laws that are meant to protect you, I have a hard time feeling sympathy for you.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
It's Not All Wine And Roses. Sometimes It's Just Whine And Bitch.
This is going to sound like a big ol’ pity party, so feel free to skip this one. I just have to vent and move on.
I feel stuck. I’m tired and lonely. I sit in my house all day with my baby, playing Peek A Boo and watching Sesame Street videos. When I do leave the house, I’m exhausted by the time I get myself ready, the baby ready, pack the diaper bag and load the car. Just the thought of it makes me want to crawl into bed and take a nap.
I feel very isolated. I’ve made plans with friends several times over the last few weeks and they’ve been cancelled or changed without so much as a phone call. Then when I ask what’s going off, I’m told that the plans were changed to another time that already took place. I swear I’m not this pathetic around other people. I don’t know anyone in my area. I’ve tried to look for mom’s groups but there’s nothing around here. The ones that I’ve found either have very rigid rules for participation that I can’t commit to in this condition or they don’t meet all that often. I was able to join one of the latter but so far, in the three months that I’ve belonged, they’ve only met once to discuss a book that I have no interest in reading.
I could drop the baby off with my mother-in-law and go off on my own somewhere. But I’d still have to do all the prep work to get there. She also has her own stuff going on right now. I don’t want to interfere. And where would I go anyway? Plus, I always have some anxiety dropping her off, not to mention the mommy guilt.
My days have been mundane. I have no good stories to tell. I struggle to find fodder for this blog. I don’t mean to sound so “woe is me.” I’ll be too busy soon enough. So I guess I’ll just go back on You Tube and watch the Elmo’s Ducks video for the five thousandth time today.
I feel stuck. I’m tired and lonely. I sit in my house all day with my baby, playing Peek A Boo and watching Sesame Street videos. When I do leave the house, I’m exhausted by the time I get myself ready, the baby ready, pack the diaper bag and load the car. Just the thought of it makes me want to crawl into bed and take a nap.
I feel very isolated. I’ve made plans with friends several times over the last few weeks and they’ve been cancelled or changed without so much as a phone call. Then when I ask what’s going off, I’m told that the plans were changed to another time that already took place. I swear I’m not this pathetic around other people. I don’t know anyone in my area. I’ve tried to look for mom’s groups but there’s nothing around here. The ones that I’ve found either have very rigid rules for participation that I can’t commit to in this condition or they don’t meet all that often. I was able to join one of the latter but so far, in the three months that I’ve belonged, they’ve only met once to discuss a book that I have no interest in reading.
I could drop the baby off with my mother-in-law and go off on my own somewhere. But I’d still have to do all the prep work to get there. She also has her own stuff going on right now. I don’t want to interfere. And where would I go anyway? Plus, I always have some anxiety dropping her off, not to mention the mommy guilt.
My days have been mundane. I have no good stories to tell. I struggle to find fodder for this blog. I don’t mean to sound so “woe is me.” I’ll be too busy soon enough. So I guess I’ll just go back on You Tube and watch the Elmo’s Ducks video for the five thousandth time today.
Monday, March 22, 2010
I judge you because...
You’re a Republican. As soon as I learn someone is a Republican, I immediately assume they’re a heartless idiot. Many people are so uninformed on the issues, think they’re richer than they really are and hide behind their political party as a means to be racist bigots. The most recent healthcare bill is a good example. I’ve heard one too many thinly veiled “I don’t want to help black people because I think they’re lazy” statements this week. Like there are no white people who don’t have health care, or may I go so far as to say collect welfare (Gasp!). You know what, you dumb shits? You’re paying for people without healthcare anyway. You see, they go to hospitals where treatment can’t be refused. Then they skip out on the bill. Now the hospital has to raise their rates and they’re charging your insurance company, who in turn, charges you a higher rate. See? It’s like shoplifting. They have to cover their costs somehow so they charge the paying customers. So whether this is coming out of your left pocket through taxes or your right pocket through premiums, you’re still paying for it. Most people on welfare qualify for Medicaid, which we’ve been paying for all along anyway. And if you’re one of those “I don’t like it so I’m going to move to another country” people (I’m looking at you, Rush Limbaugh, please follow through), please tell me where you are going. I’d love to know what other government out there is not involved in their country’s healthcare. I can go on with other examples but this is today’s gripe.
You’re a grown man with long hair. What exactly do you do for a living? Where do you work that this passes for professional? Grow up. It doesn’t look “cool” or “rock and roll.” Unless you are an actual rock star, it looks pathetic. And it shows that you have issues with letting go and change. I have a friend who finds long hair so incredibly hot. I just don’t get it. I think it looks dirty and gross.
You wear your religion on your sleeve and take the bible literally. Look, not everyone believes in the bible. I may venture to say that there are some that believe it’s a remarkable work of fiction. So quoting from it as a way to tell me how to live my life is not going to sway me. The Bible is not a history book. I also find that many mental patients are highly religious. Trying to calculate the dimensions of the ark is giant waste of time. You realize that some animals eat other animals, right? Have you ever seen Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom? Imagine every episode of that ever times 20 and that’s what that ark would look like. And how did Noah get all the bugs to agree to this? Did he put them in jars? You know they didn’t have jars back then, right? The bible has many other gems about stoning and slavery. Hell, eating shellfish is an abomination. Do you give up lobster and shrimp? And damn it! Leviticus 19:27 says something about men not cutting their hair. I guess that’s just another reason for me to not like long haired men.
You go to New York City and eat at the Olive Garden. Did you know that there are enough restaurants in New York City that you can eat at a different restaurant every day of your life and not go to the same one twice? Not to mention some go out of business and new ones open every day. So why on Earth would you go to the fucking Olive Garden where the food is just pre-made and reheated in the back? I’m not completely against eating at a chain on vacation. I do it all the time, visiting places like Jack In The Box or White Castle, places that are not available locally. Where the fuck do you live where you can’t find a goddamned Olive Garden nearby? I think these people are missing out on great experiences and really hurting mom and pop businesses by not giving them a try. Try broadening your mind with a new experience.
You’re a LARP (Live Action Role Player) or you play World of Warcraft. Sorry. I just don’t get all the elves and fairies crap. Hell, I can’t even sit through Lord of the Rings. And you have all these silly rules and uniform costumes. Not only is it boring, it’s just plain silly. I also think it’s another example of nonconformists conforming. You really do need to belong somewhere so you create your own fantasy world. Or you’re using it as an escape from reality. You can’t avoid the real world for too long and this kind of distraction will only send you crashing down. Yes, the real world is a scary place. Yes, it does suck sometimes. But you have to keep going. It has it’s good moments, too. You just sometimes have to work for them.
You’re a grown man with long hair. What exactly do you do for a living? Where do you work that this passes for professional? Grow up. It doesn’t look “cool” or “rock and roll.” Unless you are an actual rock star, it looks pathetic. And it shows that you have issues with letting go and change. I have a friend who finds long hair so incredibly hot. I just don’t get it. I think it looks dirty and gross.
You wear your religion on your sleeve and take the bible literally. Look, not everyone believes in the bible. I may venture to say that there are some that believe it’s a remarkable work of fiction. So quoting from it as a way to tell me how to live my life is not going to sway me. The Bible is not a history book. I also find that many mental patients are highly religious. Trying to calculate the dimensions of the ark is giant waste of time. You realize that some animals eat other animals, right? Have you ever seen Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom? Imagine every episode of that ever times 20 and that’s what that ark would look like. And how did Noah get all the bugs to agree to this? Did he put them in jars? You know they didn’t have jars back then, right? The bible has many other gems about stoning and slavery. Hell, eating shellfish is an abomination. Do you give up lobster and shrimp? And damn it! Leviticus 19:27 says something about men not cutting their hair. I guess that’s just another reason for me to not like long haired men.
You go to New York City and eat at the Olive Garden. Did you know that there are enough restaurants in New York City that you can eat at a different restaurant every day of your life and not go to the same one twice? Not to mention some go out of business and new ones open every day. So why on Earth would you go to the fucking Olive Garden where the food is just pre-made and reheated in the back? I’m not completely against eating at a chain on vacation. I do it all the time, visiting places like Jack In The Box or White Castle, places that are not available locally. Where the fuck do you live where you can’t find a goddamned Olive Garden nearby? I think these people are missing out on great experiences and really hurting mom and pop businesses by not giving them a try. Try broadening your mind with a new experience.
You’re a LARP (Live Action Role Player) or you play World of Warcraft. Sorry. I just don’t get all the elves and fairies crap. Hell, I can’t even sit through Lord of the Rings. And you have all these silly rules and uniform costumes. Not only is it boring, it’s just plain silly. I also think it’s another example of nonconformists conforming. You really do need to belong somewhere so you create your own fantasy world. Or you’re using it as an escape from reality. You can’t avoid the real world for too long and this kind of distraction will only send you crashing down. Yes, the real world is a scary place. Yes, it does suck sometimes. But you have to keep going. It has it’s good moments, too. You just sometimes have to work for them.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Creep of The Week: People Who Read This Blog And Aren't Listed as a Follower
How to recognize them: During conversation, they drop random hints that they’ve read something written here. Or they use the blog for random clues when trying to guess something…like, oh I don’t know, the name of a future child.
Frequently heard saying: Nothing. They don’t respond. They don't comment. That would be admitting that they read this garbage.
Why they bug: I try to update this blog every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. I don’t know if I should bother to be so disciplined if no one really reads this. I won’t think you’re creepy for reading, commenting or following. I think you’re creepy because I know you’re reading and doing it in a secretive way.
Their retort: ***crickets***
My response: C’mon! Follow. When I write my best seller, I want to be able to tell the publisher that I have a following on my blog.
Frequently heard saying: Nothing. They don’t respond. They don't comment. That would be admitting that they read this garbage.
Why they bug: I try to update this blog every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. I don’t know if I should bother to be so disciplined if no one really reads this. I won’t think you’re creepy for reading, commenting or following. I think you’re creepy because I know you’re reading and doing it in a secretive way.
Their retort: ***crickets***
My response: C’mon! Follow. When I write my best seller, I want to be able to tell the publisher that I have a following on my blog.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Dear Stasi's Mom
Q: My husband and I are in the process of adopting a five year old girl from Russia. If we are chosen to be the adoptive parents for this little girl, she already has a name. Our original plan was to name a daughter Elise, but then we decided to move into adoption of an older child. They have told us that because of the huge difference in Russian and English, she would not know if we called her the original name or not because it would not sound the same. Her current first name is Helena and we were thinking Elise Helena flows nicely. Of course I am jumping the gun as we don't find out if we get to sponsor her for three more weeks. What do you think of this? Also, she would be with us for the summer before the adoption so would we call her Helena this summer and Elise in the fall if the adoption goes through? Side note, we have a cat named Helen so that could be a little confusing too.
A: Are you serious? This child is leaving her country and everything she knows to be a part of your family. The only thing in the world that she has is her name and you want to take it away from her? Changing her name would be a horrible idea. I would love to know what brain trust told you that the name Helena would sound different in English. Sure, the dialect might differ but it’s not like you’re mixing V’s and W’s here. Plus, she’s five YEARS old not five MONTHS old. Of course she is going to know. She’ll probably be bitter about it later, too, when she realizes what a selfish decision you’ve made. And what difference does the cat’s name make? The cat is probably going to die in the next few years anyway. This little girl will always be your child. Perhaps you can make Elise the middle name if you’re that attached to it.
Q: I am working on a fundraiser for a friend who is suffering from breast cancer. There are four of us working together for this event. One of the members of the planning group is a friend of the woman that broke up my 7-year relationship with my ex-fiancé, 15 years ago. The planning committee member, who has no knowledge of the affair, has asked this woman to help with the event and she has agreed. I am very thankful for her help. We can use all the hands we can get, but I do not want to have to work with her. I know that it will come out at some point and I just don't want the confrontation. I really want the event to be all about helping my friend and her family. I don't want my 15-year-old bitterness to cloud our vision. How do I get over it? Do I not get over it and just put my anger and bitterness aside for the next few weeks? How do I do that? Although I have been happily married for the last five years to a wonderful man, this is really bothering me. I woke up in the middle of the night several times over the past 2 weeks worrying about it.
A: I know it is easier said than done, but you need to move on and focus on the event. What has happened in the past is over. You are no longer in that relationship and she can no longer hurt you. Honestly, it was your fiancé that betrayed you. More blame belongs with him. While I would never expect you to be friends with her, you have to maintain a professional relationship with her. I would advise against confronting her or telling her who you are. She may figure it out (or already know) or she may not. This situation has nothing to do with your friend. Keep the event your priority. Be civil. And if all else fails, vent or mock with your girlfriends about her later when it’s over.
Feel free to ask your questions anonymously at http://www.formspring.me/stasismom
A: Are you serious? This child is leaving her country and everything she knows to be a part of your family. The only thing in the world that she has is her name and you want to take it away from her? Changing her name would be a horrible idea. I would love to know what brain trust told you that the name Helena would sound different in English. Sure, the dialect might differ but it’s not like you’re mixing V’s and W’s here. Plus, she’s five YEARS old not five MONTHS old. Of course she is going to know. She’ll probably be bitter about it later, too, when she realizes what a selfish decision you’ve made. And what difference does the cat’s name make? The cat is probably going to die in the next few years anyway. This little girl will always be your child. Perhaps you can make Elise the middle name if you’re that attached to it.
Q: I am working on a fundraiser for a friend who is suffering from breast cancer. There are four of us working together for this event. One of the members of the planning group is a friend of the woman that broke up my 7-year relationship with my ex-fiancé, 15 years ago. The planning committee member, who has no knowledge of the affair, has asked this woman to help with the event and she has agreed. I am very thankful for her help. We can use all the hands we can get, but I do not want to have to work with her. I know that it will come out at some point and I just don't want the confrontation. I really want the event to be all about helping my friend and her family. I don't want my 15-year-old bitterness to cloud our vision. How do I get over it? Do I not get over it and just put my anger and bitterness aside for the next few weeks? How do I do that? Although I have been happily married for the last five years to a wonderful man, this is really bothering me. I woke up in the middle of the night several times over the past 2 weeks worrying about it.
A: I know it is easier said than done, but you need to move on and focus on the event. What has happened in the past is over. You are no longer in that relationship and she can no longer hurt you. Honestly, it was your fiancé that betrayed you. More blame belongs with him. While I would never expect you to be friends with her, you have to maintain a professional relationship with her. I would advise against confronting her or telling her who you are. She may figure it out (or already know) or she may not. This situation has nothing to do with your friend. Keep the event your priority. Be civil. And if all else fails, vent or mock with your girlfriends about her later when it’s over.
Feel free to ask your questions anonymously at http://www.formspring.me/stasismom
Monday, March 15, 2010
Oh What A Feeling!
In light of recent events, people have been asking me if I would ever buy another Toyota. I was fortunate enough to not have my car recalled. To this day, my Toyota Prius is the best car I’ve ever owned. I would definitely buy another Toyota but I'm thinking I will not have to for a very long time.
I think the current headlines regarding Toyota are a media witch hunt, possibly even a conspiracy to hurt the business of what was the number one car dealer in America. I question if these recent news reports are a ploy orchestrated by the government to boost sales of American cars, cars that are inferior in fuel efficiency and in cases such as GM’s are owned by our government.
Two weeks ago, GM recalled 1.3 million sedans. Ten years ago, I had a Ford Fuckus that had 14 recalls. One of those recalls said something along the lines of “Your car may lose power and completely shut down when negotiating a right turn uphill.” The fuel gage was bad. The tank never stopped the pump when filling the tank, causing frequent overflows. The fuel pump blew at around 28,000 miles. Where was the blowout media coverage on those issues? Surely my car could not have been the only one that had these problems.
How quickly we forget the cover up that occurred between Ford and Firestone only a decade ago. I find it amusing that many people who are burning Toyota at the stake, clutching their pearls and discussing the poor ethical decisions that the company made, are the same people who have no problem jumping into their Explorers and Escapes. When their bullshit is called, their response is, “Toyota should have learned their lesson from Ford. They’re just out to make money and do not care about their consumers.” If I used this logic for everything that I chose to buy, I would have an empty house. Take it from someone who said she would never join Curves because they support pro-life organizations. The real issue was within. My lazy ass just didn’t want to join a gym. I have long since given up on the corporate ethics. I find the phrase oxymoronic. At the end of the day, corporations exist to make money and make their shareholders happy. I don’t like it. I’m pleasantly pleased when a corporation makes an ethically beneficial decision. But I’m not holding my breath. That’s just the way it is.
Even more enlightening are the findings of an investigation that occurred after a driver of a 2008 model Toyota Prius was chased by cops and claimed to a 911 dispatcher that the accelerator was stuck. Preliminary results show that, to bluntly sum up the report, the driver was full of shit. Toyota’s statement about these preliminary findings can be seen here. This guy was such an idiot that he didn’t even realize that the model that he was driving did not fall under the recall stipulations as the part that was causing the accelerator to stick was not manufactured at the same plant or under the same circumstances. My guess is that he got caught speeding and thought he could get out of a ticket by crying, “Bad car!” Now that’s a good one. If only these reports had come out last year when I was pulled over for speeding. Hopefully this guy will get in trouble. What a jerk!
I think the current headlines regarding Toyota are a media witch hunt, possibly even a conspiracy to hurt the business of what was the number one car dealer in America. I question if these recent news reports are a ploy orchestrated by the government to boost sales of American cars, cars that are inferior in fuel efficiency and in cases such as GM’s are owned by our government.
Two weeks ago, GM recalled 1.3 million sedans. Ten years ago, I had a Ford Fuckus that had 14 recalls. One of those recalls said something along the lines of “Your car may lose power and completely shut down when negotiating a right turn uphill.” The fuel gage was bad. The tank never stopped the pump when filling the tank, causing frequent overflows. The fuel pump blew at around 28,000 miles. Where was the blowout media coverage on those issues? Surely my car could not have been the only one that had these problems.
How quickly we forget the cover up that occurred between Ford and Firestone only a decade ago. I find it amusing that many people who are burning Toyota at the stake, clutching their pearls and discussing the poor ethical decisions that the company made, are the same people who have no problem jumping into their Explorers and Escapes. When their bullshit is called, their response is, “Toyota should have learned their lesson from Ford. They’re just out to make money and do not care about their consumers.” If I used this logic for everything that I chose to buy, I would have an empty house. Take it from someone who said she would never join Curves because they support pro-life organizations. The real issue was within. My lazy ass just didn’t want to join a gym. I have long since given up on the corporate ethics. I find the phrase oxymoronic. At the end of the day, corporations exist to make money and make their shareholders happy. I don’t like it. I’m pleasantly pleased when a corporation makes an ethically beneficial decision. But I’m not holding my breath. That’s just the way it is.
Even more enlightening are the findings of an investigation that occurred after a driver of a 2008 model Toyota Prius was chased by cops and claimed to a 911 dispatcher that the accelerator was stuck. Preliminary results show that, to bluntly sum up the report, the driver was full of shit. Toyota’s statement about these preliminary findings can be seen here. This guy was such an idiot that he didn’t even realize that the model that he was driving did not fall under the recall stipulations as the part that was causing the accelerator to stick was not manufactured at the same plant or under the same circumstances. My guess is that he got caught speeding and thought he could get out of a ticket by crying, “Bad car!” Now that’s a good one. If only these reports had come out last year when I was pulled over for speeding. Hopefully this guy will get in trouble. What a jerk!
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