Thursday, May 31

Oh, My. I apologize for my snarky attitude.

Friends, I had an epiphany last night. A revelation, if you will...

Let me back track a bit...

This book featured prominently in my childhood:

Mine had the Checkerboard cover, but I loved this book. I did not read it cover to cover--some of them were just wierd, even then. But the rhymes that I loved, I read over and over, and the pictures were wonderful to me. When I had Big O, I had to immediately buy this book, so he could love it, too. He never touched it.

Working at the great Satan of bookstores, Barnes & Noble, I found lots of treasures over the years, and purchased several for my progeny, thinking that we'd eventually get around to them all...yeah. I have an eleven year old who is just now accepting that Captain Underpants is no longer age appropriate reading.

But I have a second chance in the form of his four year old sister, and last night we settled in to find a quick bed time tale from this little treasure:

The story Little O settled on was "Titty Mouse and Tatty Mouse". The Honey raised a brow, but I silenced him with a look and an explanation--it's historical.

So these two mice did everything together. Quite frankly, it was a little Bert & Ernie-alternative lifestyle vibe, but whatever. The damned mice did everything together until they made pudding. Then poor Titty mouse was SCALDED to death by the pudding pot of death.

But our story was just getting started...

So all of the inanimate objects mourn the death of poor Titty mouse (with the Honey giggling in the background) until the little girl tells the old man the tale. Let me quote our charming tale...
(Keep in mind that with each addition the whole thing has repeated to get us to this point.)
"Titty's dead, and Tatty weeps, and the stool hops, and the broom sweeps, the door jars, and the window creaks, the old bench runs around the house, and the walnut-tree shed all its leaves, the little bird moults all its feathers, and so I spill the milk."

"oh!" said the old man, "then I'll tumble off the ladder and break my neck,"

Which, of course, he does, and then the house collapses on itself.

"...and poor little Tatty mouse was buried beneath the ruins."

The End.


I realized that people learn to hate reading, because someone is making them read dreck like this.
Awful. I felt like I should have apologized to Little O for making her sit still until the end.
I owe several people in my life apologies if they had to listen to stories like these.
I could understand an unnatural loathing for literature spawned by this book.
Posted by Picasa

Tuesday, May 29

Love those wings, baby!

Water Wings
Originally uploaded by asvensson.

We went to a surprise party for my niece's 16th (Gasp-sob, HOW can that child be sixteen?) today. We all parked down the block. I forgot Little O's goodies, and ran back to the car to fetch her stuff.

Apparently while I was gone she wandered through the house in her swimsuit, staring longingly at the pool. She told everyone she had to wait for me to get back with her hot wings.

Hope you all had a great holiday...

Monday, May 28


A special thanks to Greta and Silke of Hooah Wife for their help.

To every man and woman who has served and is serving in the United States military, thank you for everything that you do and have done. And every man and woman who's given their life for the cause of freedom will never be forgotten.

These brave men and women sacrifice so much in their lives so that others may enjoy the freedoms we get to enjoy everyday. For that, I am proud to call them Hero.
We Should Not Only Mourn These Men And Women Who Died, We Should Also Thank God That Such People Lived

This post is part of the Wednesday Hero Blogroll. To find out more about Wednesday Hero, you can go here.

Wednesday, May 23

Helpful hint or inevitable Jennfactor?

To escape the grip of a crocodile's jaws, prick your fingers into its eyeballs. It will let you go instantly.


So is this true of alligators as well?  Because you know it would be my luck to remember this tip as the big prehistoric thing dragged me under, and then find out that it's only for crocodiles.  It's just how I roll (literally, over and over, as I met my doom).  


What kind of Jennfactor would that be? 

Saturday, May 19

Sing it, Jimmy!

I heart Jimmy Carter for calling that boy on his shit.

I really was happy with Clinton in the White House, I guess I assume Boffing the interns was a given in any White House. Except for this man's house. He was probably the last occupant with true old world values. The last one EVER.

Thursday, May 17

The rating system...

Spilling green avaocado salsa all over your paperwork? 
Oh, that's about a Jennfactor 1.5. 
Doing it in front of a customer raises it to a 2.


Let's start off with a statement, shall we?

I read Cheap, mass-market, escapist fiction. I don't read to further my edumacation, although that can happen along the way. I don't read so I can talk about it at my book club. (I've never seen a book club that covered what I read, and I don't play Magic the gathering or collect comics, so I'm not likely to find one.)

When I worked at the bookstore, there were certain types of customers that I would dread. They considered themselves hardcore readers, but they had exclusive relationships with their pet authors.

"Oh, I've read everything that Stephen King/Anne Rice/Dean Koontz/Danielle Steele has ever written. I don't bother with anyone else."

Excuse me? I would do bookselling gymnastics the first few years, trying to get that reader to recognize that there was a whole world of books, of BETTER books. I eventually came to accept that they just wanted to be knowledgeable about SOMETHING, and chose an author to latch on to. Nothing would make me walk away faster than to hear that you read one author to the exclusion of all others. I cannot imagine having missed out on so many great books over the years.

I sold books through the first (five?) years of Oprah's book club, too. That was a different set of issues-and every one of those books had issues. I read to escape, and the little O on a book is a sure sign to me that while it may be a compelling read, there sure isn't going to be a functional family or a happy ending. But she did get thousands of housewives reading for the first time since graduating high school.

My bookselling days are over, and I miss them. Matching someone with a great book and having them come back to me for recommendations, because I was soooo right about that one...good stuff. You just don't get that kind of interaction behind the spit shield. sigh.

So there are five books that I read in my frenzy of verbiage.

The Lies of Locke Lamora, by Scott Lynch.
The Name of the Wind, by Patrick Rothfuss
His Majesty's Dragon and Throne of Jade
by Naomi Novik
Prayer at Rumayla by Charles Sheehan Miles.

Okay: quickie reviews, as I am pressed for time:

Lies was a good rollicking thief's tale, but I could have waited for paperback. I look forward to the next book.

Name of the Wind-so glad I got this one in hardback. It had a little more depth than Lies, and the gypsy/magician/retired fighter set up is unusual. I am eagerly awaiting the next hardbound release.

The Naomi Novik books are set in the Napoleonic wars, but with the slight historical change of adding dragons. I really enjoyed these and want the next book to be out in paperback NOW.

Prayer at Rumayla was a hard book for me. There is no escape in this novel of a soldier's return home after the first gulf war. It was a vivid portrait of the anger and sense of disconnection felt by a soldier trained to do unspeakable things, thrust back into the world he'd left behind. Great read, but definitely heartbreaking.

Wednesday, May 16

Wednesday Hero

This Weeks Soldier Was Suggested By Cindy

Lance Cpl. Steven Chavez
Lance Cpl. Steven Chavez
20 years old from Hondo, New Mexico
2nd Battalion, 4th Marine Regiment, 1st Marine Division, I Marine Expeditionary Force
March 14, 2007

Tears ran down cheeks and strong men choked back emotion as the city of Hondo, NM payed tribute to fallen Marine, Steven Chavez. LCpl. Chavez lost his life on March 14, 2007 in a non-combat incident in which he was accidentally shot.

Chavez enlisted in the Marine Cops. right after he graduated in 2005. "You pray and you pray that the day never comes, and then it does," said Novelda Chavez, Chavez's mother. "Your emotions are mixed — it’s not true, it’s a bad dream, a bad dream you never wake up from."

In a letter Chavez wrote before he was sent to Iraq, he wrote:
"First of all I would like to thank everyone for your support. When I'm home on leave and when I'm away. That is so important to me. Thank you for your kind, supporting words in your letters and for the packages I've received. Those are awesome.

I've been through some pretty hard times, in the short time I've been in the Marine Corp. None harder then what I'm about to face. Yes I'm scared; nothing is scarier than the uncertainty of what your future holds for you. I'm prepared to face whatever lies ahead.

I put my life in the hands of the Lord. And pray that He guides my fellow soldiers and I down a safe path, that He will calm our fears, and give us the strength to do the job we have been trained to do, and to do that job well.

There are many lonely nights, when you're lying in your bunk thinking of family and friends, wondering what they are doing at that very moment. Wondering what mom is cooking for supper. I can almost taste the tortillas on the griddle.

I want to say to all of you tonight, I wouldn't change one thing about my life.

I've never been more proud of the choices I made in my life than the day I graduated from basic drill instructor placed that Anchor, Globe and Eagle Pin in my hand I knew then I was a UNITED STATES MARINE!

I'm Proud to protect and serve My Country

I'm Proud to protect and serve My Community

I'm Proud to protect and serve you

Thank you so much for your Support. Keep those letters coming. Mail is a precious commodity when you're so far from Home.



These brave men and women sacrifice so much in their lives so that others may enjoy the freedoms we get to enjoy everyday. For that, I am proud to call them Hero.
We Should Not Only Mourn These Men And Women Who Died, We Should Also Thank God That Such People Lived

This post is part of the Wednesday Hero Blogroll. To find out more about Wednesay Hero, you can go here.

Supporting the troops doesn't have to mean supporting dubya. Regardless of your opinions on whether or not we should be there, we should support those who have volunteered to go, and sweet lord, how about the national guardsmen who only sort of volunteered? I'm sure when they signed up, they envisioned helping out after the tornadoes and the wildfires, not sand in places they didn't know they had.

I hope at the end of all this (and please let that end come soon), we appreciate national guardsmen a little more, because we are sure feeling the lack of them since they've been gone.

Monday, May 14

MMMMMust RRResist.....Don' t DO it, Jennifer!

Okay, nope, gotta be a harsh judgemental bitch about people in crisis.

So I just saw this blurb about the British couple vacationing in Portugal, who have lost their four year old daughter. Because they left her in the hotel room with her two year old siblings.


I feel like I have a certain license to speak, as I am currently PARENTING a four year old daughter. So I say again, WTF?

They went to dinner at the hotel restaurant, and left the kids alone in the room? I still get a twinge letting Big O watch her when I run to the market around the corner and he is eleven. What do you do if the hotel catches fire? What food is so important that you leave your kids alone ANYWHERE when the eldest is four? FOUR.

Now everyone is offering money to them to offer as rewards, and if it gets her back, bravo. But then you bring the almighty smackdown on them for leaving their children alone in a strange place, and make sure that they do not keep the leftover money, so they can breed more kids to lose.

I debate taking down my header about Darwin every once in a while, because I am not always about the ranting so much as the rambling, but you know what? These people are exactly what I was talking about.

Fucking unbelievable.

Help Wanted:

 POSITION : Mother, Mom, Mama, Mommy, Momma, Ma
 JOB DESCRIPTION: Long term, team players needed, for challenging permanent work in an, often chaotic environment. Candidates must possess
excellent communication and organizational skills and be willing to work variable hours, which will include evenings and weekends and frequent 24
hour shifts on call. Some overnight travel required, including trips to primitive camping sites on rainy weekends and endless sports tournaments in
far away cities. Travel expenses not reimbursed. Extensive courier duties also required.
RESPONSIBILITIES: The rest of your life. Must be willing to be hated, at least temporarily, until someone needs $5. Must be willing to
bite tongue repeatedly. Also, must possess the physical stamina of a pack mule and be able to go from zero to 60 mph in three seconds flat in case,
this time, the screams from the backyard are not someone just crying wolf.  Must be willing to face stimulating technical challenges, such as small
gadget repair, mysteriously sluggish toilets and stuck zippers. Must screen phone calls, maintain calendars and coordinate production of multiple
homework projects. Must have ability to plan and organize social gatherings for clients of all ages and mental outlooks. Must be willing to be
indispensable one minute, an embarrassment the next. Must handle assembly and product safety testing of a half million cheap, plastic toys, and
battery operated devices. Must always hope for the best but be prepared for the worst. Must assume final, complete accountability for the quality of
the end product. Responsibilities also include floor maintenance and janitorial work throughout the facility.
POSSIBILITY FOR ADVANCEMENT &PROMOTION: Virtually none. Your job is to remain in the same position for
years, without complaining, constantly retraining and updating your skills, so that those in your charge can ultimately surpass you
PREVIOUS EXPERIENCE: None required unfortunately. On-the-job training offered on a continually exhausting basis.
WAGES AND COMPENSATION: Get this! You pay them! Offering frequent raises and bonuses. A balloon payment is due when
they turn 18 because of the assumption that college will help them become financially independent. When you die, you give them whatever is left. The
oddest thing about this reverse-salary scheme is that you actually enjoy it and wish you could only do more.
BENEFITS: While no health or dental insurance, no pension, no tuition reimbursement, no paid holidays and no
stock options are offered; this job supplies limitless opportunities for personal growth and free hugs for life if you play your cards right.
There it is, my mother's day salute, one day late.  Hope you all had a happy one...


Saturday, May 12


Once agan, Pendullum has an awesome tale.

My only brushes with the rich and famous?

1. That drunk Bastard, Merle Haggard, tried to play chicken with me in 1990. Now I will admit, Redding has some of the craziest one-way, no two-way!, now back to one-way streets ever to tangle a traffic pattern. But if you find yourself going the wrong way down a suddenly two way street, don't honk and scream at the chick following the traffic laws, MOVE YOUR DRUNK ASS OVER.

2. Steve Perry (of Journey fame) caused heart palpitations all over the Hanford Mall when he strolled through. Now we used to tell people that Hanford had the three big C's--Cows, Cotton, and Convicts. (Corn belonged on that list too, but it messed up the flow.) In that horrifically flat central valley Ag community, you were a farmer, you were related to a farmer, or you were living there to be closer to daddy. There are three major prisons in the area, hosting Charles Manson and Sirhan Sirhan among others. My best Jen and I were spending another barely-above-minimum-wage day at the bookstore and two guys came in with a kid about eleven (?). They kicked it at the counter and chatted us up for a while, gave us bizzarre advice on our jewelry, and eventually meandered on down the mall. They were entertaining in an otherwise boring day, but whatever. The thing that made it memorable was that on my lunch I went shopping, and the big girl behind the counter at Lane Bryant was hyperventilating.

She could not believe that she had missed STEVE PERRY (another bout of panting). Ooooooh, THAT's who that was. Yeah, he was pretty funny.
(SQUEEEEEALLLL!) Ohmigosh, did he sing for you?

What? Did he SING for us? WTF? I understand hostile celebrities after meeting that girl. I would be hostile, too.

There will be a book post soon. I got a free book (squeee!). But it arrived after my tax check, and I had just invested in a fat stack of Sci-fi that I had been dying to read, so book post soon, I promise!

Well whaddya know....

Our local representative takes a step in the right direction!

I have to confess, I was pretty underwhelmed by Jerry McNerney. I voted for him, but only because Richard Pombo, that soulless bloodsucking black hole of a Congressman, needed to be gone.

What a pleasant surprise to see an elected representative actually representing ME.

Now I have to go...I'm trying to figure out how to initiate a recall if Arnold pardons Paris Hilton...

Thursday, May 10


Bre, in her infinite wisdom and mercy, bought me a radio for my birthday.  It may have been a defensive move, as I am prone to singing snippets of the world's most annoying songs.  At random.  Badly.
It turns out our fabuloso AM station turns to sports in the afternoons come springtime.  As Bre has abandoned me in favor of a vacation at the beach, I am indulging in my secret vice.  SHHHHHH.....
I listen to country music when no one is looking.  (oh, the shame) 
I still cannot stand the sappy tearjerker crap, but when my punk-souled partner in crime is away, I will stray to Country or NPR.  But sometimes I have to draw the line.
The name of the song that just came on?
I had to ask the other person in the office listening to the station if I had heard that correctly....
Yes, I did. 
The song is called.... 
I'd sure love to check you for ticks.
NPR, here I come.
(that song title may have been funnier with my original typo, I'd sure love to check you for tics.  Sung by the kid who wrote the first poem on CRSE's post....)

Cougar, My ASS.

I just heard someone else's definition of a Cougar.  Do you know what I am talking about?
It's Mrs. Robinson for the new millennium.  (Millennia? Whatever.)
I've been familiar with the term, and thought it was hilarious and appropriate.
THIS definition is not so funny.    They (and I'll be damned if I can remember what TV program I saw) defined Cougar as a woman past thirty pursuing a man at least ten years her junior.  Ladies of a certain age have already HAD happily ever after (or made their own).  Who in their right mind would mind a little something fresh and fabulous, with that stamina and enthusiasm and those lovely washboard abs...         ...hmm?  oh, right. 
Any woman past thirty?  Excuse me?  I picture a Cougar being Joan Collins with a pool boy perched on her knee.  I KNEW a cougar.  She came to work with me at the bookstore, fresh from a bitter divorce.  She eventually left the bookstore and went to manage a Bath & Body Works. 
Trudy was AWESOME.  She started out looking like a school teacher.  She was a tiny lady, with an elfin face and a pixie haircut, in her late forties or early fifties, with glasses.  She was smart and funny, with an acerbic wit that she kept under wraps until we were alone.  Trudy blossomed with her new found freedom, and let me tell you, once she jumped ship to BBW (and the discount at the limited stores), she exploded.  I always find it unfortunate when ladies of a certain age don't realize that not all fashions are intended for those over the age of thirteen.  Just like not all fashions are meant for women over a size three.  Because they make it in your size doesn't mean you should buy it.  Trudy never had that problem.  She cast off her school teacher clothes and never looked back, but she never looked like anything but a million bucks.  She understood what looked good on her size two frame (bitch) and wore the hell out of anything that she put on.  She also had a pair of kick ass shoes for any occasion, and was the one who convinced me that a tall girl can wear a pair of heels.  I'd worn flats all my life-- I'd love her for that gift alone.
In the course of it, she also came to admit that she loved young bruthas.  I have tried typing that several different ways, but I cannot convey the relish she said that phrase with.  Trudy LOVED her young bruthas.  Maybe I should have capitalized young.   She tried dating a few in their forties, but it was the ones between nineteen and twenty three that made her sing while she worked.  Trudy was the living embodiment of all that is COUGAR.
It's the any woman past thirty part of this definition that has me a little twisted.  If thirty is the border, then I damn near cougared once or twice before I met the Honey.
I loved Trudy, but EEEEEEEWWW!   Once again, I am so glad to be out of that particular race.   I love you, honey! 

Wednesday, May 9

Wednesday Hero

Spc. Josiah H. Vandertulip

Spc. Josiah H. Vandertulip
21 years old from Irving, Texas
2nd Battalion, 7th Cavalry Regiment, 1st Cavalry Division
October 14, 2004

Louise Vandertulip fussed at her son about his spending. He bought wild, overpriced hats that had flames on them or horns coming out of the top, she said.

While in Army basic training, he bought portraits of himself. His mother told him to save his money.

She's glad he didn't listen.

The hats and the pictures are all a part of her memories now.

Spc. Josiah H. Vandertulip was killed in Baghdad when his patrol came under small arms fire.

Josiah Vandertulip joined the Army right after his graduation from Irving High School in 2002. He spent a year in South Korea before being stationed at Texas' Fort Hood in February. Against his mother's advice, he volunteered to go to Iraq. She told him to wait, to go to college.

"When he was determined to do something in his heart, he would do it and hell or high water couldn't keep him from it," she said

By going, he knew someone else with a young family could be saved from serving, relatives said.

He always had the important things right, Louise Vandertulip said.

"There's a lot of rest in knowing that he died doing what he believed in and doing what he thought was right," she said.

"We have a much more real sense of the cost for the freedom that we enjoy now," said his father, Robert Vandertulip.

"Josiah was the first brand new soldiers I received as a dismounted team leader in Korea. He was one of the Best soldiers I have had the honor to train and work with. He loved being a soldier as much as any guy I have met. He was a great leader in the absence of his superiors. I could always count on him to make sure the mission was accomplished. I watched him change over the year I had him from a goofy kid, to a hard charging soldier."
Sgt. Nickolas Faul

These brave men and women sacrifice so much in their lives so that others may enjoy the freedoms we get to enjoy everyday. For that, I am proud to call them Hero.
We Should Not Only Mourn These Men And Women Who Died, We Should Also Thank God That Such People Lived

This post is part of the Wednesday Hero Blogroll. To find out more about Wednesday Hero, you can go here.

Crap. Just in time for Mother's day. This man was someones baby. His mother has pictures and memories of his first wobbly steps, and I'm sure there are some Tee ball pictures of him grinning like a loon. There are those gawky pre teen years, when he became unsure of his smile, and then that sober faced senior portrait, when he was trying so hard to look like an adult. I'm glad he took those portraits for his mom, once he had started to figure out who he was and what he wanted to do-but she is missing the other half of those pictures. The ones with his arms wrapped around the girl of his dreams, with his hands on her big belly. His mom won't get the snapshot of his infant son or daughter wearing one of his goofy hats.

Those are the things that would kill me, I think. The photos that would be missing from my albums. I admit, I get a little overly sentimental when I imagine my self as the mother of a soldier. But it's not just one or two mothers who will be thinking about things like this on mother's day. There are THOUSANDS of moms with their hearts aching. All I ask is that we remember what they have lost. Honor our vets and the military families that support our troops every day.

Think about the military family who DOESN'T lose a son or a father, but a different man returns, sometimes physically, but almost always mentally. Tony Blair has brokered a peace in Northern Ireland for his legacy. What, exactly, will Dubya leave behind?

Monday, May 7

How many years ago?

When Spiderman came out, we took Big O to see it on the big screen, and in the middle of the movie, I looked over to see how he liked it, and he was flashing his wrist up at the ceiling. It took me a minute to recognize that he was trying to get webs to come out.

Now he's almost a teenager, laughing at jokes that I think he probably shouldn't understand, and growing up. He has a new buddy, and this guy is into Pokemon, so Big O is totally back into it. I enjoy the dorkier side of my kid.
( I appreciate his wit, but he is still learning when he can BE flip. Know your audience, grasshopper--And don't push your luck.)

The other day, driving his buddy home, we passed some girls walking. Buddy rattled on about Pokemon, oblivious. Big O's head was firmly trained on the girls. On a swivel.


I am so not ready for this.

I am proud of the young man he is becoming, but I miss the little guy who panicked when he read "monster tacos" at Jack in the Box, and tried casting his own webs.

Girls? I am not ready for his heartaches and unrequited crushes. Who is going to explain sex to him?
Because it definitely should NOT be his father.

I'm just sayin'.

Saturday, May 5

Preschool Whorez

Bratz of the brat
Originally uploaded by nickurt.

I hate Bratz. They have been banned from Little O's life, and let me tell ya, If I thought I could get away with banning Barbie, I probably would have. But every little girl loves barbies, and at least they pretend that she has occasional lapses of cognition. There are still a lot more dream date/beach babe/princess barbies than Dr./Lawyer/Veterenarian.

Bratz sink it to a whole new level. They have Baby Bratz! Diapers and Half shirts with Angelina Jolie lips painted blood red!

There are two posts that I really loved, that I am linking to.

Scholastic, the people who send out the book order forms into schools, have picked up Bratz as a brand, and are making little Bratz novellas.

Izzy Mom says it much better than I could.

The other link I am giving you is to a lovely movement called Moms for Modesty, because the fashion world insists on dressing our children like tiny adults. Or maybe like tiny video whores. There is no cause, ever, for a leather miniskirt in a size four. My only problem with this organization is that part of their mission statement is that it's unfair to boys for girls to dress provocatively, and that statement creeps me out. To me it condones the whole "she was dressed like a slut so she was asking for it" thing. They state very clearly that if you disagree with any part of their mission statement, they would prefer you not to display their stuff. So be it. But Moms for Modesty still has some very good things to say.

Friday, May 4

Wednesday, May 2


Hospitalman Luis E. Fonseca Jr.
Hospitalman Luis E. Fonseca Jr.

On August 11, 2004, Naval Hospitalman Luis E. Fonseca, Jr. was awarded the Navy's second highest decoration. The Navy Cross, which is awarded for extraordinary heroism while engaged in an action against an enemy of the United States and must be performed in the presence of great danger or at great personal risk, was awarded for his actions while serving with Amphibious Assault Vehicle Platoon, Company C, 1st Battalion, 2nd Marines, Task Force Tarawa, II Marine Expeditionary Force.

On March 23, 2004, Fonseca, Jr.'s unit were trying to take the Saddam Canal Bridge. Five Marines were injured when their vehicle was hit by an RPG. Fonseca, while still being fired upon by machine guns and RPG's, pulled the Marines to safety and established a casualty collection unit inside his own medical evacuation vehicle. After his vehicle was hit once again, Fonseca organized litter teams and directed the movement of four of the Marines, while personally carrying one wounded Marine over open ground to another vehicle. On November 15, 2004, Seaman Fonseca was awarded the "Grateful Nation Award" from the Jewish Institute for National Security Affairs for his actions.

"I was doing my job," said Fonseca. "I wish I could have done more."

These brave men and women sacrifice so much in their lives so that others may enjoy the freedoms we get to enjoy everyday. For that, I am proud to call them Hero.
We Should Not Only Mourn These Men And Women Who Died, We Should Also Thank God That Such People Lived

This post is part of the Wednesday Hero Blogroll. If you would like to participate in honoring the brave men and women who serve this great country, you can find out how by going here.

I like the Weds. Heroes that have a happy ending. This man makes happy endings for other people's families.
How many more days until Dubya is gone? What, exactly, are we going to replace him with? I heard something chilling at the store the other day, and butted into someone else's conversation. They wished out loud that something dire would happen to the Prez. I had to lean in and say two words:

President Cheney.
How is that for scary?

Give me a presidential candidate that talks about taking care of the Vets we have coming home. Read the names of the fallen. Welcome our soldiers home and make sure they know we support THEM even if we don't support the commander in chief.

Tuesday, May 1

Newsflash! Factor 10 assaults mom-bots in parking lot...

Back when Big O went to the overpriced future nazis for christ republican daycamp masquerading as an educational facility that the Ex insisted upon, the coffee swilling barbies that REALLY ran the school would block the entrance every morning as I tried to walk him in.

I am not bitter.

But let me just say... Bitch, you are wearing kitten heels at seven FUCKING a.m., with your overpriced track suit. Buy a pair of tennies. They make those in overpriced and trendy, too. Stop trying to blind me with the frigging boulder on your finger, and yes, we KNOW your husband is a neurosurgeon, but really, it's getting embarrassing that you force that into daily conversation. If you do not move your bony ass off of the path so that people with real jobs can drop off their kids, I am going to spike your empty bleached blonde head into that mud puddle you are making everyone walk through, so that you and "Babs" can catch up on your list of meaningless chores you invent to pretend that you have lives.

Today at the market, the senior golf version of Bones and Babs were doing their best to make me lose it. They stopped with their full carts immediately outside the entrance to the store, parking their carts in middle of the only freaking ramp into the parking lot, leaving just enough space on either side to allow carts to squeeze by. They were standing next to a table that the market provides for customers who want to sit down and chat. They stood there for twenty minutes, at least. I took a picture of them with my cell phone, and I'll post that bitch if I can ever figure out how. I was so mad, I was leaving and then I came back and pulled into the handicapped spot so I could roll down my window and tell them what inconsiderate cows they were.

My mother's voice popped into my head and asked if I knew what the kindergarten teachers at Little O's school looked like, because wouldn't that be just my luck, and I stopped myself and drove away. I called the Honey bitching, and called them inconsiderate cows just standing there, and Little O thought that was the funniest thing she had ever heard. You called them cows, mama! hahahahhahahahahaaaaa