Please Pass the Reynolds Wrap.

Mmmmkay.

Sitting in my silent house (okay, silent except for The Honey's snoring), my answering maching keeps giving a little electronic shush-shhhush noise, as if it were wind in the wiring.

At this hour, I must admit that it's creeping me the hell out, and I begin to sympathise with people sportin' tinfoil hats. Or poor, overbaked Plasticman from Redding.


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On a separate note?

Class act, there, Mister former President.

Asked to comment on Obama's handling of the economic crisis, Dubya said "He deserves my silence" and said that in times like these we should support each other, not attack each other. Which I take as a jab at yappping Mr. Cheney.

Any jab at Cheney is a jab for the good guys--So was not pardoning Libby. It has to suck to get booed at speaking engagements. Still a failure as leader of the free world, but I feel for him.


Okay, the answering machine just did it again. I think I need an exorcist.

Good night, all. (all 2 of you)

Am I just getting old?

My sense of humor has always been slightly off track from that of most people. It's another thing I owe to my father's black humor, I suspect.

So I think I know where they were going. I can just envision the meeting, possibly over some sort of alcoholic beverage, where someone tossed out the phrase and got a big laugh.

But in the hungover light of day, didja STILL think it was a clever and socially acceptable Christmas promo (to run for weeks) to be talking about giving presents from Santa's Swollen Sac(k)?


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I know the Illinois Governor is a scandal of pretty epic proportions, but why is no one talking about This???

So we have a sleazy politician (gasp!) selling himself and his influence? Well I never...Oh, no wait, 80% of America already assumes that happens.

But the Department of Defense KNEW that Roadside IEDs were going to be an issue before we went, and even after we SENT kids over, did nothing to attain the basic things already available to keep them safe?
WHY IS NO ONE GOING TO JAIL FOR THIS SHIT?
This is directly responsible for lives lost, and we're all going to shrug like it's another $30,000 toilet seat? Those crazy kids in government...

On a related note, did anyone read the artcle in Rolling stone that in addition to his investment banking background that everyone mentioned, the guy Dubya put in charge of the Big Fat Bailout has worked for Dubya before... wait for it...

He was in charge of the independent contractors rebuilding the infrastructure in Iraq! And now he's overeeing $700 billion of your money! Hooray! Hey, maybe he could get Brownie a job...just to clinch the deal. Good job, Brownie.

(Um, I'd post a link to the RS story but while I am fighting insomnia here, I am waaaay too fucking lazy. I still get actual paper magazines sent to me, delivered by fossil fuel burning vehicles. I know, bad californian.)

I love reading the things GI Kate posts. They break my heart, but I just don't understand why more of this isn't in the headlines. (I stole the link to the DoD stuff from her.)

WTF Wednesday--or why pacifiers are not the worst thing you can do to your kid.

So I belong to an online forum/advice thang with different moms asking for advice in a daily emailed newsletter. It totally paid off when I discovered sunflower-nut butter in place of peanut butter (Allergic) for the Honey. I think giving him back PB&J's in some form or another will ultimately trump his big fat surprise party as the best gift of his fortieth year. He eats one every.single.day. for breakfast.

Now on this forum, moms run the gamut. Some are dumb as a box of rocks, some are literally rocket scientists. I think overall everyone provides supportive comments and that encourages hesitant moms to ask questions that they really need help with.

mmmkay. I've given you my touchy feely supportive spiel. Now let me get down to it.

The question was about weaning her three (almost four) year old from the breast.

I had a miserable time trying to BF Big O. It hurt enough to make me cry and devastated me that I had to give it up at three months because I would sob through the whole feeding--have we met? Because I don't really DO that kind of drama. I wanted what was THE.VERY.BEST. for my beautiful boy. I felt like a failure.

When Little O came along, it was such a breeze I thought someone had replaced my nipples in my sleep. Because these worked MUCH better. As much as I loved nursing her, at about 7 months, when I had to go back to my job, I gradually switched over to the bottle. There was no guilt, because my beautiful boy was fine. So was my beautiful girl. I made the choices that worked the best for me in my life. Really, I think that's the way it should be for us all. Had my schedule and life allowed for a longer time on the breast, I would absolutely have done it--until my kids could ask for it by name. But again, my choice, my life. Whatever floats your nipply boat, man (ma'am).

The email in this forum explained that her husband and his family were mad at her about dragging it out, and so her husband refused to help her in the weaning process, telling her she had made her bed. She had her kid down to the bedtime booby, but it was beginning to hurt her. Oh, did I forget to mention that her milk stopped about three months ago?

Three months ago?

What the fuck?

Am I just completely insensitive to the la leche movement? Can that possibly be standard practice? CRSE, help me out here--will you be seeing this boy in his later years? Of course I mean aside from the dicky daddy who seems a terrible match for granola and homeschool earth momma, but she's been dry for THREE MONTHS!?

Just ew.

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I tried. I really did. I wasn't going to touch it with a ten foot pole. but it's been spinning through my head since it showed up in my email on Monday, and I couldn't blog about anything else until I got it out of my system.

Personal Space, People. Personal Space.

So, apparently, WTF Wednesdays are back ON, because bitches keep messin' with me.


Bones and Babs have a third member of their inconsiderate herd of cows. She shops at Safeway.

I was in the express lane with Little O and the lady in front of me was taking FOREVER, but all I had to purchase was a paperback book. I was going to take the least amount of time of anyone in that line. The mid-to-late forties lady behind me bumps me with her cart.

Now I am a big puss when it comes to those times in life I refer to as "Lucy Moments"--you know, when Lucille Ball was about to humiliate herself beyond all redemption? I cringe on other people's behalf for the mortification to come. I can totally put myself in their shoes, and I feel for them.

So I get bumped by this cart, and I don't even turn around, because I don't want to embarrass this lady, who has accidentally attempted to turn my bikini briefs into a thong. Then she does it again. This time I DO turn, and see that she is unloading her cart onto the belt, and is leaning over the cart to get to the conveyor belt.

I am still thinking how embarrassed I would be to realize that I've been molesting someone with my shopping cart. So I turn back to my endless conversation with Little O.

Yay! It's our turn. Remember, I have one freaking item. Bitch bumps me again. Her cart is EMPTY. I have moved forward to the ATM terminal, and I think okay, she pushed her cart a little too enthusiastically when the line moved.

WTF? She pushed me AGAIN with her cart. I had ONE item, had my ATM ready to go, and she is still fucking pushing me?

By the time I would have turned to her, my transaction was done. I resisted the urge to explain the law of physics that says two objects cannot occupy the same space at the same time and could she please stop attempting the anal probe while I entered my PIN number?

But I was seething as I waited for my overpriced iced coffee at the Starbucks inside the grocery store, and I kept turning around, trying to get a better look at her, because she HAD to be senile, or early onset Alzheimer's, or SOMETHING. Right? Yeah, I don't think so. Just another one of Them.

I don't know if my restraint demonstrated good manners, or just indicates why I got stuck as the mild mannered asassination victim. If I had had more groceries, I might have gone a little Saddam on her.

WTF Tuesday

I'll have to come up with a new name for it, because WTF Weds and the Weds hero posts seem at odds.

It's the golden rule, people. Treat others as you would like to be treated. Don't comment mysteriously and then refuse to post your profile so others can read YOUR blog. Even better, don't use MY blog to comment when a friend has to enable the moderate feature to keep you in check.

I don't know if it's a lack of cojones, a lack of courtesy, or a lack of common sense. But Play Nice!
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My plate seems so full of holiday-ey things right now, I'm sorry bloggy friends. I have to tune into real life for a bit, but I'll be back! (And not in a schwarzenneger sort of way)

WTF Wednesday

Okay, I admit that I am unfamiliar with online etiquette. But when you
make your photos public on FLICKR, they are available to be used by
anyone unless you copyright it or use creative commons or something.
That was my understanding of the rules. If there is no blog this
button, you cannot use the photo.

so this popped up in my mailbox today:

Hey~ That's MY *sweet* dog! He was actually in the middle of a yawn
here, but I thought it was a hysterical catch. Sign up for a flickr
account & leave me a comment on this photo.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/hasfurrychildren/135909230/ It's nice to be informed when my photos are being used. Even nicer to ask me
first. :)

I assume when you make it public and available that you are okay with
it. It's been a rough week already, (more on that later) but WTF? Now
I am not nice for informing them that I used their photo, which was
fully attributed and linked back to flickr, which I thought was the
extent of my responsibility. I am even less nice for not asking
permission. I have photos on Flickr, and they are private. The reason
that they are private is because I do not want them available for the
general public to use. PRI-VATE. (pry-vit) Try it!

I am surly and cranky and all shall be revealed in my TT, but I say
again, WTF?!?!?!?,

WTF Wednesday

Shall we create awards for the deserving? Is there someone you'd like to nominate for the WTF Wednesday Bitch-Slap? Please feel free to leave a comment. Today I have two issues...

What is the mental block that bank managers have when it comes to scheduling personnel on a Friday--you know, Payday? I've managed retail establishments. When you have an established traffic pattern, you schedule accordingly--unless you manage a bank. One of my sisters-in-law manages a bank, and I love her dearly, but I don't go to her bank, because I don't want to ever have this conversation with her. Two tellers at lunch hour on a Friday. WTF?

Okay, we've already established that my MIL speaks no english. I do not have a problem with non-native speakers. But I'd like to nominate the manager of the local jack in the crack for a WTFW Silver Bitch-Slap for making some poor Latvian woman-- who clearly did not know the language OR the register-- work the drive-thru. That was a great use of my lunch hour. really.

WTF Wednesday

So I work in an office. Now, I'm the first to admit that I probably obsess about the golden rule. I understand that not everyone is interested in being considerate. I've got my bitchy-kiss-my-ass days just like everyone else. I'm 44% evil! :)
But we are not feral cave people. We are not even bordering on homeless. We all drive cars and have lunch money (most days). Point in fact, I am probably the lowest man on the payscale totem pole, not counting the temps... But as a precaution, I've checked with the temps, too.

Who in the f* does not have a can opener at home?

What would compel you to steal the breakroom can opener over and over again? Is it a klepto thing? I dunno. Maybe it's management trying to make me feel beter about my life. My job sucks, but man, at least I'm better off than the guy without a can opener...