You know, we're aging. I get that.

The drummer looks like they just rolled him out of his cardboard box, decided his shirt was too dirty to salvage, and had him take it off.

He looks like a suspect on CSI (vegas or ny, Miami is never anything but neon colored and/or freshly waxed skin glistening with a slight sheen of sweat).

I've written before about how badly tattoos age when they become covered with old man fur. I really think a cut up tee shirt was in order. Grandpa's nipple rings are flapping and he needs to pull his pants up. I realize that he is in a rock and roll band and cannot dress his age, but maybe they could give him the Dynasty treatment--not the beaded shoulder pads, more like the Linda Evans/Joan Collins soft filter.

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)?


************************************

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.)

I dislike the drama.*

You know what? I could care less about Sarah Palin's wardrobe.

Gimme a break. As if the Republican National Party was going to send that money to orphans in Africa, or even to build houses in New Orleans. If they had NOT bought her the clothes befitting a concubine she-devil of the third Bush regime* (they hope), it would have been slipped into the coffers of some other Republican hopeful. Why is this news?

By the same token, on a local note, the city council of Sacramento was just outed for their scandalous discretionary funds--They get $50k apiece to spend as they see fit. The TV reporter said one of them even spent 250.00 on a CRAB FEED. Um, yep. When they showed the report on TV, it said they had given 250.00 as a sponsor of a charity crab feed.

As a retail manager, I got hit up A LOT to sponsor things. My little failing store was asked for a ten THOUSAND dollar sponsorship for the Asparagus Festival. Donations and sponsorships are part of community involvement, and I think that's exactly what those discretionary funds are for. Is fifty grand apiece appropriate in these times? Hell, no--but just make the announcement that the council has been told they will get five grand a piece until the police and fire departments are fully staffed again. Don't act like your news crew caught them spending the taxpayer's money on midget porn and new swimming pools at the homestead.

*I dislike drama, but I looove some good old fashioned Hyperbole. (did I use that right?)

It's done.

I can't deny it any longer.

That smirky smile and the litany of wrong answers--WRONG.ANSWERS.

I tried. I liked the maverick concept, but it was just an uncanny ability to blow smoke rings--right up the hind end of America. He just doesn't seem to get it.

Before I was mildly apathetic, benignly on the fence.

Now I am just scared. People on TV thought he WON that.

Seriously? Were they watching something else?

This is how Dubya got re-elected.


Remember these guys?


Shave off one of those beards an you might recognize that smirk.

Going slightly off topic?

Who picked McCain's suit? It looked awful. When the newscasters look better dressed than the republican candidate, someone on staff is getting FIRED.

Okay, back on track?

You know what you rich, out of touch motherfucker? Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars worth of ANYTHING DOES make Joe the Plumber rich to most of America. I don't have eight houses. I don't even have one. I rent. Why? because I am one of the working poor. One of the people you deem unworthy of a tax break. I don't care if you're born into a priveledged family. Lots of people are, and still recognize how the rest of us live.

"Congratulations, You're RICH." smirk smirk.

Yes, Mr. McCain, he IS. That's why you are not my candidate.

************************************

Gahhh--and also the quotations around health. People have stretched the concept of "health" of the mother? Guess what else it means--HEALTH of the mother, you twit!

Here we go again

out of my ass...

So This guy is a social worker and he's suing the county he works for.

I am all about religious freedom.

BUT.

I grew up in a family that served. My parents were nurses. In a field where you care for people, you don't always get to choose your hours. People don't need you until five o'clock or until sundown and then just freeze until you are able to get back to work.

IF it turns out they asked him to stay late on Friday or come in on Saturday for team building exercises? Then yeah, I'd complain. I understand the importance of the Sabbath but you chose to be in a service profession.

Fully acknowledging that the sum total of what I know is exactly what is printed in that link and nothing more, um, I think he's in the wrong line of work. There are ways to help people, help children, that don't require you to have flexible hours. I don't think social work is one of them.

Compounding that is the fact that he's suing them for not reprimanding co-workers based upon things OTHER people heard. That would open the county up to lawsuits on the other end, wouldn't it?

Do I doubt that the remarks were made? Not really--Ass hats are everywhere. IS anti semitism still a problem in the world today? Yes, I honestly believe that it is--and that sucks, but THIS lawsuit seems flimsy to my untrained eyeballs, and the combination of the two makes him seem ...unseemly.

Insert foot in mouth. Chew vigorously.

No sooner do I rant about bodybuilders than I find the blog of one of my favorite guys I've ever worked with. Who happens to be a fitness guru. tee hee.

It's okay, because his big gnarly brain was one of the most entertaining I've ever run across, and his masculinity would not be threatened by my lil ole blog in any way, shape, or form. But still a good reminder why I label these things "Out of my ass."

Please, CHEAT! Don't have a tantrum, though.

See, I can handle cheating. I don't think it's RIGHT, and I hope to hell you get CAUGHT, but cheating has been around as long as there have been competitions.

But the wrestler throwing his Bronze medal on the mat and walking out, and now the tai kwan do competitor kicking the ref in the face?

sheesh.

*****
Pissy bitch # 1 has been found to be technically correct. He is still, however, a pissy bitch.

And now for something completely different...

Let's take a break from our fish themed --jeeze, MONTH?
**although I DO have one more fishy item...okay, two**

We have been sucked into the Olympics. Remember, this is a cable free household. We are GLUED to NBC until waaay too late in the morning.

Really, it all started because NBC played women's beach volleyball every Sunday morning. Kerry Walsh and Misty May-Traynor just rock.

(I'm sure I misspelled at least one of those names, possibly more. Google? Who the hell are you talking to? It's eleven thirty and I'm waiting for my washer to finish so I can throw things into the dryer!)

So we HAD to watch our girls kick some ass.

Speaking of assThen we watched the Men's synchronized diving. Now, I have a lifelong fear of being a BMHG, but those boys are just chiseled. *ahem*
It's kind of like mini trucks. Trucks are utility vehicles. They serve a purpose. Once you spend thousands of dollars on rims and a paint job and lower it, you've killed the utility, so why not just buy a stupid CAR? I honestly think a lowered pouffed out truck is about the most horrifyingly effeminate thing anyone could drive. Body builders at the gym are the biological equivalent to the mini truck.
The muscles on those divers (okay, all of the ...aquanauts?) are a functional thing of beauty. IF Michael Phelps did not have the unfortunate Eli Manning problem of not closing his mouth enough, I'd probably have a wee crush on him, too. Even though I think I'm old enough to be his mom. (EEEWWWWW)

What? Oh, yeah, Olympics. So I totally think those Teeny Chinese gymnasts are about twelve, tops, but I love watching Bela Karolyi (again with the google spell check? lighten up, people!) just call 'em like he sees 'em.

Okay, laundry safely transferred, must sleep sometime...

वो.

Holy shit. I was going to blog about this stupid fake and yet lifesized rooster that my mother in law gave to Little O two years ago. But let's talk about the fact that blogger is currently changing my title into some malaysian script. wow.

Okay, no, let's talk turkey chicken.

My mother in law is old school, y'all. As in from the old country. El Campo. But she's had forty + years to absorb the culture. She did in fact buy a to-scale replica of a rooster, covered in feathers. But it WAS being sold in a major american retail store. I know, because when Little O fell in love with it, the tag was still attached. They were selling it as fall decor. Really? You didn't think a hay bale or a scarecrow or a cornucopia? No, a Chicken.

Mmmm'kay.

I believe that thing is still around, stuffed into the back recesses of a closet, because when Little O finds it, she drags it out and it sheds a few more feathers for my enjoyment.

Gracias, Mama Dina.

Well I will bitch about the bird no more, because Dina's tenants have one upped her on the chicken scale. How, you ask?

They have a chicken on a string. A live chicken. A rooster. On a string. As a pet.

Nothing could make me happier than to hear Little O announce that we're ready for a chicken. Baby, I'm not sure Floaty made it six months in our house. Our chicken comes on a styrofoam tray preferably boneless and skinless (I am SO giving my kid nightmares--Must.think.before.I.speak.).

I admit that this poor bird is very well behaved. Being the prized plaything of a six year old that drags you around by the string attached to your leg probably takes alot of the fight right out of you. It's nerve wracking to watch the kids play with the bird. In all fairness, she only goes too fast and actually pulls him occasionally. But it's a live bird. On a string. And now Little O wants one.

shit.

Maybe we'll drag that old rooster down from the back of the closet and tie a string to it's leg? OOOH! We'll upgrade and put him on wheels! Float him in a now half-empty fishbowl?

Bueller? Anyone?

*********************

Big O's campaign of treachery and deceit tomorrow!!!

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.

********************************

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.

When DON'T you speak out of your Ass, Jennifer?

Okay, watching PBS later at night is never good for my brain.

Or it's very good.

Or I am confused.

or not.

Childhood bipolar diagnosises? IS that even how you'd spell that? On Frontline they were talking about the four thousand percent increase in bipolar diagnoses of children since someone noticed the similarities in symptoms between bipolar and ADHD cases. NO, that was not a jenism, they said four THOUSAND percent. Well, if it hadn't existed before, I could see it being a big number, but MAN.

I admit, I am talking out of my ass, the second most uneducated individual not currently an elected official. When I went to school, I studied fun things like writing, and early childhood education. I am not a fan of more meds in general. But I'm also not Tom Cruise. There really can be better living thru chemistry (That was a real book title, by the way). But anti psychotic drugs for four year olds? Two year olds?

I am not speaking, however, from that rare state of bliss, parent of the perfect child, straight A student, everything was NOT super peachy keen throughout my baby's life.
Big O was an intense child.
He still can be.

But when he was two, three, four, it was ROUGH, people. We had a battery of tests to see if he was autistic, if there was something we could pinpoint to make his life easier. He did not warm up to everyone, he threw magnificent, horrific tantrums, and let me tell you, it wasn't for lack of spanking. That was tried, too. They just pissed him off more.

I read a book when he was about four, I think it was called the Highly Explosive Child (?), and while the kids in the book were older, it really described him so well. It was so on point compared to other books I had read. The book offered solutions and strategies to help cope with these behaviors, but there was one problem- The book said, basically, that we should always offer Big O choices, to give him some sense of control, and avoid any situations where he might explode. By giving him whatever it was that he wanted. Anyone seeing the flaw?

Life doesn't work that way. Several of the strategies were useful and saved my ever-loving sanity. But a lot of it was, um, crap. My role as a parent/mentor/guide-- whatever you'd like to call it-- is to help my beautiful boy get ready for the rest of his life, dealing with the rest of the world, which doesn't always offer choices. Sometimes it just hands you a big bowl of shit and tells you to eat up.

His school was okay about his issues at the beginning, but as he got a little older and became more resistant to authoritarian commands they got fed up quick. The fact that he's big for his age just exacerbated the issue. My third grader got asked to leave his school and all of his friends.

I wonder, if I had been offered those magic pills would I have given them to him? Because his grades? Rotten, but I blame myself and his father for not instilling the study skills he needs. He struggles. But I sure love the kid he's become. I wouldn't change him. I do not judge the mom of that four year old I saw on TV, because I was the mom of a four year old a whooole lot like hers. But I'm sad for her. What if she misses out on a kid like mine?

We'll talk about horrifying effects of untested drug regimens on tiny bodies on another post. You may have guessed my opinion.

The other day I got an email from someone that I adore, but have lost touch with. She asked me why I hadn't ever told her how much FUN she'd have being a mom. Gawd, that killed me. Because to me, I gushed about my kid. I had to consciously refrain from talking about him nonstop. He was(is) magic. Even throughout the exhausting drama of tantrums, night terrors, and pure chaos, Big O was my everything--easily the best thing that ever came of my meeting his father (Big O's aunties are also a glorious gift, though).

I sometimes wish the Honey could understand how far my boy has come. He sees those flare ups of temper and sullen moods as huge disrespectful slaps in the face. Having lived through true drama, I write a lot more of it off to the hormonal tidal wave that is hitting Big O. I worry more about his small circle of friends and the bitter cold loneliness of being different in junior high. I feel the need to give him a lot of leeway emotionally because I was a lonely kid, too. But I always had a best girlfriend and I just don't know how boys function. Does he NEED a best friend like I did? His dad's life is such a yo-yo course of ups and downs, and it seems like he's been walking the dog on a low patch for quite a while now (whew--that was a yo-yo reference that just fell totally flat, wasn't it?). My boy needs me to be up for him. I'm not saying I'm blind to his faults, or that I have no expectations of him, but there has to be a place of balance. Somewhere between military school and walking him into junior high every day and reciting his affirmations together.

Sunday the Honey figured out why I don't blog as much anymore. It's because he's home at night now, and I'm not alone. He's right. But I'll make time for this, eke it out of my day somewhere, because it was really nice to have this chat with you. I've missed it.

m'kay, now I'm creeping MYSELF out. Must.get.life. or sleep. something like that.

Wednesday Heroes

I haven't been posting Wednesday Heroes because I haven't been posting much, and I don't really want this to be the Wednesday Hero Blog. But shit like this just makes my blood boil.

I wish we as the American people could prosecute the people who send our troops over under funded and ill equipped, make no provisions for the long term consequences, and still sleep at night cashing in on their Earmarks. Right along with Halliburton and the other bullshit contractors raking in bonuses for doing shit jobs.


ARRRRRRGH!!!!!

********

On a lighter note, finally saw Transformers, and while I never watched the original cartoon, I thought it kicked ass.

That is all.

Love My O's

Little O was feverishly pouring over the shiny box of Valentines we bought last night.

"Mama, do you like the girl with the purple hair?

Mama, this card says LOVE L-O-V-E, that's love, right Mama?

Mama, there are four boys names.

Mama

Mama

Mama"

Ah, life with a five year old. Then she threw this one out,

"Mama--THIS card is for Hannah! Mama, LETTERALLY, this card is FOR HANNAH! See? It has an "H". H is for Hannah."

This gives me high hopes for her vocabulary. We just have one thingle thing to get rid of...

Once again, speaking out of my Ass.

I totally stole this from Bulletproof Bracelets. Montel Williams fought the good fight. Has Daniel Day Lewis struck anyone else as a little odd? Because I think Heath Ledger's death is a damned shame, and a tradgedy beyond measure for his family, but is this just my cold hearted cynical nature getting the best of me? DDL dedicated his SAG award to Ledger? I get expressing shock, horror, and sadness upon learning of his death--it was obviously news to him when he appeared on Oprah. Days later, to still be bringing it up seems wrong to me. I think I would feel differently if they had known each other--then dedicating a win would seem a little more natural.

Perhaps I just don't have the patience required for the artistic temperment. I identify a lot more with what Montel had to say than with any bizarre tributes to Heath Ledger from a man who admits they never even met.

Let me speak out of my ass for a moment...

Siberian Tiger
Originally uploaded by pixelstate.

I know, I promised more positive posts, but that's in 2008.

I am NOT an animals-first type person. I think PETA does some fine work, and I think PETA is full of crack pot lunatics with waaaay too much time on their hands. If I find out that baby kittens were tortured to find the cure for cancer, I will feel bad. Right up until someone I love gets Cancer. (Sorry, Gretty)

But I took my O's to the zoo when Little O was Tiny Toddling O , and I swore I'd not go back. The animals were magnificent, but looked unhappy. The people were horrific, and I almost got into fights over people teasing the chimpanzees. Those primates are probably smarter than you and the fact that they are stuck over there does NOT give you the right to hoot and leer at them. They are demonstrating a great deal more dignity that you, you fat redneck hick. Nice mullet.

I suspect the kid who died in San Francisco was probably the best of the three, but I don't know how much credit I can give him beyond that. The brothers sound like fucking scum of the earth, and if that shoe print up on the wall matches, I hope the zoo sues THEM for the cost of a Siberian Tiger and lost business. The fact that they are being uncooperative with the authorities just confirms to me that they are more that a little at fault, and now a tiger following it's natural instincts, as well as a poor stupid boy, are dead. Those fuck-up brothers are going to sue the zoo out of existence. The fact that the dead boy's dad called looking for him on CHRISTMAS DAY, and he was dodging calls, and the brothers bold faced lied to his dad, says to me that the kid was not the snow white angel his family makes him out to be. Still doesn't mean he should be dead.

But neither should that tiger.

This has been a post from Jen, speaking out of my ass too soon on a news story that we've still only heard half of. I may regret it, much like my post on the HPV shill--who turned out to be totally legit, and is my secret vice to read. But I say again I think those boys had some role in taunting that tiger.