Let me tell you a little story rife with colorful detail. Seeing as how I have only just survived it, the impressions are still fresh.
I am what some might call anal-retentive. I, however, prefer the terms "reliable", "efficient", and "competent". I am a get-it-done kind of girl. A go-getter. I assure you, I am not perfect. I, too, have my personality flaws. Chief among them: I don't suffer fools or incompetentence or rudeness well.
My boss, knowing that I am capable and self-directed, put me in charge of working with this outside-the-company person on a project. Let me assure you that he is at least twice my age, right off the bat.
Seeing as how we are separated by the American Continent, I made the first contact. I introduced myself via email, sent him along some initial documents, and asked him what I needed to do to get him what he required. I was polite. I was professional. I was efficiently businesslike but not unapproachable.
I received no response.
A few days later, I phoned and left an equally polite and helpful message on his voicemail.
I received no response.
Several more days later, I called again. Eureka! A human answered the phone. I inquired if he had received my email. He had. Everything I had sent was fine. I told him if he needed anything else, just to let me know.
Fast forward two weeks to this Monday. I get into the office and in my inbox there is a message from him outlining what more he needs from me...by Tuesday. He sent the email on Sunday night. So, I am a bit irked, but being a get-it-done kind of girl, I am equal to any task no matter how big and how short the notice. I get started right away, pushing everything else to the back burners. That is, until I receive a phone call from my baby sitter requiring me to drop everything and go home to save my child.
I was about 1/3 through the first part of the project. But, I figured, he said Tuesday. He didn't specify a time on Tuesday, so if I spent all the next day on it, I'd be fine.
Later that afternoon, as I was feeding my child, I got a call from the office. He had called and was irked that I had gone home. Irked doesn't quite say it. When he was assured that I would return on Tuesday, he said, "Well, hopefully..." in a way and attitude that casted serious doubt on my character. The guy has never even met me!
And, lest we forget, I'm the one who was being diligent and dutiful trying to help him with this project three weeks ago. He's the one who couldn't be bothered to answer his email or his voicemail.
I tell my co-worker to call him back and let him know that I am working on it and he will get it the next day. This seemed to mollify him somewhat, but he was still skeptical. (Perhaps he was assuming that my work ethic matched his own?)
Tuesday, I jump right back in and finish the project and email it to him before noon.
At the end of the day I get an email from him requesting more information. Ah, usually I'd say no problem, but this request makes it clear that he hasn't bothered to even look at the information I sent earlier in the day. (Jackass!) I politely email him back that, if he looks carefully, he will see that I've already accomodated his request in the previous message.
He doesn't have access to a certain Microsoft software that everyone and their dog has, so I send him a fax so that he can review some text that I had prepared based on his comments to me.
Wednesday, I get a return fax indicating a few minor changes on the previous document. He also sends me an email requesting a few more things and I handle these same-day and get them back to him.
Thursday is spent preparing the documents to be distributed in the meeting. I copy, collate, and even freakin' bind the stuff. It is all ready. The overheads are printed, organized, and encased in a container that assures they won't blow away, get wet or damaged, or otherwise not be pristine for his big moment.
And then, today. He arrives in our humble zip code. I am less-than-impressed with his look which seems to conjure images of the shaggy dog mating with Albert Einstein. He barely seems capable of tying his own shoes from the look of him. It is incredible to me that his ego is so large considering the image he is putting out there, but whatever.
I present him with the fruits of my labors. Labors he has requested, reviewed, and approved. And, what do you know? He manages to find all of these things that I've "done wrong." Strange how he didn't catch those in his review process. Strange. And I'm the incompetent one? At least I tried to do my job. He, it seems, couldn't be bothered. And, when I say "done wrong" let me assure you that it wasn't done wrong so much, but that I hadn't read his mind.
So, I put on my cape, tights, and mask and swoop in to save the day. I finish the redo and am still ready for him to have the meeting.
And then?
And then, 20-minutes to Go Time, my boss calls from the meeting venue (not at the office, but downtown and 20 minutes away). It seems our mad scientist fellow forgot to put all of that stuff I had prepared for him in his briefcase and it is still sitting on the conference room table. Could I bring that downtown on the double?
...
...
...
Of course. I am the get-it-done girl. But, I tell you, I'd like to take a tennis racket and practice my smash on his tennis ball of a fuzzy head.
Instead, I'm banging my head on my desk knowing that this is what being good and reliable gets you: suffering fools and incompetence.
Asswipe couldn't poor piss out of a boot if the directions were on the heel.
Canada became the first country to sever relations and cut tens of millions of dollars in aid to the new Palestinian government yesterday for its refusal to renounce violence and recognize Israel.
"There will be no contact and no funds, period," Foreign Affairs Minister Peter MacKay said after a meeting with the Conservative caucus. "We cannot send any direct aid to an organization that refuses to renounce terrorist activity, refuses to renounce violence."
MacKay said Canada will resume economic help only if Hamas - which opposes peace talks and whose charter calls for the annihilation of Israel - agrees to change its policies.
Another Thursday, another riveting topic gets star coverage from the Demystifying Divas and the Men's Club.
This week we are tackling this deep question: Why are bikinis acceptable on women, but the male equivalent "The Speedo" is somehow or sometimes unacceptable on men? Isn't this a double standard?
Hmm. Well, I have to say that I believe a double-standard does exist. At least, it does to some extent. However, when we say that bikinis are acceptable on women, I think we need to say "some women". Not all women should be wearing bikinis. I'm not trying to be rude or callous to my own sex. I'm just saying, we aren't all Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Models. I don't wear a bikini.
Speedos? Can I just say "Ick"? I don't like this look on any man. None. Zippo. Zilch. It isn't a good look for any example of the male form, in my opinion. It is an immediate turn-off for me, actually.
So, Gents, my advice is to steer well clear of the Speedo. And ladies? Bikini only if you must.
For more on this topic (particularly if you feel cheated by my treatment of the subject) see what Silk, Arielle, Theresa, Jim, Jamesyboy, and Mark have to say on the matter.
Back when I was euphemistically "with child" (as opposed to how I now have the child) I was on the search for baby product recommendations. I found this sort of advice woefully lacking, so I am now presenting this small list of my favorite must-have items.
Diapers: I prefer Huggies Supreme, but Pampers Swaddlers will do in a pinch.
You know, if you turned on the television this weekend or yesterday you would have thought we were being invaded. Everywhere I turned there were protests on immigration. The whole thing has given me a belly ache.
Take yesterday, for instance. Somewhere in the neighborhood of 40,000 Latino/a students skipped class to protest Immigration Reform measures being considered in Congress. Tell me, how am I supposed to look favorably on this group? First of all, they skip class - a no-no in my book. Second, by doing so, they cost the schools much-needed state-based funding linked to attendance. Third, they freakin' choose to walk down the freeways, highways, and smaller roads putting themselves in mortal danger and impeding commerce. How am I, a law-abiding tax payer to look upon these people? I'll do you one better. They were waving Mexican flags.
I'm sorry, but that is insulting. If you want to make yourself known as a contributing group of society, if you want me to feel in charity with you, you don't suggest that the US stole your rightful land and burn the American flag. You want to stay in America? Become a fucking citizen and pay your fair share.
I am not a racist. I merely believe that people ought to all play by the same rules. It offends me that there are people on waiting lists to become citizens and these people sneak across the border, effectively cheating those on the waiting lists. Amnesty is a mistake, if only for the reason that it encourages this unlawful behavior. If you want to be an American, by all means, do so. Learn the Constitution and our history, take the test, and the pledge. But don't come sneaking into the country and expect all the same benefits as those who came her lawfully and live here peacefully within the constraints of the law.
I honestly don't think that is too much to ask.
The porosity of our borders is a very real security threat. I'm not worried about the folks coming over looking for jobs, but rather the ones that have other more nefarious purposes. And, let's not kid ourselves. We can't turn a blind eye to the good illegals and prevent the bad ones from entering if we aren't being diligent.
But, even supposing that you could somehow keep al Qaeda from crossing the borders, illegal aliens still pose problems.
I, as I've said before, am from a small Ag-based community in the Southwest. The county has 2,000 people, if that tells you anything. In this community we have illegal aliens. No big surprise there. But what nobody likes to talk about are the costs of these members of society in terms of extra uncovered services. Who pays for these people when it comes to health services? And welfare benefits? And when they or their children commit crimes in the community?
My family has hired lawful people with green cards to work for our business. We have nothing but respect for them in general because they are such hard workers. Sometimes we have had people who have come for the busy season and gone back to Mexico during the winter months, only to return the following Spring. Others have worked for us for years, non-stop. It is wrong to paint all illegal aliens with the same broad brush, but the actions of a few have spoiled things for everyone else.
I can't emphasize how strongly I feel, though, that any legislation that includes amnesty is a mistake. For one thing, it would potentially legalize members of al Qaeda who are here with nefarious purposes. This also suggests to lawful people waiting on lists that the US encourages the breaking of our own laws.
Our country is one of the best in the world. Citizenship is a privilege. You have to earn it. If all you have to do is wait your turn, is that too much to ask? I don't think so. I think we ought to treat ourselves with a bit of respect and show the world that is banging on the door wanting to come to the party, that you have to wait your turn for the potty, don't double-dip your chip, and don't steal from the coat room.
Yesterday, my babysitter called to say that her son had a temperature and was puking, could I please come pick up my child? No problem.
So, I had to stay home with Bunny Boop yesterday and take care of my girl. She has a cold, but so far no symptoms of the tonsilitis that has been diagnose in the young puker. Which is good, because I don't think I could watch her be that sick.
"U.S. War Plan Leaked to Iraqis by Russian Ambassador"
Two Iraqi documents from March 2003 — on the eve of the U.S.-led invasion — and addressed to the secretary of Saddam Hussein, describe details of a U.S. plan for war. According to the documents, the plan was disclosed to the Iraqis by the Russian ambassador.
Document written sometime before March 5, 2003
The first document (CMPC-2003-001950) is a handwritten account of a meeting with the Russian ambassador that details his description of the composition, size, location and type of U.S. military forces arrayed in the Gulf and Jordan. The document includes the exact numbers of tanks, armored vehicles, different types of aircraft, missiles, helicopters, aircraft carriers, and other forces, and also includes their exact locations. The ambassador also described the positions of two Special Forces units.
Document dated March 25, 2003
The second document (CMPC-2004-001117) is a typed account, signed by Deputy Foreign Minister Hammam Abdel Khaleq, that states that the Russian ambassador has told the Iraqis that the United States was planning to deploy its force into Iraq from Basra in the South and up the Euphrates, and would avoid entering major cities on the way to Baghdad, which is, in fact what happened. The documents also state "Americans are also planning on taking control of the oil fields in Kirkuk." The information was obtained by the Russians from "sources at U.S. Central Command in Doha, Qatar," according to the document.
This document also includes an account of an amusing incident in which several Iraqi Army officers (presumably seeking further elaboration of the U.S. war plans) contacted the Russian Embassy in Baghdad and stated that the ambassador was their source. Needless to say, this caused great embarrassment to the ambassador, and the officers were instructed "not to mention the ambassador again in that context."
(Editor's Note: The Russian ambassador in March 2003 was Vladimir Teterenko. Teterenko appears in documents released by the Volker Commission, which investigated the Oil for Food scandal, as receiving allocations of 3 million barrels of oil — worth roughly $1.5 million. )
If this shit is proved to be true...my outrage is already uncontrollable, this is an act of war, in my opinion.
Over in Afghanistan, the "moderate" Muslims are calling for the death of one man who had the audacity to convert to Christianity. They want him to die for the insult to God of rejecting Islam.
Michelle Malkin has complete and continuing coverage, but two quotes, in particular need your attention:
"If he is allowed to live in the West, then others will claim to be Christian so they can too," he said. "We must set an example. ... He must be hanged."
..."We are a small country and we welcome the help the outside world is giving us. But please don't interfere in this issue," Nasri said. "We are Muslims and these are our beliefs. This is much more important to us than all the aid the world has given us."
Kinda scary. Makes you sort of wonder if our fighting Men and Women aren't risking everything for a people who would gut them if they mentioned their own religious beliefs. I mean, if they'll tear one of their own limb from limb for deciding not to embrace Islam, what would they do to an insider?
Yesterday's post featuring an actual accused war criminal's personal ad totally made me giggle. So, here are a few more. This time, though, see if you can't guess who the ad might belong to...
Mommy Pop Tart Seeks full-time commitment from real non-greasy man who isn't interested in blowing through my millions in a single weekend at Caesar's Palace. Man must be a good daddy and not wear wife-beaters. Wannabe Rappers need not apply.
Wealthy talk show hostess seeks minions to drink my brand of Koolaid, buy the products I endorse, and read the crap books I suggest. Free-thinkers need not apply.
Media Whore Mother of Dead Soldier seeks hangers-on to pull up my pants as I am arrested at sundry protests so that unflattering pictures no longer hit The Drudge Report. Neo-Cons need not apply.
Blonde fake celebrity seeks like-named male heir to tremendous fortune for drunken frolics in LA and abroad. Poor boys need not apply. That's Hot!
2008 Presidential hopeful seeks running mate who will not open mouth to insert foot, who can keep his Johnson in his pants and leave the volunteers and interns alone, and who will not cast me in the shadows. This is my time to shine. Senators from Mass. and ex-VPs need not apply.
Sexually in Denial actor seeks young woman to carry baby and prove my masculinity. Non-Scientologists need not apply.
Master Manipulator seeks DUers to brainwash for next big move. Must be vapid, ignorant, and open to suggestion.
The following narrative is a faithful and true recounting of the events of a May afternoon in Schaumburg, Illinois.
It was 1992 and I was going to graduate from high school in the following days. My father and stepmother were visiting from Kansas to witness my big moment. I was already out of school, however, as the seniors finished finals about 2 weeks ahead of the rest of the student body. As such, it was left to me to entertain them and ferry them about.
One day, we went to Schaumburg to visit Woodfield Mall. Dad bought me a new backpack (Eddie Bauer) for college, and we eventually left the mall and headed to a local office supply store. It could have been Staples or Office Depot, that is unimportant. What is important is that after cleaning up at the office supply store, we grew a bit parched.
We were keen for refreshment. Something to wet our whistles. Something to stop us from spitting cotton.
Just down the strip mall from the office supply store there was a Caesar's Pizza. We ambled that way and waited our turn in line to order.
"Can I help you, sir?" The young man behind the counter asked.
"We'd like three cokes, please. Larges." Dad said, all business.
"Is that all?" The clerk looked confused.
"Yep. That's it." Dad reached into his back pocket for his wallet. (We say "yep" in Kansas.)
"I'm sorry, sir, I can't sell you three cokes." The clerk's face was sincere.
"Out of coke?"
"No, sir."
"Well, I can see quite plainly that you aren't out of cups, so what is the problem?"
"Sir, if you order three cokes I have to give you six."
Looking dumbfounded, but ready to play with the dipshit, Dad said, "Can I buy two and you give me three?"
"No sir. If you buy two, I have to give you four."
Getting irked now, "Can I buy two, you give me three, and keep one for yourself?"
"No sir. That's against store policy."
"Can I buy two, you give me four, and I throw one away?"
"Management frowns on that, sir."
"Well, we wouldn't want to upset management!" Dad is losing his patience. "You realize, I hope, how asinine this is?"
"Sir?"
"A person is not able to leave this place with an odd number of anything. It is ridiculous."
"I just work here, sir." The clerk doesn't seem to see the problem.
"Yes. You are working very hard, I can see."
"So, what can I get you, sir?"
"That is the question of the moment. You are certain that you can't just give me three when I buy two?" Clerk shakes his head in the negative. "Fine." Dad turns to man in line behind us and asks, "Excuse me, can I buy you something to drink?"
Caught off guard, the stranger replies, "Uh, I guess so."
"What would you like?"
"A Sprite?"
Turning back to the cashier, Dad said, "We'll take three large cokes and one large Sprite, but I only want to pay for two beverages. Any problem with that?"
The cashier ponders this strange turn of events and seems to consider if this is against policy. "I think this is okay," he says.
"Finally!"
We finally got to quench our thirst, the stranger got a free Sprite, and the clerk didn't end up on the wrong side of store policy. But, we laughed for hours over this bit of ridiculousness.
And as a family we still laugh about this day and how you can never tell what you are going to come up against in Schaumburg, IL.
That, and, this must be like what customer service is like in Hell.
War Criminal Seeks Sexy 20-Something for rough play and good time in Love Room. Must be willing to play role-playing games and get "ethnically cleansed" with my tongue.
If you read the entire article, you will discover that he became a grandfather on the same day as the child of this rendezvous was born. Both children, in fact, were born in the same clinic, moments apart.
It is once again time for the Demystifying Divas and The Men's Club to tackle another big question. This week we are answering the question:
If your significant other came down with a life-threatening condition, or long-term illness (ie. cancer, persistent coma, etc.) would you stay? What level of commitment would dictate that?Dating, Marriage, Engaged?
It is going to be hard for me to make my answer humorous, ye be warned.
It may be impossible.
It is like this: you must be lead by your heart. If my husband became seriously ill, you can damn well bet that I'd be there at his side. I'd mop his brow, I'd change his diaper, whatever. That's sort of what those wedding vows are all about. "In Sickness, and in Health, 'til Death Do Us Part" is not to be miscontrued, nor does it come with some sort of hidden codicil stating "unless of course, you get...um...seriously hurt or turn into a vegetable, or start hanging out too much in a stinky old hospital." If you can't live with the consequences, you shouldn't take the oath, that's all I'm saying.
Now, I also realize that a bit of pragmatism is necessary. What is the prognosis? Is he expected to make a recovery, however limited, or is that highly unlikely? Did he want to be on perpetual life support, or does he want a swift end to his suffering? If he is expected to be comatose for the next 20 or 50 years, you have to get on with your life. You have to go to work and take care of the kids. You can't stop living your own life. You don't have to forget him, but you do owe something to yourself, your family, and your children. You can't act as though you are the one with the injury. But whatever you do, you must do it respectfully and with careful consideration. I think it might take years before I was ready to move on, but you have to let your heart be your guide.
The second part of the question is harder to answer. I would say that if you are only dating this person, you are held to a lesser standard socially. Less will be expected of you because the attachment is more tenuous and his family will be at his bedside daily holding his hand. However, if particular circumstances are such that your heart compels more from you, so be it. But society should not and will not be so strict.
Engagement is a trickier issue and I tend to think that some duration of bedside attention should be expected. If the prognosis is for a full or partial recovery in less than 18 months, I think you should stay and reevaluate the relationship when he is recovered. Life altering events can be very difficult on relationships, and he or you may want out of the engagement. It isn't fair to bring this up or abandon your fiance when he is fighting bigger battles, but you should expect to reevaluate things when he is out of the woods. Just know that even if you do your most, never leaving his bedside for 12 months, he may still not want you anymore.
However, if the prognosis is not good and all hopes are pinned to a miracle, I think you can gracefully make your exit after a few months. I would hope that you would have the class, however, to leave a long letter, just in case, explaining your love and the unfortunate turn of events. This can even be cathartic and help you to grieve and move on. He may never read it, but if he does awaken 25 years later thinking he has only missed a few moments, this will answer questions for him, when he is ready.
But, this is only how I would deal with it. In the end, you can only be lead by your own heart.
Seriously? This topic was kind of depressing. I'll have to lighten the mood with the next post.
(You should know that I still won't talk to Prince Charming about this sort of thing, but I'm getting better. We'll have to change our Wills soon.)
No doubt you have heard of the falling out between Isaac Hayes, the voice of Chef, and the co-creators of South Park, Matt Stone and Trey Parker. If so, please forgive this brief synopsis.
It seems that Isaac Hayes quit the popular cartoon when he grew uncomfortable with the irreverant way that the program deals with religions. Some say that his discomfort only arose after his own religion was the subject of ridicule, and that he never said anything when Judaism, Christianity, Muslims, or Mormons were singled out. Mr. Hayes is a devotee of Scientology, you see.
In the past few days, a press release indicated that the original press release with Mr. Hayes separating himself from the "offensive" show was not from him. This second press release claimed that he couldn't have made these statements as he has been in hospital.
What a tangled tale. Some have suggested that perhaps it was the powers that be at Hubbards Scientology Center may have issued the press release for Mr. Hayes, without his knowledge.
Whatever the truth, you have to be very careful when you piss off people who make public ridicule their chief occupation.
Chef, it turns out, is a pedophile when he returns from the Super Adventure Club's brainwashing. The children are able to remind him of his love of women by taking him to a strip club, but in the end, he is brainwashed again. And, in the grand South Park tradition of overkill, Chef then falls off a bridge, is "burned, stabbed, and mauled by a lion and a grizzly bear."
See what I mean? There's a lesson in there, somewhere. A quiet notice that you were leaving for personal reasons might have been a better tactic. Now you'll be remembered as a brainwashed crazy pedophile. So sad.
To sum up, this story is about a Dancer with the Movin' Out show that features songs by Billy Joel.
Her job was to dance, bounce, and otherwise titillate and gyrate to the musical stylings of The Piano Man. All, I might add, so that the producers of the show could make a freakin' fortune and suck the bubbles off their Dom. But, she was injured in the line of duty and had to spend some time away from the production recuperating from her injury. She, as a dancer, was careful to maintain her weight and worked out while she cared for her toe. When she returned to the show, however, her costumes no longer fit in the bust area. She had grown from a C-cup to a D-cup. So, they fired her ass.
Now, look, this is wrong on so many levels. First, she was injured while on the job, at the fault of another co-worker. She maintained her physical fitness and is still a size zero, so you can't say she isn't still acceptable for performance on aesthetics. I would go further and point out that if you want to put more heterosexual male asses in the seats, a few more D-cups wouldn't hurt.
Afterall, why do you think men go to see the shows in Vegas but not on Broadway? Bouncing, Bountiful, Brazen, and Bare Breasts, maybe? Ya think?
That's all I'm sayin'.
And of course, I hate her for being a size zero and a D-cup. Bitch. (SpySistah will understand if none of you do.)
A couple of years back, SpySistah went to New Orleans on a mission (she claims it was a "convention"). While there, she visited the historic Cafe du Monde and she brought me back some beignet mix.
While she was here visiting, I cracked open the box and made some for breakfast. She tasted and passed her judgement: Just Like the Original!
She also said that the way I had cut the dough, smaller, was a good thing. She felt like she could have more than one! And, of course, it was easier to handle.
I sprinkled them lovingly with powdered sugar, of course, just like you are supposed to do. I thought they were very tasty. As a matter of fact, they were much better than I had anticipated. They weren't too sweet, and were fabulous seeing as how you could eat them warm. They vaguely reminded me of the fried bread that used to be served at the Stage Stop, the local cafe back home on the range. Yummy.
A couple of weeks ago I made mention of the fact that I have never been called to serve on a jury. I've never even been called to court as a member of the potential jury pool.
So imagine my chagrin when last week Prince Charming got a summons. He isn't thrilled.
Naturally. I want to do my civic duty, but they choose him. Ah, well. Such is life.
It is a horrible day. I'm busy. The sky is grey. And, for all the hoopla surrounding the "today is the first day of Spring" crappola, Spring is noticeably absent.
I had a busy weekend. You know the type: they seem more like work than your real job. SpySistah visited (she is back in the US ever so briefly) and we had to do a whirlwind shopping expedition to outfit her for the next who-knows-how-long. Then there was my mom and other sister to add to the equation, and another shopping expedition. This one completely fruitless. Then there was the watching of Illinois choke on Saturday afternoon.
By the time we got home, everyone was so pooped that they all collapsed on the couches and promptly fell asleep. So much for spending time together.
Anyway, that left me to clean up on Sunday, do dishes and laundry, and remove trash. Now I'm exhausted. Still.
And, on top of all that, we had a busy morning and now I'm hungry and feeling worse than I did this morning. Do you ever just feel run down? Man, my tank is on E. I need some snuggle time and some nap time.
There is some good news though. My purse drought has ended. After searching for 2 years for a new purse, I have finally found one that is acceptable. As I have written in the recent past, most of the handbags out now are best described as "Gangster's Jersy Girlfriend Goes Glitz & Glam at Studio 54." Junk. The Phoenix? She no wear the crap.
What I finally found was a Dooney & Bourke black bag that is quite elegant. I know, D&B usually isn't me because they usually broadcast D&B all over their little selves. This one is so understated, you can't even see the D&B on it unless you are holding the bag. Much better. My shopping jones has been sated.
All that I don't even have to look like a "garbage man's" girl on the side. Lovely!
I don't know if this will become a regular Friday feature, but I am going to attempt a blog quiz based on stuff that was found in blogs around the 'sphere this week.
Here goes nothing...
1. As The Head Cake Eater pointed out, who came to the defense of the Pussy Bond this week, pointing out he had played with toy guns as a child, just like any other boy? a. Sean Connery b. Roger Moore c. his mommy d. his daddy
2. Silk and Colz's adventures in NYC brought them face-to-face with a pretty scary oddity. What did they encounter? a. Runaway Bus b. Runaway Train c. The Money Train d. The Poo Lady
4. What heretofore hidden talent did The Wizard admit to this week? a. Divining for Water b. Hairstyling c. Snow-boarding d. Barbie styling
5. The Maximum Leader took a break from Jennifer Love Hewitt blogging this week to blog about which of the following? a. Jaime Pressly b. Elvis Pressly c. Apoptosis, suggesting a smackdown between tamales and lutefisk d. Halitosis, suggesting a smackdown between Bill Clinton and Steve Forbes
6. Secret Agent Sadie, filling in for new father Phin, gave him a heads-up on what baby phenomenon? a. Neverending Baby Drool b. Overnight Growth Spurts c. Poop Up the Back d. Projectile Baby Vomit
7. Which of the following did not earn special recognition as a topic for The Hatemonger's Quarterly this week? a. Pop Music Devotees b. NCAA Brackets c. Russ Feingold d. Shaquille O'Neal
8. Wee One's planning gene backfired this week and interfered with her fashion plans and she didn't take it well. She delighted, however, in discovering what she could wear instead. What did she get to wear? a. Red Cowboy Boots b. Clogs c. Flip-flops d. In-line skates
9. According to recent evidence discovered by Steve the Llamabutcher, what does the Cake Eater Premium Feed have to offer to subscribers? a. hot girl on girl action b. Scottish Dwarves in flagrante delicto c. Naked Pudding Wrestling d. Llama love
10. Agent Bedhead suggested that the citizens of the world do what to spare ourselves a much worse fate? a. Buy Kevin Federline's rap album to keep him from becoming a stripper b. Take Madonna back before The Duchess of Cornwall asks Parliament to declare war on the US for exporting the bitch to Britain c. Protest the Pussy Bond to save Sean Connery's kidney d. Send cases of Twinkies to Lindsey Lohan to get her to bulk up and prevent her from becoming the face of Louis Vuitton
WAR STINKS: India's Uttar Predesh Cow Protection Commission has advised people that holy cow dung may be able to help protect them from the effects of radiation burns and nuclear fallout in the event of a nuclear war with Pakistan. The Commission, which normally focuses on preventing the eating of India's holy cows and promoting the use of cow dung and urine as medicinal agents, has now included protection from nuclear war on its list of magical powers which cow shit possesses. "Even if the enemy carries out the threat to bomb us with nukes, we don't have to panic. You can fully protect yourselves by covering the roof with cow dung. Applying cow dung paste to the body from head to toe will serve as an extra shield," promises a spokesman from the group.
The Bigger, The Better, The Tighter the Sweater, The Boys Depend on Us!
As another Thursday rolls around, you are no doubt chomping at the bit to discover what the Divas and Gents are mulling over this week. Fret not! We have a real gem of a topic this week:
Be Honest: Does Size Matter? Engines, breasts, penises, etc.
I have to admit that I've been looking forward to this topic for a while. My husband, on the other hand, found a notecard with the topic written on it in my calendar and was a bit curious and just what kind of smut I'm writing. Not to worry, I set him straight.
So, let's just jump right in.
The question is purposely vague, giving me plenty of latitude in my comments, so I shall start with some general statements.
First, size is not all it is cracked up to be, generally speaking. Quality is infinitely more important than quantity, in my opinion. While bigger can be better, it is not always so.
When it comes to diamonds, for example, quality is more important than size. You don't want a rock the size of a dinner plate if it is so cloudy it looks like a dinner plate. But, on the other hand, you don't want to hold out for perfection and lose out on size either. Waiting for a perfectly flawless and colorless diamond may mean that your carat weight suffers. And let's face it, if you can't see it, who cares! Am I right or am I right? So, settle for something suitably flashy, affordable, and of good quality. That's where you'll be happiest. Then hold out for more diamonds. You just can't have too many.
Engines? Hmm. It seems to me that it isn't so much about size as it is about getting the job done. Suppose you are trying to motor an aircraft carrier across the Indian Ocean. No little outboard Johnson is going to do the trick. Conversely, you probably don't need that outboard Johnson to power your desk clock either. Tool for the job, folks. Choose the tool for the job.
Breasts. Seeing as how I'm a woman, I'm going to have to say size does matter on this one. You see, I've had too many small-breasted friends who were miserable shopping for bras and gowns, never able to fill one out. I've also had friends with the opposite problem. Too much tit can lead to back aches and freak-showesque ogling. Variation is good, but we should try to stay away from the burdens of the extremes in this case. I like my breasts. I think they are just right, and I've never heard any complaints from the guys, so I think I'm okay. But, I've always felt bad for the girls at the other ends of the spectrum and wished there was some magic wand you could wave that would send Miss Double F's extra to Miss Wishing For an A Cup.
Penises. I don't think size matters here so much as what you can do with it and how frequently you do it. To be quite honest, too much might be desired by the quarterback, but it can be very uncomfortable for the receivers, if you know what I mean. In this case, I would recommend going at it as often as possible and making sure everybody scores, to extend the metaphor.
So there you have it. Size matters, but so does quality.
For more penis and breast size discussion, check out what the other Demystifying Divas and The Men's Club have to say.
Sadie's recent post at Phin's Fish Bowl inspired this post. In particular, Sadie was trying to warn Phin and the Mrs. Phin about The Poop Up The Back Phenomenon. This is a particularly nasty and frequent occurence in the baby world. It defies the basic laws of physics, yet it is true. A baby lying flat on its back will squeeze crap to the shoulders, no matter what you do.
In the past three months, I have gained quite a Defecation Education. You could say that I've received a BS in Shit that Sticks, a Masters in Excrement Management, a Ph D in Poop, and a Minor in The Smell of Feces.
I am being fitted for my crap mortar board next week. And I'm starting my research next month. (Grossed out yet?)
This advanced education in baby poop has quite swollen my head (and my trash can) and I find myself keen to share the highlights of this education with you, my gentle and faithful readers. So, here goes.
All you ever needed to know about baby crap, but did not want to ask:
The first baby shit that a new parent will encounter is the meconium. Believe me, there is no misidentifying this shit. It is a dark brown or blackish color with the consistency and stickiness of a bucket of sealing tar. This shit sticks to everything except a baby wipe, making the cleaning of ass crack and your own fingers a near impossibility that the rocket scientists at NASA ought to put their efforts toward. Additionallly, they or the folks at 3M ought to investigate meconium for its ability to hold those tiles on the shuttle, or a million household uses.
The second baby shit a new parent encounters is breast milk shit. This is not like the meconium. For one thing, there is a lot more of it. And, it is a startlingly different color. Breast milk shit is a yellowish-green color, but that isn't what makes it remarkable. Oh no. This one is freaky for what is in the shit. You can visibly identify little white rice-like granules in it. Like maggots almost. It will freak you out and you will be afraid to ask the doctor as it will come so quickly on the heels of the freaky meconium.
Eventually you will transition to what I have come to call Standard Baby Shit. This is formula-fed crap. It too is a yellowish-green, mostly lacking in maggot-like additions, that smells like the seventh circle of hell on a particularly bad week. You can smell it from 10 yards away. It is a lingering smell that is unavoidable. Of course, it is possible to develop a resistance to it and thereby find yourself losing friends who are unaware that you don't have a personal hygiene problem, rather...you have a shitty baby. God help you if you do not immediately place the offending dirty diaper in a non-inhabited-by-humans location. (If you have some pests you'd like to get rid of, see about placing one of these diapers in the area of infestation and just see if the critters don't hie themselves off to more comfortable digs. Note to self: Contact Raid.)
While Standard Baby Shit is the norm, it is not the end of the line. I've been surveying an elective in Sick Baby Shit for the past two weeks. My short experience with this suggests that the chemical and physical properties are somewhat unset on this category. For example, it can vary widely in olfactory offensiveness, volume, and color. Yesterday I changed a diaper that was a dark army green and looked like plaster of paris, only wetter and stickier.
But Baby Poop has other interesting characteristics. For one, it is like kryptonite to teenagers. Mouthy obnoxious know-it-alls run in fear from a poopy diaper. It is the most amazing thing. If there were a free iPod loaded with every song a teenager could want on it stuck in a poopy diaper, the thing would go unclaimed. No one would make any attempts to recover the treasure, but would consider it a dreadful shame and forever lost to civilization.
I mentioned it briefly above, but the smell of baby poop also deserves in-depth study. As vile as it smells, it can become almost absent to those who smell it frequently, like the parents. You get used to the smell. You can still smell it, of course, but for some reason you begin grow accustomed to it, even find the smell comforting. I have developed a theory that it is this nature of parents to grow accustomed to the stench of their children's shit that led to the popular vernacular saying "your shit don't stink." Because to some, it doesn't.
Baby poop is unlike any other substance on the face of the Earth: it refuses to be contained. Liquid and gas take the shape of their containers while solids have a defined shape of their own. Baby poop is a category unto itself. It is most assuredly not a solid, having no defined shape. And, quite clearly it is not a gas. (Baby gas is a whole different essay.) Also, though, it can't be a liquid. It doesn't flow so much as creep, yet the movement of baby poop outside of the body has never been captured on video and remains a mystery. It cannot be contained by any diaper on the market, something you would think that they could have resolved by now. (Perhaps another challenge for NASA?)
As you can plainly see, my knowledge of baby poop is quite extensive and grows more everyday. I could write about it for days, yet I feel certain that I've run the course on these jokes.
I'll have to save the rest for a runny day. (Sorry, couldn't help myself.)
Russ Feingold's juvenile antics and idiotic attempts to turn Congress into a flea circus have me mad as hell.
Let's do some plain speaking here, shall we?
Russ Feingold wants to be President. Russ Feingold does not have the flash and swagger of many of the Democrats on the Hill, so he needs to set himself apart from the pack. He isn't married to a compulsive liar, however "charming" he may be, so he doesn't have the cache of Hillary. He's not known far and wide for much of anything, except for the McCain-Feingold Campaign Finance Reform. (A free-speech stifling piece of legislation, I personally feel.)
He knows that the Democratic Darling Hillary has pissed off the left wing nuts with her support of the GWOT and Iraq and the troops. He also knows that Hillary is a very polarizing figure on the best of days: you either love her or you hate her, there is no middle ground. So, knowing that Hillary's move to the middle on security might appeal to swing voters, and her consistent bashing of Bush might appeal to some of the wingnuts, he has to find his niche. Seeing as how Cindy Sheehan has momentarily faded from the lime light (don't worry - like a cold sore, she'll be back), a certain vacuum has been left.
Enter Russ Feingold. He has never been particulary supportive of the War, so the wingnuts don't have to worry about any election-year switching of horses of flip-flopping with this senator. But, he lacks the flash, so he needs to make a splash. What do his political consultants direct him to do?
Call for Censure. Play to the base and the crowd by doing a little song and dance with President Bush as your whipping boy. Literally, he has taken a page out of Billy Flynn's play book and is giving them the "old Razzle Dazzle."
Feingold, a potential presidential candidate, said on the Senate floor, "The president has violated the law and Congress must respond."
"A formal censure by Congress is an appropriate and responsible first step to assure the public that when the president thinks he can violate the law without consequences, Congress has the will to hold him accountable," Feingold said.
...
It is all just Razzle Dazzle, and do you know how we know this? Because, if Feingold really thought that the President's actions with the NSA Terrorist Wiretapping program was illegal, that the President who is not above the law had broken it, why, I feel certain that impeachment proceedings would have already been initiated. Why? Because impeachment would be even better for the base and the wingnuts. It is so...splashy. Censure is boring, but impeachment is sexy, politically speaking of course. I mean, if we can conduct impeachment proceedings on whether or not a sitting President committed perjury, surely we can play a game of gotcha-grabass over the violation of US Citizen's Constitutionally protected civil liberties!
But Feingold knows that the program is not illegal. He knows that in the bright light of an investigation he would be found to be a moronic whore, lifting his skirt in the red light district in the hopes of being able to give out a few bj's and earn himself a little rent money for the big white house on Pennsylvania Ave. He knows that the act of calling for censure of the President wins him points with the wingnuts, whether his resolution gets voted on or not. He catches the positive attention of the far left, perhaps stimulates a little giving like How-Weird Dean did when everybody thought he was the man to beat, and he figures he's golden.
Nevermind the fact that his very act is dishonest. It is all just tap dance, meant to mystify the lesser informed. I find it very offensive, personally. It isn't so much that he's looking to score political points at somebod else's expense. Hell, politicians have been doing that since the beginning of time. Rather, I am insulted that he apparently thinks that I'm fucking stupid enough to fall for it. I am one of his constituents, and he'll never get my vote. Why? Because he clearly thinks I'm stupid.
Stop dancing, Russ Feingold. I'm not buying your bullshit.
This week's topic for the Divas and Gents is an assignment tasking each of us to identify both a male and female celebrity that we admire and to explain why.
For me, this was pretty easy to do. The fact that it was easy may be surprising, especially considering the manner in which I will preface my statements.
Celebrities nowadays aren't really worth celebrating. Too often they are stuck on themselves, have egos that indicate their true feelings for the rest of us little people, and take every opportunity to inform the rest of us what we should be thinking. Well, I gotta tell ya, I don't think that being able to emote necessarily makes you qualified to tell me what is best for me. In fact, if you don't mind, I'll be doing that for myself, if it is alright with you, your insipid self-importantcy.
Too often we are celebrating things not worth celebrating when we regard some as celebrities. What, for example, are we celebrating in Paris Hilton? Perhaps vapid heiresses with loose morals? Not so much for me, thanks anyway? Nicole Ritchie? Anorexia is the way to happiness? Ben Affleck? Shitty work and an actor who preens too much? Thanks, but no thanks. He doesn't even look like a man.
So, with all of my general disgust for these types and their know-it-all, self-congratulating ways, I was surprised at how easily I indentified 2 celebrities worth celebrating.
For the women, I admire Reese Witherspoon. She has built a significant body of work, but more than that, when she appears on screen I stop seeing the actress and can only see the character. This is something that Julia Roberts and Angelina Jolie are incapable of, in my opinion. When I watch Far and Away, I travel along with Nonni and she is very real to me. I enjoy her performances in Legally Blonde, Sweet Home Alabama, and Just Like Heaven because she is so ordinary. She is not so ravishingly beautiful that she stops traffic. Rather, she looks just like she could be your neighbor, co-worker, best-friend, or the girl next door. She is believable in the roles and she pops off the screen. Moreover, from what I've read, she takes the craft very seriously and it is real work to her. She can do comedy and drama with equal flair. But, the thing I admire most is her dedication to her children. This, to me, is very real. So I admire her ability to be at the top of her game and still have her children be the focus of her life.
Of Hollywood's leading men, I admire Bruce Willis. Here is a guy who can laugh at himself. Here is a guy who I loved in Moonlighting. Here is a guy who is quoted daily from his work in the Die Hard series. But more importantly, here is a guy who believes that the good news doesn't make the press. Here is a guy who believes in actually supporting the troops, rather than just paying them the lip service that most give (when in actuality they are adamantly against our military). Here is a guy who loves his children deeply and is a big enough guy to get past the hard feelings of divorce for the children's benefit. In essence, here is a guy I wouldn't mind having to supper. Bruce, you are invited for steak anytime you find yourself in Wisconsin. We'd love to have you at the table.
That's it. That's all I've got.
Go check and see what the other ladies have to say: Silk, Theresa, Arielle.
And the Gents will also weigh in on the matter: Jamesyboy, Jim, and Mark.
P.S. Divas, Gents, and gentle readers: We are coming down to the last of our prepared topics. Put on your thinking caps and let us know if there are topics that deserve the special Diva & Gent treatment. Leave them in the comments.
And, can I just say, Mrs. Phin has waited more than her fair share of time. She deserves an easy labor. My thoughts are going that way: easy labor, healthy mom and babe.
I discovered what passes for space filler on television at 3 am last night as I was feeding Bunny Boop.
I was so chagrined, as a matter of fact, that I felt compelled to post this expose and shine a bright light on the truth. I am sorry if this upsets some. In particular, I am sure that The Maximum Leader and Loyal Minion Phin will not be pleased to read this. They may even deny it or go all conspiracy theorist on us. Nevertheless...: Bright Light, Shine On!
At 3 am, it appears that the target demographic is sexually frustrated teenage boys and voyeuristic men. I know this because they were hawking some Sorority Girls Gone Wild videotape. Said video apparently shows the real lesbianic side of sorority life, because all of these girls were fondling, licking, and otherwise treating each other to the men's stereotype of what that perpetual naked pillow fight must be like. (I just realized I'm going to get all kinds of perverts googling in - sorry to disappoint you, fellas.)
I am a sorority girl. I say "am" instead of "was" because it is a lifetime thing, not something you do just in college. Furthermore, I can tell you that as a sorority girl I never ever ever participated in any antics that came anywhere close to this blatantly scripted pron. I never ripped another girl's shirt off, nor had mine torn asunder. I never showered with another girl or licked any of my sisters' anatomies. The fact of the matter is, all of the girls I know who were sorority chicks were pretty obviously heterosexual. They weren't even Lugs (lesbians until graduation).
The only girl I ever knew who determined she was of that persuasion actually quit her house after the epiphany. Of course, she really was a lug, as it turned out. No skin off my nose; she can and should lick what she pleases. I'm only trying to say, boys, that fantasies aside, it just isn't so. I'm sorry to ruin it for you, but I am all about vanquishing villains. In my mind, any sleazy schmuck who would cast these sorts of nasty aspersions on sorority girls to fill his pockets at the expense of salivating fools worldwide is definitely a villain.
I apologize if this moment of truth-telling has destroyed your fantasies and ruined your "private time thoughts", but it had to be done.
If you don't believe me, just ask Kathy. She'll tell you. Maybe Sadie or Christina can back me up too.
Never happens.
Now, stealing each other's boyfriends? That happens once per semester.
It seems that Bunny Boop has a cold. She was kind enough to share it with me, so I am certain that this is what it is. It is rocking her 2-month-old world right now. No one, it seems, can comfort her the way mommy and daddy do, so I left work and took her to the doctor (to confirm it wasn't more serious than a cold) because she "wouldn't stop screaming" for the babysitter.
Poor thing.
When I got there? She was asleep. So I took her to the doctor. While I was waiting I started to fret. What if it is more serious because I am a sucky mommy? What if I've been missing the telltale clues to a deeper problem? Ohmygawd! It'sallmyfault! But then the doctor came in and I began holding my breath (even when answering his questions - I'm that good) until he passed judgement.
Are you ready?
Her lungs are fine. Her ears are fine. Her mouth - also fine.
Conclusion: She has a cold. The doctor said everything I've been doing, from baby Tylenol to keeping her hydrated, is the right thing to do. Just keep doing it, he said.
But, just to be on the safe side, I decided to stay home with her the rest of the day. So, here I am, baby by my side, sharing with you all of the gory details of brand-new mommy-hood.
I am a) not surprised, b) very concerned, and c) slightly entertained by this news.
Discuss amongst yourselves the danger of madman in control of ballistic missiles that could reach the west coast of the United States. As much as I wouldn't miss Hollyweird's oddest inhabitants, I still can't abide any attack on our soil.
Fabulous new digs are courtesy of the brilliant and resourceful Sadie & Phin of Apothegm Designs. If you are feeling like you need a makeover, I highly recommend this amazing duo.
I have decided that pink is our new signature color and much like a kitten, we also have claws. We just happen to be wearing a brand new pink bow, is all.
Anyway, on to the Vanquishing of Villains!
aside - When is the phinlet arriving? Talk about tardy!
I watched exactly none of the Liberal circle-jerk that was the Oscars last night. I am not in charity with Hollywood right now. As such, I can really understand where the Hatemonger's Quarterly and the Crack Young Staff, including Chip, are coming from when they write:
Instead, we think that the film industry doesn’t take things sufficiently far. If you really want to preach to Americans about gay rights, why not nominate a movie replete with hardcore homosexual pornography? Why are they so squeamishly choosing a lame softcore flick like Brokeback Mountain?
Moreover, if Hollywood wants to get on its soapbox about the War on Terrorism, why doesn’t it nominate one of Osama bin Laden’s videos? They’re far more sophisticated than the palaver produced by Michael Moore.
WASHINGTON - The Supreme Court ruled Monday that colleges that accept federal money must allow military recruiters on campus, despite university objections to the Pentagon’s policy on gays.
How sensible. Really! It almost makes me believe in the reasonableness of the courts. And, we also learn that the decision was unanimous. What can the commie pinkos make of that, eh? Even the liberals on the court are warmongers. Oh, bedeviled and bedamned!
I don't know what I did, but somehow or other I managed to piss off The Dining Gods.
I was in Chicagoland (the name given to the greater suburban area) this weekend visiting with my mother and her best friend who was visiting from Ohio. We skipped lunch in favor of increased shopping opportunities, so by 7 p.m. we were all past famished.
We decided to check out TGI Friday's. Only, the hostess said that there was at least an hour wait. She put us on the list and we decided to hedge our bets by checking out Lonestar. Part of the group motored that direction, only to find an hour's wait, so we were on our way back to Friday's. Then we learned that the other part of our group had relinquished our place in line, so we were back to zero. Then, we decided to check out Jimmy's Charhouse. However, there was a 90 minute wait here...so we loaded back up and went to the hotel and ate at the Bennigan's. Yowza. Then we had a shitty waiter who wasn't so much interested in, you know, waiting on us.
Now, I would have called this all coincidence if not for the happenings of the next morning. We tried to go out for breakfast. We started at The Cracker Barrel, but it was closed up tight, signs torn down, clearly closed up business for good. I swear to you, 3 weeks ago everything was just fine there. From there we went to another no-name place, but it too was closed, with the Valentine's Day decorations still hanging in the windows. Finally we made our way to IHOP and considered ourselves lucky to have found it open and serving food.
See what I mean? It must have been a conspiracy. Prince Charming now refuses to travel to Chicagoland without a hamper of convenience foods, just in case.
You have to wonder why so many breakfast places are failing. Personally, I suspect that the folks who would have gone to breakfast are still waiting for their supper table to be ready.
It seems there is a brouhaha in the House of Lords over the Food Standards Agency's desire to cut the amount of salt in Stilton cheese.
The Stilton Cheese Makers Association says the move would ruin the quality of Stilton. Salt in Stilton is not just a matter of taste, the cheese-makers and their friends in high places say -- it is a vital ingredient.
That's just delicious, as news goes. I love that "whiff of scandal" bit.
Bunny Boop had her 2-month check-up this morning. Our impressions of her growing like a weed now have documentary proof. Since birth, she has gained nearly 4 pounds and grown 3 inches.
First, Prince Charming and I received a wonderful Christmas gift. My mother bought us one of those Miracle Foam mattress toppers. I was skeptical, I admit it. But now I have fully converted. That thing is so marvelously comfortable I am usually asleep before my head hits the pillow. I am tempted to spend an entire weekend in bed just for the comfort. If we were to put a refrigerator in the bedroom there would be no reason to leave. There is a drawback to this glorious luxury, however. It is nearly impossible to get out of bed to go to work. And on the weekends? Getting out of bed to go grocery shopping or clean house is even more difficult. Just too damn comfy!
Why isn't the MSM doing more to cover the tape recordings of Saddam discussing the WMD hide-and-seek games and the purposeful deceptions he handed the UN inspectors?
Because they mean that Bush didn't lie (nevermind the fact that WMD were not the sole reason...) and the whole "Bush lied, People died" "Blood-for-Oil" rants would fall on their faces.
Thursday has rolled around again and, as such, it is time for another scintillating discussion by the Demystifying Divas and The Men's Club. Let's get on with it, shall we?
Metrosexuals: Love Them or Leave Them?
I have to approach this question as a heterosexual woman, if that is alright with you. It is the only frame of reference from which I can answer this question. Additionally, I am going to assume that the term "metrosexual" refers to a man who:
knows what a loofah is for
has regular manicure and pedicure appointments
refers to them as "manis" and "pedis"
gets facials
and massages
has an abundance of "product" that he applies to his hair and face
is overly concerned with fashion
both women's and men's
enjoys shopping
is overly concerned with celebrities and their lives
can be kindly termed a "gossip"
Now, for the purposes of the discussion, I am just going to suggest that not all metrosexuals are characterized by the complete list above. I will make room for the possibility that a metrosexual would be all of those things except a gossip. I will also allow that my list is not complete and that a metrosexual might also enjoy the theater.
In any event, my unequivocal answer to the question is LEAVE THEM. Icky poo. These are not men in the same way that poodles are not dogs. As a heterosexual woman, I find nothing to interest me in the metrosexual male. They make my skin crawl.
Why would I want to hang with a man who might be concerned with the size of my pores? Do you think the sound of a man gasping over my split ends is going to make me quiver with delight? Do I really need fashion or shopping advice from a man? No. No. No. I find the lives of celebrities to be something to ridicule and do not occupy my time devouring the details of their shattered and mended love lives. A man who would do so makes me want to vomit. Furthermore, I find gossip boring and a man who would do so is contemptible, in my opinion.
I do not find these men attractive. They creep me out like that mutant brocciflower crap: it looks vaguely familiar, but basically it is all wrong.
To be quite honest, if I wanted a feminine man, I'd find myself a butch lesbian. At least then she might understand how hard it is to find a pair of jeans that fit the female form.
Vile creatures.
Anyway, hie you hence to see what the other Divas (Silk, Arielle, and Theresa) and The Men's Club (Jamesyboy, Mark, and Jim) have to say.
There was news of a study discussed on the morning news this morning that mightily upset me. This article sums it up, but basically, Americans are more familiar with The Simpsons (Homer, Marge, Bart, Lisa, and Maggie, NOT Jessica & Nick) than they are with the U.S. Constitution.
It is a travesty, nothing less. Where is the sense of civic responsibility? Where is the sense of civic curiosity? I could go on for hours about my sense of outrage over this, but instead I have decided to educate. Take the following quiz to test your knowledge. (Answers at the bottom of the post.)
1. What is "The Preamble"? a. The end of the Declaration b. The beginning of the Declaration c. The beginning of the Constitution d. The rambling end of the Constitution
2. Which of the following is not listed as a goal in The Preamble? a. provide for the common defense b. establish justice c. provide a welfare system d. secure the blessings of liberty
3. What are the first three words of the Constitution? a. Four score and b. In the Course c. We the States d. We the People
4. Article 1, Section 1 creates our legislative body. What type of legislative system is enumerated? a. bicameral b. tricameral c. unicameral d. precameral
5. Qualifications for Representatives to the House are enumerated. How old do you have to be to be a Representative? a. 20 b. 21 c. 25 d. 30
6. Representatives are elected for what duration? a. 2 years b. 4 years c. 6 years d. each state has it's own duration, by state statute
7. Article 1, Section 3: How many Senators does each state get? a. it is dependent on population b. it is dependent on population, with blacks counting as 3/5 of a person (later changed) c. it is dependent on landmass, but no less than 2 per state d. 2
8. Senatorial requirements are also enumerated. Which of the following is required to be a Senator? a. a law degree b. 25 years old and a citizen of the USA for at least 7 years c. a law degree, 25 years old, citizen for at least 7 years d. 30 years old, a citizen for 9 years, and a resident of the state you represent
9. Which of the following is not an enumerated power of Congress? a. to borrow money b. to coin money c. to punish piracy on the high seas d. grant pardons
10. Which of the following is not a requirement to hold the office of the President? a. 35 years old b. a natural born citizen c. a resident for 14 years d. none of these
11. The President has the power to fill vacancies in posts without Senate consent if the Senate is in recess when the vacancy exists. a. True b. False c. You are making this shit up!
12. Article 3 establishes which branch of the government? a. The Fourth Estate b. The Executive c. The Judicial d. State Governments
13. How many states had to ratify the Constitution in order for it to be enacted? a. 7 b. 9 c. 11 d. All 13 original states
14. Which state was the first to ratify? a. Delaware b. Rhode Island c. Virginia d. Maryland
15. Which of the following is a right of The People, as enumerated in The Bill of Rights? a. The right to hunt and keep bear arms as trophies b. the right not to have to quarter soldiers in a time of peace c. the right to sign petitions d. the right to inflict cruel and unusual punishments on your issue
16. According to the 10th Amendment, who holds the powers not enumerated specifically to others in the Constitution? a. God Almighty b. The President c. State Governors d. The People
17. Which Amendment abolished slavery? a. The fifth b. The eleventh c. The thirteenth d. The twenty-first
18. Prohibition started with which Amendment? a. 18 b. 19 c. 20 d. 27
19. Women gained suffrage with which Amendment? a. 15 b. 19 c. 20 d. 21
20. Amendment 22 effectively limits any person from holding the office of the Presidency for more than how many years? a. 8 b. 10 c. 12 d. 20
21. What does Amendment 25 say? a. you can't be denied the vote for failing to pay taxes b. in the event of the death or resignation of the President, the Vice President takes over c. repeals the 19th Amendment d. you can vote at the age of 18
22. which Amendment provides that you don't have to be a witness against yourself? a. 5 b. 9 c. 16 d. 22
23. Where was the Constitutional Convention held? a. New York b. Washington, D.C. c. Philadelphia d. Boston
24. What is the name of the works that were written by delegates during the convention that argued points and clarified reasons for measures? a. Democratic Mission b. Talking Points Memos c. Meet the Press d. The Federalist Papers
25. What document was the precursor to The Constitution? a. Declaration of Independence b. Articles of Yankeedom c. Articles of Government Invention d. Articles of Confederation
Answers:
1. c 2. c 3. d 4. a 5. c 6. a 7. d 8. d 9. d 10. d 11. a 12. c 13. b 14. a 15. b 16. d 17. c 18. a 19. b 20. b 21. b 22. a 23. c 24. d 25. d
I did it. I took the plunge. I made a giant change.
I lost 2 pounds yesterday - all in hair. My hair which was down to the center of my back (when wet) (naturally curly hair shrinks up a lot as it loses moisture and curls) is now barely 2 inches long in the back and only comes to my jawline in the front.
Prince Charming was a bit surprised, but he says he will get used to it. My co-workers say it is great. My stylist was pleasantly pleased when I went in and was ready to take the leap. I think she secretly gets bored of just trimming me up. There was so much hair on the floor yesterday, I told her she could go into business making quality toupees - with just my hair!
The lady who chats me up where I buy my daily early-morning dose of caffeine says it is beautiful. The consensus is that I look more "stylish and sophisticated" now. There you go. That's a makeover.
I look a bit like this picture of Drew Barrymore - except I'm a brunette of course.
