For a long time, writing posts was a therapeutic process. I could get out all those feelings of the asshats I encountered during my daily life. I'm not sure if I ran into less asshats or if I dealt with them better, but I had less of an urge to get those feelings out.
This past week, I found myself longing for an outlet, but just not having the energy to do so-- no asshats involved, but still the need to "talk about my feelings". It's like a scream was building up inside me, but it wouldn't (or couldn't) come out. Internally, I was a basket-case. Externally, I was abnormally exhausted. I think stress was just slowly wearing me down.
I often joke about my kids being "out to get me", but this past week it seemed like more than a joke. Normally, one kid is misbehaving and the other is a victim of it. This time, it was both misbehaving and in ways my brain didn't want to process. I always said I'd be a cool and collected parent, able to handle all the various missteps without blinking. Instead, I found my normal reaction is to shriek and run around the house when I come across something I'm not ready for. Like the time my oldest son's friend decided to use our computer for things that were most like blocked at his house. We didn't figure out that part yet, but I responded by...running around my house and shrieking. Sure, I calm down and process in due time, but initially, it's like the blue screen of death in my brain.
When I'm done processing, I can move ahead and deal with things just fine. But two major areas to deal with on each kid seemed like a lot. Maybe a major and a minor, or two minors...oof. I was chatting with a fellow mom during the week and warned her that it doesn't get easier. It seems like after they can use the toilet and feed themselves, there would be some minor bumps along the way. Delusional, perhaps. I think there were a few weeks after they were potty-trained and talking and able to communicate what they needed for the first time where I though "Hey, this parenting thing is pretty easy." HA! Fooled me! It looks like the current crisis is ironing out and they are back to walking around with blanket capes on and...well...the blanket capes kinda through me for a loop. They were very nonchalant about it.

My other issues was work, which was not so much an issue in the classic sense. I've been a big proponent of not getting emotions involved at work. Perhaps that's a generational thing. After going through a dotcom layoff and two buy-out related layoffs, I've gotten good at taking everything in stride. My outlook is to do what I need to do and carry on as normal. I don't take things personally and I don't look for hidden agendas in every email that goes out. But that isn't the case for everyone. People seem to have emotional ties, and I suppose I can understand that. In the grand timeline, I'm still very much a noob. I don't know. Dealing with other people's emotions in that sort of context is somewhat uncomfortable for me. Too many years being a nerd I guess. But I ended the week with more goals and tasks to handle, and I'm feeling pretty good about that.

So the week started off with suck and ended pretty good. Not too shabby after all I guess. And I'm feeling significantly calmer and relaxed. Stress is just monster.

At my previous job, staying up-to-date on the latest celebrity gossip was almost a necessity. My coworkers enjoyed sharing tidbits on who was dating whom, and who was seen wearing what. If there was a particularly hot story, of course you wanted to be the first to get and share the scoop. It was all pretty exhausting and particularly mind-numbing. At my current job, no one seems to give a damn on such things, so avoiding gossip sites was a welcomed change in the daily routine. After almost a year of not being engrossed in it, I'm pleased to say that I have no clue as to who is boinking who. Hell, a good percentage of the time, I have no idea who various "celebs" are. It's refreshing.
There is something inherently disturbing about the media's obsession over public figures' private lives. I never understand why it becomes news when a well-known person admits to diddling people on the sides. Isn't that a matter than he/she needs to take care of with their significant other? I suppose the newest morbid fascination is the whole Tiger Woods affair, which I've done my best to avoid completely. I couldn't care less about who he's having the sex with or how many women claim to have ridden Tiger's wood. How is that news? People have sex...get over it already! He's not the first person nor the last to have cheated on his wife. *yawn* It bears no relevance to my life nor should it affect his professional career. It may change the meaning of "hole in one", sure. *cymbal crash*

I will mention that one thing did catch my eye that I've rolled my eyes at and declared it the sign of the coming apocalypse. While doing some research to see if I was the only person who thinks German actor Daniel Bruhl resembles Smashing Pumpkins' Billy Corgan, one of the first things shown in the google search under news stated that Corgan was dating none other than Jessica Simpson. I'm telling you, that IS the apocalypse coming. Get your affairs in order, and quickly!
While I'm on the subject of celebrity gossip mags, I'm going to repeat the sentiments of so many others : since when did TMZ become a reliable source for anything? It is downright vile to see the AP quote TMZ or mention "TMZ had this story first." Bleck.
Anyway, I highly recommend removing this sort of mental clutter from your daily routine. Allow celebs their private lives and stop encouraging these gossip sites from invading the privacy and supplying pics every time Britney Spears gets a hamburger at a drive-thru.
Also:

Image via Wikipedia

That had nothing to do with any of this, but seriously, how often do you see Mariah Carey and Robert DeNiro together? Weird, right?

That title should bring some interesting traffic, yes?
I stumbled across this video on YouTube, or the youtube, if you prefer. What was of most interest to me was that it dealt with a local case of a teenager who sent a nude pic to her then boyfriend who, upon the breakup, sent the pic to fellow classmates. The girl committed suicide after months of harassment at school.

To add insult to injury, her parents are suing various parties, which I believe illustrates that I do not agree with what her parents are doing. Not only will it not bring back their daughter, it passes over an accountability that their daughter has in the situation.
Don't get me wrong...harassment is not okay at all, and I feel the school officials should have done more to stop the harassment. But I don't believe culpability for this tragedy should be placed solely on the student body and school. I've gotten the feeling from reading various articles on this situation that the parents are trying desperately to point fingers without owning up to the fact that they should have told their daughter that sending pics of her nudie bits would never have a good outcome. To me, that is common sense.
Unfortunately for the girl who committed suicide, school life is never one happy rainbow of friendship goodness. Other girls get mean and catty. That's pretty much a general. Hell, I've gotten more than my fair share of bullying growing up. If you were the first to start wearing a bra, you were tormented until the next school-age faux pas was committed to distract the attention away from you. A few years later, it was if you were the last to wear a bra. If you dared to trust the wrong gossip hound with who you were crushing on, inevitably that information would make the rounds and life seemed like it was completely ruined. But kids get over that shit as soon as they find the next thing they can tease someone about, and it always seemed that letting it roll right off stopped the teasing sooner than later. Humiliation is tough, but that is school. That is growing up. I don't envy kids now with their gadgets and social networking. Seems like it's all too easy to make the wrong move and open the flood gates to be picked on by peers. But these are conversations we as parents need to be having with our children. Just because a sex tape catapults a rather rich nobody into the public eye doesn't mean this is a formula to replicate. More often than not, it will end in a huge steaming pile of lost dignity and humiliation. And for crying out loud, I know how gossipy my high school was when I was growing up...who in their right mind would think for one nanosecond that anything like a naked pic would be kept confidential? That is a serious case of delusion.

I feel bad for the parents of this girl. But unfortunately suing people will not make up for their lack of talking to their daughter about the dangers of misusing multi-media and how you should never take any picture that that if there is the slightest probability of being intercepted. Hell, at least make sure you're not able to be identified in it.

I don't visit fast food restaurants too often at all -- one of the benefits of being a vegetarian. Or I suppose a disadvantage if you're the type that enjoys fast food. Anyway, when I do make a quick stop at one, I am quick to remember that they don't exist on the same plane as me, common sense speaking. I'm always amazed when a restaurant nonchalantly introduces a new burger made with three slabs of meat and a pound of bacon and ten slices of cheese. It's not just from a vegetarian aspect either that causes my disgust. I am baffled that anyone can order that for lunch and think they should eat for the next few days.
Today, I walked out of my doc appt and realized that I had eaten lunch way too early and I was hungry again. What I really wanted was edamame or some sort of fresh veggies, but I don't live in the sort of city where you can walk up to a nearby restaurant and get random veggies to go. So I settled for a close fast food restaurant by the highway to grab a drink and onion rings. Healthy, I know.
This is where I made my mistake. I ordered a medium beverage, expecting a medium beverage. I got a this:

This is not a medium. This is a small bucket.
In comparison, here is the faux-medium next to a standard cup, semi-filled with delicious fizzy water:

The medium towards over the normal cup. To me, medium means "average". It's not smaller than average (aka, small beverage) nor is it larger (aka, large beverage), so why does this fast food restaurant's beverage tower menacingly over the normal, "average" cup?
At what point did medium become large? What marketing genius decided that what consumers REALLY needed was a bucket of soda? Was there some focus group that decided 12 oz of beverage was for suckers? I'm really baffled. It reminds me of when I would go to a theatre and get a beverage, only to have the employees attempted to upsale me the bucket for a "quarter more". While I realize I get 20 extra oz for a mere 25 cents, I would point out to the employee that my bladder would surely explode if I even attempted to finish something that size. We're talking a what, 16, 17 oz capacity size for the average human bladder? Is a 64 oz soda really beneficially to the average person?

Just the kind of day I'm having:

• Couldn't get to sleep until after 1 AM, thanks mostly due to dog's horrendous gastro-intestinal problems.
• Woke up earlier than usual to get son up for school, only to find out his Thurs morning early class was canceled this week, thus costing me 30 mins of sleep I could have been having.
• Drove half-way to work, stopping to get gas as the car was on E. Hopped out at the pump, open the wallet AND...no debit card.
• Drove back home to meet husband, aka "Thief of the Debit Card", aka "Won't get his own debit card fixed already", so I could get some freaking gas in the car. Ended up being ridiculously late.
• Computer is acting like as ass to me today, making it take twice as long to do tasks.
• My poor lava lamp, keeper of my tranquility and emergency heat source, is overheated.
• It MAY be colder in the office than it is outside. And outside is pretty damn cold.
• After getting up to sign the birthday card of yet another person I don't know, I inadvertently dropped a Skullcandy earbud into the remnants of a seasoned sauce. I'm not even sure what was in the sauce. The Green Giant bag only said "seasoned". But it's only 70 cals a serving, so it can't be that bad. But that's not the point.
• Tried to do yoga, but the combination of lasagna and pets being jackasses were working against me. Note to self: Never eat lasagna again. Delicious, but way too heavy.

Sigh. Zesty buds, indeed.

I'm a little wired at the moment, and my ADD is in full-speed kick due to my findings of a horrible Russian accent (and the realization that I lack my own Russian accent), but I wanted to get some thoughts written down tonight. If that last sentence made no sense to you, don't worry. This is the very issue I deal with on a daily basis.

First, to clarify the title of this post: I have friends that are also moms. These (with maybe one exception) are people I have met outside the realm of being parents. When I say "mom" friends, I mean other women in which the only basis of our relationship is that we have kids. Consider that a preface.

A while ago, I decided to venture into the world of parenting forums. I have done this before in the past, but I get distracted easily. Plus, there's the underlying issue that I really don't like talking about my kids to strangers. Sure, the occasional story is fine, but on a general level I'm not a "my kid's poop is green, what do I do" kind of woman. (That did happen once. Food coloring. Disturbing shit. Literally.) The obvious question I find myself wondering here is why would I venture into those waters when I haven't had much success in sticking around? Mainly, I see the importance of networking and building relationships that could be helpful in a variety of projects. That is the bullshit-laden answer to make me not look like a jerk. Or maybe it does. Aw, who cares.

Anyway, joining this site had really clarified some things for me - specifically, the lack of "mom" friends. Aside from the fact I refuse to define myself based on mammalian talents of reproducing and birthing young, I realized that some women are...well...bitches. Judgmental, self-righteous, bitches. Maybe that's judgmental on my part, but I like to call it an observation. I'm not out there telling other moms that they are failures as moms and/or horrible people because of their decision to not breastfeed or to vaccinate or work a job outside the home or whether or not they circumcise their son -- but some women DO. It leaves me speechless time and time again to see how self-righteous some women can be. I have a theory about some of these women. A very specific type. Based solely on my observations, I have a theory that the women who will chastise the working mom for "allowing someone else to raise their children" while they SACRIFICE [fill in the blank] and SACRIFICE [fill in the blank] and on and on and on are truly miserable with their choices. They think by impresses us all with how much sacrificing they do, we'll validate their existence.

Before you get your mom-panties in a twist, I have nothing against stay at home moms. If that makes you happy, then more power to you. I have a problem with those who shove their lifestyles down your throats to make you feel inferior to their greatness. Not that I have this problem. I have superiority issues and I exude greatness. One could say I sweat greatness. Smell it. Smell the sweat of my greatness.

Sorry. I..get distracted...shiny..

Anyway, observing some of this behavior- the degrading tones and the name calling- was just making me feel really grouchy. I don't do well around a lot of negative people. It makes me detest humanity for brief periods of time.
Outside of online communities, it's not like I haven't tried to connect to moms on some social level. I've been to a few PTAs. Hell, I coached soccer that one time. But really...nothing there. The PTA is like a high school clique, and the sports parents are whacked out of their minds.
There has to be something more there for me. Like, we both like tattoos. Or zombie movies. Or video games. Or nudie movies. I don't want to talk about yogurt- or whatever moms talk about - all the time. That's no fun. Unless it's greek yogurt. Hell yes!
Someone has coined the term of women being extra bitchy to other women as the "mommy wars". I don't engage in that shit. I don't see the point. When it comes to raising my kids, I'm so damn concerned about not messing them up that I don't have time to argue about how superior my methods must be. There are things that I very strongly disagree with when it comes to people's parenting methods - like raising your kids with an non-justified sense of entitlement in the world, refusing to discipline them so they're not brats, letting them rule the household - things that aren't so much related to parenting styles as it is to downright lack of parenting. That's not the same as saying "Because you don't breastfeed, you are selfish and lazy and a horrible parent". That is the shit I don't want in my life. I don't want any of this comparing styles to see who is the better mom. I'm not out to impress people with my mom skillz. I'm not a fabled "supermom" and I never will be - and my kids don't seem to be hurting from that. I believe in balance in my life between raising my kids and nurturing my own sensibilities and interests. If it's selfish to accept that I am a person beyond my parental status, so be it. Someone that balks at that is someone I never needed in my life in the first place.

I came across someone today after a complicated stream of consciousness. Essentially, I was thinking about writing and thinking about how the issue with writing for me is the fear of coming off like a pompous ass. A specific pompous ass. This thought prompted me to google said pompous ass; unfortunately, I could only remember the name of his shitty entry in an internet film contest from almost ten years ago. Maybe ten..not sure. Regardless, with some creative googling I found the ass, who I'll call Baldy Spanks (because I lack wit, but NOT immaturity). Turns out Baldy Spanks had a plethora of blogs attributed to him, which didn't surprise me the bit. Then I thought "Surely a megalomaniac such as Baldy Spanks has a Twitter account." You see, if goddamn Oprah has an account, I'm pretty sure everyone and their mom does. And if my mom gets one, I'm leaving. No offense to my mom, but I have principles to stand by. (These don't require any sort of protest on my part, so they don't fall under the "needs passion" guidelines.)
I find Baldy Spanks on Twitter--no surprise there-- and browse over his posts. I find the last few posts going on about how he's gonna do some "crazy ranting". OMG! Epic! Crazy ranting! LOOKOUT! The build-up was too much...I HAD to click on the link of said crazy ranting. I skimmed the intro post to see it was described as more *gasp* ranting! And it promised to be oh-so random. Oh, and it was "rated" NC-17. Now to me, NC-17 holds the promise that I'm going to get to see a lot of t & a and perhaps a couple of dicks sans penetration. Was that over the line? Shoot. let me do that again... Now to me, NC-17 holds the promise that I'm going to get to see a lot of toast & apricots and perhaps a couple of [censored] sans [censored]. I'm not entirely sure how this would happen on an audio podcast, but I remained ready to be wowed. Show me your toast!
I'm not entirely sure if I need to state that listening to Baldy Spanks drained a little bit of my soul out with it, but it did. And since when did throwing out the word "fuck" cause something to be NC-17 anyway, cause that's all it was. I listened to him bemoan modern culture and trash new media and proclaim that certain folks be arrested for essentially insulting his pseudo-indie wanna-be edgy tastes in media. It was kinda like listening to someone desperately trying to be the Everyman's Quentin Tarantino and failing miserably. Sad thing was, it wasn't that his ideals were so out there, but his delivery was so goddamn dramatic in a "Aaah! Fuck the world! I'm the hip! You suck! Eat it!" sort of way, followed up with a self-promotional type "Look at me! I'm the hip! I told everyone they suck and they can eat it! I'm raw! And edgy!" manner.
I decided to check out what Baldy Spanks recommended in terms as cutting edge stuff, and it was...well...there are no words really...but I saw a cartoonish wang, so it must be cutting edge right? (/sarcasm)
In other words...Baldy Spanks has not really changed much in the past whatever years. I find that sort of consistency rather comforting, in an odd sort of way.

I will leave you with this parting thought..one uttered perhaps every time Baldy Spanks was trying to convey his true emotion: "It's like....fuuuck."

(I know, I am indeedy a pompous ass. Ah well.)

I have felt for some time an overwhelming need to censor myself. I'm not sure why..maybe I'm trying to be tactful or keep from making waves.
But I have to think that the people who really know me outside of a computer screen would know when I was making the jokes, so why the hell would I worry?
That being said, I have wanted to make this crack for a while...and if you don't understand, you probably aren't meant to.
Ahem...I'm going to learn how to shop from Whole Foods, but I need sponsorship and donations to do so.

Okay, now I feel better.

Dear Kellogg,

I am writing to express my recent dissatisfaction with one of your products. Recently I purchased a 18 oz box of Kellogg's Rice Krispies cereal. That would be the original formula; I've never been one for complicated Rice Krispies. It defeats the purpose of buying Rice Krispies. Regardless, my personal preference of toasted rice cereal is not germane to my issue.
Upon purchasing said box of cereal, I noted the following message on the front of the box: "INSIDE Walt Disney World Resort mini pal collectible". As any parent with more than one child would attest to, those words sent shivers of pure terror up and down my spine. Immediately, I found myself concocting peace treaty-demanding scenarios in my head as a result of my kids catching on to the fact that there was a FREE TOY in their presence.
Oddly, they never noticed. A few days went by, and the dreaded box of Satan's temptations sat untouched on my kitchen counter. That is, until tonight. It was not the kids who approached the box, but I, a grown woman who wanted a bowl of delicious, yet "gets soggy entirely too fast for the price they charge" cereal. As I lay my hands upon the blue box of promise, it dawned on me that there was a FREE TOY in my presence. A FREE TOY that had yet to be claimed by the children of the house. I employed the tried and true rule of "FIRST" and greedily opened the box of cereal. Now, I would like to think that in my 30 years of walking this planet that I had figured out the best way to retrieve free loot from breakfast sustenance. I've had the practice, after all. First, I removed the still-sealed plastic bag from the box, as most cereal companies have learned that putting a packaged item that's been in contact with God knows what into intended food is rather disgusting. Eying the inside of the box returned only a recipe for Rice Krispies Treats (already know it, but thanks) and an order form for the mini pals. I looked back at the front of the box and confirmed that it was stated that a mini pal would be physically inside the box. It even says "Actual Item May Vary", which roughly translates to "Don't get your hopes up for Mickey. You'll probably get Mater or Goofy." The next step is a bag perimeter check. I swished and crunched the cereal in the sealed bag to determine the whereabouts of the mini pal, but my check yielded nothing. It was time to resort to the final step: arm submersion. You see, this is the last resort because a) one is sticking their body into food intended for consumption and b) it's rather messy. But I was determined to get my mini pal. I had it all figured out in my head too. When my kids asked where the toy was, I would simply tell them that Kellogg's forgot to put one in the box. Yes, I was willing to LIE to keep a FREE TOY. Re-read that line just so you realize how serious I am about free toys in my cereal.
I opened the bag and dived my arm in. I was up to my elbows in the innards of the toasted rice goodness. I felt the tiny pieces crushed under my desperation and try frantically to prevent me from moving about. Krispies began to tumble out of the bag in a fruitless attempt at freedom. Then I felt something! It felt like the definite edge of plastic packaging. I pulled and pulled, but to no avail. Irritated, I inspected the bag where my hand clawed maniacally only to realize I had been tugging at the other side of the cereal bag. I searched every square inch of the cereal and nothing was to be found.
Kellogg's, you have crushed my hopes, much like I crushed the tiny Krispies in my futile attempt to find a 4-inch Disney toy. You may argue that it serves me right, seeing how my heart had become darkened with the reprehensible desire to horde the toy for myself and not to, oh, the kids in the household. But I implore you, what kind of world would we be living in if the basic structural integrity of the law of "FIRST" was kicked to ruin and rubble? I do not want to live in that world; I do not.
My heart may one day heal and perhaps I will forgive you of this horrid transgression. Until that day comes my friend, I shall resort to acquiring my toys the "old-fashioned" way and will sit in quiet resentment, begrudgingly eating my Rice Krispies. The original kind.

Thank you for listening.

I have a few moments while I wait for some software to install so I can continue on with the classes that I'm way freaking behind on and I'm a little freaked out about that....But anyway....Er...what was I saying? Oh yes, free moment to highlight another fabo vendor at HorrorHound Weekend. Now, I love zombies. Love 'em. Love them to the point that I've convinced myself THE apocalypse will one day occur. Remember, go for the head and don't waste any time crying over a bit loved one and thereby allowing them the opportunity to turn and eat you. I'm just saying.
Back to my original point (I'm more scatterbrained than usual tonight). Zombies = Love. Zombie Prints For Me to Frame = True Love.
Check out the merch @ Shock-Studios.
The Art of Horror.
I bought the following:
http://shock-studios.com/large%20prints/graveyard.jpg
http://shock-studios.com/large%20prints/groupshot.jpg
http://shock-studios.com/large%20prints/zombieally%20copy.jpg

A few moments ago, my husband noticed that 2 of our garbage cans were strangely absent from our backyard. I sat there for a brief second, pondering if perhaps I put the garbage cans somewhere and conveniently forgot about it, but I decided that there was no way that I would have actually moved the garbage cans for any reason. Someone or multiple someones stole our garbage cans! Now, for the life of me, I can't figure out WHY someone would steal garbage cans. If you really need to dispose of trash, why not use the dumpster across the street instead of paying for garbage stickers? We don't use the dumpster, but we're not garbage can-stealing douchebags who have questionable moral fiber. (I'm just saying..if you're gonna be a dbag, BE a dbag. None of this half-assing shit.)
In the grand scheme of things, I don't care about the garbage cans. Unfortunately, I absolutely hate being fucked with and having people mess with my stuff, so I was not about to just let this one slide by. I quickly concocted a theory: Whomever stole the cans must surely live nearby. After all, who in their right mind would throw USED garbage cans into their car and drive around with the faint linger of garbage that once was? (Note to self: see comment about garbage-can stealing douchebags...) I left the house to do a quick scout of the alleyway behind our house. As I peered into each person's backyard, two things dawned on me. One, I'm not 100% sure what the garbage cans looked like. Two, I failed to devise a followup to the "find the garbage cans" plan. What was I going to do, walk up to the alleged thief's abode, say "Hey, nice cans you got there?", render them unconscious and steal the cans back? The plan had some serious flaws. Regardless, my scouting yielded two possible suspects, assuming my garbage cans look the way I think they did. I returned home to relay the information, but again, there was no follow-up plan. I'm toying with the idea of getting a posse together one night and capturing the cans back. Operation ForceFlex.
I think it's entirely doable.
Necessary? No.
A fine display of my lack of emotional maturity? Absolutely.

Honestly, what the hells is MSN trying to pull by plastering this banner all over the internet:

Do I NEED to see that and further freak myself out about stupid shit like that? Well I got news for you MSN! I'm not clicking on it. No freaking way. Your attempt at driving site hits through morbid curiosity is not gonna work on me!

Now maybe it's just me, but I find it quite loss-of-appetite inducing to have someone's ass right next to my face. It's even worse with multiple asses. Am I overreacting or is it an incredibly bastard-esque move to have a freaking reunion right next to someone else's table. I didn't know these people nor did I give a shit about what was going on in their lives.
Surprisingly, I refrained from starting a thing about it. You see, I was going to ask our waiter to tell them to move...unfortunately, our waiter rarely came around and he let me down in my moment of need. Thanks buddy.

To the woman with the particularly bad haircut who cut in front of my son for a Harry Potter book:

I just wanted to let you know a few things. First of all, I hope you feel really good about yourself for cutting in front of an 8 year old. That is quite an incredible achievement, one that you should feel proud about for a long time to come. Second, I want to commend you for setting such a shining example to your own spawn. Nothing says good parenting like acting like a complete dipshit.

But the real reason I'm writing is that I want to stress a few points to you. I knew you were going to cut. I have an instinct about people like you. Maybe it's your posture or the way you try to avoid eye contact when I glance at you. I'm not sure entirely, but I have never been wrong about a potential cutter. You should also know that you are extremely fortunate, as I have never let a line cutter get away with it, ever. "What makes me so special?" you ask. It's not because you seemed completely full of yourself, playing this whole concerned parent act as you spewed out lame comments to your spawn such as "I'm so proud of you. You're doing such a good job." (Yes, waiting in line for a freaking book requires SO much talent, it's just unheard of.) And it's not because you were with an equally bitter-looking woman who I'm quite sure hasn't been laid in many years, because having an extra person to lay the smack down on for being an ass just makes it all the more amusing to me. There were several reasons I let it slide. First off, it was such a jackass and lame thing to do. If you really think getting in front of one more person will get you the book faster and out the door, by all means be my guest. It's not like they were going to sell out at that point. But I get it. You're insane. It's okay. Lots of people are insane. Second, I'm trying to not be a jackass in front of my kid. I'm pretty sure saying "Listen you stupid bitch..." wouldn't have set the best example for him. Neither does allowing people to cut, but I'm not in that "special place" yet where I can begin a sentence to folks such as yourself without profanity. I'm working on it though. Finally, as much as I would have loved to at least trip you in that passive-aggressive sort of way that I have, I didn't want to cause a scene as a family member works at that particular store. That wouldn't be cool to do.

So I guess what I'm saying is that you're lucky. You're also lucky that my cell phone battery died, because I really wanted to take a picture of your bad haircut to show the world. In fact, if I regret anything about the whole situation it's that.

So this past weekend there was the whole Live Earth shindig. Initially, I was thinking "Ooh, sounds groovy" and all. But frankly, I'm getting really tired of hearing celebrities tell everyone to do shit. I suppose it is nice that they are "using their power for good" or whatever, but it would be nice if they just donated time/money without trying to earn bragging rights. Take Cameron Diaz for example. She should just shut the fuck up. We get it. You were one of the first people to have a hybrid. Woo for you.

Anyway..Live Earth. Here's my problem with it. The whole thing is about global warming and what we can all do to save the planet. Now let's think numbers. 24 hours. 7 continents. 100 music artists. So that's 100 artists that need to travel for the concert- planes, buses. 100 artists that need electricity to perform. 100 artists with ridiculous riders that probably end up wasting most of the food anyway. Now the audience. Tens of thousands of people, all of whom needed transportation to reach the concert. At concerts, people get hungry/thirsty so calculate the waste created from water/drinks/food. Live Earth was broadcast to over 100 TV channels, 200 US radio channels (and more in a total of 130 countries), and 8 satellite channels. So now we have the transportation for camera crews/radio broadcasters, plus the energy expended to broadcast. Calculate the energy used for the TV audiences, radio audiences, and the 8 million people who streamed internet coverage.

Now let's look at part of the pledge:

• To take personal action to help solve the climate crisis by reducing my own CO2 pollution as much as I can and offsetting the rest to become “carbon neutral;”

• To work for a dramatic increase in the energy efficiency of my home, workplace, school, place of worship, and means of transportation;

Hmmm...It may just be me, but it seems like Live Earth was a big freaking waste of energy and kinda hypocritical.

And one more thing...what the HELL was up with the map of the world done with recycled bottles or cans or whatever? Am I supposed to believe that there wasn't better use to be made of all those items?

Anyone who went to grade school, especially Catholic grade school, knows the horrible existence of the Christmas concert. We hate it as a child and then when we send our children to school, we have to attend the damn things yet again.

This year was different. William's school decided to have the Christmas concert during the "real Christmas season", which translated to "a week after Christmas"- or as I like to say, "completely made up shit". Now as tempting as it is to point out the glaring flaws in this master plan, I thought "Okay...whatever". In the end, I was too sick to actually go, but I was debriefed on the festivities. Here's my problem. If you're gonna make a big stink about the "real Christmas season" and the Epiphany and keeping the focus on Jesus, perhaps singing such hallowed and solemn hymns such as "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" and "Have a Holly Jolly Christmas" isn't that way to go. I'm just saying....

And they ruined Christmas!

To the woman in the red car who seems to share the same general living space as me:

Are you fucking serious? Did you really get out of your car, get your things out, get ready to walk into your apt only to jump right back in your car to take my parking space the second I pulled away? My parking space, which was just diagonal from yours (a perfectly fine space by the way). It got you a whole ten feet closer to the building. Woo. Ten whole glorious feet. You're not crippled, not old, not in any sort of bad shape. And you have barely a handful of things to carry. Was the ten feet really freaking necessary for you to have that you were willing to re-park your car? Or was it to placate some deep "I got the first spot" desire you have?
And don't even act like you left and came back, cause I was only gone for three minutes AND I saw you backing up.
For the record, I'll park at the ass end of the lot if need be. I don't care. But I just wanted to let you know how damn silly you are.

That's all.

Today was one of those days.

I had never wanted to bitch slap so many people in my life.

You know how you're in a situation (not necessarily bad, yet noticeable), and everyone + their mom finds some way to make the same goddamn Captain Obvious comment, yet each one thinks they're being funny or witty or cute or charming or whatever. Except they're not.

I swear to fuck, after hearing the same comment for the 10th time today, I was ready to man someone with my hand.

There are two things that annoy the piss out of me.

The first is when person A is talking TO ME and person B decides to answer for me, even though I'm right fucking there and not incapacitated in the least bit.

The second is when I'm talking to person A for a bit and out of nowhere, person B decides to jump in the conversation and answer for person A. But considering person B seems to have issues letting people speak for themselves, this really comes as no surprise.

I really, really, REALLY wish I had the Brick of Silence.

• A wall to gently, yet repeatedly, bang my head into


• A bottle of Shaid


• A few boxes of Pocky


• A video game that involves shooting something


• An appropriate tune to play on repeat. Something catchy.

This is the day of having to redo shit over and over again and, frankly, it's driving me a little insane.

This shit is bananas.

I stepped into the local pharmacy this evening. My mission was simple - I needed latex gloves. However, the gloves were not located in places that I thought would be logical to put such items: first aid, cleaning supplies, next to the lube & condoms. Since I was unable to locate the gloves myself, I needed to stop at the counter to ask on their whereabouts. It was at this moment...this random moment in time...on any random Monday evening...that I get stuck behind a Pain-in-the-Ass (PITA). As Pita was buying her prescription, the following conversation took place:

Pita: Don't you need my signature?
Pharm: No.
Pita: I don't need to sign for my prescriptions anymore?
Pharm: No, you signed the privacy notice, so you're good.
Pita: How do you know you have the right person?
Pharm: You verified your address.
Pita: But how do you KNOW it's me? I'm not trying to cause any problems, I'm just curious.
Pharm: ...um
Pita: What if it was someone else trying to get my prescription?
Pharm: I don't think anyone else would WANT your prescription. (That made me giggle.)
Pita: Oh..uh..no. Not this prescription. But what if it was a controlled substance?
Pharm: How would they know?
Pita: I don't know. But what if it was?
Pharm: How would they know you were getting a controlled substance? It's not like we advertise that when you get your prescriptions filled.
Pita: Oh, I know. I'm just asking cause in high school, I was learning about pharmacy and we learned about controlled substances. (After hearing this, I began the countdown to kicking her ass.)
Pharm: Right.
Pita: Um. Ok. Well, thanks.

(Pita walks away, and the pharmacist and I have a moment where we both looked ready to strangle that woman.)
Me: Do you have latex gloves?

Seriously, why waste people's fucking time like that. I came very close to just losing it with her and screaming "ARE YOU YOU? THEN SHUT THE FUCK UP!" It's not like I had my family waiting in the car or anything. I had plenty of time to spare. /sarcasm Actually, I kinda regret not interrupting her in some manner (not screaming in other words), but I just couldn't look away.