Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Interesting incident earlier this month in Chicago.
My husband calls it "The City Where Even The Dead Still Vote".
Jackie Fegan, a supervisor with the city's Traffic Management Authority was driving through the city during the course of her duty, and was flagged down by four police officers.
Apparently a personal minivan, belonging to Officer Richard Reid, had been ticketed for parking illegally, and he wanted her to tear the ticket up.
Although Officer Reid claimed he was at the location on police business, the minivan was unmarked, didn't carry official plates, and was in fact, illegally parked.
When Fegan explained that she didn't have the authority to void the ticket, Officer Reid allegedly grew irate. She tried to cross the street, and was arrested for jaywalking. A scuffle ensued, then the 5'2 meter maid was handcuffed and thrown in a paddy wagon.
On the way to the police station, she was able to call for assistance on an emergency radio, asking to be "met by a commander and an OPS". Fegan was held for about a half hour and released without charges.
She's planning on suing the city of Chicago.
"She was the victim of a kidnapping, an aggravated battery, a brutal and a false arrest, simply because she was doing her job and would not fix a ticket for a Chicago Police officer," said her lawyer, Craig Tobin.
Officer Reid is out on medical leave, and unavailable for comment. His knees were injured in the incident.
I hope it's because she got in a few good kicks.
Can't wait to see how it all shakes out.
Source 1, Source 2
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
In yet another episode of doofusness, newspapers across the globe are reporting a spate of soon-to-be mothers asking to have labor induced or c-sections planned in an effort to avoid giving birth on June 6.
That's right. 06/06/06
They're afraid they're going to give birth to the Anti-Christ.
June 6 is also the day the movie remake of The Omen is scheduled for release.
"In 'The Omen,' Damien is the Anti-Christ. The son of a wealthy American diplomat, the boy has all the advantages of blood and money, and he's got the devil's brand - 666 - on his head. The number comes from Revelation, Chapter 13, which describes a dragon (Satan) and his two helpers, a beast from the sea and another from the land. God's army ultimately will battle the dragon and his henchmen, but in the meantime, the land beast will stamp humans with a mark."
"Many biblical scholars say the number refers to Nero, the Roman emperor who caused much misery among the nascent Christians. Each Hebrew letter has a numerical value, and Nero's name - Neron Caesar - equals 666.
Writing around the time of Nero's reign, Revelations author John of Patmos was reflecting on contemporary signs of the end times - "a situation where the world is falling apart and God is going to have to intervene sooner or later to sort it all out," said Ian Markham, dean of Hartford Seminary.
"The early church assumed Jesus would return soon and usher in the end of the world," Markham said.
But assigning any relevance to 6/6/06, he said, "is silly for a multitude of reasons."
First of all, the calendar has been altered greatly from the days of John's revelation.
"The calendar keeps changing," Markham said. "There's absolutely no significance."'
One histrionic mother-to-be in the UK was interviewed by The Sun. Now for all I know, The Sun is the equivalent to the Weekly World News (the publication that brought us Bat Boy).
In it, Melissa Parker, who is having a baby with boyfriend Lee, vowed to do everything she can to avoid giving birth on her due date, June 6th.
"Oh God, I’m giving birth to Damien from The Omen. Every day I wake up feeling something bad will happen. I’m terrified the birth will go wrong or the child will have evil in him or her. Even worse my beautiful baby could be the devil himself — the anti-Christ."
Well, Melissa, inquiring minds want to know...
If you're genuinely worried about this (being such a believer and all), why were you playing "hide the salami" with Lee without the benefit of a church blessing?
And if The Almighty really planned on your kid being the eater of all worlds, do you think there's anything you can do to stop it?
...Just playing the Devil's Advocate here.
Friday, May 26, 2006
Stories like the one below really capture my attention for a number of reasons. First of all, I like to think I'm a pretty decent human being. Other reasons---I'm a parent, and an adult adoptee.
I have several friends who were gray or black market babies--actual human merchandise bought and sold complete with a dead-end record trail--and I've heard how it has affected their lives in many ways.
I've been reading different news reports, and trying to wrap my mind around this entire messed-up scenario.
A few of the details vary, according to the news sources, so my retelling of the incident may have a couple of minor inaccuracies that will be clarified after time.
In a nutshell:
Last week, two Texas women approached 17-year-old Dominique Calloway in a Los Angeles store. They admired her 6-week old baby son Devon. One of the women offered to buy the baby for $6,000.
The apparently silly girl said she would "consider it" and accepted a ride home from them.
The women showed up at Calloway's home last Monday and repeated their offer. She declined, but agreed to let the woman in the passenger seat "hold the baby one last time" before they left.
Neighbors witnessed the mother screaming and being dragged a short distance while hanging on to an SUV as the pair drove off with her son. She sustained minor injuries.
After the abduction was publicized, other young mothers came forward to report that they had also been approached by the two, identified as Annette Bryant and Sylvia Nunn, with similar offers of purchase or adoption.
The women brought the baby to an attorney (some reports say it was an adoption attorney) near Dallas when they "learned they were wanted by authorities".
For pity's sakes--did they honestly think nobody was looking for them? Sheesh!
In the course of the investigation, authorities deemed Calloway's home to be a pig sty, and took her 2-year-old child into protective custody. They're going to keep the infant as well, until they decide whether or not she is a "fit" parent.
I have so many questions...
Was this a case of "Baby Rabies" taken to psycho extremes? Was one of these women so desperate to be a mommy that she went to the level of first trying to purchase, and then steal a child? There are plenty of children (even very young ones) who are legally free for adoption in the foster-care system.
Or on an even more sinister note--were these two trafficking in children? Adoption is a multi-billion dollar industry, and unfortunately, there are a few desperate people out there who are willing to cut some legal corners to become parents.
As for the 17-year-old mother---where in the hell are her parents?
Was she living alone, with relatives, or with her baby's father?
If she was living alone, I'm assuming she was receiving some sort of public assistance. And at 17, with two young children, I would think that because of her age and receipt of benefits, she would obviously be on someone's radar as an "at risk" mother who might need/be entitled to supports to parent successfully.
Yes, her actions were foolish and dangerous. No doubt about it.
I've been 17, and 18, and 19 and have made really bad choices that I look back on and regret.
But how did she get there? Where in the hell are the adults in her life?
Source 1, Source 2, Source 3
The above graphic is a magnet that can be purchased here.
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
This week's Asshat goes to Michael Cohn, of Los Angeles.
To celebrate Mother's Day last year, the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim gave away specially designed tote bags to all female fans over the age of 18. Cohn felt discriminated against, and wrote a letter of complaint.
In response, the Angels sent him an apology and 4 tote bags.
I suppose in the minds of reasonable people, that should have been the end of it.
But no. That would have been too easy.
Cohn decided to put yet another strain on our over-burdened court system by filing a class-action lawsuit on behalf of all the men and fans under 18 who weren't given free tote bags on Mother's Day (no word on whether or not he returned the 4 the Angels sent him in apology before filing).
He's asking for $4,000.00 in damages for each "victim".
Quite a few questions are swirling around in what goes for my mind these days.
How did he come up with the number $4,000.00 in "damages"? 4K worth of Post Traumatic Stress Therapy? 4K in anti-depressants? 4K in spa treatments to make him feel perky again?
How is he going to find and compensate other potential plaintiffs? Maybe die-hard fans keep all their ticket stubs, but this game was over a year ago.
And other than the stupidly greedy, what REAL man is going to be pussy enough to come forward and bleat, "WAAAAHHH!! I didn't get a specially designed Mother's Day tote bag!! I'm sooo damaged! I can't get out of bed in the morning because it's affected my quality of life!!"
A special Richard Cranium Award goes to his lawyer, Alfred Rava, for taking the case. He has a history of suing nightclubs for holding "Ladies Night" promotions.
To clarify things---I don't have any problem with Dad's Day promotions, or Boy Scouts, etc, so please don't take this as a man-bashing post.
With all the legitimate civil rights violations out there, as a tax-payer, I find this lawsuit to be frivolous and downright silly.
I wonder what's next for this duo? Suing Ob/Gyns for not offering Pap Smears to the fellas?
Interestingly enough, Cohn is a psychologist.
I wonder what Freud would have to say about this.
Our friend Sven has found an even bigger Asshat. Go check it out here.
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
Number One Son is doing well after his oral surgery yesterday. He was touched by the comments and thanks everyone for their kind wishes.
Then again, he's on some pretty fantabulous drugs and he might not remember any of it tomorrow.
Last night we were talking about my previous week's posts about language, and in his Vicodin-enhanced haze, he said, "You forgot to write about that football thing."
Except with all the gauze in his mouth, it sounded like "Oo odot o ite out a ooaall ing".
And hubby added, "And that other thing. Write about that, it's funny!"
Well. My menfolk seem to think my blog is now a family project. I'll indulge them this time, because these couple of snippets are actually pretty good and better yet, they're short because I have a really busy day ahead being Nursetilla the Mom.
When my nephew, the "Happening Dude" was visiting (if you're coming in late, read A Rose By Any Other Name...), we were having another conversation about words and definitions which often leaves at least one of us baffled.
He said, Did you know that in Europe they call soccer "football"?
I replied, "Yes, I've read about that."
Did you know that in Europe they call football "soccer"?
"Where in the world did you learn that?"
Well, it only makes sense, since it's all switched around.
"Actually, I believe they call it American Football."
No way! That doesn't make sense! Where'd you hear that?
"Well I do occasionally crack open a book and watch the news."
That's soooo gay!!!!
It's also kind of funny how regional definitions go cattywhumpus on us at times as well. In some areas of the US, soft drinks are called "pop". In others, they're called "soda". If you're in the "soda" region and ask for "pop", people look at you as if you've sprouted horns and a tail.
A couple of years ago, hubby was registering Number One Son for the summer leadership program at military school. He had to stand in line after line with the other parents to fill out endless forms, etc, and struck up a conversation with a mom.
She confided that this was her son's first time at military school, but she wasn't totally sold on the whole idea, although he really wanted to go.
She was worried about her son being so far away from home in an environment he wasn't used to. She was worried about hazing and other hijinks that boys get up to.
In fact, this was the third school she had looked at, because she just didn't feel that the first two (which were on the east coast) were safe enough.
"What didn't you like about them?" Hubby asked politely. He was curious because there are many fine military prep schools out in the east.
Those lists of supplies they sent in the application packets. We were required to provide him with black shower thongs!
First of all, I don't like the idea of an institution requiring my son to wear that kind of underwear, and second of all---why does he need to wear them in the shower? Are they to deter rape by other boys?
Hubby had a very hard time keeping a straight face.
"M'aam," he said. "I don't know how to tell you this, but they were asking you to provide your son with Flip-flops."
Snerk.Hope you all have a great day!
Monday, May 22, 2006
Saturday, May 20, 2006
This week's can of Whup-Ass goes to thoughtless dog owners.
The sad thing is that you probably wouldn't recognize yourself even if your unleashed dog came up and bit you on your pootie.
I'm not talking about that particular breed of sloths who are irresponsible breeders. I've already written about that once.
I'm talking about the "leash laws don't apply to me, and if my dog destroys something/hurts someone/makes a mess, it's not my fault" kind of dingleberry.
The lovely BP over at Southern Circle of Hell wrote a really good post about this, and inspired me to add my own 2 cents.
We live in a rural mountain area.
Sometimes when people first move up here, the lack of oxygen clouds their thinking. They assume the laws (such as leash laws) that are in place in urban areas don't apply, and there they are quite wrong.
So if Rover needs to "do his business" they just open the door and let him run.
Bad bad idea.
Dogs are pack animals. Even harmless little "Fluffy". When you get 5 or 6 dogs running around together on a regular basis, they can terrorize a neighborhood.
At first people in the area would call the specific dog owners and complain. "Get up here and get your @$*% dog!"
Some owners would correct the problem and figure out how to keep control of their dogs, and some just didn't give two shits.
One day this pack of dogs went onto a family's property, destroyed their rabbit hutches and mauled a bunch of prize-winning rabbits. The survivors had to be put down. The family "knew" who the dogs belonged to, but because they didn't actually capture them, the police could do nothing except take a complaint.
The dog owners swore that Rover or Spot was inside at the time, and that their precious poopies were never allowed to run free, much less run with a band of marauding mutts.
It became a he said/she said kind of thing.
So the mother of this family started a war. Good on her.
Every time the "pack" of neighborhood dogs made the rounds to her neck of the woods, she'd trap them. Then call animal control to pick them up. And give them the names and addresses of the owners.
First offense: $50.00 fine. Every offense thereafter was doubled. After a while the idiot dog owners figured out that their fecklessness was getting mighty expensive and took care of the problem.
When I was a kid in the suburbs, this guy down the street had a dog that would frequently knock over and tear up people's trash on garbage day.
It would drive my father absolutely insane, because not only was the dog humongous, it was mean too. If my dad tried to shoo it away or got too close, the dog would turn from ripping up the trash bags and growl at him.
He'd call the owner up and say, "Your G*ddamned Dog is over here going through my trash."
Neighbor would say, "It's not my dog. My dog is right here." And hang up. Which would make Dad swear even more.
Thinking back, I have no idea why my dad never called animal control or filed a complaint. A man thing?
He'd just lurk by the front window every trash day at 6am to see if that *&%^$# dog would be in our trash again. If it was, he'd call the owner.
"Next time your dog is in my trash, I'm going to shoot the sonuvabitch!"
"It's not my dog. My dog is right here."
More foul language from Dad.
This back and forth went on for years. Dad even collected a few implements in the garage to throw at the dog to chase it away, although the sling shot idea never really took off.
He did peg it with a can of Coke once.
We'd get a couple of months of respite, and then the dog would be back at it again.
Who knows why it liked our trash so much. Maybe because we ate a lot of steak?
One day Dad just had enough. And I know you pet lovers are going to get mad, but sometimes a person just reaches a breaking point.
He shot the dog.
In the ass.
With rock salt.
It ran screeching down the street.
About two minutes later the phone rang.
It was the neighbor. And he was screaming his damn fool head off.
"You shot my dog! I'm going to sue your &#%&$ ass!!"
Dad had a huge grin on his face. "No you aren't," he said. "Because it's 'not your dog.' Remember?"
Thursday, May 18, 2006
George Carlin had it right. It's all about language and how we "arrange" it.
I'm going out on a limb here.
Well not really, because I know that women have actually secretly manipulated the universe for the last 20 years or so, and we just like to let men think they're in charge.
In another 20 years, we'll have complete world domination and hot men will be wearing thongs in public and the others will be forced to shave their backs, strap up those saggy man boobs and wear girdles while they do the dishes.
:::Subliminal Message for male readers: Hooters! You didn't process the above paragraph! Beer! Bunions are sexy! NFL! We wimmens are really reading romance novels while you're tailgaiting and not plotting against you! Rimjob! Uh, keep dreaming. Leave The Seat Up! Hugh Hefner and Donald Trump would be hot even if they were broke! Foot Massage on your gnarly-ass stanky feet! You are getting very sleepy! Like when you eat all that turkey and stuffing on Thanksgiving and loll on the couch, snoring and farting and dreaming of Jessica Simpson feeding you cheesy pizza bites in her kicky red cowboy boots!::::
If you're easily offended by smut in a general sense, please hit the back button.
That is if the above hasn't chased you away already.
Mom, this means you.
My last post was about language, and how it's evolving too fast for me to keep up.
It didn't start out to be about my nephew's silliness, but I thought that bit was cute enough to stand on it's own.
It really started with an article I read the other night, about how some citizens in Arizona were objecting to a Las Vegas restaurant franchising in their area.
It's a successful eatery called "The Pink Taco". Their supposed signature dish is tacos made with magenta corn tortillas.
I didn't "get" it.
Like I said a couple of days ago, oh boy, am I out of the loop.
So I asked my husband.
"Have you ever heard of a Pink Taco?"
Huh? A what?
"A Pink Taco. I just read an article about how this Arizona city is up in arms because a restaurant wants to franchise there and people find the name offensive. Do you have any idea why? Have you heard anything about this?"
After a moment or so of thinking, he got a look on his face.
Several looks, actually. One after another.
I recognized them.
The first was the "I wish I belonged to another species" look. Complete with a blush that turned him beet red from head to--uh--neck.
The second look was--"Sh*t! I can't lie! She Googles!"
The third was---"How can I come out of this looking good?"
What he actually said was, "Are you going to hurt me?"
Then he added, "You know, when I was in college I used to go to a bar in Ocean City called 'The Bearded Clam'".
So then I got it.
Well blech. Double blech. Silly me.
I have a lot of references saved up in my favorites places. Some include scatalogical euphamisms and fart terms. I never like---uh---really pored over them in detail--I just have them in case I ever need a creative way to say "chuck a turd".
Included in those references are dictionaries of slang terms about sex.
So I pulled them up. Not a "Pink Taco" entry amongst them.
But what I DID find, was acres of mostly gross euphamisms about female body parts and female bodily functions.
Who comes up with all this stuff? Need I ask?
Nestled in the gazillion definitions of breasts, menstruation, loose women, illegitimate children, female genitalia, sex, bums and blowjobs is one brief category. About the male naughty bits.
Listed are definitions like:
Sporting a Sequoia
Ladies, I think we need to step up the timeline for that world domination thingy.
Hillary or Condi in 2008!
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
This morning I've been thinking about language, how it evolves, and how I feel so out of the loop.
Take the word "gay" for instance. Once upon a time, it was widely used to describe happiness or light-heartedness.
When I was a teen it started to become commonly used as a term describing homosexuality. Kids used to snicker at my friend Gaye. When she went to college, she changed her moniker to Gigi.
Nowadays, listening to my 14-year-old nephew and his friends, "gay" seems to be simply used as a descriptor. As in, "That's soooo, you're soooo, she's soooo gay!"
My nephew is a happening dude.
Ok, that really made me sound like an old fart.
Anyway, he prides himself on being "up" on all the trends, although the closest he's been to an urban area is in the back seat of Grandma's station wagon.
So when he visits us, hubby and I learn some new meanings to old words every time.
On his last visit, the nephew spent 30 minutes gelling and messing around with his all-over 1-inch coif. He came out of the bathroom and preened.
I'm so pimp!
I looked at him blankly. "Wha???"
"Pimping? Like Huggy Bear?"
Who's Huggy Bear?
I explain to him about Huggy Bear and that old 70's series Starsky and Hutch.
No, that's not what the word means! It means cool!
Hubby came in and I tell him that our nephew is "pimp".
"You mean like Fly Guy?" Hubby asks.
Who's Fly Guy?
Hubby explains about the Blaxploitation satire movie by Keenan Ivory Wayans called I'm Gonna Git You Sucker.
I mention that both Huggy Bear and Fly Guy were played by the same actor, Antonio Fargas. We muse for a few minutes on what made him such a great "pimp" actor, and how Snoop Dog just didn't cut the mustard as Huggy in the craptastic Starsky and Hutch remake.
Nephew struggles to keep up with this nutty conversation and fails.
God! You guys don't even know what "pimp" means!
You are just sooo gay!
Ouch. Going to go find me some Geritol now...
Monday, May 15, 2006
So many dingleberries, so little blogspace.
This past weekend, Genevieve Rachel Nielsen of Arizona was told by authorities that her entire life was based on a lie.
Her father picked her up for an overnight visit in Michigan in 1976, when she was 21 months old and absconded with her, raising her to believe that her mother had died in a car accident.
Oakland County never closed the case of the missing girl. Earlier this year, they teamed up with the U.S. Marshall's office and followed a tip that the kidnapping father was serving time in prison under an assumed name.
Nielsen and her mother, Laura Gooder have received each other's contact information, but as yet there are no reports on a reunion.
As a parent, I just can't imagine the level of spite that goes into crimes like these.
Obviously, there have been incidences where one parent snatches the kid because there are legitimate abuse concerns that have been mired down in red-tape and there are safety issues. I'm certainly not condoning it, and it doesn't seem to be the case in this instance.
I've been divorced, and I've been mighty pissed-off at my ex as well. There were times when I sort of wished that he would just disappear from the face of the planet (no painful tortuous demise, mind you--just a poof! and he's gone), because I was just tired of dealing with all of his crap.
But as Judge Judy is so fond of saying, "You picked him."
Why yes. Yes I did.
So even if I wanted to be spiteful and ignore the fact that he has rights, if I want to be a good mom I have to remember that our sons have rights too.
They have the right to have their dad be a part of their lives. And as adults, it's up to us to make it work. Not steal away their heritage and rob them of relationships with people who love them.
As a reunited adoptee, I've lived with "not knowing" for many years. Some adoptees don't care to know about that part of their lives. Some do.
But at least my adoptive parents never lied to me. They gave me all the information they had received upon my adoption, and it was never a secret.
There is an entire subset of adoptees who are called Late Discovery Adoptees (LDAs). These are people who were never told that they were adopted, and many found out after a parent's funeral. BB Church is one of those adoptees and writes about the damage these types of lies can cause in his blog.
I just don't understand how any person can lay claim to being a good parent when the entire foundation of their relationship with their child is based on a lie.
Whatever their intentions, in my opinion, it's just a bad, bad thing to do. No excuse is good enough.
Saturday, May 13, 2006
Soon shoppers can ask that literally.
The Stilton Cheese Makers Association has commissioned a new perfume called "eau de Stilton".
Now you too can smell like sweaty socks!
What's next, Limberger?
Would anybody really want to smell like ass?
Consciously, I mean.
Of all the foodstuffs I enjoy wallowing in the sniffage of, I don't think I'd like to dab a little aroma behind each ear for smelling pleasure. For one reason, it might attract strange dogs.
I'm not talking about fruity stuff--it smells sweet naturally, and they're already in use in shampoos and stuff.
I'm talking about bacon. Or french fries.
My guys and I were talking about it around the dinner table. Ravioli and garlic bread, if you were wondering. ;-)
Since we're all naturally a little twisted in the Attila house, we started a list of foods we love to smell and how they could be brand name marketed as perfumes for women or colognes for men.
Onions---O, sent in by Nightmare who recommends Oprah as the spokesperson
Peanut Butter and bananas---Hunka Hunka Burning Love
Fried Chicken---The Colonel
Deviled Eggs---Sulphur in the Springtime
Tacos---Hot and Spicy
Biscuits and Gravy---Southern Mornings, sent in by Admiral Pooper
Cheeseburgers---Hurley (Only Lost watchers will get this)
Bacon---Babe (ok, I know this is already a perfume name, but it's just so perfect!)
Roasted Turkey---Stuffed, sent in by Fat Pants
Yorkshire Pudding---Puddled, sent in by St. Jude
Barbeque---Smokin', sent in by Abrasive Grace
Cinnamon---Nice Buns, sent in by Golf Widow
Dog Food---K9, sent in by Kate
Fresh Baked Bread---Happy Yeaster, A Holiday Fragrance, sent in by Admiral Pooper Scooper
Coca Cola---Belch, sent in by Michelle
Lemons---Pucker Up, also sent in by Michelle
Chocolate Cake---Sweet 'n Sassy, sent in by Nikki
McNuggets and Sauce---Sweet 'n Sour, sent in by Miss Litzi
Sophia came up with some great ones:
Honey---Bee by Calvin Klein
Chocolate milk---Cocoa by Chanel
Fennel---Anise Anise by Anaïs Anaïs
Champagne---Brut (hee hee)
Honorable mentions for non-food stuffs:
Horse Plop---Grass Roots, sent in by Adoptee Amy
Person who most wants to get her mouth washed out with soap by Atilla the Mom's Mom:
Tuna Salad---The Nasty Lass, sent in by Shirley
If you can think of any smell-good foodstuffs or perfume/cologne names to add to the list, put it my comments. I'll throw it up there with a link! But nothing too pervy, because my mom reads my blog.
Friday, May 12, 2006
There are a couple of new blogs out there dealing with policy and open-records issues that I need to give a shout-out to!
In addition to The Daily Bastardette, please read and link to Bastard Granny Annie, and BB Church's Funhouse.
Although there are many superb "First Person" blogs about adoptionland experiences out there, these blogs are about activism and legislation.
For more information on this issue, visit Bastard Nation.
Leave no one behind.
You know, when I started blogging, I made a firm commitment not to blog about certain topics. Religion, no. Stupid baby names, yes. Politics, no. Current events that twist my panties, yes.
The illegal immigrant issue has become a huge hot topic these last couple of months in our nation.
You can't turn on the news or glance at a newspaper without some item slapping you in the face.
Although I have personal opinions about it, they are just that. My opinions. And I'm keeping them to my own sweet (and admittedly snarky) self.
When the national protest/walkout occurred on May 1st, it didn't affect our little mountain burg at all. Except that maybe a few people delayed a couple of minutes of their daily life to watch how the march was affecting the rest of the country.
So I can't comment with any authority or first-hand experience about how the "Day Without Immigrants" stopped anything in our town, because it was simply "business as usual". No civil breakdown. No protests.
My friend Texas Goodies posted a link to a guy who wrote a really thought-provoking post about the whole issue. He opened up his own gentle and reasoned can of Whup-Ass on the subject with Huddled Masses.
Take a couple of minutes to check it out. You might not agree with what he has to say, but I think you'll savor his writing every step of the way.
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
...And in yet another example of parental stupidity, a Maine mom was arrested for helping her daughter and two classmates bake a batch of laxative-laced cookies as an anonymous "gift" for their teacher.
The girls left the plate on the teachers desk with a note that read "We made these cookies just for you, hope you enjoy them."
Julie Hunt showed the girls how to crush up an entire box of Ex-Lax, a chocolate-flavored laxative, to mix in the cookie batter and was charged with misdemeanor assault.
Four students were taken ill after eating the cookies.
The girls weren't charged, but have been suspended from school.
That's just Bullshit. With a capital B.
Call me Cruella de Mom, but I think those girls got off way too easily.
At the very minimum, they should have had to perform some kind of community service. If they've got the time to fart around and plan "pranks" like these, then they've got time to contribute something worthwhile to the world they live in.
Instead they get a vacation from school.
What if one of the "victims" had a medical condition like Crohn's Disease? Or Ulcerative Colitis? Instead of a case of the raging squirts, they could have landed up in the hospital with a serious and excruciatingly painful attack.
No offense to the intended victim, but what in the hell was that teacher thinking? Somebody leaves anonymous cookies on your desk, and you hand them out?
You should have put them in a drawer "for later" and pitched them at the first possible opportunity.
Which brings us back to Mom of The Year. WTF is wrong with you?
At any time did a voice inside your noggin say "This is a bad bad idea?"
Sometimes, there are just no words, but this isn't one of them.
Julie Hunt, you are either an evil person, or you're like school in the summertime.
No class. No class at all.
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
It's getting to be that time of year again.
Allergy season. Little spores of beastly pollenic particles blasting off into the stratosphere to cause misery to millions.
Up here in the mountains, Pine pollen is especially heinous (Dude). It carpets every outside surface like a layer of fine yellow dust, just waiting for you to carry it into your home on your clothes, your shoes, your pets, etc.
Luckily for us, none of us are allergic to pine. The pollen is just a major car and home cleaning annoyance.
But little guy and I are both allergic to weeds. And it's rolling around to that time again.
We've got every over-the-counter medication on hand, and a few prescription ones too.
For me, when I take allergy meds, it's like a "Day of The Dead" marathon. I'm a living, breathing, walking zombie. Antihistamines totally knock me out.
So I'm always on the lookout for new or different alternatives.
When I read on Ananova about a Japanese study that said "snogging" could help alleviate hay fever, I was more than excited. What could be greater than getting a cuddle from my man to make me feel better!
Ooops! I guess I'm not very fluent in Brit slang. I thought snogging was like spooning. It actually entails some making out and possibly heavy petting.
This study says that "30 minutes of passionate, intense kissing can relax the sufferer and reduce the amount of histamine produced."
Cuddling has no effect. Damn it.
When I'm in allergy-mode, my forehead feels like it's five feet wide. My cheeks feel like they're full of concrete. My eyes are red and teary and my nose runs like a broken spigot.
Then there's the sneezing.
Yeah, Baby. Me and my drippy mush-face are in the mood for love! Not!
I mentioned the study to my normally helpful husband and he looked at me with something akin to horror on his face.
Then he let out a little whimper.
"Please don't make me!"
Men. What a buncha wussies.
Monday, May 08, 2006
I bet when this indignant diner complained to the media about being victimized by the big bad buffet owners, she didn't expect to come out of it looking like an Asshat.
Live and learn is my motto.
Wendy Dershem, her boyfriend and their two children were asked to leave and not come back to the Dragon House Buffet in Des Moines, Iowa.
The reason? They're repetitive food wasters.
On multiple visits, the family has been observed tossing away large quantities of uneaten food before bellying back up to the buffet--and taking more portions of the same items they just discarded.
For example, one employee explained, "They take four egg rolls and crab rangoon, take one bite of egg roll and throw the whole plate. That is wasting food."
In the days where all you have to do is crack open a newspaper or flip through the TV to see needy and starving children across the globe, the bewildered and unrepentant Wendy doesn't seem to get it.
"But the buffet is all you can eat. And you know kids. They won't always eat everything and they want something else."
Then you give the kid one egg roll and one crab rangoon. Give them a small taste of something they're not sure of on their plate, so that if they don't like it, you're not tossing an entire meal.
If they don't finish an item the first time, you don't give them another helping of the same thing. How hard is that to understand?
The manager summed it up best when he said his "restaurant offers all you can eat buffet, not all you can waste".
So Wendy, that's why you're this week's Asshat.
April 25th's Asshat
April 10th's Asshat
March 28th's Asshat
Saturday, May 06, 2006
I was going to write about a funny in the news today. A guy in London tried to mug a woman for her two bags full of dog poo (she didn't carry them around for kicks, she was walking her dog who seems to sh*t a LOT).
While trying to find more details, I went to Google News and typed in "poo".
And something completely different caught my eye.
Apparently a health organization in the UK has published a guide to crapping correctly.
You heard it here first, folks.
Good Defaecation Dynamics was produced by NHS Tayside, and has the seal of approval by the Continence Foundation.
Tips for blasting a dookie include "When you sit on the toilet, make sure your feet are well supported. You may need to use a foot stool."
"Keep your mouth open. Aim to do this every time."
First of all, how in the world could I position myself using a footstool? My knees would be around my ears. I'm trying to download--not give birth--for pete's sakes!
And why should I keep my mouth open? To catch flies? To keep my ears from popping?
Hopefully some blogger in the UK will get his/her hands on a copy of this informative publication and give us a holler.
Inquiring minds and all...
P.S. ...On the dog poo woman. Her dog must have been absolutely massive to produce two bags of doody. Why didn't it just bite the damn mugger's arm off?
Friday, May 05, 2006
Never in a million years did I imagine that I'd be able to use that as a title. Thank you Abraham Alexander!
On Tuesday, the account executive from the Manhattan Cardiovascular Research Foundation was convicted of embezzlement and sentenced to 2 to 6 years imprisonment.
He stole almost a quarter of a million dollars of charitable donations to pay a dominatrix to spank him with the BIG hairbrush.
With all the scammers and shammers disguising themselves as charitable organizations, or employees of legit associations raiding the till, who can you trust any more?
I think from now on, I'm going to try to just donate locally. At least then I'll know where my money is going.
Thursday, May 04, 2006
Hungarian builders found a 300-liter barrel of rum in a house they were renovating, and decided to--ahem--"lighten the load" before moving it.
In fact, the aged rum had such a "special taste" that they bottled some up to take home with them.
After draining the barrel, it was still surprisingly heavy, so they opened it up.
And found a nekkid and pickled corpse.
Apparently the now-deceased homeowner had her husband's body shipped from Jamaica in the barrel 20 years earlier to avoid paperwork and the high cost of an "official" return.
Anyone up for a Pina Colada?
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
Sometimes the more I read the news, the more I become swayed towards the idea of parental licensing.
I know it's un-American.
But I'm allowed to fantasize a bit, aren't I?
Mary E. Cozad went to her son's school to discuss his one-day suspension for fighting on the bus with the Assistant Principal. After the office door was closed, she took a gun and holster out of her purse and placed it on a nearby shelf.
No shots were fired, and she left the school after the meeting without incident (taking her gun with her).
Yesterday she was sentenced to 2 years probation and ordered to pay a $200.00 fine for unlawfully carrying a weapon.
For the very life of me, I just can't imagine what passes for logic on her planet.
Did she eat a great big steaming bowl of stupid for breakfast?
Cozad claimed she "forgot" she had the gun and didn't want to leave it in the open in her car. So why didn't she lock it in her trunk or glove compartment?
Or just leave it in her purse?
Why take it out and "display" it?
Did she think it would make the Principal change her mind?
"Oops! We made a mistake! We actually want to give your son the Student of the Month award for good conduct!"
Tragically for the kid, Mom's bad choices have additional consequences for him. She's been banned from all Keller School District campuses.
So she'll never get to witness or participate in any of the good things her son might be involved in--conferences, school plays, awards ceremonies, sporting events or recitals.
It just boggles the mind, doesn't it?