Random Things. . .

Mus-thard, cus-thard, and YOU, poo-poo head !

Run, Shermy, run !

(Please don't ask me to explain -- just know that I HAD to get this out of my head.)

Thoughts ?

Waking Up on a Lazy Saturday Morning

HEY !

*INSTANT ALERT*

What ? Are you okay ?

NO ! GET DOWN HERE !

*grab glasses from nightstand*
*propel myself in the air out from under the covers*
*run down stairs*
What's the matter ? What is it ?

IT'S A SNAKE !

*process*
*did he say "snake" ?*
*process*
*why is there a snake in my house ?*
*process*
*remember that I'm not in West Texas any more and that this probably means that it's not a poisonous snake*
*continue running down stairs*

I skid into the living room to find my husband holding our black cat who is struggling to get down and a small dark (think garter or grass) snake on my living room carpet. Snake is less wiggly than cat, but still. . . !

I need a box or something. . .

I reach over and grab a small basket for my cake supplies and toss it over snake. Husband allows cat to get down while he grabs shoes. We slide my craft board under snake, but oopsie. His tail is still out of the basket. Kismet IMMEDIATELY spots the flaw in our plan and goes to thwack snake tail.

Long story short: adrenaline is the best ! Husband took snake across the street to release. Kismet is pouting. No puncture wounds on anyone.

Thoughts ?

Verboten Terms

Quick hits -- I'll give YOU a quick hit if you use this again. (Or low-hanging fruit, either. Really ? Have you seen a lot of mango trees at YOUR office lately ? No -- I thought not.)

Amazing -- I am so sick of this word and it's partially my fault. Damn you, reality television ! (I'm looking straight at you, you so-called "Real" housewives. Pssht. Real, my left hind fanny.)

Rock Star -- as in "you're my rock star". No. I'm not. I'm the grunt that gets it done for about a tenth of the money you would have to pay anyone else.

Outrageous -- why ? Why do things have to be "outrageous" ? (Or "extreme", for that measure ?) Why isn't it enough just to have normal things ?

Bandwidth -- I am not a network pipe. I am a people.

Circle back -- because we are all pioneers in our wagons. Oh, suuuure. Mmmhmm.

Resource -- when used in conversations that involve actual human beings. This is only slightly more demeaning than the term FTE, which enjoyed its glory days in the late 80's. Criminy -- you are talking about colleagues, employees, "associates", "members", technicians, people, anything but a word also used to describe unsmelted ore. I am a unique little snowflake with very specific talents, I am not a cog in the machine.

Update -- had to add "take it to another level". I have somewhere you can take this. It's that big trash bin over there.

Thoughts ?

Because My Husband Likes Popsicles

And I like the jokes on the sticks.

What do you give a snake with allergies ?













Anti-hissssss-tamines.

*dies laughing*

Thoughts ?

Dammit, People -- What's Your PROBLEM ?

To Congress -- QUIT BEING PART OF THE PROBLEM and EARN your money. Knock off all this partisan crap and GET R DUN. The people that elected you should ask for their campaign contributions back (no, I'm not kidding at all) if you continue to pass things like the non-binding resolution of Geronimo's courage and not work on small items like the FREAKING stimulus bill/s.

FOLKS ! Pay attention !

Also -- earmark THIS. Quit thinking about yourselves for a change and think about what is best for the ENTIRE country. Judas Priest, but you people are stupid and shortsighted.

To the lobbyists: (I can't even say anything here because my gag reflex just kicks in.)

To AIG: No. No more. Go ask France for a loan.

To Rush Limbaugh: Shut it. Or get your Oxy refilled. No. . . actually. . . just shut it. You too, Bill Maher. Neither of you is nearly as smart as you think you are. Both of you should be classified as "entertainers". . . except neither of you actually IS entertaining.

To the Democrats: Quit just pitching money at the problem. Use your Harvard and Yale educations and actually THINK about where money would be best spent. And, if I have to come up there and show you people how to use the damn line item veto option, I will.

To the Republicans: Shut up and help. Quit pointing fingers because, honestly ? Y'all have absolutely nothing going on right now that's better. And. . . there were eight years of. . . eesh. How much has the Iraq "War on Terror" cost this country ? Right. Think about that when you are pointing at the earmarks and such.

To GM: Gee. . . it sure would have been smart of y'all to start working on hybrid cars about 10 years ago, wouldn't it ? Since your CEO saw fit to run you in the ground and y'all are thinking about declaring bankruptcy to restructure your debt. . .how's he looking now ? Oh, yeah -- and he's the one that got BONUS. ES ! last year. How smart was that ? (Also, Ford ? Looking at you too, so don't get all high and mighty.)

To Wall Street: Are you proud of yourselves ? I hope every one of you dishonest, greedy SOBs get indicted and fined out the hoohah. I want you to have to live where the lower middle class have to live and I want YOU to worry about foreclosure and how to pay off student loans and that your 401K is in the toilet. I want you to suffer like you made other people suffer. (Plus. . .John Thain should be forced to bag groceries at the local Sak-N-Pak on the graveyard shift for the rest of his natural life. Prison is too good for him.)

To the folks who can't seem to manage your budgets: Have you got it now ? Do you now understand the very simple math that says if you're bringing in about 40K a year, a 500K or more house is probably WAY out of your price range ? Do you now understand the acronym APR on the credit card statements ? Do you ?

To Octomom: Words fail me. Speaking of fail. . . my Lord, woman, but you are. Epic phail. Absolutely epic.

I still don't really feel better, but I just had to get this off my chest and out of my head.

Thoughts ?

Commercials Are Getting Worse

I cite Mucinex as an example.

They have an animated booger and their tagline is "Mucinex in, mucus out".

What ? They couldn't call it Snot-B-Gon ?

Thoughts ?

Because I Know The Internet Wants to Know My Opinion on the Octuplets

Here's the deal as I see it:

Ms. Suleman wanted a "big family". Okay.

She is a single mother.
She has no home of her own.
She has no discernible income stream.

Whu ? HOW ?

And, she managed to get some doctor to set her up with more than the six children under 7 that SHE ALREADY HAD AT HOME ! *boggle*

I have a lot of issues with this, but here's my main problem with this -- by somehow managing to whelp (yes, whelp) eight children at once, she has attracted enough media attention to potentially PAY for this incredibly bad decision. (Smell like the bank bailouts, anyone ?)

What would have happened had she NOT had eight at once ? Who would have paid for the kids that she already had ? And, while we're on that subject, who is going to pay for the hospital costs of this last birth ? And the costs of bringing them up -- the food, formula, diapers, college educations, and. . . let's not kid ourselves. . . therapy.

These children are going to be some of the most photographed, documented, and hounded children ever born. And their mother has condemned them to this because she wanted "a big family".

Thoughts ?

Update: Ms. Suleman wants to use STUDENT. LOANS. to fund her decision, "temporarily".
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/29117041/
Three of her older children are already classified as "disabled" and receive SSI payments as well as food stamps. Kaiser Permanente is also asking for Medi-Cal to cover the cost of the births.

But. . . Ms. Suleman does not see this as "asking for welfare" -- she sees this as "programs for people in need".

Oh. Mah. Head. I hope someday that someone will be able to explain the "need" for fourteen children under the age of 8 -- when you have NO WAY TO PAY FOR THEM YOURSELF. (That's my essential gripe, you see. I don't care if she wants to have a zillion kids - that is her choice. It is MY choice, however, not to want to pay for other people's kids. My choice (and everyone else's) has been trumped because we all want to do "what's best for the children". Except, we really don't. Because, if we really did, this woman would not have been ALLOWED to have eight, 8, more.)

Memory Lane -- M***** Manor

So. . . I've been promising myself that I would start writing some of the stories that I have rattling around in my brain because I know too many people who wonder just why I am the way I am.

Here's one. . . between my freshman and sophomore years in college, a friend of mine talked me in to remaining in our college town for the summer instead of going back home. We thought we might be able to set up a rooming arrangement with one of our male friends, but my dad thought otherwise.

I was able, finally, to talk him in to the "apartment" idea when I explained that the male element would be removed from the equation and it would be just me and Rita * rooming together.

Ohhhh. . . if he had only known that this would be the greater of two evils.

So. . . we put all my dorm stuff in storage and head out on a road trip with some other college friends. When we get back, you see, we will take that stuff and use it to furnish an apartment. Makes perfect sense. . .

Rita and I agree to split the rent this way: I will cover the first month fully, we split the second month, and then she covers the third month. She tells me this is better for her because her dad is a little weird about "covering expenses". Mmkay.

We come back from the road trip (which involves 1) her losing our running buddies on a trip where she did not know where we were going -- Mapquest & Google were not available at that time so we were caravanning. She got impatient at the speed our caravanners were going so she drove off from them. I found out about this when I woke up in Denton, 2) a Sting album that I still cannot listen to because she played it over. and. over, 3) a tornado, AND 4) a flood on the way back. Yeah, the only thing we missed out on were the locusts and boils. So fun.) and pull my stuff out of storage. Her stuff travelled with us on the road trip. In the back of the truck. Yes. You read correctly. That's when I found out where the apartment was. Let me just mention that the words "not the best neighborhood" do not come close to describing the property. Brrr.

Second floor. Up the stairs. All the way to the back. Dragging our stuff past every resident (not "neighbor") on the left side. Ohhhhh, yeah. One-bedroom apartment. With Edgar. Who is Edgar, you ask ? Edgar is. . .the couch with the pullout bed. The HEAVY couch. The hernia-inducing couch. Edgar. So. . . we settle in for our summer apartment life. I took the one bedroom in the back because, after all, Rita had Edgar. And Edgar stayed in the living room.

Did I happen to mention that Rita was dating two guys ? Yep. Oh, and that they were really good friends ? Were. Mmmhmmm. *shrug* I gave up being outraged about it because I was learning that it really wouldn't make a dang bit of difference to her and. . . I didn't want to hurt their feelings. Plus, they were all grown-ups. Sorta.

Except for. . . that one night.

The night that Rita and Ted ** did the nasty. On the floor. In the living room. WHEN I WAS HOME. Please understand -- I was in the bedroom in the back, with the door closed, when. . . I heard the dreaded sound. At this point, of course, I have two options. Neither of them is good. I can 1) try to ignore it and turn up the television as loud as it will go to cover the . . . noises or 2) I can walk THROUGH the living room, PAST THEM, NAKED, open the door, walk through our scary apartment complex by myself, get in my truck IN THE DARK BY MYSELF, in the SCARY NEIGHBORHOOD, and go. . . NOWHERE BY MYSELF.

Being a reasonably sensible girl, all I can say is. . . Thank God for Johnny Carson. Go Doc !

And this was not the worst of it.

Ohhh, noooooo. About a week later, the other guy found out about it/her/the other guy. Yeah, our (my) social opportunities pretty much went in the dumper after that because "awkward" does not EVEN begin to cover it.

That seems like enough, right. Nope. I is a slow learner.

I went back home during the second month to help teach Vacation Bible School. Yeah, yeah, quit laughing. I wrote a check for my half of the rent and left it with Rita. I am gone almost four days. Mind you, I TOLD her where I was going and what I was doing. She also had my contact numbers.

Imagine my surprise to get a call. From the Property Manager. Letting me know that I have three days to get my stuff and pay the rest of the rent. Whu ? Yes, boys and girls, Rita never PAID the second half for the second month. She just. . . didn't.

I explain to the Property Manager that I am about 300 miles from her and that I have one more day to go at VBS, but that I will be there as soon as I can to make the arrangements to work it out. I explain to my mom what happened and what I need to do. My mom provides suggestions and prevents me from immediately driving six hours to commit a "slight" homicide.

I am enraged as I drive back down. Livid.

I zoom in to the apartments in time to see Rita getting the last of HER stuff out of the apartment. She has already packed up all her things and is going. . . I dunno. . . somewhere else. Her best friend from high school has come down, on a bus, to help her pack. (This seems random, but I assure you, it figures in to the story later.) Rita refuses to speak to me when I get there. Refuses. To speak. To me. Because I am "mad". At her. She states that she "will get the rest of her stuff later" and leaves. With her friend.

My mom, who is awesome, helps me pack up all the rest of the stuff (my stuff) and get it into my truck. I go down and figure out from the Property Manager what has happened and get THAT straightened out as well.

Later that day, I go over to the "other guy's" place and Rita just happens to call him. She has taken her friend TO THE MALL and is doing a LITTLE SHOPPING. With the RENT MONEY. That she "does not have". When I YELL at her, she "does not understand" why I am so upset. Her guy is also confused at why I am SCREAMING at her. (I do not often scream at people -- instead I talk very softly as my rage increases. Just a handy note.)

Suffice it to say, I do not remember many of the details of the call, but here's the footnote to the whole thing: she also managed to abandon her friend (BEST FRIEND !) in San Antonio and my mom (remember ? The awesome one ?) paid to get that girl a bus ticket home because she was crying and didn't know how she was getting back. I have never spoken to Rita again.

I drove home poorer, but wiser. Rita became a lawyer. ***

Thoughts ?

* name has been changed to protect the absolutely idiotic.
** name has also been changed, but only because I think he got the raw end of the deal -- no pun intended.
*** No, I'm not kidding.

ERGH.

Don'tcha just love coming in from shopping to find a trail of small feathers leading to a body on your living room floor ?

ME NEITHER.

Nor was I terribly impressed to see that whatever cat did the deed also decided to tap dance on the plastic surrounding the new cookie sheets I got for Christmas. *double frown*

Cats - one more
Birds - one less.

Robert thinks I should quit feeding the birds. I think I am at least giving them the calories to put up a fight.

Thoughts ?