QoE wants to be made of money

Conversation that I actually had with my Minion on the way home yesterday ...

QoE:  Spaghetti for dinner tonight

Minion:  I want pepperoni pizza

QoE:  Well, we don't have pepperoni pizza.  We are having spaghetti.

Minion:   Well, then tomorrow I want you to get me pepperoni pizza.

QoE:  I'm not made of money son.

Minion:  Yes, you are.


Oh, if only that were true ...

self analysis reveals ... i have issues. surprise!

Well, it happened again.  I vowed to write more often.  And then I didn’t.  No excuse really.  Just busy and not enough hours in the day. There are so many hilarious stories I would love to share.  But I have a line that I cannot cross.  I never want to make friends or coworkers appear unprofessional, or potentially get someone in trouble with their company – or their company in trouble.  So, no work stories.  And trust me, the world is not a better place for this.  Because some of the stuff that I witness – it’s hilarious.  And horribly inappropriate on so many levels.

So where does that leave me?  Feeling at a bit of a loss.  I could write plenty of things.  I’ve started several post ideas in my head.  But all of them always end up toward the serious, and maybe a little bit heavy.  And that’s not usually what I do.  So I haven’t decided if I should go there or not.  But since I, much like Simba, laugh in the face of danger, I’m gonna run with it and see what happens.  This is what happens when I turn my brain loose to ramble untethered … don’t say I didn’t warn you.

I lurk among the halls of FB way too much.  And I am judgy.  Oh, so very judgy.  I don’t get the people that complain about being so broke, so behind on bills, so poor … yet they are posting pics from a vacation, or showing off the new phone/tv/gaming system/CAR they just got.  Really?  If you are so broke you can’t afford food, then somehow I doubt you can afford a week at the beach in an exotic locale, or a new SUV, or that giant plasma screen.  So – where’s the lie?  Are they really not that broke and just wanting to bitch and moan about nothing?  Or are they really that broke and digging themselves into a larger, deeper, more ridiculous hole by continuing to leave WAY above their means?  Did they win the trip or get an inheritance from a tragic loss or cash in a savings bond?  Does it matter?  And more importantly, why do I care?  Why does it make me so mad when it has zero impact on my life?

We spent the day at my father’s house on Sunday.  One of my most traumatic memories as a kid is of him holding me in the pool, counting to three, and then dunking me under the water.  To this day I hate going underwater.  I hate water on my face.  I have water ISSUES.  Seriously.  I can’t even watch Deadliest Catch without almost hyperventilating.  Yet, there we were, in the pool, with my Minion.  A Minion who seemingly proves that water issues are passed via DNA because he hates having his face wet and freaks at the idea of going under.  I try really hard to shield him from my water issues so that he doesn’t have them because of me.  I go out of my way to show him that I love water.  I am happy in the water.  I am practically sprouting gills in front of the kid.  But there he is having a Major Meltdown over water.  And I found myself telling my father – the man who dunked and traumatized me in my memory – that we should just go ahead and dunk him and get it over with.  Really?  What does that even mean?

It should be noted that POF did in fact hold The Minion and dunk him.  And he freaked for about ten seconds and then he was fine.  In fact, he was better than fine.  After that he willingly used the swim ring, and happily dog paddled around without assistance.

I am not a drinker.  I just really don’t like the taste.  And I am one of those rare birds that doesn’t really get the warm fuzzy from it.  I am stone cold sober and then puking in a bush.  There is no in-between.  So, drinking really doesn’t appeal to me.  But it was a holiday weekend and I decided to be wild and out of control.  Ha.  So, I had two drinks at my dad’s house.  I tried one of those strawberry margarita beer drinks and it was not bad.  Beer is repulsive to me, so this was progress.  Then I consumed a frozen Parrot Bay pina colada thingy.  It too was tasty.  There was no warm fuzzy, but there was also no regurgitation, so I consider this a success.  And my father was beyond pleased that I kicked back and had a drink.  The man was elated.  Giddy even.  Somewhere, there is something fundamentally wrong with that I think. 

But seriously, the man was happy.  With me.  And all it took was consuming a couple of alcoholic beverages.  For those that know me and the long rocky relationship with my father, this is hilarious.  Me chugging a six pack with the man could have saved YEARS of angst.

I have a slew of friends on Facebook that I really don’t interact with.  But there are a few that I have reconnected with and it’s been wonderful.  This past weekend, I actually hung out with one of them.  We went to elementary school together, but haven’t seen each other really since about sophomore year of high school.  That, my friends, is a long damn time.  And it was awesome.  It was like no time had passed.  She was every bit as funny and kind and cool as I remembered.  But a lot of time had passed, and a lot of things about us had changed.  We didn’t dwell on the bad, and she spoke of her things in passing without a lot of detail.

And I realized something.  I had no idea.  I saw her in the halls.  I talked to her.  I considered her a friend.  And yet, I really didn’t know her at all.  And that got me thinking.  Would I have done anything different if I had known some of those things back then?  Would I have tried harder to stay in touch with her? Would I have tried to help?  Would it have made me not want to be her friend?  Should I have noticed these things?  Should I have seen signs?  Should I have been a better friend?

I don’t know.  I was a teenager too, with my own host of problems and ordeals to go through.  I was too wrapped up in my own stuff to really notice anyone else’s stuff.  I just recently realized that I pretty much spent the years between junior year of high school and senior year of college on autopilot, with pretty much a total emotional disconnect.  I have memories, but they are vague and fragmented.  I went through the motions.  I played the part.  But I was totally closed off.  No one got in.  No one really knew what was in my head.  Not even my best friend at the time.  I don’t know why.  I mean, I know reasons.  But in the grand scheme of things – compared to what my friend dealt with – I had it pretty perfect. 

So what was my deal?  Why was I so closed off?  Why do I have huge gaps of just nothing at all in my memory?  Why did I go through most of college on total emotional lockdown, going to class, going through the motions, but not really being engaged with the world?  I have no idea.  It bothers me sometimes.  I honestly do not really remember most of college.  I pretty much went to class and nothing else.  I didn’t do activities or engage in groups and stuff?  None of those strong bonds for life that people talk about.  The only connection I have from college is my roommate from my first year.  One person.  That is not normal.  And I was 100 percent sober.  No drugs or alcohol for this girl.  So, WTF?  It baffles me.

I can distinctly remember one thing from my junior year.  That was the last year I did color guard with the band.  Guard was something that I enjoyed doing.  Something I loved even.  But I can remember that year, going to games and just not really being there -  in the reality of it.  Doing preshow stuff, going into the bleachers, curling up under the pressbox and just zoning out.  I wasn’t really asleep.  But I was also not really conscious.  I was aware enough to get moving when it was time to go down and get set for the half time show.  And I performed.  Then I came off that field and went back to the stands and zoned out again until the game was over.  And I have no idea why.  Social interaction in a group like that has never been my strong suit, but I just had zero ability to interact with the world at that point in time.  It kinda freaks me out if I dwell on it.

I also realized that I have never been a group person.  I never wanted to be a part of a group.  I mean, in my head, sometimes, it would be nice to have that big group of girlfriends to do stuff with.  But the actual mechanics of that is just beyond me.  I am more of a one on one kind of girl.  I can go through my school years and pretty much name the one friend from each year.  Some over a couple of years, but for the most part it was always one friend at a time.  And there was never really any specific reason that we stopped being friends.  Just growing up, finding other interests, moving apart.  No big falling out or dramatic scenes.  Just life.

I wonder sometimes if I should have clung harder to some of those friendships.  Made more effort to stay connected as time moved on.  Or if that is just the natural progression of things.  Like the ebb and flow of the tide.  People pass in and out of your life when you are in need of them, and they of you.  Is it really that simple to explain?

I do know that I have reconnected with two friends from my elementary school days.  Friends that I loved dearly as a kid, made fantastic memories with for a while, and then drifted away from slowly over time.  Finding them again has been wonderful.  Sharing our journeys from then to now, the ups and downs and all the in-betweens.  Watching our kids play together.  Finding new common ground.  Building a new friendship as adults.  Appreciating the memories we have together and how we have changed in so many ways yet still have so much in common.

I have a small circle of friends.  And for the most part they never really share the same space at the same time.  I am still very much a one friend at a time kind of girl.  But I am working on it, getting better at being in a group.  And I love bringing some of the old friendships back into that circle.  Still one at a time, but eventually, maybe, as a group.  If I can manage it.  Baby steps.

The requested one where I break down my ridiculousness by the minute.

By popular demand ...

Have you ever wondered what happens at the Haus of Eville?  Generally, while we are always on the lookout for potential plots of world domination, things are pretty mundane.  Laundry, dishes, lawn work.

Granted, I am pretty sure the sink is possessed by some sort of evil enchantment that makes the dirty dishes reproduce while we sleep.  And we have broken two lawn mowers in two weeks, leading me to suspect that another evil enchantment also controls our grounds.  That combined with excessive rain in the last two weeks has left us contemplating if a heard of goats might somehow be incorporated into our lawn care regimen.

But for the most part - same old routine.  However, once in a while you get a day that just throws you for a loop.  I had one of those this morning.  So, I give you How My Day Started.  You're welcome.

4:15 AM  Alarm goes off.  I wake up, alone.  Interesting.  Wonder why the minion got up in the middle of the night and went to sleep in his bed with the husband.  Head to kitchen to pack husband’s cooler for the day.

4:16 AM  No cooler.  Head outside to get cooler from car in tshirt and underwear. 

4:17 AM  Standing in driveway, in tshirt and underwear, realize that husband drove truck.  Truck is locked.  Head back inside to get keys.  Spend two minutes rummaging through pants pockets in the floor, looking for keys.  Head back outside.

4:20 AM  Truck is parked in grass.  Open passenger door from driveway and realize cooler is behind driver’s seat.  This will involve a trek through the wet grass in the dark.  Yay.  Still in underwear and tshirt.  Do not care.

4:23 AM  Survived trip around truck in wet grass (ew ew ew).  Start to open truck door and realize that OMG I have to pee.  And I am going to pee, whether I like it or not, in 3-2-1.

4:23 AM  Immediately drop panties and crouch into peeing in the wild position.  Unleash torrent of urine into yard.  (Note – I am now half naked with my ass hanging out for the world to see.  Note that I live on a main road with a 50 MPH speed limit.  I still do not care.  Thank sweet baby Jebus that no one drove by, even though it was still pitch black outside and no streetlights.  My giant white ass is a beacon)

4:24 AM  Realize that I now must balance myself on the square inch of ground that my left foot covers so as not to accidentally step in the pee area … which I can’t really see for sure since it’s DARK outside. Begin to obsess about possible pee contamination.  Retrieve cooler.

4:26 AM  Make lunch and pack cooler

4:30 AM  Head back to bedroom.  Absently wonder again why the minion went to sleep with husband.  Sit down on side of bed to check feet for possible traces of yard pee (negative). 

4:31 AM.  Wet spot.  Now know answer to why minion left bed to go sleep with husband.  Strip bed.  Spray mattress.  Take sheets to washer and start load.  Return to bedroom, flipping on lights and mumbling obscenities about loved ones under my breath.

4:33 AM  Turn more lights on.  Get sheets from dresser at end of hallway.  Slam drawer, sigh a lot.  Loudly.  Mutter and curse.  Loudly.  Remake bed, as loudly as possible.  Extra drawer banging for effect.

4:35 AM   NO ONE NOTICES

4:45 AM   Still no one stirs.  Give up, turn off lights, mutter some more hateful things toward my beloved son and husband, climb back into clean, dry bed.

4:50 AM Husband’s alarm goes off.  Snooze.

5 AM alarm goes off again.  He gets up.  I fall asleep.

5:45 AM my alarm goes off.  Head to kitchen to put sheets in dryer.  No indication that he noticed my pre-dawn plight.  Shower and carry on.  It’s a miracle I don’t drink a lot.

My love of glam metal and why, contrary to my own assumptions, I would have not made it as a groupie

So ... I've been reading It's So Easy, the biography by Duff McKagan from Guns N Roses.

It's a really great book.  Well written and interesting.  I haven't finished it yet, but it got me thinking.

I can distinctly remember when I bought Appetite for Destruction.  We were in Florida on vacation, and I made my mom take me to a mall in Orlando.  I believe it was to a Peaches store.  And I got the cassette.  Or, rather, I had to get my mother to buy the cassette since it had the Parental Advisory sticker on it. 

I kept it face down until after she paid so she wouldn't see the cover.  I knew she probably wouldn't agree if she saw that cross with skulls logo.  And I was in bliss.  I listened to that thing pretty much nonstop for the rest of the trip.

Of course, I was totally unaware of what most of the lyrics meant.  Sure, I knew that there was that whole sex, drugs and rock n roll thing, but I wasn't clued in to what it all really meant.

It was summer of '88, right before my freshman year started.  I started school that year with my braces off, and with really big hair.  Hair that was sort of an odd orange color thanks to some Sun-In.  And I was a glam band girl.  My best friend and I went to the Def Leppard concert, then stayed up all might as we drove with her family to vacation in Gulf Shores.  Looking back, it's a wonder her parents let us play GnR.  The cassette player was in the front with them, and we were in the very back seats of their mini-van.  I remember her stepfather freaking out, thinking Axl's screech at the beginning of Welcome to the Jungle was a police siren, that he was getting pulled over.  Heh.  Good times.

Motley Crue.  Poison.  Bon Jovi.  Def Leppard.  GnR.  Those were the big ones.  And there were others ... LA Guns, Faster Pussycat, Danger Danger, White Lion

All lusted after with innocence to the reality of the world.  I always said that if I had been 20 and in college instead of 15 and in junior high, I would have totally been a groupie for those bands.  And I meant that.  Band whore - yep, sign me up.  Said with the innocence of youth.

Then I read the Motley Crue book, The Dirt.  And The Heroin Diaries by Nikki Sixx.  And now this book.  What an eye opener.  And I can honestly say that no, I would not have been a groupie.  One look at the total lack of hygiene these guys possessed, and that would have been a deal breaker.  Not to mention the rampant alcohol and drug abuse.  And the STDs that flew through the bands like mad.  Pass on that.  I'd like to think that not even the lure of a rock star would overshadow, well, bathing.  And clean sheets.  Preferably not on a mattress on the floor.  Even teenage me had standards.  I just didn't realize the reality of the situation.

The fact that half these guys are still walking around with functioning brain cells is pretty amazing.  The fact that more people weren't aware of the level of their depravity is even more so.  But I guess that was the times.  No Internet.  No cell phones.  Easier to cover stuff up.  Quietly.  Ah, the good old days.  Before people accidentally outed themselves doing stupid and illegal stuff on Twitter or Facebook.

When I started this, I thought I had a point.  Now I have no idea where I was going with it ...

I guess it's just that looking back, I see myself in those days and it makes me laugh.  At how innocent I was.  Singing along with the words to Mr. Brownstone ... I thought that was a person.  Granted, there's really no way to NOT know what the lyrics to Anything Goes are about.  But there was a child-like glee at the naughtiness of singing those words.

I would never have imagined, looking at those pictures in the magazines, that the guys from Motley were so strung out the photographer put sunglasses on them to hide their eyes, and the fact that a couple kept nodding out during the shoot.

I never knew exactly how crazy and out of control the backstage parties really were.  How girls and drugs and liquor passed from guy to guy with no thoughts to excess or safety.  Or that the majority of the time, most of them were barely coherent on stage - the fact that they were even upright was impressive ... being able to actually perform was pretty much a small miracle.  It's a wonder more of them didn't die.

I guess my point is that I am glad that I didn't know then what I know now.  I am glad that I got to see them as sexy rock stars.  Maybe a little wild, and a little dangerous, but never as the dark and lost and messed up guys they really were.  I'm glad that it took me years to really know what Mr. Brownstone was about.  And I'm glad I never lined up to be one of a thousand in the back of the tour bus.

I had big hair.  I smoked.  I wore a leather biker jacket that I bought myself at the Harley store.  I swore like a sailer.  And I dated guys that were bad for me in a lot of ways.  I was, by all outward appearances, the bad girl of the group.  And that was cool.  But I never really drank.  I never tried drugs.  I was an A student in honors classes and the band.  I really had the best of both worlds.  I got to play the bad girl, while staying a good girl on the inside.  But it sure was fun to pretend.

the post where i vent about a real douchenozzle in our lives ... i hope everyone knows who he is. jackass.

Everyone always tells me I should write more, or write a book.  And yeah, I have opinions.  Very specific opinions.  And I can write here and make my point and be funny, or skewer someone or whatever.  But the thought of a book is ... daunting.  I don't even know what it would be about.  I am no Jen Lancaster, by any stretch of the imagination. (Though I would totally love to be her when I grow up)

I guess step one is to broaden the horizons and get more followers.  Except, well, how exactly do I do that?  How does someone suddenly have "the" blog that lots of people follow?  I have no clue.  And not a lot of time or energy to devote to worrying about it ... thus, here we are.  Me and the 4.7 people that read this.  (Hi ya'll!)

What's new in the Land of Eville these days you ask?  Well, lots and not much. 

The Eville Weenies are hanging in there.  Between the two of them, I don't even have one good functional dog.  They are adorable and total pains in the ass, and I love them even as I grumble under my breath about having to sit on the floor for half an hour - again - to hand feed one of them dog food.  Hand feeding canned dog food is not fun.  And really gross.  But hey, I'll do whatever I need to do to get the little shit to eat.  He is slightly spoiled.  And I am a total pushover.  Putty in their little dirty doggy paws.

The Minion is more diabolical than ever.  And he starts swimming lessons this weekend.  Either it will be fantastic, or we will be banned from the pool.  He's like his dad in that respect - there's really no middle ground.  It's pretty much all or nothing.

I've had some encounters recently with some really unpleasant people.  I've decided that people who project the image of good, but who are really sneaky, back-stabbing liars, really deserve what they get.  And I sure hope they get it soon.  In a myriad of painful and shameful ways.

When I see people doing despicable things, I just want the rest of the world to know too.  I want to blow the whistle so very badly.  But I know that in the end, it has to come out in its own time.  I can't force it, cause then I might be the one that looks like the asshole.  But man, it sure is hard to sit here and keep my mouth shut sometimes.  And every once in a while, I just can't take it anymore.  Looks like today is one of those days.

I thought this person was a friend.  I thought they could be trusted.  I admired the way that this person preached peace and love and acceptance, equality, doing good in the world.  And I thought it was really great the way this person would always be quick to let anyone and everyone know that the significant other in their life was beautiful and wonderful and the light that made life worth living.

And then, I found out otherwise.  That facade was a total sham.  This person wasn't any of these things.  This person was a liar.  And a cheater.  And a back stabber.  Here's just a little example of one thing this person did.  One small thing in a pool of many, many things that makes him a total douchenozzle of the highest order.

This guy has been with his girlfriend for years.  And I am not talking years years, I am talking DECADES years.  She basically totally supports him financially and emotionally.  She thinks that he is amazing and can conquer the world.  She is there for everything that he does, cheering him on louder than anyone.

And yet ... he uses his potential career angle to hook up with other women.  And he tells them all that he fell in love the moment he laid eyes on them.  And he's only with the girlfriend till this next thing is a success, then it's over and he will be with them.  Some of them believe him.  He's juggling a couple right now that used to be friends.  One has taken the catty junior high approach, and the other one just walked away hurt.  Miss Catty told her she could be trusted, to confide her secrets to her about this mystery guy.  So she did.  And low and behold, what does Miss Catty do but call the guy, crying, telling him all about what the other woman said.

His response ... to call the other woman and ream her a new one.  How DARE she get Catty upset.  And what if the girlfriend finds out about all this and gets all suicidal again - how will she feel then?  Yeah - total jackass.

As I said, the one walked away hurt but a little wiser.  Minus some people she thought were friends, but certainly no longer with any illusions about the situation.  But this guy is still at it.  He's got so many lies going, he can't keep track.  It's all gonna unravel at some point.  And man, do I hope the world sees him for what he is.

But the thing about this situation that bothered me the most was the women.  The girlfriend may not know about this now, but she obviously knows there have been issues in the past.  She probably has suspicions, especially if she might get suicidal - again.  And Miss Catty, being all jealous and acting like a teenager over it, upset that he "cheated" on her with the other woman.  Uh, duh, he's cheating on his girlfriend WITH you.  What makes you think you are the only one?

Where was these women's self respect and dignity?  Why didn't they band together and give him a giant F You?  I don't get it.  Why would you even want to be with someone that you knew was a liar and a cheater?  How would you ever know if he was being truthful about ANYTHING?  Wouldn't you always wonder if there was yet another one out there somewhere that he was cheating with?  It baffles me.

The best part is that this guy runs his mouth way too much.  And way too many people know what he's up to.  His secrets aren't so secret any more.  He thinks he's being so smooth.  But slowly, people are figuring out his game.  I just wish I could be there to see the implosion.  Unfortunately, I am also aware that guys like him always find a way to slither off somewhere else and reinvent themselves.  He will be back, in some form or another, of that I am sure.  I just hope the women are wiser now.  Especially the girlfriend ... I hope she finds some backbone and self-respect and leaves him in the dust.

toddler antibiotic tourture, single kick ass women scare men, and beng a terrible church attendee

My kid hates taking amoxicilin. And I can't blame him. The stuff is nasty, even with the flavoring they add now. We have had two rounds of taking this vile stuff. And every time he refused, I felt like a terrible parent because the end result was us holding him down and forcing him to take it. I know we aren't the only ones, but it still makes you feel pretty shitty.

And then suddenly, about halfway through this last round, he changed his mind. He started taking it with no complaints, no juice chaser, nothing. I don't understand it. But I am going with it. The mind of a three year old baffles me.

Now to more fun things besides toddler antibiotic torture ...

I have two friends that are single. One is older than me, and one is younger than me. Both are beautiful and smart and funny. I really can't see why they haven't been snapped up. And then one day not long ago, after hearing a horror story from one, I realized what it was. And what they both have in common is the problem.

See, they both have their shit together. They own homes and cars. They have held decent corporate jobs with 401ks. They have lives that they are fully capable of managing without a man to do it for them. Not that they don't want a man ... husband, family, etc. They just aren't gonna put their lives on hold waiting for that to happen.

And that's the problem. Because I have decided that no matter what a man says, he wants a needy, jealous, possibly financially incapable woman to take care of. These two women scare the shit out of them. They are intimidating. They also speak their minds and don't take any bullshit. Most men are just not capable of handling this. Oh, they say they are. And they try to be. But I really think that after a few dates, their brains just can't process it. And so they make up drama and ridiculous stuff just to try to get these two to show them the crazy. And when it doesn't happen? They are at a loss. And so they move on. It's kinda funny actually.

But it's also really pissing me off. Surely there are two sane men in this world that can take on these two women. I believe there has to be. So where are you guys? Hurry up already!

What else is new in the land of Eville? Well, The Minion's new favorite hobby is to shove his finger up his nose (I swear he's got to be touching brain) and loudly proclaim that he is digging for gold. Funny in private. Mortifying in public.

We have an ancient, blind and meaner than ever weenie dog that likes to bite EVERYTHING that gets near her. And another not quite as ancient weenie dog with only one (partially) functioning kidney. The fun never ends in this house. It's a non-stop regimen of medicines, special foods, administering fluids, etc. And every time I turn around someone has peed or pooed somewhere new. The other day I realized that my life had gone from irritation at finding such a mess to just plain old acceptance. And even happiness when they actually use a pee pad. Such is the joy of elderly dog ownership. And yet, I love them more than should even be possible. It's a conundrum.

I've become a firm believer in the karma train, and I am keeping a list of the people that I look forward to seeing it run over. The day can't come soon enough. Partly because I want them to recognize what shitty humans they are. And partly because I am just petty and vindictive enough, and can hold a grudge enough, to want to have my moment to relish their karmic misfortune.

The Minion has several favorite topics of conversation, and one of them is the penis. He will name off all males he knows and inform anyone listening that they have a penis. Generally he's content to say that Mama does not, but when he mentions the dog, he says that she doesn't have one, she has a hole. Which I find equally hilarious and horrifying. Being just enough of a Southern prude to not want to use certain words, I don't really have names for body parts. Especially THOSE parts. So I don't really know what to say to him and I just let it go. I realize eventually we need to have that conversation, but I am going with the ignore it and it doesn't exist method for as long as possible.

Now, I don't claim to be a super religious person, but we do make an effort to go to church every week. We don't always make it, but we are good for usually 3 out of 4 weeks in a month. I do know that I want The Minion to grow up with a church experience, and he can make up his own mind as he gets older. I really like our church.

That being said, I just do not like to go on Christmas and Easter. I realize that there are a lot of people that only go a few times a year, and those are the two big ones. And that makes me want to stay at home. I just don't feel like dealing with those people. Not that I am better than them, or more Christian than them or anything. I just hate the crowd as it is. A veritable crush of people does not add to my enjoyment. I am too worried about occupancy issues and claustrophobia setting in ... and all those lovely flowery perfumes worn in abundance ... to really focus.

And what is it with the bathing in perfume for church? It's like they want Jesus to smell them from Heaven. And considering they way some women douse themselves with the vile stuff, it's possible he might. But I digress.

I like to go to the early service, sit in the back, listen, enjoy and leave. On a holiday that just isn't possible. So, we are probably the only family on the planet that actually avoids church on holidays. Go us.

I suppose that's enough for now. I haven't even ranted about politics, so I should stop before something strikes my fancy. Also, there's a good chance that The Minion is trying to fix a bowl of ice cream all by himself. That won't end well.

The post where I get sidetracked about how much politics pisses me off ... that happens a lot

Three year olds are evil in cute little dimpled packages. Maybe not all of them, and maybe not all of the time. But mine sure can be. He's got enough stubborn from both sides ... I am pretty sure we are gonna end up in a Thunderdome type situation before he even starts kindergarten.

As usual, several things have been bugging me lately. Here they are, in no particular order:

1. People who can never be wrong and/or think they know everything about everything. Throw in a little passive-aggressive behaviour, and I just wanna punch someone. The sad thing is that you can't reason with these people. They will NEVER admit they are wrong, even when it is plainly obvious that they are. You can never win because they just don't get it. And that just makes it worse. I try to be a nice person, but I will admit that sometimes I find myself wishing for the Karma truck to run them over. Repeatedly.

2. Politics pisses me off, a lot, so I try to avoid it. But sometimes it filters through. And it continues to amaze me that the conservative right keeps preaching about how we need less government, yet they turn around and propose legislation that takes away womens' rights over control of their own bodies. And now, there is a new one out there that is proposing to make single parent homes child abuse. Seriously? Where do these people come from, and how the hell do the function in today's society? I realize that people with ultra conservative views think that gays are the end of the world. Okay fine - that's your opinion. But since it's mentioned in the Bible, I am pretty sure it's been around for a while. It's not like gay people just appeared last week and started trying to overthrow the world. And all the talk about how children shouldn't be allowed to be adopted by gay people - shouldn't be exposed to that lifestyle. Most gay people come from heterosexual parents. It's not a cult people. *shakes head in disbelief*

And now, single parent homes are child abuse. I was raised by a single mother. As of now, I haven't turned into a serial killing psychopath, so I'd say I turned out all right. Like I said, I get that the conservative right has an opinion that the ideal marriage is between a man and a woman. And the ideal family is a husband, a wife, and children. But that's just not the reality in this world. I can think of someone right off the top of my head who is a single mother. Not by choice. Her husband passed away. It wasn't something she asked for. And last time I checked, her kids were pretty awesome. Yet because she is single, her household would be labeled as abusive. That is just the stupidest thing I have ever heard.

3. On a related topic, politics and people posting stats and things they know nothing about, have not researched, and have no real clue about. I think we can all agree that this country is not exactly at its high point right now. But people seem to forget that our current President didn't create this mess, he inherited it. In some cases, there are issues that have been going on for damn near 20 years. But for some reason, it's only the fault of the current President in office. He's screwed either way - either he caused all this, or he's the worst ever because he hasn't managed to fix everything. This country didn't go off the rails in a mere four years. It's gonna take more than four to fix it. Also, it's a little hard to fix it when you keep trying to bring God into everything. God has no place in politics. They are two separate things.

You keep ranting about religious freedom, yet you keep wanting to push your agendas, dripping with your own personal religious ideals. So you want your own religious freedom, and for people to have freedom as long as they agree with you, but if they don't, then they are wrong? That doesn't sound like The Constitution I remember learning about in school.

4. Here's the thing ... I said The Pledge every morning for years. I'm not indoctrinated. We had a moment of silence every morning - to do whatever you wanted with it. I'm not fanatical. We had Halloween parties and Christmas parties, and no parents sued because it was offensive. We didn't have to call them Fall Festivals or Holiday Parties. I know there are eleventy million different cultures in this country - that's what's supposed to be cool about it. You have your freedom and rights to celebrate and practice your cultural beliefs. What about America's beliefs? We believe in Halloween. And Christmas. And The Pledge. It worked for generations. What's wrong with it now? Because it might offend someone? That's just ridiculous. If you don't agree with it, don't participate. Do your own thing. Even better, tell your class/neighborhood/coworkers about your way of celebrating and have a multi-cultural accepting moment. But don't complain or sue because you don't agree.

People are afraid to have real opinions, to say what they really think. Because they fear punishment or being looked down upon. How is a society supposed to function when no one can really be themselves? Everyone is so busy making sure that the face they show to the world is conforming, that they forget who they really are. And instead we have a world full of plastic fake people who spout their convictions to the world, but don't even believe them behind closed doors. Public perception, public image is more important that standing up for what you really believe in. Go with the flow, don't make waves, don't question. It's bullshit. And it freaks me out.

The political messages in this country are so jumbled and mixed and confusing, it's hard to even know who stands for what anymore. For most people, it's too much to even try to figure out. They judge off sound bites and video clips that aren't always even in context. It's sad and it's scary. And I want my own country on my own planet.

4. Speaking of which ... I believe it's in Virginia that laws are trying to get passed about adoption agencies being able to deny people based solely on their religious or political views. And these are agencies that do take government funding. Obviously it applies to gay people. But it can apply to anyone. If you have a conservative "Christian" agency, they have every right to turn down couples that are Jewish or Democrats.

So, basically, if I get this right, legislation is trying to pass that won't allow a lot of women the freedom of choice to terminate a pregnancy. Which means potentially unwanted children are forced into the world, on a parent that doesn't want them to begin with. A parent that is most likely on the lower socioeconomic scale. And you don't want to provide government funding to help assist these lower income classes, proposed cuts on social services left and right. So maybe the kid gets taken away and put into the system, or is given up for adoption. And now you are putting crazy restrictions on the people that are allowed to adopt, based solely on the discretionary whim of the adoption agency's personal views/beliefs? Seriously?

Am I getting that right? You would rather an unwanted child be forced into a flawed foster care system, potentially till age 18, rather than allow a qualified and loving family to adopt them, just because they might be Catholic or gay or a single parent? And those children are going to be able to contribute what to society exactly? What kind of "Christian" values are they learning in that situation?

What about all the normal, white, heterosexual couples out there that do horrible things to their kids? Where do they fall in all this? Is it better to let a kid be raised by them than a gay couple? Are you telling me that Josh Powell made a better father because he fit the idealized mold, even though he murdered his entire family?

Yeah, people piss me off.

On totally unrelated subjects, I have sort of a split personality. I am generally antisocial. Don't really like parties or social situations requiring me to mingle and make small talk. Yet, I have already done most of the prep for the family Easter shindig we are hosting this year. I'm talking a good 2-30 people here. It's a big gathering. I have egg decorating stuff and all kinds of little doodads for an Easter egg hunt. I even bought stuff for the kids to do Easter crafts. CRAFTS, people. Genuine crafts. What the hell!?!?!?

And I am excited about it. Which is alternately funny and terrifying. Undoubtedly, when The Minion starts having birthday parties, they will be absolutely amazing because I can plan like a pro. But then I just think about the actual socialization part and it makes my eye twitch. I need a clone. A social setting, small talk making, party attending clone. Then I can plan, make an awesome soiree, and go hide in the bedroom with a book and a cup of coffee, in my pajamas, while the clone does the hard stuff. I think this might be my next project.

I think I've done my part for the day. Time to get off the soapbox and go clean up the chaos of cars, trains and Star Wars figures that now litters my entire kitchen and living room. The Minion has been busy while I've been writing. I'll be back again, no doubt with more stupid shit that pisses me off. And maybe a funny story about the kid.