Got a headache? Drink some water

So, a report has come out that says that testing has revealed a regular pharmacy is perking right in our water system. Everything from pain relievers to sex drugs are ending up in our water thanks to our filtration systems.

Sure, those systems filter out the nastiest of the nasties, but they weren’t made to filter out the myriad of drugs we take in our lives and then pee into our very drinking water.

Ok, I’m not stupid, I KNOW where are drinking water comes from. I’m not silly to believe that a pristine waterfall of crystal clear water flows straight into my communities water tap, I do know that all sorts of ick is processed at the water filtration department, and that certain filters are applied to ensure that our drinking water isn’t entirely nasty (well, except the water in San Angelo, Texas did taste and smell like it came straight from a swimming pool), but I really don’t need the media showing a graphic that pretty much shows a cartoon toilet with a pipe going to water faucet. I’m pretty sure there’s a lot more going on between the toilet and my water tap... at least I hope so.

All these years I’ve yelled at the dogs for drinking straight out of the toilet, perhaps I’ve been wrong. maybe I need to go apologize to my dogs. All these years they’ve been actually getting the good stuff and I’ve been drinking the pee of some old lady taking hormones.

I do wish that my neighbors would all take some better drugs though. Instead of sex hormones or aspirin, perhaps we can all get together for some nice Oxycotin or something that would make going to work a bit more bearable. Next time I have to take a piss test and pop for something strange, I’m blaming the water.

The World Is Insane

Instead of ranting, tonight I direct you to another blog, where someone else has pointed out, with pictures, just how insane the world is.

Land of the free? I don’t think so.

Toughest job... really?

What's all the Hoopla About?

Ok, so apparently there is some kind of hoopla involved with a picture of Obama dressed in Somolia clothing that was taken while he was visiting there for some government thing.

In case you managed to miss this picture and the hoopla, I've linked it for your viewing enjoyment.

Ok, its a pretty silly looking outfit, but hey, I know that our government officials have to put up with some strange customs while visiting foreign nations, its called "DIPLOMACY". I'm not quite sure what emotions we're suppose to feel by seeing this picture, other than its sorta silly looking, but no sillier than seeing our current President doing the chicken dance in Africa recently.

Apparently the hoopla is coming from the Clinton camp, and they seem to be offended by the fact that here's Obama in this silly outfit and its not getting any press, but if Hillary were dressed up in something silly, it would be splashed all over the news and people would be making fun of her. Granted, if she were dressed in anything other than a subdued pants suit, we'd be shocked and talking (hey, Hillary, want some press, how about a pair of jeans, perhaps a tank top... ever hear of a thing called a dress?)

So, the Clinton camp is mad because Hillary isn't getting any press about wearing stupid things. Ok, that's a bit odd, but if that's what they want, then here is my artist representation of Hillary Clinton dressed as a squirrel. Now, I'm not saying she is a squirrel, nor has she ever dressed as a squirrel (to my knowledge) its just that I'm too lazy to google around and see if there are any pictures of her wearing something zany or crazy (other than a wacky colored pants suit), so this is what I imagine she would look like if she were to wear a squirrel costume.

There, I hope the Clinton campaign staff is happy now.

Another Weekly Rant Wrap Up

A teacher has come forward to say that he was illiterate, cheated his way through high school and college, then lied and taught your children for 17 years, not knowing whether or not THEY could read when they graduated, but points the finger of blame at everyone but himself.

He knows how to read now, and has written several books and gets paid big bucks to go around and talk about how the system failed him. Gee, seems like he failed the system, and those 17 years of children he “taught”.

Castro says he’s not running for President anymore. Fox news has a live camera showing Little Havana’s response... or lack thereof actually. President Bush says that “We will help the Cuban people realize the blessing of liberty...” Um, so they’ll get to experience high taxes, controversial and corrupt elections, bloated government spending, corruption in the government, and the government spying on its own citizens, just like the U.S.?

Now that all smokers have been banned and locked into prison cells, banished from smoking in any covered building or within 500 miles of any covered building for that fact, we don’t have anyone to pick on. OH! Ok, from now on, we’re going to ban the obese from going into restaurants because people don’t make themselves fat, restaurants do, so we’re saving the fat people from fried foods.

A Showbiz Special Report documented why Hollywood actors dating hot women stars usually botched up those relationships (Think Devine Brown), and the reason for this, according to the report: Its the man’s fault. Here’s one not covered: The Hollywood actresses are all gigantic bitches? Naah!

This just in: 5 hours after Castro announced he was not running for President of Cuba again, CNN broke into their usual reporting to give us the BREAKING NEWS that Castro wasn’t running for President of Cuba again. Has the media lost all concept of “breaking news” and “this just in”?
This just in: Napolean was defeated at Waterloo, film after the break.

When the shuttle landed the other day, Fox puppetheads called it “Historic”. Why? Because it didn’t blow up?

By the way, carbs are now good for you, so eat all you want, as long as its cold carbs. Butter is still bad, but so is the fake butter stuff, and bacon gives you cancer.

Bravo on shooting down the spy satellite. Thanks for the footage too or else we wouldn’t have believed it. On second thought, how do we know that was the satellite... how do you know a missile was actually shot up into space. That did sorta look like a clip from a movie, now didn’t it. Hmmmm.

The question of the week is “Can Obama deliver on his message?” Um, why limit it to just Obama. History has shown that no candidate has EVER made good on his campaign promises, so why are we now asking about it after all these years?

Sharper Image and Lillian Vernon going bankrupt. Guess I won’t be able to flounce around in my old lady clothes while snorting Ionic Breeze fumes.

The New York Times Five Years Too Late

I'm laughing at the hoopla caused by the "timely" New York Times "expose" that is all of... five years old regarding John McCain. Did it honestly take them that long to get the story "right" what with all of their un-named sources and details about what happened FIVE YEARS AGO. I almost wanted to ask if Dan Rather had joined the writers at the Times, as this story was about as pathetic as that smear thing he did on President Bush.

I'm a registered Democrat (this year) and I honestly have to say that I don't like John McCain, I respect him, respect the service he performed for our country during his military tours, the sacrifices he made for his country, but I just don't like him. Even though I don't like him, and won't vote for him in this election, I still have to throw the bullshit flag on that Times story. I mean, come on they really had to be reaching deep for any kind of muck on this guy and unfortunately those who should have been in charge didn't have the nads to stop it from being printed. Apparently some people had enough pride to quit outright over its printing (kudos for you, go find a nice reporting job for a local paper NOT in New York and find out what life is really like outside of that state and realize why we really hate New York media).

What's next from this "respected" newspaper. Here's what I predict:

"there's nothing the military can do to make the outcome worse."

Is anyone else screaming in fear over this quote?

Yes, that’s NASA Administrator Michael Griffin’s opinion of the Navy shooting down a wayward, and quickly falling, potentially dangerous, could kill a lot of people, spy satellite.

Let us all back up a bit to last week, when the Government announced that a spy satellite was falling to the earth... no big deal, don’t worry about it, stuff falls from space all the time.

Then it was: Ok, so there’s some toxic liquid on this particular bus-sized spy satellite that is hurtling its way to the earth and we’re not quite sure where its gonna land, but don’t worry, that toxic liquid stuff will more than likely just burn up in the atmosphere when it comes down, no biggie, everything is fine.

Now its: Ok, so the Navy is going to try shooting the satellite down because that liquid on it... well, its sorta really poisonous and we’re afraid that it’ll kill everyone in a region the size of two football fields, although we’re not quite sure where that region is, since we have absolutely no control over where it lands, so we’ll shoot it down and be done with it.

That’s where we are now, with Mr. Griffin’s quote: “...there’s nothing the military can do to make the outcome worse.” Which begs the question: “What do you mean... worse?”

Coming from a military background, and coming from a contractor background, and coming from a tv and movie viewing background, I can assure you that things can get a WHOLE lot worse.

Scenario 1: The Navy shoots the rocket into space, the rocket malfunctions and explodes in China, who then shoots off their missiles at us, full scale war, and the stupid satellite falls harmlessly into the ocean.

Scenario 2: The Navy shoots the rocket into space, it hits the satellite and explodes it... causes its toxic payload to spread throughout the entire atmosphere and kills everyone on the earth except cockroaches.

Scenario 3: The Navy shoots the rocket into space, the satellite is stronger than first thought, the rocket ricochets and hits the space station, which then falls and squishes all of Nebraska. Nebraska declares war on the U.S.

Scenario 4: The Navy shoots the rocket into space, the satellite explodes and everything seems ok until the toxic fumes from the explosion and fuel cause humans to mutate into giant mosquito-people (hey, its happened once already, haven’t you seen Mansquito?).

Yeah, so there you go Mr. Smartypants NASA guy, there are at least 4 scenarios where the Navy can make the outcome worse. Oh, here’s one more actually:

Scenario 5: The Navy tries twice and can’t hit the broadside of a barn, the stupid thing falls harmlessly into the ocean, but we are now the laughing stock of all nations, a government inquiry takes places and all government contractors are recognized as the worthless leeches that they are, they are all fired and nothing gets done because the government has relied so much on contractors for years that nobody knows how to even make coffee, and Canada easily defeats us in a war where no bullets are fired because a contractor had the key to the armory and didn’t give it back.

Well, at least we’d finally get free healthcare... eh?

How To Wash A Bra

Ok, you’ve got to be kidding me, but someone actually did a WikiHow on how to wash a bra, complete with pictures.

I had to check it out, after all it was a link on my google home page and I was bored. Perhaps all these years I’ve been washing my bras wrong, so I figured that I needed to find out the “right” way. I mean there must be more to it than taking bra off, tossing bra into washing machine, taking wet clean bra out of washing machine and throw into dryer. Untangle bra from other items, toss now clean bra into drawer.

Sure enough, the writer of this “how to” suggests all sorts of preparation before the bra even goes into the washer, and even a special bag to put the bra into! Wow, the pictures are very informational and educational too. What cracked me up was the whole inference that if you didn’t have a lingerie bag to put your bras into, then you were forbidden or somewhat insane to actually wash them with other items just by themselves, all free and wild. How many people wasted an entire washer load on just one or two bras for a lack of lingerie bag? Of course they suggest that a pillow case will do in a pinch.

I’ve only had ONE unfortunate bra incident where my favorite green bra became trapped in my mother’s crappy dryer which happened to be falling apart. Lucky for her, the bra died a horrible death so that she could dry her clothes without having a green bra flopping around stuck in the door for the rest of the dryer’s life.

Of course, this doesn’t compare at all to the common sense approach of “How to Dry Pantyhose in a hurry” instructions. This set of instructions assumes that everyone in the world is in possession of a salad spinner.

Not that spinning your pantyhose in the salad spinner is insane enough, the instructions continue by saying: “Hang over towel rack and dry with a hair dryer - warm to cool heat. This should take no more than 5 minutes. Clean your teeth and do your hair at the same time.” Call me silly, but one hand on the hair dryer, the other hand brushing your teeth leaves you with not enough hands to do your hair. I frankly don’t know how nasty a set of pantyhose can get where you couldn’t put them on dirty in a pinch... unless you crapped in them, or course.

I would assume that the Wiki people would at least try to weed out those that had no common sense from posting “how to” guides, but apparently not. Well, I have to go run out and get a damn salad spinner in case I ever need to quickly dry my pantyhose and while I’m there, I’ll get me some lingerie bags to wash my thousands of bras.

Stupid Things Newscasters Say

In regard to the psychiatrist who was brutally attacked by a man with knives: 

“You don’t hear every day of a meat cleaver killing”.

One newscasters comment over footage of Bono signing at Tom Lantos’ funeral: 

“Its not every day that you are serenaded live by Bono”. 

"We now go live to one of our correspondents who is embedded in the Clinton campaign".

Embedded in a campaign?  Ok, sure, they "embedded" reporters inside of military units during the first days of the invasion of Iraq, giving us a first person view from the front lines of what its like for our soldiers as they go into battle.

but "embedding" a reporter in a political campaign?

It Happens to Females

While some might find this entry a bit too “TMI” I feel strongly that women really need to be honest about the crap that goes on with their bodies. Seriously, I mean for the longest time I thought I was some kind of freak because I had one single hair growing out of control on my chin. I went through life for the longest time thinking that I was carnival freak show potential, only to find out later from some kind woman friend of mine that chin hairs do happen, as do chest hairs, nipple hairs, you name it hairs in strange places.

In the spirit of disclosure, and to ease the minds of other women, I’d like to discuss feminine itch.

Ok, I’m not really going to go into great detail about the actual feminine itch, more like what you do to get rid of it. Like most products that tailor their names to the malady such as: Tylenol, Motrin, Pepcid... hmm, wait a minute, you would think that these products would be called something like “head hurts be gone” or “stop the head throbbin” or “no more burning chest after you eat”, because why else would a product for feminine itch be called VAGISIL. Even hemorrhoid medication is subtly named “Preparation H”. Sure, it now has a reputation and is KNOWN, but its certainly not flying off the shelf as “open sores up your ass”.

Ok, so lets just say that you were newly born and working a cash register at your local drug store. Even with no knowledge of the world, you would still probably guess that something called Vagisil had something to do with a VAGINA. Why would you guess this? Well probably because the brightly colored box also explains in big letters that its for UNCOMFORTABLE VAGINAL ITCHING.

Now that its all spelled out for everyone to see (from at least 100 feet away), there’s the whole, taking it off the shelf, semi-concealing it without looking as though you are going to shoplift it, stand in line with it, and pay for it. If you are lucky (like me) you’ll get a nice, young, handsome looking young man at the register. There’s no amount of “so... how’s the weather?” banter that will stop him from seeing what you are purchasing... processing what you are purchasing... wondering just what it is that causes you to buy something like this, and will certainly remember you for the rest of your shopping life and no matter what you buy that little bell in his head will ring: vaginal itch.

Even though its one little cardboard box containing a tube, when asked if you want a bag for it, you almost scream YES, for you certainly would not go wandering out of the drug store with it held in your hand, perhaps waving it over your head for everyone to see, proudly proclaiming your soon to be domination over the vaginal itch. No, you WANT a bag, and frankly what with the diaphanous white bags used in most stores, you almost want to insist on double bagging your purchase, but refrain.

As you leave, you are convinced that everyone in line with you, the cashier, and soon all of the workers of the drug store will be dutifully informed of your purchase. You are also quite sure that every one you walk past can see through the bag, even though you’ve gone to great lengths to wrap it around the cardboard box and hold your hand in such a way as to conceal the wording as best as you can without looking like an eagle swooping off with a freshly killed mouse in its talons.

Now, let me mention the “odor blocking formula”. It has a very distinct perfume about it. Its so distinct that if you’ve ever used it, or smelled it, if you smell it again, then you know that whoever reeks of it is using it. This defeats the entire purpose of having any sort of “odor blocking formula” in my opinion. If you are trying to mask a foul discharge that is common during “vaginal itch”, then that’s fine, but don’t mask it with something that identifies it as the treatment to that issue. You will either smell like a person with a problem, or you will smell like a person that is treating that problem, either way, EVERYONE knows! How about using something like “coffee”, or “chocolate” to mask the smell. Make it an every day odor that can’t be identified. Something that doesn’t scream out VAGINAL ITCH CREAM IN USE HERE!

In closing, I have to applaud the makers of Vagisil from trying to provide young girls with information about this most unpleasant experience. I know that as a young girl, I wasn’t too keen on approaching my mother and asking her any questions in that regard. Kids growing up now are so lucky that they can google just about anything and find out instead of worrying. I do wonder though... did the chick posing on their Web site as “Sabrina” know that her photo shoot gig was to be the poster girl for hip vaginal itch information?

I Vote

Today is the Potomac Primary, the Potomac Push, the Chesapeake Chase, the ... Gawd I hate the stupid media that has to name everything, and make it snappy too.

Yeah, I live in the Potomac Primary area so it was my turn to vote. I was disappointed that there were no cameras and slicked up media “reporters” waiting to hear my opinion of the voting process as I left the voting area (also known as a school). My tax dollars hard at work, children getting a day off just so we can vote, how nice.

So yes, it was time for me to vote, and frankly, I’m still trying to get over Hillary Clinton’s announcement that she loaned her campaign 5 MILLION dollars.

FIVE MILLION DOLLARS??

If I was squirted out of the womb making exactly what I make now, I would have to work for over 100 years in order to make 5 million dollars. She just writes a check and plops it down and thinks nothing of it apparently. Just when I think that will make my head explode, she then goes on to wistfully say that her campaign managed to recoup that FIVE MILLION DOLLARS in just one day.

I can’t even begin to imagine getting that much money in one day. Jerry Lewis has to get a zillion actors and disabled people begging overnight on his telethon to even come close to that amount, and yet people just pay that to help someone with a campaign.

FIVE MILLION DOLLARS.

Wouldn’t FIVE MILLION DOLLARS be better spent on social programs, charities, maybe buying gas cards for the volunteers that drive food for the Meals on Wheels program? How about giving some of that money to people who want to start small businesses, or to renovate a poor neighborhood, or build some houses in Hurricane Katrina stricken neighborhoods (because I hear that isn’t happening for some reason yet).

How can someone simply plop down 5 million dollars and then tell me that they know what this country needs? How can someone that thinks nothing of spending 5 million dollars on commercials, flyers, ads, posters, placards, and telemarketers, know what its like to walk in my shoes, or in the shoes of people who can’t afford shoes? How can she even begin to know what its like to eat spaghetti with no sauce because you’ve lost your job, or to make the decision between keeping warm or losing your car when you only have enough money to pay one or the other.

So, with that in mind, I go to the polls to vote on who my candidate of choice will be. Granted, the media is all up in arms, telling their viewers that the Potomac Push is going to be the deciding factor of this election... except for that other election stuff next week and next month, because that will be the clincher actually, did we say this election, no, we meant the other ones, yeah. So with the words of Jonathon Martin of politico.com “Nothing succeeds like success”, ringing in my head, which makes about as much sense as “everything’s better with Blue Bonnet on it” I go get my little electronic card thing and do the vote-o-rama.

Its at this point that I hear that Hillary, even before I cast my vote, has bailed and run off to some other state that is voting next week. What? She couldn’t even pretend to bother hanging around until this election is over, she’s off to suck up to the next state.

Damn, that’s rude... Obama it is then. Ok, it always was Obama, but if anyone asks why, I have five million reasons.

Fake Sugar Makes You Fat

This just in: a recent test has shown that artificial sweetners make you fat.

How do we know this? Well, scientists fed rats stuff with artificial sweetner in it instead of real sugar, and the rats ate like pigs and gained a bunch of weight. Apparently the body craves sugar, and if the body doesn’t get sugar, it tells you to eat until you get enough sugar, except artificial sweetners don’t contain sugar so you keep eating, unsatisfied and a humungous wide-load before you know it.

Well, at least the rats did that, who knows about humans, but seeing how artificial sweetners have been out for quite some time, and the obesity levels are just going through the roof (or through the floor, get it... heavy, break through the floor... its a joke), I’m guessing that artificial sweetners don’t work the way they planned them to work.

Oh yeah, commercials saying you should use them instead of sugar because sugar not only rots your teeth but puts on the pounds, so eat our artificial junk. Except you don’t get any satisfaction from the sugar free ho-ho so you have to eat the entire box of sugar free ho-hos.

Of course the artificial sweetner people are all up in arms about this study. They claim that since it was conducted on rats, that nobody should believe this trumped up, stupid report, after all, humans aren’t rats. Perhaps rats have this gene that makes them crave more food when they eat artificial sweetners and that caused them to get fat. Or for all we know, perhaps these rats were just genetically predisposed to fat.

Um, the only problem with saying that the rat study isn’t valid is... didn’t the artificial sweetner companies say a long time ago when they introduced their artificial sweetner that their research data said that rats were perfectly healthy and fine eating the artificial sweetner and so should you humans.

Hmmm.

Pimp My Chelsea

I’m in my mid-forties and have found myself saying more and more (just like my parents): “I just don’t get these kids and their tv shows, music, humor, etc.”

A younger friend of mine sent me a MySpace joke. I didn’t get it. I don’t understand MySpace, it makes no sense to me, but apparently everyone else in the world (younger than I) flock to it and live by it. I don’t get it.

Seeing how I’m desperately clinging to the now and the future while trying not to fall into that “oh, look... the tragic old lady trying to be hip” stage, I knew what they meant when the media said that the Clintons were pimping their daughter Chelsea.

Frankly, I think its about time. That poor girl should have some sort of consultation done years ago. She could use some more fall colors to bring out the tones of her skin, and that hair, ok, I’m a redhead and yes, there are issues with red hair, but they can be overcome with a good styling and some conditioners and leave on gels!

I think the frumpy long skirts in dark colors, and the oversized sweaters definitely show a lack of self esteem, most probably due to her parents being in the limelight, and the pressure she undoubtedly felt being a “good girl” because others before (and after) her were a bit of the hell raisers and trouble makers.

Oh wait a minute... they meant pimping like the world’s oldest profession pimping and not the pimp my ride make over thing?

Sonofa... I just don’t get these kids and their tv shows....

Delegate Segregation

Ok, so I got my specimen ballot for Tuesday’s election.

I live in Maryland, and my turn to contribute to the whole electoral process happens this Tuesday... can’t wait, very excited, pinch me, whoot.

Ok, I could care less... I couldn’t care less... I don’t care really. As far as I’m concerned we’re all doomed, doomed I tell you, the earth is in the handbasket, hurtling its way to hell and its just a matter of time, but frankly its not happening fast enough as I don’t want to go to work this weekend, please, please I’d like a nice catastrophe right about now.

Oh, where was I?

Oh yes, I get my official Specimen Ballot and I noticed something a bit odd. The male and female delegates are separated.

My ballot has a column for Female delegates, and I’m instructed to vote for no more than four female delegates, and my ballot has a column for male delegates and I’m instructed to vote for no more than three male delegates.

Um, wait a minute.

Why is my ballot segregated? Why am I to vote for more female than male delegates? Why isn’t there one long list of all delegates and I’m instructed to vote for no more than 7 delegates? Why???

Oh, excuse me, I have to go get a paper towel as my head has exploded all over the table and on my segregated specimen ballot.

Meeting Planning By Idiots

This afternoon, shortly before lunch, I get an e-mail forwarded to me. I don’t know if you’ve ever been included in an e-mail that seems to have been bantered back and forth by several people for several days, yet the person forwarding you the e-mail only provides you with the last two parts of the e-mail, which is like coming into a movie half-way and then being quizzed on the first half.

The e-mail simply said: “We need to meet”. It was forwarded to me, and 5 other people, only one of whom I actually knew.

There was nothing in that simple incomplete sentence “We need to meet” that told me why we needed to meet, or when we needed to meet, or where we needed to meet. There was nothing in the two other parts of the forwarded e-mail that suggested any of these things, except that one of the people that hadn’t been on the forwarding list couldn’t make this meeting (whenever, wherever, for whatever reason).

I respond by simply saying “Why are we meeting, when are we meeting, and where are we meeting?”

Three simple questions that should have been included in the original forwarded e-mail. Frankly I think its incredibly rude for someone to just demand that “we” meet without including specifics.

The response came back: Is there a room available to meet?

While I’m sure this question wasn’t directed at me since I had admitted complete ignorance regarding this meeting, the fact that no additional information had been provided was causing my brain to bubble somewhat.

Someone responded back that there were no rooms available at his office, but perhaps there was one available at the office where I worked.

Um, excuse me, I’m pretty sure that I asked for some clarification on this whole meeting thing, so I couldn’t very well even venture to guess as to the availability of a room. Realizing the whole futility of this exercise of stupidity, I went to lunch. Upon my return someone responded that a room was available over lunch the next day. Oh, great, so I have a day and a time at least... except I’m not giving up my lunch hour to sit in a meeting that I really had no idea the subject of said meeting.

I responded promptly with the contractor’s all purpose excuse: “Unless I am told the purpose of this meeting, I will be unable to attend as I do not know if it falls within the scope of my contract”. This is actually a very valid reason not to venture into just any ol’ meeting, as my contract specifically states what I can and can’t do, and wandering into a meeting that has nothing to do with what I’m suppose to be working on is grounds for death in the contractor world. Ok, not death, but losing your contract and perhaps your firm losing the entire contract due to impropriety is pretty much the same as death.

Amazingly enough, there were no further responses, explanations or additional e-mails regarding this meeting for the rest of the day. I fully expect to come in tomorrow morning and find more chatter about the meeting, and how it was now scheduled at the most inconvenient time, place, and venue and that I would be required to attend.

If that’s the case, I’m calling in with a flesh eating bacteria issue.

Super Bowl Sunday

The hubby and I have big plans for the super bowl: nothing.

We didn’t invite anyone over (mainly because furniture isn’t a big priority in our house, and the decent tv is in our bedroom and frankly inviting people over to watch tv in your bedroom is a bit too weird even for us).

We aren’t even planning on watching the game. The game is more for Tivo, where we fast forward to the commercials, watch those, critique them, then fast forward to the end of the game so we know who won and won’t look like total losers the next day when all productivity of the world comes to a screeching halt while everyone discusses the stupid game and yet gets paid for a day’s productivity.

Despite the fact that we didn’t invite anyone over, and aren’t big football fans, we feel compelled to eat wings today. Seeing how we’re very good at planning, we didn’t buy any wings to eat today. Seeing how its Superbowl sunday (an hour before the game starts... at least I think it starts at 6pm, I don’t know) we probably won’t be able to order any and get them delivered until next week. Pizza is probably out as well. We’ve considered getting curbside take away from Outback, but it would seem a shame to just order wings from Outback so we’d be compelled to order a nice cut of prime rib (each) and what’s prime rib without a lobster tail, baked potato, salad, an appetizer of some kind and oh yeah, those sauteed mushrooms they have. Yum.

We’ve both admitted that neither of us is very hungry to begin with, but as we’ve both stopped smoking, we’ve started what is considered to be a typical stop smoking coping mechanism: stuffing anything into your mouth even if you aren’t hungry. Good for us that we’ll be able to breathe clearly and won’t suffer from some horrible type of cancer as we balloon fatter and fatter until we’re taken out of our house by a crane and embraced by Richard Simmons. Yes, so much better than smoking. Note to self: don’t watch any show that depicts recovering drug addicts or alcoholics, as they turn to chain smoking as their coping mechanism. Makes me want to start a nice crack addiction so that people will look at me while I chainsmoke and tell me how brave I am for quitting that horrible crack, instead of berating me for being a horrible, stinky smoker.

Have I mentioned that since quitting and since my tubal ligation, my face has broken out like a 16 year old’s? What the fuck is up with that? Not that I’m bitter about anything today.

Weekly Rant About Everything

I swear that Ted Kennedy said “Ameriker” during his speech saying he supported Obama. Ameriker? eesh.

If the government can send out checks to a majority of its citizens to stimulate the economy... then why are we paying taxes this year? Why don’t they just say “hey, all of you that owe the IRS money, just forget about it this year and spend that money on silly things to help the economy”.

I would like to volunteer my house as the spot for that spy satellite to fall. Although they say they can’t control it and all that, I still want to offer my house as its final landing spot, knowing that it will most likely destroy my home and contaminate the land. You see, I’d really like to move to Portland, OR, but the mere thought of packing up the worthless crap in my house, and then having to replace carpets and fix broken junk then try to sell it in this totally fucked up economy is more to bear. If a nice big spy satellite crashed down on the house and destroys it, I can just pack my dogs in my truck and drive west. Please, crash on my house.

Whenever I see a commercial for Scottrade I always think of pest control or lawn care. I don’t know why, but I think they should know that their brand name doesn’t generate the whole “trusted broker” image they probably spent zillions to create. I would also point out to them that I certainly wouldn’t trust a broker that had enough money to flit around in a helicopter sounding really pompous.

I’m very disappointed that yet another “As Seen on TV” product is a piece of crap. I had high hopes for the Tater Mitts, but after doing some extensive googling, I found that others have purchased them (thus saving me $19.99) and what they don’t tell you about the amazing “peels a potato in 8 seconds” gloves is that you actually have to par boil the potato first. Well duh! If you par boil it first you can literally scrape the skin off with a fingernail, so why do I need ugly rubber mitts? So disappointing, and yet I have to admire the people that come up with this crap and sell it by the zillions. Of course, leaving that whole “par boil” part out of the info-mercial could be seen as a bit of false advertising.

I saw something on CNN or one of those networks that said that cockroaches can’t back up, so that’s why a lot of doctors find them in people’s ears. EEEEEEUUUUUUWWWWWW. Ok, that would explain why you hear of cockroaches being found in people’s ears, as oppose to other bugs who are apparently born with a reverse. That’s nasty. I guess in the grand scheme of things, if you get a cockroach trapped in the dead end of a one way road, you are good to go for squishing.

Vitamin water is foul. Sorry, but it is, don’t fall for it and buy it, it sucks.

The Hollywood reporters were going on and on about Heath Ledger’s “Mysterious Death”. They were totally puzzled over how he could possibly die, its such a mystery! Um, the guy had a few dozen bottles of prescription narcotics, sleeping pills, muscle relaxers, etc in his apartment. What is so hard about understanding that he takes too many, or takes them in a bad combination and croaks. This is a mystery?

Apparently if you are 44 years old, you are in the height of depression, that’s the age of most depression. Once again, the medical people on tv are puzzled as to why 44 year olds are depressed. Gee, being that I’m 44, here’s a little hint:
1.) I’ve realized that I’m trapped in a shitty profession, shitty job, shitty state and will never escape this shit.
2.) Although I’d love to be a freelance writer and write funny things and get paid for it, when I put out my resume which says that for a gazillion years I’ve done nothing but write boring, slit your throat before you can finish technical documents, users guides, admin guides and certification documentation, all I get are job offers to do that same crap for different companies for the same clients I’m working for now. Gee, don’t know why I’m depressed.
3.) When trying to move into a new form of work, I’m told that when a spot opens I’ll get moved there so I can learn it, except they always hire someone from outside the company and I never get a chance to do that fun thing because I’m not experienced, nor will I ever be at the rate they’re going... don’t know why I’m depressed at work.
4.) I still have THIRTY FUCKING YEARS of work before I can retire, and even then, Social Security will be drained and I’ll probably die of old age at my job because I can’t afford to retire.
5.) The idea of following your dream has been beaten dead by bills, taxes, responsibilities, and rich asshats that steal your ideas and become rich while you drown in a sea of corporate america and managers who can’t spell but like to suggest you change a sentence to have more of a “security flavor”.
6.) The company I work for is probably going to get sold and who knows where those 8 years of my life will go, it certainly won’t be retirement as I’m sure I’ll be let go so they can dissolve the company and sell off its assets... can’t wait for that one actually, I’ve never been fired, at least I can call it a first for me, then I can go get a job with another firm doing the same shit I hate doing now YIPPEEE LIFE IS GREAT!

Thus ends my weekly rant.

The Price of Life

A man has died.

It happens a lot, every day, a lot of people die here in the United States. Some go totally unnoticed and those MAY make the gruesome headlines (dead man lay in home for months before being discovered), but for the most part, local newspapers carry their obituaries. Homemakers, businessmen, factory workers, cashiers at the local Piggly Wiggly. They lived, they died, they are buried, all anonymously except for the few that loved them, the few in their community whose lives were touched by their presence.

A man was found dead in his apartment and for the past week that’s all we’ve heard about. Why is he so special? Did he solve a horrible killer disease? Did he give money and time to help the poor and downtrodden? Was he a doctor that saved lives? Was he a scientist that built better things for the world? Was he a policeman that saved and protected the community around him? A fireman?

Oh no, he was an actor. He pretended to be something he wasn’t in front of a camera, and was paid large amounts of money to entertain people. He was followed by camera people, his photos splashed in magazines, he was idolized and worshipped, people bought the same clothes that he wore, they wanted the same jewelry and watches that he wore simply because he wore them. He was honored and feted, and wined and dined, and given just about anything he wanted, simply because he could pretend to be something that he wasn’t in a film. He was said to be handsome, dashing, and charming. People idolized him, and yet he really didn’t “do” anything except entertain people.

Throughout our lives we are touched by those invisible people that do things to make our lives better, easier, and enjoyable. Someone takes away our smelly, filthy garbage. Somehow when we turn on a faucet, we get water, either hot or cold, and we don’t question why or where it comes from. We flush a stool and our filth is eliminated and our houses don’t reek. Someone stocks the shelves with food, someone actually makes our food, our clothes, our shoes. We drive in cars and trucks that are made by someone. We get sick and go to doctors who make us well, operate on us to make us well.

If those people stopped what they were doing, our society would quickly fall apart. If actors stopped entertaining, we’d get bored quickly, but as an imaginative people, we would come up with something else to entertain ourselves with. Perhaps we would look at our real world and recognize those who truly contribute to our society and make it work, not those who pretend to be something they aren’t. Perhaps a man that picked up our garbage every day for all of his life would get front page recognition when he passed, not a stranger who most likely wouldn’t pick up a fallen candy wrapper, nor give us the time of day if we met on the street by accident.

An actor has died... no loss to society.

Fit To Be Tied

I haven’t ranted in a while mainly because I’ve been lounging and enjoying the high of some good pain pills.

On Wednesday, in an outpatient procedure, I had my tubes tied. Tubal Ligation is the official name for it, there are other more complicated names for the exact procedure of using little bands to tie off the tubes, which will then grow some scar tissue and ensure that I am sterile and cannot breed.

I didn’t want to jump for joy and gloat about having the procedure done prior to having the procedure done as a sort of don’t jinx a good thing. As it is a surgical procedure you do have to go through a physical and get some blood work done and I didn’t want anything to come back and deny me the opportunity of not taking birth control or worrying about getting pregnant.

For those of you interested in what the procedure entails, I will detail it for you here. In another blog entry I will detail the years of asking and the bias/caution of doctors in performing this procedure on young women. For now, I give you the full details of Tubal Ligation (as it happened to me).

After taking Depo Provera shots for 10 years (they only recommend 4 years max) my doctor was a bit... leery about giving me more refills and recommended seeing a gynecologist, which I did. Very nice guy. We discussed the fact that after 20 years I recently quit smoking, and had been on depo for 10 years, etc. He suggested that my next form of birth control be the IUD.

The mere mention of that word: IUD made me hiss and cringe in my chair. I had heard horror stories of this evil device, implanted who knows where in your feminine regions only to either migrate into your brain and kill you instantly, or without notice, burst from your abdomen during an important business meeting like something out of Alien. I meekly asked “Can’t you just tie my tubes?” and my wonderful new OB GYN said.... “When do you want it done?” I cried from happiness.

You’ll first need to make an appointment with your regular doctor to make sure that you are sane, want your tubes tied, and are healthy enough to undergo the procedure. Ok, they actually just make sure that you are healthy enough, but there are questions, and they make sure you know that tube tying is permanent. No changing your mind, this is it, are you sure? Hell yes.

You’ll need to get some blood work taken to make sure you can stand the anesthesia. Even though it is an outpatient procedure and a pretty quick one at that, you will be knocked out for it, as the doctor really doesn’t want you squirming around as he’s putting bands on your tubes to tie them off.

The day of the procedure, no food or water (which does include NO COFFEE) after midnight the night of the procedure, which makes for a very cranky person, especially when the admitting nurse is sipping on a starbucks while she types in your information.

You go to the prep area and put all of your clothes in the handy plastic bag and put on the stylish gowns with one tie strap and the very comfy no slip socks. I had to pee in a cup to make sure that I wasn’t pregnant prior to the procedure, then I lay on a gurney while they put in my IV. I love the fact that they actually warm blankets in a little blanket warmer and put them on you while you wait for the conga line of anesthesiologists and doctors to come in and have you sign forms that say if you die its not their fault.

My doctor comes in and lets me know the entire procedure will take all of 15 minutes. They will punch a hole in my belly button, put some gas in the cavity to poof it up so they can work, they’ll tie the tubes, which will require them to manipulate my innards a bit so they can get to the tubes, which means I’ll have a little vaginal bleeding and that’s normal. After that, its some pain pills to go home, wake up from the anesthesia and out the door I go with a few days of rest, I’ll be good as new.

True to their word, after getting wheeled into the OR, I recall moving to the surgical platform thing, looking around and zonk, I was out, next thing I know I’m in the recovery room. I drank some water, got my head clear, got some coffee, layed around some more, then they asked if I had to pee, I thought I could, it took longer than I thought but I managed, got dressed, hopped into a wheelchair and out the door I went. Got the hospital at 7:30, left at 11:30am.

I spent the rest of the day in bed sleeping and trying to find a more comfy position. My hubby went to the pharmacy and picked up my pain pills which was either 600mg Ibuprofen or Oxycoden. Hmmm, give me the good stuff please. I felt SO much better after taking one of those beauties.

Day two I had more pain from a stupid migraine headache than I did from the procedure and spent the day in bed wishing someone would cut my head off until I took an Oxycoden and lapsed into a coma.

Day three isn’t too bad. I’m sitting up at my desk typing this. Climbing stairs is a bit painful, leaning over is painful, and I find that I’m tensing up which makes things painful instead of just relaxing. I haven’t taken any pills yet, I’m saving them for a nice mid afternoon nap. My dogs are being nice (so far) and haven’t tried to jump on me or do something painful. I’d say that by tomorrow I’ll be out driving and walking around, and surely by Monday its back to work for me with only (I’m guessing) a bit of discomfort.

Overall, a very nice procedure, no scarring and best of all, no kids, no birth control. I like that.

Cult of Purse-onality

I’ve never been a big fan of purses. I actually never carried one until after I got out of the Air Force and much of that was due to getting married and finding that part of marriage meant carrying your spouse’s crap.

Back when I was growing up, carrying a purse meant only one thing: you got your period. I didn’t have the luxury of having little tampon or miniscule little pads with wings like the kids nowadays have. No, back in my day we were still saddled (literally) with those honking HUGE pads that required belts. Yes, BELTS! Look at that crap, that’s what we had to wear. Hard to feel girly and feminine about your period when you’re sporting one of those, eh?

The stigma of period and purse lasted a long time with me. That day I showed up carrying a bag and was teased by everyone knowing I was “on the rag, riding the cotton pony” all of those fabulously, wonderful ways of saying menstruation pretty much soiled the carrying of a purse for me well until my 20’s. I actually have to say that it continues to this day, but to a lesser degree.

In the Air Force I carried a wallet, I’m sure cementing the concept in my friends and co-worker’s minds that I was a lesbian. No, I just couldn’t stomach carrying the black, old woman-like purses that were the ONLY purses allowed to be carried by female military members. Even though everyone had the same purse, I just couldn’t bring myself to carry one and frankly I didn’t wear make-up, or carry a hair brush, or any of the other feminine accoutrement so why bother carrying a purse.

Upon leaving the Air Force and getting married, the “can you hold my wallet” responsibility of marriage forced me to carry something, and fortunately for me the fanny pack was stylish at the time, so I got away with that instead of a bag. After that became the joke of dweebs, I was forced to find purses that weren’t really purses but would carry all of the crap that eventually I would tote around with me for some odd reason.

Civilian life soon begat credit cards, ATM cards, ID, driver’s license, store cards, insurance cards, check book, and my tiny wallet was forced into retirement and here comes a regular sized wallet. If you have a check book, you’ll need a pen, if you have hair you need a hair brush, if you have sinus issues, you’ll want to carry OTC drugs, if you have a car you’ll have the vast array of keys, door openers, alarm system clickers, lojack fobs. Gone are the days when you slide the driver’s license, some money, and one key into your pocket and you were good to go.

Then came the PDA, the cell phone, now the PDA/Cell phone and MP3 player, and finally the iPhone, headphones, my sketchpad, various and sundry bits of papers that I need for some odd reason and finally I gave up and decided that I needed to carry a bag... but I refuse to call it a purse and it can’t look like a purse.

I’ve gone from someone who loathed and refused to carry a purse to a purse-a-holic, someone desperately trying to find the perfect purse that isn’t a purse. Tote bags, messenger bags, back packs, shoulder bags, hobo bags, metro bags, drawstring bags, furry little bags, you name it, I’ve bought it and my closet is crammed full of them. I buy them thinking that “this is it” only to hate it within a week and throwing it into a closet, giving it to friends, donating it to charity, then regretting its loss when I think that it wasn’t that bad and I shouldn’t have gotten rid of it.

I go from shoulder bags, to messenger bags, to smaller messenger bags, to bigger messenger bags, to shoulder bags, to smaller shoulder bags, then back to messenger bags. Its never the right size, never has the right amount of pockets, never has the pockets where I want them, doesn’t hang on my shoulder right, the strap is too long, the strap is too short, the strap is too narrow, the strap is too wide, it clings to the fabric of my clothes, it collects too much hair, its not a good color, if only.

Its difficult to get into, it fell off my shoulder and knocked my latte over therefore it got thrown away, the strap won’t shut right, its too stiff, its too flimsy, I can’t find anything, why are there so many compartments, why can’t anyone make the perfect bag?

I found a drawstring bag that I absolutely love and its only $750. That’s when I knew I was in trouble, and at least I knew that had I bought the bag, I would have still hated it within a week and regretted spending that much money on it, but I would be stuck with it, no way would I get rid of anything that expensive, I would have suffered with it. Maybe that’s the way to do it, shame myself into a bag that I’ll keep no matter how much I hate it, just use it because its so damn expensive.

I opted for a much cheaper drawstring sack like thing that in no way resembles a purse. It annoys me in some ways, but that’s it. I quit smoking, I can quit buying purses... unless that cool $750 bag goes on sale.