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.

Not In My House

Apparently the state of California feels that if they need to cut back on electricity during critical times, they can just reach into your home and turn your thermostat to whatever they want. All in the name of saving power, thus saving the earth, an electrical company (remember, the ones like Enron) so concerned with saving electricity, which is apparently rare, that it wants everyone to install thermostats into their homes that will allow them to control the temperature in your house as they see fit for the betterment of mankind.

Yeah, FUCK YOURSELF!

Screw mankind, I want my house whatever temperature I put my damn thermostat at, I pay the freakin bills, you generate electricity and I’ll be damned if I’m paying for electricity only to have you turning down the heat and freezing my ass in the winter or roasting my ass (and expensive electronic gear) in the summer, and frankly if I’m paying for it then I’ll damn sure sit around with it on so fucking cold the inside of my windows freeze up, I don’t fucking care about the rest of the world!

You give me free power, then by all means just do whatever the hell you want, give me what you want, after all, its free. But no, I’m paying the bill so I’ll put my thermostat wherever the fuck I want it and no I’m not giving anyone the ability to control it other than me, I don’t care what Big Brother fucking law they pass.

The article states: “The fact that similar radio-controlled technologies have been used on a voluntary basis in irrigation systems on farm fields and golf courses and in limited programs for buildings on Long Island is seldom mentioned in Internet postings that make liberal use of references of George Orwell’s dystopian novel “1984” and “Big Brother,” the omnipresent voice of Orwell’s police state.”

Ok, there I mentioned the golf courses and irrigation systems, fine, go control those, but stay the fuck out of my house. How can you not get that a golf course is not someone’s home, a place that someone has PAID for, PAYS taxes for, WORKS their ass off for, and LIVES in, and I’ll be damned if I bust my ass in a horrible, boring, unsatisfying asshat job only to have someone else determine what fucking temperature my house will be!!!!!!

How about you put those controls in all those expensive fancy government buildings that I drive by in the middle of the night with all their fucking lights on and turn their shit off? I don’t have a problem with you making a government person’s office building 10 degrees hotter in the summer or colder in the winter, go ahead and see how happy that state senator or delegate is and see how well that flies you control freak bastards. Bite me!

Not that I feel strongly about this subject or anything.

Why Do We Need This?

I thought it was a joke actually. No, seriously, when I heard a commercial for it on the radio, I started laughing because it was just such a totally goofy thing and had to be a joke... but apparently its not, as I witnessed last night when I watched it.

Terminator: The Sarah Conner Chronicles

No, I’m not joking either. Its true, there’s an actual show. Why? that’s the big question.

Am I more worried that there is such a show, or that people have blogs and Web sites about this show... like strange shrines. They’re already gathering intelligence and pictures and “behind the scenes” things and even speculating on future episodes. Why?

Hubby and I watched it last night, out of morbid curiosity. It was... typical. Running away from bad guys and cops, terminator finds them, lots of shooting, nobody actually getting killed (sorta harkens back to the A-Team years), good terminator fights bad terminator, they all escape, run. Tomorrow’s follow up episode, I’m going going out on a limb and speculating that bad terminator finds them, there will be shooting, they will run, good terminator fights bad terminator, they’ll escape, run.

What else is there?

Oh, the good terminator is that wacky chick from Firefly and Serenity. THAT was a good show, but of course, good shows get cancelled and predictable crap like the Sarah Conner Chronicles get put on.

Is it any wonder why I enjoy “The First 48”

Change?

With all this talk about who is the person that will give the voters more change, who will change more, who is the master of change, who will change the most, who can’t change because they’ve been in office too long or not enough or will never be in office...

change
change
change....

this is what I kept thinking of throughout that whole “change” argument. (suffer through the commercial at the beginning if any... its worth it)

Weekly Rant

I have a whole list (already and its only Tuesday) of rants I’d like to get out. Some will be longer than others:

Clinton nearly in tears

When asked “I know how hard it is for a woman to get out of the house in the morning...” Ms. marianne Pernold Young went on to ask Ms. Clinton how she manages and how she’s doing under all this stress.

Um... being a woman I was unaware that it was actually harder for a woman to get out of the house in the morning. I mean is there some sort of strange gravity well that affects women and not men? Is she saying that women aren’t genetically predisposed to get up early in the morning and get out of the house, are we missing some vital get up early out of the house gene?

Ok, back to the answer to the question, which Ms. Clinton nearly broke into tears a few times... um... why? Why is a Presidential candidate about to cry about a question? Not a question about anything of any real importance, but just in general. Why is she breaking up? Why is the media saying how nice it is to see her humanity for a change, see her vulnerable. I don’t want a vulnerable President. I don’t want a President that’s a bit cranky after a red-eye flight to a foreign country where she needs to talk about arms or something important. I don’t want weepy woman representing me. If she can’t take a few days of not getting a lot of sleep on the campaign then how the hell is she going to manage running an entire country.

And how on EARTH do you think the media would have handled this if it were, say Obama getting teary eyed over the same question. Would we be charmed by his vulnerability or would they be shrieking about him pulling a Dean or mocking him about crying and being weak... any of the male candidates would be packing their tour bus and going home had they gotten weepy over anything other than a massive loss of life.

Vaccines don’t cause autism

Bitch because mercury or other crap in vaccines cause autism, now the autism rates are rising in places where that crap was taken out of vaccines. What are you going to blame now other than your own messed up genes or the crap you throw in your bodies?

My mom smoked when she carried me, there was lead gas in cars, lead paint all over the place, no seatbelt wearing, drinking, and no vitamins and I’m fine... so really, whatcha gonna blame now?

Golden Globe Awards Not on TV

What? No gaudy awards show where people spend money on fancy outfits and jewelry and waste hours and hours accepting awards for stuff? Fantastic! Frankly I never knew why a bunch of actors and writers and hollywood types get big grand hoopla shows that last hours when people who risk their lives (and sometimes give their lives) to save others get... nothing. Lets make that whole award show thing not on tv a permanent thing shall we.

Extra Toe instead of Extra weight

Women would rather spend time in jail, get an extra toe or worse to be their ideal weight. Apparently they’re willing to make all sorts of sacrifices to be thin... except that whole actually DO EXERCISE and EAT right thing. Lazy fat bitches. Get your extra toe off the foot stool put down the ring ding and run your fat ass around the block.

Britney still

She’s been hauled off to the hospital after some kind of scene, now she’s apparently dating some paparazzi... how oddly Anna Nicole her life is becoming. Is it too brutal for me to just ask her to skip to the obvious end and give us one day where we don’t have to hear about her anymore? Seriously... enough already, we don’t care. Media, stop it, just don’t tell us, seriously, enough already, its like sharks circling chum.

Where Did They Learn That?

Ok, so apparently some poll found out that kids nowadays think its perfectly acceptable to lie, cheat, steal, and even be violent in order to get ahead in life and business. HOLY CRAP where do they learn stuff like that???

Well, right on the tv, that’s where they learn this crap. Take for instance the cartoon show “The Replacements”. I happened to catch this charming little episode this morning because I couldn’t find the remote control and I was much too lazy to get out of bed to find it or change the channel manually.

This episode was called “The Jerky Girls” and the plot was a group of scouts had to sell jerky, but their scout leader would not let them use false advertising, lies, or deception to sell the jerky. Meanwhile their competition was doing all of those “bad” things and selling jerky left and right. The main cartoon girl calls some marketing slicky-boy to lure the scout leader away and take over the marketing strategy for the jerky sales, which includes lies, deceit, fraud, you name it.

The most telling part of the whole cartoon is that when confronted by someone about the “conning” the girl replies: “yes, but its for a good cause”.

Well, there you have it, right there: its ok to lie, cheat, steal, and even use violence if the ends justify the means. That’s what television is teaching your kids!

For those of you that are confused as to why your female kids are giving boys blow jobs in the school locker rooms, stairwells, and wherever else they can do it and insisting that blow jobs aren’t sex... you can thank former President Clinton for that one.

Yep, tv and the government is the root of all evil.

Its a New Year

Since it is a brand spanking new year, everything is fresh and clean and NEW! Um.. wait a minute, we still have some untidy details to wrap up from last year, and the year before and the year before? Wait a minute, I thought everything was new for the new year and everyone just started from scratch. We don’t? We still have to put up with all of that other crap and this new year may bring even more annoying crap? SONOFA....

Case in point, it wasn’t the SUV latch that killed Bhutto (the SUV latch’s family will be suing for defamation of character). Please, oh, please just dig her up, do a pay-per-view autopsy (which Oliver Stone... when he’s not negotiating hostage releases with his new pal Chavez, will do a conspiracy theory movie that says it was actually the SUV ashtray and floor mats that did her in), give all money generated to some nice, not corrupt charitable organization (good luck finding one of those) and let’s just move on shall we?

People are starving and killing each other in Africa. Gee... that’s totally new, that’s never happened before, never, not at all, nope.

People still drive drunk and kill entire families while they only suffer a sore jaw. I’m sure there will be some “excuse” for his driving at .235 down a highway the wrong way (like he was abused as a child, his mother drank while he was in the womb, and he has Adult Attention Deficit Something) and he’ll get probation and therapy. Because it wasn’t his fault.

I really do see 2008 as being the year where random people are punished for the crimes of others. We came very close in 2007 where the Virginia Tech shooter wasn’t to blame for killing all of those people... NO! The Virginia Mental Health community was responsible for that. I really thought the whole state of Virginia Mental Health community was going to get jail time for that one.

This wrong-way driving drunk won’t get blamed for what happened. The media will look into WHO gave him all of that alcohol, and WHY nobody took his keys away, and Taco Bell for serving those nasty things they call burritos but sure the hell aren’t burritos, and not stopping the drunk when he pulled in for some food. Perhaps the Chalupa fell in his lap, which caused him to miss the DO NOT ENTER sign. He’ll claim dyslexia which meant that he couldn’t tell the other cars were going the wrong way.

Where the 80’s were totally the “ME” generation, I see the entire 21st century as being the “NOT ME!” generation.

2008 will be the year when people truly responsible for crimes will be imprisoned as they so richly deserve. Perhaps that’s the way it should actually be:
Honest law abiding citizens locked in cells behind concertina wire with the murderers, killers, thieves and idiots running willy nilly outside. Three square meals a day and a tv in my cell... I’m ready for my punishment now.

What a Brave Man that Oliver Stone

I just heard that Oliver Stone is going to trade himself and take the place of hostages that have been kept by Colombian rebels! What a brave man he is, what a selfless act to take their place.

Wait... he’s only going to meet with a group of known terrorists and talk with them about handing over hostages? He thinks that Chavez is wonderful?

Dear Terrorist Hostage Takers;

Please kidnap Mr. Oliver Stone. Just think of all the publicity you’ll get for your cause. It will be quite a thing for you to take him hostage and not allow him to make any more movies. Better yet, make him do a full documentary on your life and beliefs and I think it should last about 5 years so we get the full effect of your whole organization and what you want in the world. If possible, we’d also like you to take Mr. Michael Moore hostage, but totally understand if you can’t, due to the amount of money it would take to feed such a load as he is.

Thank you in advance.


Dear U.S. Government;

Once Mr. Oliver Stone is taken hostage, please continue your protocol of not bargaining with known terrorists. If Mr. Moore is also taken hostage, we’d like to suggest the possibility of bombing the terrorists. War is hell and some innocent lives might be taken, but its all for a good and decent cause.

Thank you in advance.

Make Them Stop

More and more I hear surveys and polls that say that the majority of kids and even adults think its perfectly fine, and even the only way to get ahead in business, to lie and cheat. I just sit with my mouth open when I hear that. No wonder honest, hard working people can never get ahead in life.

Its actually no surprise, as I’ve pointed out before, our entire entertainment system teaches us that lying and cheating is the way to get ahead. Look at all of the celebrities breaking the law willy nilly and not even getting punished for it. They actually get more publicity, which means more money, more sales, more adoration from the troubled youth lemmings being raised in this country.

Every reality show is an example of how cheating and lying get you in the winner’s circle. TV shows are nothing but adulterous, criminal, low life examples for us and the kids out there. Sports stars getting arrested for dog fighting, putting hits out on their pregnant girlfriends, drugs, murder, taking steroids (then lying about it, then getting caught, then making excuses for it which is still lying about it). We have world leaders taking bribes and sucking all of our money out of our pockets for their pensions and perks when we have to bitch and complain to our insurance companies just to get a teeth cleaning.

So the latest in shameful lying that got caught would be the stellar mom who wrote a letter for her 6 year old daughter saying that her daddy died in the war in Iraq, so please give me some free Hannah Montana tickets because that surely will make up for the loss of my father.

Well, duh, yes she won the contest. Come on, compared to someone with chronic acne and being shy, how can you NOT give tickets to the fatherless girl? Well, up until you get to the part where her daddy DIDN’T die in Iraq and the mother said she made it up. Why did she make it up? According to the news report: "We did the essay and that's what we did to win," Priscilla Ceballos, the mother, said in an interview with Dallas TV station KDFW. "We did whatever we could do to win."

For Hannah Montana tickets... are you kidding me? This wasn’t a case where a life was at stake. Please let me win, my father died in Iraq and I really need a kidney so I can go on in his memory. No, it was for tickets to see the Achey Breaky Cirus kid.

Apparently the organizer of the contest is thinking about taking the tickets back. Well, duh, yeah, take them back. The little girl will learn that lying and cheating doesn’t always get what you want, which is more than her mother could teach her apparently.

Let's Ignore the Media

The media is still slathering and drooling over the “sensational” coverage of the Benazir Bhutto assassination. This can only mean that nobody knows what happened, but we’re going to see news clippings and puppet-heads who weren’t there and have no clue discussing what they think may have happened and probably what they would have done had they actually been there.

Back in the days of typewriters and mimeograph machines I was a high school student. Starry eyed and full of hope and knowing it all, I dreamed of becoming a reporter. I wanted to write for a newspaper (you remember those things... large pieces of paper folded in half and in some cases thrown in a wad in your driveway every morning, and left black marks on your hands), and to further my dream I took high school journalism classes.

These classes taught me the finer points of reporting, which were ridiculously easy:
Who
what
where
when
why
how

That’s it, that’s all there is to reporting. State the facts, give all of the information that is known, double-check your facts and then release your story.

Newspapers told you the facts. News anchors would tell you the facts. They would even tell you if they didn’t know something: “It was unclear whether Mrs. Nelson’s drowning was a direct result of the pig”.

Then came CNN. Groundbreaking news, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, Except that there’s really not a whole lot of groundbreaking news to keep everyone’s interest 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, over and over and over and over again. Hey, I know, let’s spice up the news a tad. Instead of just REPORTING the news, we’ll provide our commentary and wild ass guessing and make it more interesting. The 24-hour news turned into a competition, because news is only interesting if we’re the first to report it, so screw that whole fact checking thing, just get it out on the air.

Pretty soon, analysts and commentators became the norm for news broadcasts and that was the end of journalism. No more who, what, where, when, why, and how, no now we have “Mrs. Nelson, purported to be a drug addict and child beater, was murdered savagely by the pig in revenge for making it walk the streets and make money through prostitution, although the police haven’t released her cause of death yet”

Want a better example? How about the assassination of Benazir Bhutto. Her death is very tragic, and affects an entire country... so lets allow the media to speculate, release anything anyone said without actually checking any facts and stir up even more unrest in an already frantic country.

So far we’ve learned:
1.) She was shot in the neck and died
2.) She’s fine
3.) She was killed by shrapnel
4.) She was shot in the neck and chest and died
5.) She was killed by shrapnel
6.) She had a very bad and large head wound
7.) She died because she hit the sunroof of her SUV

WHAT? How about instead of just blurting out anything... you wait until all the facts come out and then you release the story? Depending on when you hear the news will depend on what you believed happened. The media is, in effect, causing a sort of historical ripple effect throughout the world. There will be those that will solemnly believe that she was shot and died. There will be those that think shrapnel killed her, there may be those that think she’s fine and the fact that she is being reported as dead will further the conspiracy theory affect where Ms. Bhutto and Elvis are driving around in a convertible, and then there will be a group formed to eliminate sun roofs in SUV as they are dangerous and can kill people.

Ultimately, whatever killed her will be blamed on the terrorist attack that also killed and wounded other innocent people, but do we really have to fuel the anger, hatred and violence by throwing out untruths, outright lies, and speculation. What good does this do? Well, it keeps the news agencies well paid, that’s about it.

So, turn them off. Write their advertisers and tell them that until the “media” goes back to REPORTING the news in a responsible way, you won’t be watching their annoying “Head On” commercials 20 times an hour anymore.