From the desk of Mr. D

Dear Santa:

We left you some treats and we left carrots and water for the reindeer. I am glad you are bringing my Light Saber instead of a sword. Can you bring me blue drums and a blue guitar please? I am glad you are bringing mommy and daddy presents. And there's some chocolate for you too. I love you Santa.


Love,

Dante

The Bean

Say hello to Mr. or Miss Bean. I am 7 weeks 3 days and am due July 26th, 2010.

To Protect and Serve? Part 2.

A couple of years ago I wrote a post about certain people in our neighborhood that make it a very icky place to live at times. If you want to refresh your memory, you can read it HERE. Anyhow, most of the people in my previous blog have moved on and don't live here anymore, new people have moved in who aren't terrors and things were heading on the right track. Unfortunately, Example #2 "Mr Thug Wannabe and Woman Beater" is still going strong and causing a real problem for the entire neighborhood.

You may recall that I posted a few months ago witnessing someone being beaten outside and the police doing nothing. Well, surprise, surprise that was Mr. TWWB. For those of you who follow me on Twitter and Facebook, you'll remember that Mr. TWWB a few weeks ago was beating his dumb girlfriend on the front yard and when I tried to help, he turned his attention on me and started threatening my safety and that of my son's. Well, last night, Mr. TWWB and his mother, Example #1 from the previous blog Drunkie McDrunkness, began to have a verbal fight on the front lawn, at about 7pm at night, in front of the whole neighborhood......and my very impressionable, curious, inquisitive, and intelligent 3 year old who, despite my closing the blinds, telling him to stay away from the window, and trying to distract him with chocolate and race cars, NEEDED to know what was going on outside with "all the yelling and screaming with the bad man mommy".

And then the unthinkable and horrible happened.....even more so than TWWB beating up his stupid girlfriend, or fighting with his drunk mother, or rollin' up with his 20 inch rims at 2 am blasting some sort of mysogynist crap out of his window, no much worse. As he and his mother were fighting, he grabbed her puppy. He grabbed her tiny miniature toy terrier who probably weighs 5 pounds soaking wet, choked it, shook it violently, and threw it to the ground.

The sounds of the dog were agonizing. And my son heard them. And so did the whole neighborhood apparently because people came out of their homes to see what was going on. One brave (and not all there, but sweet) woman walked right up to him and got in his face and screamed at him about abusing the animal. And TWWB, screamed back, threatening to punch her, saying he didn't hurt the dog, and then calling everyone every name in the book. And my son saw and heard this. And he had questions. Questions that are very difficult to answer.

"Mommy why did the man hurt the dog?"
"He didn't mean to honey, it was an accident"
"No, mommy, he did it on purpose"
"No honey, now let's finish Jeopardy and forget about that"
"Mommy is the dog dead?"
"No honey the doggie is fine (total lie, as I am not sure about the condition of the dog)"
"Mommy why is that man so bad all the time?"

And so on and so forth.

I called the police. Told them what was going on and based on our experiences with TWWB, they have a file a mile long on this kid. The police came. Stayed approximately 30 SECONDS and left. This is exactly the same thing that happened when we called them after he beat up his girlfriend on the front yard and then came after me. Police came, "talked" to him, told him that if he and his gf wanted to fight that they should do it inside, and told me basically to mind my own business because that's the "type of relationship they have". Same thing happened when TWWB beat up the boy in the street. Lots of "talking" but the police, again, did nothing.

What is it going to take to have a safe neighborhood? Will it take TWWB killing his girfriend? His mother? His dog? Me? My son? What exactly is the role of the police in our society if not "To Protect and Serve"? This person is a menace. Who stares people down and mutters threats when I am putting my son in the car. Who, every night, sits on his front yard and dares anyone to step outside and enjoy their neighborhood. Frankly, if he is outside, I stay inside. I am afraid of him. I am afraid of what he can do and what sort of horrible images he has implanted in my son's mind.

We shouldn't have to live in fear. We shouldn't have to live with our blinds closed for fear of our son seeing violence and cruelty. We shouldn't have to compromise OUR quality of life because nothing is being done about this person. It begs the question, what exactly is the role of the police in our society? At least in our neighborhood?

Eek! A Rat!

Well, not really "eek" because I am not scared of them (I actually think they are cute), but there is a rat in our kitchen. He's small and FAST! but he's definitely not welcome and I feel horrible that we are going to have to kill him.

I heard scratching from behind the stove a week or so ago and thought it may be a big lizard, as we tend to get some big ones from time to time who wander the house and then leave. Again, I don't mind the lizards because they eat spiders and other bugs and for those of you who know me personally know how I "feel" about spiders, so a big lizard walking around my house is a welcome guest in my eyes. Anyhow, the scratching continued, I pulled out the stove and found nothing (other than dust *ahem*), but no "droppings", so I didn't think anything of it, but 2 nights ago, at about 10:30pm, I went into the kitchen, turned on the light, and a black mass scurried across the floor.

At first I thought, "SPIDER AAAAAAAAAACCCCKKKKKKKK!" and peed my pants a little, but then I realized that spiders don't scurry, they sort of amble menacingly as though they are going to murder you in your sleep, so I figured it was either a mouse, rat, or possum.

Hubby confirmed it was a rat last night so today I have to go hunting for a trap that will make me feel less guilty about killing it.

Three the Hard Way

Last year I wrote a blog condemning the term "terrible twos" and suggested that whoever coined it get a swift kick in the face . Now, I'm not one to usually retract or regret what I say, which normally gets me into a lot of trouble, but in this case, I would like to formally retract that entire post and say that the "terrible twos" are CAKE compared to the "tortuous threes" as I have taken to calling them.

Firstly, let me begin my asking, where is my child? What once used to be this giggly, funny, toddl-y, cute little munchkin has been replaced with a whining, cranky, stubborn, screaming, yelling, constantly breaking something, throwing things, hitting the dog, mini version of hell that I do not recognize. It's like he is bipolar (no offense to those who genuinely suffer from this disorder), breathing hot and cold within seconds of each other. One second he's smothering me with hugs and kisses telling me he loves me, I blink or sneeze, and he is now screaming at the top of his lungs that he will not clean up his toys and that he is "frustaratereder" with me. He's also taken a shine to "talking back" which honestly, I didn't think I was going to encounter until the word "teen" followed his age, but apparently 3 is the new 13 and I was dead wrong. Here is a typical conversation in our home:

Me: Dante what would you like for breakfast?
Dante: Eggies with cheese please mommy, I love you.
Me: I love you too D. Please pick up your cars and put them in the garage.

(insert sound of the Earth's crust cracking as the Sun flickers for a moment)

Dante: NO! I WILL NOT! I WILL NOT! I WILL NOT!
Me: Fine, if you don't clean up your mess, you will not get breakfast.
Dante: YES I WILL!
Me: No you won't.
Dante: YES I WILL!
Me: Nope, not quite there champ.
Dante: I AM NOT A CHAMP! I WILL NOT PUT CARS IN GARAGE! NO! NO! NO! (giant scream and/or growling frustrated sound followed by the sound of Lightning McQueen or Chick Hicks being thrown against something that makes a loud "it's broken now" sound)

At this moment, a clump of my hair usually falls gracefully to the floor. One of the side effects of the thyroid medication I take is thinning hair, but I don't think that is what is making me an early candidate for Chick Rogaine. I am pretty sure it is my daily intake of "3 year old Kim Jong Il" that is causing my once-thick hair to look like I was attacked by a paper shredder.

So this goes on for another 20 minutes and I'm sure it is partially my fault since I need to have the last word, even if it means arguing with someone 32 years younger than me about putting their Hot Wheels into an old toolbox of daddy's which now serves as a "garage". Blame that on my own mother who never let me have the last word on anything and now, since I am a mother, believe the "no last word for you, my friend" torch has been passed on.

Finally though, my dad's technique of "break them by ignoring them" kicks in and I just phase out my demonic little boy until I hear the familiar clunk of the Hot Wheels being thrown into the garage in the playroom. I then, stick my head in the room, tell him thanks for being "a listener" and then get smothered in hugs and kisses and "I love yous" until he is human again.

It's enough to make me want to take up meth.

Another interesting milestone that comes with the "tortuous threes" is the Let's Ask People Inappropriate Questions and/or Point Out Inappropriate Things Loudly phase. When a 2 year old babblingly points to a fat woman and says "baby", it's cute and people giggle and whispers of "aw, how adorable" fill the air. When a 3 year old points to a fat woman, in a crowded checkout line at Target, and says "Mommy look, that fat lady has a baby in her belly", it's not that cute. In fact, it's so not cute that you're genuinely worried that said fat lady is going to come sit on you, your kid, and the broccoli you bought on sale because it is so much cheaper that the ones at Publix.

When your 2 year old clings to you and puts his hand on your boob and giggles, it's cute because he is remembering that milk comes from there and that those were what fed him for the early part of his life. When your 3 year old is throwing a tantrum at the quiet library and decides to pull on your shirt so everyone, from Faulkner to Hemingway to skeevy homeless dude who reads 30 year old copies of Guns & Ammo, sees that your DD's are natural, it's not so cute. Rather now said homeless guy, when he asks for change, seems to be talking to my chest instead of commenting on how he likes my tattoos and wonders "was you in prison or something".

When your 2 year old is sitting in your shopping cart and points out different words of things as you are strolling down the aisle, "banana", "apple", "bread", "milk", it is cute and is met with "Oh he is so smart" or "Wow what a talker!" comments from random people who overhear him. When your 3 year old is sitting in your shopping cart and points out who has a penis and who has a vagina based on the various shoppers in the aisle, it's not so cute. Especially when he gets it wrong and claims that the androgynous looking woman has a penis, while he got all the other ones right.

Halloween this year was also interesting, as Dante's queries of "trick or treat" were always followed by (insert awkward question here). At one house, he asked an older man where his mommy was. At another, he asked a single man if he had children, and at yet another he asked why they had a "bad dog".

And lastly, I'll end on this gem: Our local post office has a rather eccentric character who hangs around. He's a very tall, skinny, old man who likes to talk to walls, comment on social issues like the moon landing, and chat up the people waiting on line. As it happens we were at the post office and Scary McScarerton decides to chat up Dante who, as any 3 year old is prone to do, hides behind my legs. Well, Mr. Scary starts going on a tirade that I am racist and raising my son to hate black people because my son won't talk to him. Which of course, since I can't let anything go and let anyone have the last word (thanks Mom), proceed to tell him that the fact that he is black has nothing to do with my son being shy and that it could possibly be that he looks like the scary dude from Phantasm but with a tan. No, I didn't really say that, but I wanted to. What I did say was that 3 year olds are shy and he is very tall and intimidating and that he was very rude to imply that it had anything to do with race. When we had finished our business in the post office, Dante said "Goodbye man" and I felt vindicated.

Anyhow, two days later we're at the post office again and as we are walking in my lovely son says really loud, "Mommy where's the scary BLACK GUY". At this moment, those words are hanging all over the post office and I suddenly feel as though I am draped in a white hooded sheet emblazoned with swastikas and blasting Al Jolson from some invisible speakers. Where the heck did Dante learn about "black" and "white"? And where is the nearest hole I can jump into? Now I look like Eva Braun and my son is my little Hitler. I proceed to tell Dante that the scary OLD MAN is not here today and that he is not scary to begin with and just likes to talk to everyone. Without missing a beat, my 3 year old points to a man at the counter and says "Look mommy! Another black guy! And he's not scary."

If anyone needs me. I'll be passed out at the bar.

Mad Props to Henry David Thoreau

Never in my life have I attempted to "keep up with the Joneses". I have always done my own thing and not much cared if everyone else was doing it or if it was cool or if it was *ahem* appropriate. Since having a child and becoming a mother, things have changed and I feel that I am constantly being nudged into "keeping up with the Joneses" when faced with various parenting choices. While the major options are long past scrutiny (vaccinations, circumcision, breast feeding, and the like), there are these new hurdles that have arisen as Dante has gotten older.

The first came with potty training. I come from the notion that when you child is ready to potty train, they will potty train. There were moms around me who started training their children at 2 years old which was astounding to me. Dante wasn't interested in training at 2, and I didn't push him. The last thing I wanted was some sort of freak child who was scared of the toilet and who would grow up having strange scatological fetishes. That's all I'd need. I have slowly come to accept that Dante is already going to be screwed up on some level as his mother has pink hair, tattoos, piercings, and listens to Duran Duran like its cool, but I certainly don't want to compound that by instilling him with some gross poop fetish and toilet phobia. I can see it now, the year is 2026 and my son is on Jerry-atric Springer in a diaper being beat up by some 400 pound pink haired, tattooed dominatrix named "Mommy". Yea, don't tell me you can't picture it.

Anyhow, regardless of whether or not he was ready or I was ready to start potty training him, there was always the underlying push from the environment to start him. To keep up with the mommies around me, because, in my insecure brain, I felt like I was doing something wrong if I didn't throw him on a toilet and hound him until he was blue in the face. But I didn't. I stuck to my proverbial guns and went with the flow. Consequently, as Dante turned 3 and became more independent, he decided when he wanted to stop going to the bathroom in his pants and he told me when he wanted to use the toilet. It just happened out of the blue. Dante said "I have to go to the potty", we went, and that was that. Despite a few accidents here and there, he did it on his own and now just goes to the bathroom like a champ. No pushing, no coaxing, no begging or pleading. He was ready and he did it.

The next hurdle we've had to face is the school enrollment hurdle. It seems that the new trend is to start your child in school at 6 months old. I'm not even kidding. There are schools here in the area (and I am sure everywhere else) that enroll fetuses. You're pregnant? Great, enroll your embryo into our potty training classes and start taking away their pacifier. I'm not even joking. Isn't it our jobs as parents to teach our children? I mean, I can understand sending your child to school when they are 5 for Kindergarten because that's when their journey begins, but now I am faced with being one of the only mommies with a 3 year old who is not in school. And once again, I am being faced with "keeping up with the Joneses". My insecure brain starts chiming in with "Am I doing something wrong?", "Should I put Dante in school"? , "Is he going to be behind if he doesn't go to pre-pre-pre-K and learn about colors from a stranger instead of his mother?". These are all things that go through my head when I take Dante to the park and he's the oldest kid there and I am confronted by the Momazons asking me why he isn't in school. I usually say that I am teaching him at home and then get the "Oh you're raising a weird home schooled kid that's going to shoot up a school later on in life" look.

I don't want to put Dante in school yet. He's 3 years old for Christmas sake. We do just fine learning on our own. He's socialized, he's intelligent, he's engaging, he's curious and inquisitive. At this rate, I am not even sure if he is even going to go to school around here as we are zoned for some pretty horrible public schools and private school is not an option for so many reasons (namely, they are expensive and they are all religious and there's no way that's going to happen).
But I am constantly nagged by my psyche to "keep up with the Joneses", especially since all of Dante's friends his age are scattered around the area, at various schools during the week, and he hardly sees them anymore. Those are the times that my "keeping up with the Joneses" mentality kicks in the most. "Everyone else is doing it, why aren't we?" "Are we weird?"

And then I realize that, well, we are weird. We're always going to be a bit off kilter. Politically, religiously, the books we like, the movies we like, the clothes we like, and how we are raising Dante. It makes "keeping up with the Joneses" that much more difficult and essentially that much more pointless. I always likened myself to Thoreau's quote, "If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer." I'm going to have to remember that we march to a different orchestra entirely and trust my parenting choices to be good, intelligent, and the best for our awesome kid, and not try so hard to "keep up with the Joneses".

At least this week.

Happy Halloweeniversary!

October 31, 2005

4 years later, 2009

Mr. Deity Explains It All

 

I am a big fan of PZ Myer’s blog, Pharyngula, and it was while I was reading through it the other day that I came across Mr. Deity.

A very witty and satirical look at religion and its idiosyncracies, its contradictions, and the general silliness of it all.  Also, the actor who plays Jesus (who Mr. Deity insists on calling “Jesse”) is very easy on the eyes.  Here are a couple of samples from the three seasons, including one with PZ Myers, as The Science Advisor.

More Science Giants “singing”

 

Another autotune (see  previous entry Carl Sagan Sings) that is just amazing.  This one features giants in their field, Carl Sagan, Richard Feynman, Bill Nye, and my boyfriend Neil DeGrasse Tyson.  The wonders of the Universe, as made even more wondrous using the words of these greats. 

I’m Not Racist But… Episode Three: Revenge of the Sith

 

If you are an avid reader of my blog (which I know you are), then you will kindly remember my previous rantings about the ironic phrase “I’m Not Racist”.  For those of you new to the wonder that is Musings From the Crypt, here are the aforementioned posts to “catch you up” on the history of this endearing phrase. I suggest you read them, not only because it will put you up to speed on my history of the term, but also because I am completely awesome and whatever I write is like manna from heaven and you will be a happier, more intelligent, more well-rounded person after reading it.  It’s been proven. I’m not just saying it.

I’m Not Racist But….. 

I’m Not Racist But…The Saga Continues

Enjoyed them?  Was I hysterically funny yet biting with my sarcastic wit and wisdom?  Would you pay to read more things written by me and if so, how much?  Would you like to know who to make the check out to?

Anyhow, the phrase “I’m not Racist but….” has been a big topic lately since coming across this story on the internetz:

Governor calls for firing of justice in interracial marriage case - CNN.com

In a nutshell, Asshat Keith Bardwell, justice of the peace for Tangipahoa Parish's 8th Ward in Louisiana, refused to issue a marriage license to a woman named Beth Humphrey and her boyfriend, Terence McKay.  Were they brother and sister?  Was she underage and he a dirty old man?  Was one of them a farm animal?  No, no, and nope.  The sole reason Justice Bardwell denied the marriage license of this couple was because of this:

I know what you’re saying, “Ah yes, he thought she was too tall for him and wanted to prevent future ‘Your wife is taller than you’ jokes for Terence”.  But no, Asshat McGee denied the couple’s marriage license based on the fact that Beth is white and Terence is not.  Yes, that’s right.  No, you are not trapped in a space-time continuum, this is not the year 1834, and you are not in the White Supremacist Twilight Zone. This really happened, here, now, 2009, land of the free, home of the brave, and all that supposed patriotic crap that we are supposed to stomach on a daily basis.  This “justice of the peace” denied this couple’s union because they are *dun dun dun* not the same color!

And here, of course, is the kicker of the whole thing (as though it needed one).  Bardwell said:

“I'm not a racist. I do ceremonies for black couples right here in my house. My main concern is for the children."

The children.  The children.  Why is it that when some close-minded fool says or does something that makes David Duke look like Santa Claus, it’s always “for the children”?  Apparently Judge Fucktard here believes that “the children” will suffer because of their mixed heritage and will be made fun of.  Aww, thanks Nathan Bedford Forrest (look it up, I’m not explaining it), thanks for “thinking of the children”, but here’s a news flash.  The LAST thing kids are going to get picked on for is their heritage.  Seriously.  Maybe in your twisted little brain it is a big deal, but kids today are way more concerned with other things to pick on you for than your mom being white and your dad being black.  Haircuts, music you listen to, how big your butt is, how small your boobs are, drama club, what instrument you play, band, orchestra, chorus, not wearing designer clothes, what kind of car you have or don’t have, THESE are all things kids get picked on for.  Race?  You think race is an issue?  Judge Bardwell, get up with the times!   I mean, if you don’t have a iPhone, that’s cause for a serious butt kicking in the parking lot after third period.  Race?  Pffffffft! 

Seriously, though, I have to wonder what other type of legislation this man has presided over in his 34 years on the bench.  Has his “non-existent” racism played a part in convicting innocent individuals because they were darker than his preferred skin tone?  How many sentences did he administer solely based on the “Black without a Permit” laws he imagined in his head? 

So now Keith Bradwell’s head is being called for on a platter by various groups.  The couple, of course, are at the top of the list (who, by the way, were married by another Justice in the same parrish), the NAACP has stepped in, the Governor of Louisiana, and of course, every intelligent human being on the planet.  Personally, I would like “justice” Bradwell to spend some time over in Europe, walking the lush green fields of Auschwitz and Dachau, or even stay closer to home and visit a small balcony outside of room 308 at the Lorraine Hotel overlooking Memphis, Tennessee (look it up, I’m not explaining it).  Or maybe he should visit the fence Matthew Shepard was impaled on.  Or maybe, just maybe, he can admit he is a racist asshole, step down as honorably as he can from this exalted position he is so undeserving of, and go fester somewhere in a ramshackle cabin until he withers away and dies….just like his archaic ideology. 

God and Flu Propaganda

I recently came across this story while stumbling around StumbleUpon:

Young flu victim's mom: 'I know Hallee's in heaven' on The Murfreesboro Post

Excuse me while I barf.  Don’t get me wrong, I am sad that this little girl died, but come on.  The religious idiocy spewing from this article made me want to rip my face off.  Oh yes, your god is so wonderful and great that he would let a little girl die. And not quickly. No, he’s so wonderful and caring that he is going to let your child suffer innumerably and then he’s going to kill her. You can’t tell me that people really believe this idiocy.  This poor kid. I guess I can be thankful that she was so heavily brainwashed that she was not frightened at the end. Something we should all be so lucky to have, but come on.  If this isn’t proof positive that god and religion are farces to keep your fear of death at bay, then what is?

I also love how this article hints that she died of some type of flu, mentioning it just enough to scare Average Joe and family and glosses over completely that her death was caused by another medical issue that was ailing her.  The flu just compounded it.

I realize I don’t blog often anymore and many of my blogs seem very cranky as of late, but there is so much junk going on in this world that I simply don’t have time to spread my cynicism this thin.  Plus, I have a 3 year old who is way more exciting and entertaining that the sad, boring news. I would much rather be discussing the merits of Chick Hicks and Lightning McQueen that crankily poring over some bullshit news story.

So, I’m sorry you died little girl. 

Carl Sagan Sings

This was too amazing to just watch and not memorialize.

 

Thanks to: Carl Sagan…sings? : Pharyngula

Switched Off

There are certain times of the year that I keep my television completely switched off. Today is one of them.

• I don't care to see images of 8 years ago splashed all over the place.
  
• I don't much care to hear about "final moments" on the "doomed airlines".
  
• I don't much care to hear heart wrenching stories about Person A that just recovered from *insert deadly disease here*and who was going home to see his *insert long lost relative* here only to snuff it it one of the world's most cowardly, inhumane, and predictable (yes, I said it) acts of violence.
  
• I don't much care to hear stories of "fallen heroes" who were just pawns in an illegal war, who paid with the ultimate sacrifice so government leaders could pat themselves on the back for "getting back at the terrorists" and "preserving American freedoms".
  
• I have no desire to listen to bloated rhetoric about "patriots" when all they're really talking about is "victims".
  
• I have no desire to hear every sentence punctuated with "god bless America". The ridiculous irony of such a phrase makes me just want to throw up. "God bless America". Really? So, where was your sky-fairy when all this happened? Was he wearing a turban and assisting Mohammed Atta and the hijackers? Because, of course, Atta and his posse did it all for Allah, and as any intelligent person knows, God and Allah are one in the same. Islam, Judaism, and Christianity all stem from the Abrahamic traditions and all believe in the same god. So, what was it? What was this supposed "blessing" America was receiving on that day? Or was it mereley "god testing us" as I am so fond of hearing? Yes, "testing". "Testing us" in such a manner that most people's remains were never found because they had been obliterated to the point that they turned to dust. "Testing us"in such a way that people chose to jump hundreds of stories to their death, rather than face the horrors inside. "Testing Us" in such a way that in the span of two hours, wives became widows, husbands became widowers, children became orphans, and parents became childless. Ah, but why am I so confused? This is the same benevolent omnipotent prick that would test Abraham by commanding him to kill his son. No wonder everyone thinks he's so "good!". Ugh, and they say Atheists are the crazy ones. Moving on....
  
• And Finally, I have no desire to continue to hear lies, bullshit, and unwarranted justifications for the murder of 3000 people by fundamentalist Muslims and the murder of almost 5000 US servicemen and women and hundreds of thousands of Iraqi men, women and children by fundamentalist Christians (yes, I'm talking about Bush and Co.)

Today should be a day to reflect back on man's inhumanity to man. Not glorify it with flag waving bullshit and young ROTC soldiers marching around thinking that we're the "good guys".

So excuse me while I don't join in in the hair pulling and somber attitudes. Enough is enough. Stop using 9/11 as an excuse for being a sanctimonious prick and start using it to serve as an example of the dangers of tyranny, fanaticism, and greed. Then maybe, just maybe, the human race has a chance......without the assistance of ancient mythologies.

UPDATE: I'm getting some really strange reactions to my post above from people who seem to think that I "don't care" about what happened 8 years ago or that I am dismissing the victims and their families. While I am not one to go back and explain myself, I feel that those who are offended or critical of my piece are not understanding what is being said and why I am saying it. This isn't an issue of "let's forget the past and move on", rather what I wish to see happening is "let's LEARN from the past and move FORWARD". If people have any sort of empathy, they don't need huge glossy still photos and slo-mo clips of the planes flying into the towers to REMEMBER the events of that September morning. As a respect to victims' families, my post above is an outcry against the sensationalism most networks and newspapers plan on capitalizing on today. As a New Yorker, I don't need "reminders" of what happened. It's as clear as day to me as though this was Sept. 12, 2001.

Secondly, I'm getting some flack for being callous and not respecting the way people grieve and cope by lambasting the religious aspect of the day. Ok folks, you know how I feel about religion. I don't mince words and I am certainly not going to change them in this case. The attacks 8 years ago were faith based. Our retaliation was faith based. Our own president at the time alluded to the Iraq war as being a "crusade in the holy land against the infidel". How anyone could find comfort in a god who would want human beings to kill each other over whose spiritual path is the "right" one is mind boggling to me. It makes no sense and I find it ridiculous.

And lastly, do not mistake my unattachment for stoicism. I was and still am deeply affected by the events. I am Switched Off because I can't handle looking at those images. My anger and frustration are my ways of coping with grief, and for that I will not apologize.

I stand by what I wrote above. Enough is enough. Our hands are not clean in this tragedy and, though the actual victims of the events are blameless, it is time for the United States and the administration that was responsible for letting something like this happen, take responsibility and stop playing the victim. The blood of almost 10,000 people is on their hands.

To Protect and Serve?

Tonight I watched a man brutally beat another man until he was lying prone in the middle of the road. Cars drove past while one man straddled the other and beat him about the face savagely. A couple of cars even slowed down, I assume, to get a better look. I was on the phone with 911 describing every minute detail: who was doing the beating, what he was wearing, what the victim looked like, what the drunken mother was wearing and screaming as she casually smoked her cigarette and pretended to tear her hair out. I described every detail to a tee to the 911 dispatcher and when I got off the phone, the beating was over. The victim lay in the street presumably bleeding profusely from the face (it was 1:30 in the morning and the street lights aren't so hot here, plus I was hiding behind the blinds for fear of being seen and risk retaliation).

The police arrived a good 15 minutes later, despite my explicit insistence to the 911 operator that the victim was lying IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD. The police sent one officer. One officer to what was a violent crime. The officer spoke to the victim, now awake and crying into the woman's (now known to be his aunt) arms. Then he spoke to the attacker, and of course, my air conditioner kicked in and I couldn't hear what was said. A lot of hand gestures by the attacker, something about "messing with my mom" or "he come 'round here when he's not wanted" junk, and the officer just nodding, doing nothing.

No ambulance came. No backup. No nothing. At the end, everyone went back into the house and the police officer drove away.

I don't get it.

Demented and Sad......But Social

"Saturday, March 24,1984. Shermer High School, Shermer, Illinois, 60062.
Dear Mr. Vernon,
We accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was we did wrong. What we did *was* wrong. But we think you're crazy to make us write an essay telling you who we think we are. What do you care? You see us as you want to see us - in the simplest terms, in the most convenient definitions. You see us as a brain, an athlete, a basket case, a princess and a criminal. Correct? That's the way we saw each other at 7:00 this morning. We were brainwashed."



Thanks for the memories........


John Hughes, pioneer of Teen Angst 1950-2009

"Dear Mr. Vernon, we accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was we did wrong. But we think you're crazy to make an essay telling you who we think we are. You see us as you want to see us... In the simplest terms, in the most convenient definitions. But what we found out is that each one of us is a brain...
...and an athlete...
...and a basket case...
...a princess...
...and a criminal...
Does that answer your question?... Sincerely yours, the Breakfast Club."

---

Happy Birthday Dante!

My baby is 3 today.

Catharsis and a Purge

For almost 6 years I have bottled in a lot of anger and hurt and pent up rage dealing with my moving to Florida and the subsequent termination of my first marriage (a good thing). I spent some incredible years in NYC with some people who I thought at the time, were incredible friends. All of my photos, memories, stories, anything relating back to my years in the clubs in NYC relate back to these friends and my first husband so it's hard not to always have them in the back of my mind when I am retelling an event from those years.

Subsequently, whether it be out of morbid curiosity or just plain curiosity, I tend to "google" my ex to see what he is up to along with the friends I used to have. Call it stupid, masochistic, whatever you want, but I spent a large part of my life with these people, had some amazing experiences, and even though I am utterly happy with my life now, I do miss my youth back in NYC. And again, those memories come with baggage in the form of people who are no longer in my life.

I had 2 best friends in NYC who meant everything to me. We were inseparable. One of them even lived at my apartment half the time because she didn't live in the city and thus it was easier to have her crash on the couch. These 2 women were incredible: Funny, talented, intelligent. Just wonderful. I loved them dearly and we had the most incredible times together. This went on for almost 6 years. Then something happened. One of them got a boyfriend who I suspect didn't like me so much. The other was stuck in a bad relationship and shut herself off. Mind you, the "crew" we all hung out in was a great group as well and we were all like a family. Eventually, everything fell apart. The friend with the new boyfriend began ignoring me, not returning my calls, cancelling plans and finally sent me an email accusing me of spreading a horrible rumor about her (which I most certainly did NOT) and the other just followed what the first friend said, along with the rest of the gang and "dumped" me for a lack of a better term.

So, first husband and I moved to Florida, and less than 6 months later, we got a divorce and he went back to NYC.

I tried to contact my two closest friends during my divorce, but one told me to never speak to her again, and the other feigned interest and sympathy and never returned my emails. It seemed that the ex went back to NYC with his own version of why we got a divorce and all these friends that I had thought were so special to me, for lack of a better term, "took his side" and cut me off. When I met Randy and we got married, my first thoughts were "I have to call C____! I have to call M____!" But I couldn't. When I got pregnant and had our son, I wanted to share it with the 2 women who I'd shared the best of times with. But I couldn't. No one in NYC, not one of the friends I had back then, wanted anything to do with me.

So, I "google" people. And I get upset when I see they are all still together. I get upset when I see they are all hanging around my ex-husband, because he didn't tell them the REAL REASON why we got divorced. I get upset when I see these women, who were once my sisters, my partners in crime, my confidants, and my very best friends, taking his lies and his word over mine; never giving me a chance to speak my piece.

So let me set a few things straight. I know they will probably never read this, but I at least know that it will be out there:

To C____:

I NEVER said anything bad about you. I NEVER spread the rumor you accused me of.
Just remember that you are where you are because of your talent and in part, because of my help.
Who wrote those press releases for you?
Who went into every shop wearing your clothes and pushing them to carry your line?
Who pushed and dealt with club promoters to get your line shown?
Who gave you a roof over your head for weeks at a time so you didn't have to go back to Jersey? Who was your biggest fan and your strongest defender?
Who was there when you got sick?
Who was there when your dad died?
Who taught you how to bartend so you could get a job (which I see you're still at and excelling)?
Who did you betray when you believed the rumors and not me?

To M_____:

I have no idea why you would jump on this bandwagon.
I have no other questions for you. You sent me an email once after the divorce telling me you were working hard but would get back to me. After numerous attempts to get in touch with you, I gave up, fearing that my emails, messages and phone calls were being used as joke material among you guys. I sent you pictures of my newborn son. Did you pass those around as a joke as well?

To S____ my ex husband:

Why not tell people the real reason we got divorced: Your lack of work ethic? Your porn addiction to the point where it became a "problem"?
Why not let people know what you did to me while I was sleeping? And the video tape I discovered?
Have you told them that?


Have you?

In Memoriam

Well, I've held off long enough, trying to let the hype die down, but now I am ready to talk about it. I am ready to discuss the passing of an icon; someone who I grew up with; someone who I aspired to be, and someone who I just thought was the coolest thing since sliced bread. There has been quite the buzz for a while and I just wanted to collect my thoughts before I talked about what happened. So, let me begin.


*somber tone please*



What the fuck happened to Soundwave?

While techinically "not dead", yes, I'm talking about Transformers' Soundwave. You remember? The cool Decepticon that turned into a microcassette player? The one whose tape deck released the terrors of Ravage, Laserbeak, Buzzsaw, Ratbat, Rumble, Frenzy, Slugfest, Overkill, Squawktalk and Beastbox? You remember him, don't pretend that you don't. So what happened to Soundwave? After recently seeing Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen, I'm really wondering why Michael Bey had to efff with my Soundwave. Let me show you.


Here we have "Classic Soundwave". The BEST EVER Transformer (and I will fight you to the death if you disagree with me) complete with the coolest 80's robotic voice in the history of cool 80's robotic voices.


I'll even include a clip of him in action so you can hear the awesomeness that is Classic Soundwave.


So what happened? Without revealing any spoilers for those of you who haven't seen the new Transformers movie, let me just say that the new Soundwave sucks. He sucks. Plain and simple. Suck City for Soundwave, to use a bit of alliteration. First of all (maybe a little bit of a spoiler here) he only hangs out in space, and is attached to a satellite for all of the movie, and second of all he is NOT THE COOL LOOKING SOUNDWAVE!

Let me show you what I am talking about here. Remember Classic Soundwave above and now look at this Barf Soundwave and tell me which one is better. (If you don't pick Classic Soundwave, I will murder you in your sleep). Ok, so here is revamped Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen I Only Hang Out in Space Soundwave.


WTF??!?! What the hell is that crap? What is he supposed to be some sort of sword-jet-arrowhead-chromosome thing? And if you're wondering where his "tape deck" is to release his minions, he doesn't have one. That glowing circle in the middle of his chest shoots out probes which then transform on Earth into...wait, hang on, he doesn't shoot out probeS anymore, he only has one minion and that's Ravage. Gone are all the other ones for some reason. Maybe because they all agreed with my initial thought that the new Soundwave SUCKS! And don't even get me started on his voice. I wanted to punch the IMAX screen when I heard it. HARUMPH!

So here we are, mourning the loss of Soundwave. Although not technically dead, the icon of the 80's is no longer with us and has now been replaced by this Satellite Space Dude that I personally, would like to kick back to Cybetron in a New York minute.

RIP Soundwave. RIP.

Unnecessary (and utterly stupid) Hate Mail

Continuing the saga of the hate mail that ends up in my various inboxes, today we have one that didn't even have to be written. I recently set up a Meet-Up group page for FLorida Atheists and Secular Humanists (FLASH) Parents, HERE. Meet-Up then sends out a mass email to people interested in the various categories that I listed the group under. In this case it was "parenting", "atheist", "secular humanism", "stay at home moms", and "parents & families".

And thus, I received my first hate mail!

The following message was sent to you by a Meetup member (Note,
they're not a member of your Meetup Group.)

* It was sent to you by: XXXXXXX (User ID: XXXXXX)

* XXXXX requested a response. To respond simply reply to this
email. (Note that when you reply, XXXXXX will have your email
address.)

What XXXXXX wrote:
----------------------------------------------------------------
This is sick!!!! Why would you send me an invitation to your BS
Athiest Group? I do not wish to receive anything from this
group. Have a blessed day.
----------------------------------------------------------------

Notice a couple of things. First of all, she didn't even have to reply to the invitation. She could have just ignored it and moved on with her day. I get tons of Meet-Up invites because I'm signed up for several categories, and I just ignore the ones I'm not interested in. But no, XXXXX here had to take all of her Christian love and goodness and write me a nasty one. Secondly, the idiot doesn't even know how to spell Atheist, despite the fact that the email she received had it plastered all over it.

So anyhow, I was going to let it go, but if you know me, you know I don't let things go, so here was my response:

Thank you so much for responding so kindly to the Meet-Up invitation you received. I am sure you are unaware that Meet-Up sends new group announcements to everyone who is signed up for certain categories and since it is obvious you are signed up for "parenting" groups, you received an invite. I did not seek you out and send you the invitation personally.

It is obvious from your note that you are a kind and caring person, and that you are teaching your children tolerance and respect for other beliefs that are not your own.

Thank you for being the epitome of the hypocritical religious person, who in one sense can write such a nasty and unnecessary note in response to a mass invitation and then turn around and wish me a "blessed" day. Thank you. Thank you for reinforcing the stereotype of the bigoted, intolerant, religious fanatic. You are a testament to your faith and a shining example for all Atheists and Secular Humanists everywhere.

Warm Regards,

Alessia Lane

Organizer FLASH Parents

Organizer Ex Libris: A Book Club With Brains

Assistant Organizer: The Hollywood Moms Meet-Up Group

Atheist Hate

I couldn't let this go for some reason so I wrote a letter to the Tyra show. I don't even watch her show, but I just couldn't let this go without a comment. Here is my letter below:


I just recently caught a clip of the Tyra show that featured Steve Harvey and I was disgusted and appalled at his comments about atheists. I was more offended at the reaction that Tyra gave, laughing as he made disparaging comments about a group of people as having no "moral barometer" if they do not believe in god.

Let me introduce myself. I am a wife, a mother, a daughter, a sister, a friend, a college graduate, an activist, and a human being. I am also an Atheist. I do not believe in god, gods, goddesses, or any sort of divine creator of this universe. My husband is an Atheist, and we are raising our child free from religion. This does not mean that we are teaching him religion is wrong and that we are right, it means that we are teaching him that the world is a gigantic place, and the millions of people that inhabit it, all look, feel, and believe differently.

We are not "immoral" people. We love, we laugh, we cry, we yell and scream, we tickle, we eat too much, and we spend too much time on the internet. Our "moral barometer" is based on our human consciousness of what is right and wrong. We do not kill, or steal, or hurt people, not for fear of the wrath of some imaginary cloud being, but for the mere fact that, as human beings, our NATURAL intellect dictates that these things are wrong.

Steve Harvey's comments were bigoted and prejudicial. If someone were to juxtapose the words "Jew" or "Muslim" or "Asian" into his statements about Atheism, would the audience have been so quick to titter? And would Tyra have allowed such hate-speech to be spoken so freely without comment?

The reality is that this country is made up of many godless individuals. There are many of us who do not believe in god, who lead normal, productive, and yes, MORAL lives. The Freedom From Religion Foundation put the percentage of Atheists in this country at 14% at last count. We are still citizens of this nation. We vote, we pay taxes, and we deserve the same respect given to any other individual, whether they be god-fearing or not.

If Steve Harvey, or anyone for that matter, wishes to base their opinion on someone on whether or not they believe in god or not, I am sorry to say that they will be missing out on some very interesting people. Some of the greatest minds in the world are god-free: Astrophysicist Neil deGrasse Tyson, the late great author Douglas Adams, astronomer Carl Sagan, scientist Marie Curie, James Watson and Francis Crick who discovered the double helix and the origin of DNA, Seth McFarlane of Family Guy fame, author Kurt Vonnegut, George Clooney, Lance Armstrong, Natalie Portman, Katherine Hepburn, the list is endless.

What a sad existence it must be to be so closed minded and believe that your god would allow such hatred.

My conscience is my guide. There is no need to cling to spiritual fantasy. Our lives and our child's life are enriched by reality, not illusion.

The Mail Keeps Coming!

Here's another little gem from one of my various mailboxes. I'm not even deeming this one with an answer as everyone can plainly see that this person is a moron. Enjoy!

NAMECHANGED:This has been bothering me for quite some time. I've managed to mind my own business for a while, but I have a dilemma that's really starting to get to me. I really don't understand why someone who calls themselves an atheist can be so obsessed with god. Its very obvious that you are extremely insecure within your own beliefs. I don't understand the constant bickering and the intolerance of those who believe in a "supreme being". Why is it that you feel the need to question and mock others for their beliefs? why does it matter to you if someone has faith in something you find to be unfathomable and illogical? Are you not secure enough in your own findings? Are you all on a mission to convert everyone to your own religion of atheism?(which really has become a religion the way you all chastise everyone who doesn't agree with your narrow outlook on life.) Why is it that you've mistakenly placed yourself in the role of authority when it comes to what is reality and what is fantasy? Sure science has come a long way, but it hasn't come far enough to explain our very existence. The Progress of science itself is depended on the reconstruction of old theories based on newly obtained information. The Big Bang theory doesn't fallow that principle, simply because its hypotheses are purely non scientific. These blind hypotheses about how matter came into existence in the first place were founded on the most common seudo-scientific formula for explaining the unexplainable: Its called "hey, it could have happened this way so lets just say it did." Anyways, I'm sure that that's more than enough logic for you to take all in one sitting so lets look at this from a social standpoint: "ooooo wow you're an edgy anti-Jesus freak, lets go piss on the the ignorantly blissful people with all their shameful morals and pitiful standards of decency." I don't know if you've even given it much thought, Sugar tits, but you gotta see that intolerance isn't the answer. I don't care for this culture you have, It really isn't all that interesting to be quite honesty with you. I almost feel like this whole attitude is coming from jealousy of those who feel spiritually connected. (Your attitude, mind you, not your beliefs) I just have one real key point here though. This is the point I'd like to make: WHO GIVES A FUCK WHETHER OR NOT THERE'S A GOD? GET OVER IT, GET OVER YOURSELF, MOVE ON AND FIND A MORE CONSTRUCTIVE HOBBY.

I've got Mail!

I belong to several social networking, review, and blogger sites and once in a while I receive some lovely gems in my inbox. Normally, I don't respond, but this one had an air of an actual intelligent person, but alas, it was not to be. What follows is the unedited diatribe:

NAME CHANGED: you are quite outspoken eh?

AgingGothMom: Both on the internet world and in real life. It allows me to weed out people I can't be bothered with. As Machiavelli said, "It is better to be feared than loved if you cannot be both" and although, "fear" may not be the proper word here , Machiavelli never said anything about it being better to be an opinionated, loud mouthed, outspoken woman so I have to work with what he gave me.

:)

So, hello!

AgingGothMom: On a side note, after looking at your page, I see you have Cicero's "esse quam videri" in your description. There are two coincidences here. Firstly, I quoted Machiavelli in my initial response to you, and it was Machiavelli who twisted Cicero's words into Videri Quam Esse (To seem rather than to be) in describing how a ruler should be. The second coincidence is that I run a Book Club here in South Florida and on the opening page of the web site I use a quote from Cicero: "A room without books is like a body without a soul."

Hmmmm.

NAME CHANGED: I didn't mean to imply that being outspoken is necessarily bad.... to me being outspoken and unable to be tolerant of those you disagree with is bad.... i may disagree strongly with what you say, but I respect your right to be outspoken

AgingGothMom: Being outspoken is not bad. I wonder if I was saying things you agreed with, would you have taken the time to write me a note? I am accused of being intolerant and outspoken only when it is something someone doesn't agree with. If I may ask, as I to tend to have many opinions on many different things, what exactly it is that I am so "outspoken" about?

And please don't say Christians. I have equal contempt for all archaic dogmas. Religion is bunk. It is irrational and controlling and unoriginal. That doesn't mean I'm not "tolerant". I don't picket in front of churches with signs that say "You're going to burn in nothing after you die" or "Nobody up there hates you". That's the religious fanatic's job. And since I'm neither religious, nor a fanatic, I mostly spend time with my family and friends with whom I do not have these conversations with; firstly because they all know I'm an Atheist and I know they aren't, and secondly because we don't much use it to define our friendships.

So enlighten me. To what am I so intolerant?

NAME CHANGED: Hi again.... I was unaware of who had coined that phrase, but I have always tried "to be rather than to seem".... It was our High School's motto and I adopted it as how I wanted to be defined in life. I want to be real and open and known as a transparent person.... The same in my heart and mind as I am in actual practice

NAME CHANGED: My my my.... When did I say you were intolerant? You seem to me reading between my lines, and reading things I did not say. But your words definitely are harsh, and if you feel I am accusing you of intolerance, maybe its because you projecting upon yourself that concept.... It is clear however that any rational discussion with you is impossible, and since you denigrate my Christian beliefs with feelings of contempt, I bid you adieu

AgingGothMom: You called me "intolerant" 2 letters ago. But in typical fashion, you make your comment and then skeedaddle when it's not all wine and roses. There is nothing harsh in what I have written to you. You yourself have called me outspoken. I tell it like it is and if you see that as harsh, well then so be it.

I didn't denigrate any of your beliefs, unless you consider yourself a religious fanatic who enjoys picketing, and I actually made an effort to highlight that my thoughts on religion have nothing to do with my personal relationships with people. You accuse me of reading between the lines when you yourself have done exactly such.

Then,in true hypocritical form, when you see that you are not dealing with some giggly character ( I notice you only seem to friend women on this site) you call me irrational and bid me adieu. Silly person. I shall enjoy sharing this diatribe with intelligent people.

Question.

This question has been nagging at me for a week or so now. Susan Boyle. Why were the judges so "shocked" that she could sing well? Why was everyone so "surprised" that she had a beautiful voice? Is it because she is homely and chubby and not a blond bimbo with implants? It is because she is not one who people would call "gorgeous?".

Really? Is this why the world is "stunned by her performance". Does this imply that one has to be beautiful to be taken seriously; they have to fit this beauty image mold that we've been force fed? Because if you don't, then the world has a right to expect nothing from you and ridicule you. You're fat and homely, therefore I have every right to treat you like less of a person and then turn around and compliment you if you deliver something unexpected.

Something about the whole Susan Boyle situation makes me a bit angry. Not Susan Boyle herself, of course, as she is one brave lady and talented lady. I don't know exactly what it is that makes me angry about all of it, but I think in general it's the idea that people think they are better than someone who doesn't fit the mold, who goes against the grain. And although Susan Boyle is a "normal" person (church choir, takes care of mom,etc.) her "abnormality" is that she is not a "beautiful" person and not suffering from anorexia.

The whole hub-bub around Susan Boyle is just an indication of how shallow and idiotic human beings have become.

"Oh look! An ugly person can sing!" I feel like they're all saying. In interviews she's spoken to as if she were a child, in that condescending "Aren't you cute" kind of tone. Cute? She's 47 years old and has spent her life taking care of her mother! This woman has had it harder than most people let alone Judy Interviewer and her plastic smile.

Susan Boyle is extremely talented. She should be appreciated for that. That is her beauty.

I couldn't find a video to embed, so here is the link. I suggest you watch it.

Susan Boyle Sings on Britain's Got Talent 2009

Reprehensible Behavior

I don't like proselytizers. I don't like them in any way shape or form, whether they be evangelical Christians, Jehovah Witnesses, Mormons, Baptists, Seventh-Day Adventists, Sixth Day Adventists, 23rd Day Adventists, whatever! I just learned that Jews are now going door to door and I don't like them either! I don't even like people coming to my door to sell me magazines or ask me how happy I am about my phone service. The religious ones are intrusive and the marketing ones are annoying and they all happen to choose to knock while I am in the middle of something and/or nap time so the dog goes crazy and wakes up D.

Bottom line, I do not like proselytizers. If you love your religion so much, go sing about it in your church and make a YouTube video about it and mail me a letter. Don't knock on my door asking me if I've "heard the good news" because unless that "good news" involves Clive Owen, being skinny without dieting, and a stable bank account, I'm not really going to listen. And, if you leave my doorstep shaking your head and feeling that I am less of a person because I don't share in your "good news", well let me just give you some advice on where to stick it.

In the past, most people that have knocked on my door, wherever I have lived, have been adults. Some are pushy, some are nice, some start praying on your doorstep when you try to be polite and not scream at them to "fuck off", but 95% of the time, they are well dressed adults who are interested in dialoguing with me about Jesus and his dad and why I should become a zombie. That's fine and dandy with me. But as of late I've noticed a new trend with the Witnesses: children.

Since moving to Florida, every time the Witnesses have knocked on my door, the ADULTS have hung back on the sidewalk about 10-15 feet away and let a SMALL CHILD walk up my driveway and knock on my door with their little hands gripping the many copies of The Watchtower. How absolutely vile is that? It horrifies me to no end. I am finding it very difficult to find the ways to describe how much that disgusts me. Children should not be used as manipulative means to push your god. Do these people think that I'm going to see a kid and say, "Oh yes! I believe in Jesus now because this little boy just knocked on my door." And how horrible can I feel closing the door in a child's face after saying, "No thanks hon!". Can you imagine what that does to a kid? I mean, it's hard enough getting a door shut in your face as an adult, but how about for a little child? Walking up to big doors, with strangers behind them , who say "No" to you. It's traumatic I'm sure.

But it doesn't end with children for these people. No, it gets worse. I thought I had seen it all when the toddler knocked on my door a few months back with his BABY sister in his arms, but today took the cake.

At about 9:30am this morning, I saw the Witness troupe coming up the block. I didn't see any children in tow and I was thankful for that. I put the dog out back, preparing myself for the inevitable knock and my, "No thank you, we are Atheists" speech, but no knock came. I saw the group standing in front of my house and for once, I thought they had seen my sign and understood it, so I moved along with getting D ready to go out. And then I heard it. A feeble knock on the door. Instantly I thought it was a child and got grumpy, but when I opened the door I was greeted with something so reprehensible that I was almost rendered speechless.

She was an older woman, maybe 60 years old. She walked with a cane and appeared to be hunched at the back. What startled me was not her appearance but the fact that she was MENTALLY HANDICAPPED. She was so severely handicapped that she could not speak, emitting small grunts as she tried to hand me her "Jesus saves" pamphlet. I was appalled. It is one thing to push small children, who will one day grow and learn and form their own opinions on what has been taught to them, but to take advantage of this woman and EXPLOIT her in this fashion infuriates me to no end. As usual, the "normal" (for lack of a better word) people sat on the sidewalk 10-15 feet away, while this poor woman, manipulated and exploited by those who purportedly work for a "loving god", sat on my doorstep with vacant eyes trying to peddle salvation.

What do I do? What could I do? I smiled, said "No thank you" (omitting the "we're Atheists" part since she wouldn't understand anyhow) and closed the door. I watched her shuffle back to her group and continue her trek in the hot sun. I wanted to cry for that woman and I wanted to kick the people in charge of her in the face repeatedly.

I still have an awful taste in my mouth from the whole experience and if there is ever cause for me to hate another person or group, I think I found it today.

I'm not Racist.....The Saga Continues

I'd like to think that I am not writing these blogs to myself, and that I actually have a miniscule reader following out there. With that being said, readers you may remember a post I wrote way back in November of 2007 called I'm Not Racist which expanded on my theory that the phrase I'm Not Racist, when uttered by ANY person, is usually followed by something completely and utterly racist indeed. If you don't remember reading it, or want to refresh yourself of how funny I am, I urge you to read the original blog post HERE before reading on in this new one.

Ok, done? Good.

Well, it happened again today. Sure, it happens all the time but I was never really inspired to write down everytime someone acted like a racist asshat, because:
A) I would be blogging every 10 minutes
B) It would stop being funny after the first 5
C) I don't get paid for keeping track of asshats, racist or not

Anyhow, I get a phone call today from my next door neighbor, Blondie (not her real name) who is in an absolute panic. Backstory on Blondie: pushing 50, tries to look 20, daisy dukes, bottle blonde, more make-up than Tammy Faye (dead or alive), talks like a mouse, and is so dumb that she makes Sarah Palin look like Albert Einstein in a $15,000 outfit. Seriously, this woman is dumb with a capital DUMB.
So she calls me this morning and says, "Alessia are you home" (First indication of her intelligence since she's called my HOUSE and asks me if I'm home. duuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhh) So I tell her that I am indeed home and what can I do for her. What follows is pretty much the actual conversation we had:
Blondie: Alessia are you home?
Alessia: Yes I am, what's wrong.
B: Do you see what's going on outside?
A: What do you mean? Across the street?
B: Yes! I am freaking out! I am so scared! What are they doing?!
A: Well B, it looks like a few guys set up a table in their front lawn and are playing dominoes.
B: I know but who does that?
A: Um......ok, lots of people? It's gorgeous out today.
B: Look, I'm Not Racist but when I see a bunch of black guys outside like that I am scared that gangs are going to show up.
A: B, they're just hanging out. I don't even see any of them drinking or smoking anything and they're not even being loud.
B: But there were so many of them this morning! And all these different cars were there and now they're just sitting there.
A: Well my only concern is why the teenager isn't in school, but it's probably because it's spring break for them.
B: But what if they start shooting? I mean I have Sara (her Rottweiler) here that I've trained to attack them, but what about you and Dante? What if they try and break into your house and rape you?
A: B, are you serious?
B: I'm sorry. I'm Not Racist but it's always those people that start problems! White people don't do this sort of thing! I mean, who does things like this!
A: You mean, play dominoes?
B: Oh, and what about the one next door who just sits on his porch and watches all day! I thought he was disabled so I felt sorry for him, but he's NOT and I always see him hiding things in the grass. I bet it's crack!
A: Um.....actually B, he's a nice guy. His son plays with Dante.
B: Well, you just better be careful.
A: Well I appreciate the call, I'll keep an eye out.
B: Lock your doors!
A: Bye now.


Really. Really? No, Really? Did I just set foot in the Idiot Twilight Zone? Is she fucking kidding me with that bullshit? Freaking out because a bunch of dudes, who happen to be black, decided to set up a card table under a shady palm and play dominoes on what is probably the LAST cool day we have here in Florida before the summer sets in. And then to preface half her comments with the aforementioned I'm Not Racist junk! Seriously. Seriously!!!!! You would have thought The Rapture (Hi Krissy) was coming and that she had suddenly sinned and couldn't take it back. That was the tone of her voice. She was seriously panicked because of a dominoes game that was going to lead to shoot-outs and gang warfare akin to the movie Colors and a Tupak/Biggie rivalry thing.

So once again, my theory of I'm Not Racist has not been disproven. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

Let's Get Personal

***WARNING***SPOILER ALERT***
This post is going to be talking about girl parts and things that happen to them. This post will also be talking about guts, uteruses (i?), blood, bleeding, farting, belching, anal leakage, general crankiness, and maybe the new show on VH-1, For the Love of Ray J. If you think I am incredibly awesome, sexy, pretty, intelligent, or any other positive attribute you would like to attach to me, you may not want to read on as my goddess like, chaste and pure image of me might be shattered.


That being said, let's get on with it.

So I've had my period since January 11th. Yes. JANUARY 11th. That J to the A to the N to the UARY. Notice the date of this blog? Notice it does not say January 12th or January 17th or nothing remotely close to a January. It's March. March fucking 2nd and I'm still riding the cotton pony. I'm still hosting a visit from my Aunt Flo. I'm still on the rag. I'm still surfing the crimson tide. Isn't it fucking great being a girl? I went to the doctor for this and, aside from discovering that I suffer from a disease called Polycystic Ovarian Sydrome (which I will delve into later), I now have NO ESTROGEN in my body and more testosterone than Imelda Marcos has shoes. (Wow, look at me inserting 20 year old jokes into my blog, how extremely retro of me.). So, on top of shedding copious amounts of blood for the past 60 days, I am now a dude. Oh, and I'm not just shedding copious amounts of blood (here comes the icky part), I am also shedding copious amounts of MYSELF along with it. Everytime I go to the restroom I end up looking like something out of a B-level slasher film. Come to think of it, maybe I should call up the editors over at Fangoria and ask them to do a photo shoot of me changing a tampon. No special effects needed here folks! That's pure unadulterated grossness right there!

I'm sure that after reading that you're wondering, "Gee well, how's your sex life" to which I will nicely answer, "FUCK YOU". What sex life. I don't want to go near my "area", how the hell would I expect my husband to come within 10 feet of it? Plus, the medication I'm on makes me bloat (which as a Plus Sized girl already is just pretty much adding insult to injury.), and it also gives me the Louisiana Quick Step, the trots, diarrhea, Oops I crapped my pants. So again, why would anyone want to come near me?

So let's review. The front of me is an oozing bloody mess while the rear is a sewage plant that leaks. I AM SO FUCKING HOT! You know you want me right now.

But let's not forget the cause of all this mess. The source of the issues here with my hormones and orifices. I have PCOS. A really neat little disease that fucks with my entire system and prevents me from ovulating, getting pregnant, and functioning as a normal human being. Let's go directly to the source shall we?

"If you have PCOS, you are more likely to develop high blood pressure, high cholesterol or type 2 diabetes. This means you have a greater risk for strokes and heart attacks.

Problems with menstrual periods may also cause women who have PCOS to be infertile (unable to get pregnant). They may also have a higher risk for cancer of the uterus or breast."

YAY! Thank you very much Universe! Thanks for that. I was already at a high risk bracket for cancer, but now you just bumped me up a notch! You are so awesome.

But wait! There's more! My thyroid doesn't work right either and now I have to see an Endocrinologist to get EVEN MORE medicine into my system. Looks like sex and baby number 2 are just a fantasy at this point!

*************************************************************end of rant******

So who is watching For the Love of Ray J?

Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man

Dante is home sick with the flu, so we decided to fingerpaint. The beauty of fingerpainting is that it rarely goes anywhere near the paper you lay out. It should be called get-it-all-over-yourself painting or let's-paint-everything-BUT-the paper.

If you notice, we did a pretty good job of securing the area by laying down newspaper AND electrical tape. Needless to say, I just finished washing the floor while Daddy gave Mr. D a bath.

It's Vaccination Time Again!

That's right, it's that time of year again where we all need to get our shots. I know, I know, they are annoying and a bit painful but we all want to stay healthy don't we? "It's just a flu shot" you may be saying, but first understand that I am not talking about the flu shot. I am actually talking about the vaccinations one receives before being able to watch my favorite show: Bret Micheal's Rock of Love. You may all remember my stunning commentary regarding his last foray into "television dating", but now I am back and so is he and his gaggle of venereal disease stricken whores he likes to call his "babes".

This time, though, the premise is different. Rather than spend a couple of months festering in a disease filled house in the Hollywood Hills, Bret and the Petri Dish Gang have decided to take the "dating experience" on the road in the Rock of Love Bus and spread their syphilitic and herpes ridden awesomeness to all the stops in Bret Micheal's "tour" across the USA! YAY!

So without further ado, I give you, Rock of Syphilis, part 3:


Where do I begin? Seriously. Where. do. I. begin. First and foremost, let's get the elephant out of the room and just say that Bret Micheal's is looking more and more like a douche with every plastic surgery he is getting. What's with the pursed lips dude? And the lip gloss? Are these all really trannies and you're just not telling us? Secondly (no pun intended) but do these women really think they look good with balloons on their chest? Do I even need to point out that a breast that is a PERFECT CIRCLE is really ugly? Do you think you look hot? I cannot imagine how our image of "beauty" evolved to this.

Let's take a look at my favorite cast member who (SPOILER ALERT!) sadly gets eliminated on the first day. This is Nikki and she is a skank.
And I mean that in most truest sense of the word. She is a skank. Her claim to fame and, I think, one of the reasons she got eliminated, is doing a shot out of Gia's vagina. I'm not kidding. She did a shot out of another girl's pussy. Correct me if I am wrong here, but if you're on a first date (as this is technically a first date), I really don't think that eating out another chick is a good way to tell your date you're really into him. Just my opinion, but what the hell do I know.

This here is our veteran "Porn Star Wanting To Find A Man Who Loves Her" story. Jasmineva here, just wants someone to "hold her at night". How sweet. Jasmineva is tired of getting Bukkake'd and paid for it and now just wants someone to spoon with at night who will Bukkake her for free and love her, cherish her and dick slap her without the cameras rolling. Seriously. It brings a tear to my eye.

This is Constandina. She's "spritual" and a belly dancer. Personally I think she's inhaled too much incense and looks like an anorexic Pete Burns. She tried to cleanse Bret's chakra or something and succeeded in just looking douchier than Bret which is a feat in itself.

Believe it or not, in the train wreck that is the new cast of VD On The Move, there is a voice of reason. A shining bastion of intellect who has refrained from getting piss drunk, taking off all of her clothes, puking, engaging in girl-on-girl action, and who is ACTUALLY on the show because she wants to get to know Bret and start a relationship with him. This is Taya. She was recently voted Penthouse Pet 2009. Penthouse Pet. A Penthouse Pet is dictating decorum and etiquette. Now do you see the bar that has been set here?

Now go get your shots!