Tis the Season for Cynicism

Falalalala, la la la la!

It's also apparently the season for engagement amongst the Mormons near me. Which is lovely. Yay for them. They found love and their Missing Piece or their "You complete me." That's great. But why, ladies, when someone says they are engaged, do you immediately ask to see the ring? Is it just me or is that a little... disturbing? Do we really care that much about the ring? I mean, I like pretty things that sparkle, don't get me wrong. But forget the ring, I would like to see the man. Is he pretty? Does he have a good job? Does he sometimes say intelligent things? Does he have a brother? Is everyone asking to see the ring to avoid telling the girl they think she is on crack for saying yes to that particular man? What is up with that? Because, I kid you not, in the midst of a church meeting girls call a halt to the proceedings and demand to see the ring. Probably partly because the particular congregation I worship with is comprised of young single adults, ages 18 to 31. And yes, I'm aware I don't fall in that bracket anymore. That's a topic for a different day. But seriously??? I'm just waiting for someone to quote the most irritating jewelry commercial of all time, "He went to J....!" I can't bring myself to complete the statement, but you see where I"m going.

Let me just tell you, young girls that don't read my blog: It's not about the ring. I remember meeting resistance to this idea in college. Assorted roommates and I would have discussions about whether or not the Displaying of the Ring in the engagement photo was tacky. I maintained that it absolutely WAS. Certain roommates protested that they look for the ring in the photo and would be irritated if it was not showing. To which, of course, I was forced to retort that they would hate my engagement picture, because I fully intended to hide my left hand altogether. And said pro-ring displayers were mortified. "You'll feel differently," they would say. Um, no. Also, if my right hand is my cane hand, I may have no choice but to make that the prevalent hand in my engagement picture at the rate I am going. Just saying.

For Crying Out Loud, It's Just Hair

I don't know about you, but people in my church seem to like to tell the Gift of the Magi story at least once a year. You know, the poor couple who sacrifice to get Christmas gifts for each other, so she cuts her prized hair to get him a chain for his grandfather's watch, and he sells the watch to buy her fancy combs... blah, blah, blah. It's all very touching or something. The first time I heard it, I think I found it touching, and also quite exasperating, because I hate when people have horrible miscommunication like that in stories and we are supposed to Learn Something. What I have learned is that this couple was stupid. Because,for #1: It's just freaking hair. It will grow back. I don't get people who act that way over hair.

And for #2, you sold a family keepsake??? For her hair? Blech.

And for #3,how is this some big lesson on giving? I mean, they are making enough money to have housing, food, heat, and clothes. They're getting by. Wouldn't a larger sacrifice be to give a gift to Tiny Tim or something instead of each other? Call me a cynic, but if you give a gift to your spouse, you totally get something out of it. Like, you know, a pleasant living environment and the lack of fear that said spouse will kill you in your sleep.

Dear George,

George Clooney, do you watch your aunt every Christmas like I do? She's pretty fabulous.



Also, George, did you know that the White Christmas musical is a little bit silly? I'm just warning you, George. If you go to see it, don't expect Betty to be half so fabulous. It's not her fault. Not everyone can be a Rosemary. And the script writers did wacky things like make her a man hater who hates love. But at least they let her dance with her feather fan.

You Need to Think About This.

I was fortunate to be able to participate in a fascinating two day workshop focusing on Racism this week. I learned some fascinating things, and also some very sad things. One of the suggested resources was this video.



How sad is that? Little Kindergartners think their skin color means they are bad, and would rather play with the white doll. Teenage girls hate their own skin color and think it makes them ugly. I mean, I know white girls that think they are too pale and will therefore tan, but this goes so much deeper.

This was just one of the things we discussed. I'm going to blog more about it later, because I think it's a fascinating topic and one that we should be thinking about more, since obviously the issue of racism has not gone away.

Yo My Mormons

Have you seen this website? Look at the Church gettin' all fancy!

Fah Who Door Ay!

I love me some grinch. But tell me, dear people who own the rights to this, why must you block things from being posted on youtube? It does not stop me from wanting to buy it, or from watching it on tv. I just wanted the one eensy weensy song. I'm building viewership for you here.

Tips for Being an Effective Community Helper

I never used to understand WHY it takes a training to learn what it means to volunteer, or how to best do it. People will literally spend hours talking about this in my line of work. In some ways that makes me want to take my head and bang it soundly against a blunt object until blessed unconsciousness overcomes me. But here's the thing: a lot of people suck at planning service projects.

If there is one thing that you remember about planning a group service project/donation drive/we're going to fix the world fest, remember to ask this one question: Is this actually needed?

Silly, right? That's just common sense, right? Turns out not so much. I cannot tell you how many different groups I have worked with who have not asked this basic question. I've sat in both on the planning, and been the one they contacted. And often the planning goes like this:

You know what would be fun? We should knit a bunch of hats! That would be so fun! Okay, so, um, who wants to figure out where to donate them and call them to find out where to drop them off?

People. People. People. No one wants your hats. Or at least you don't know if that's what they want. They might want your hats a little bit. They might possibly just take them in hopes that you will go away, because, yes, eventually they will use them, along with all the other hats. But they might more desperately want spoons. And wouldn't a spoon drive be fun? But you wouldn't think of that right off the bat. Because who collects spoons? That's what makes it so brilliant, though!

Here's how you might want to think about starting the discussion:

What are some needs we see in our community? What organization that
addresses the problem can we contact to see how we can best contribute
resources? Let's call them and then reconvene to plan our project based on
what we learn.

It's crazy talk I know.

Why I'm the Best Friend You'll Ever Have Part Deux.

You know what's charmant? When people randomly use french words in sentences where all the other words are en englais.

One thing I've found fascinating that I've discovered more and more as I journey towards adulthood (any day now) is how different people think different qualities define what a good friend is.

Here's just a sampling of different rules I've heard named as The Rule of Friendship that Everyone Knows.

1. You must always tell your friend when they are doing something you feel is wrong. Expressing your opinion is paramount to being a Good Friend. This should supersede hurting their feelings, and don't stand on ceremony and wait to be asked for your input, because you care more about their Well-Being than their comfort.
2. You must never express your opinions in anger. A Good Friend only expresses opinions calmly, kindly, and rationally. Don't even think about being snarky to your friend. Friends don't Bite Friends Heads Off!
3. Never wear buy the same perfume your friend owns.

That last one is key, by the way.

Here's my idea of some friendship rules to live by:
1. Don't lie to your friends. Trust is cool, liars drool.
2. Be loyal. None of this talking behind the back stuff. If you talk about one friend to another, eventually it will occur to the listener that you could very possibly be sharing their deep dark secrets too.
3. Root for their happiness. Sometimes you have to tell a friend something that makes them sad, or mad, or sad and mad. But I like to weigh that against what I think I would want people to tell me instead of allowing things to fester and rot, and allowing them to do stupid embarrassing things and not realize it. Framing your actions with what you think will ultimately promote their happiness helps cut out some of the selfishness. Or so I hear.
4. Have their Six. That's like cop speak for having their back. If my underwear is showing and you judge instead of telling me, I will remember it forever. Also if I'm trying on jeans and they make my butt look big, tell me before I buy. Because if you tell me after I buy, I will be cursing your name all the way through the returns line.
5. Forgive. I had a friend in Junior High School that I was a serious snot to. I didn't speak to him much for about a year. Because I'm stupid, that's why. But he still speaks to me. To this day. He's even my MyFace friend. When I want to wring a friend's neck until their eyes bug out and their head flies clean off their head, I think of him. Because I want to be like him when I grow up. and he did not pluck my eyes from my head and feed them to the seagulls, however sorely he was tempted. So be sure to cut your friends some slack when The Crazy comes out. And do it quickly. Because being the Bigger Person makes you a very desirable friend.

I like the way it was summarized on CNN/Oprah here (Anderson and Oprah joining forces... talk about some world domination.):

Friendship is about being what a hero of mine described as "balcony people" instead of "basement people."

Basement people are those who live in our minds, telling us we will never amount to anything, that we are doomed to fail and that we are royal screw ups.

Balcony people are those who are consistently cheering us on. "Go for it," they say to our attempts to find our voice, to live in ever widening circles, to dare, to create, to break through our lives' sound barriers.

O-o-oh What a Friend!

Professor Oprah has a quiz on her site that I just took that I find thought provoking. It's all about the dynamics of your relationship with a close friend. Using criteria that some wise person in the Oprah building in Chicago deemed key components to a strong friendship, you can assess how well you friendship, and how well your friend friendships, and how well you friendship together. (See, if you're a drinking person, you could make a drinking game out of this and already be drunk right here. Or sick.)

So I took the quiz for me and my friend. Turns out I suck as a friend. Or we both do. Also apparently I give more than I get. But here's where I question these kinds of quizzes. Is it that I give more, or that I would like to think I give more, when really I'm a big selfish prat? 'Cause I might think I'm all self-sacrificing, when in reality that's just how I like to think I appear.

The quiz asks you to rank yourself and your friend on a series of statements. For instance, do I "Create a supportive atmosphere, making a point of being cheerful, encouraging, and caring enough to make the other person feel good?" Does my friend? I give myself a big fat Always, and Friendy McFrienderson gets a big fat Sometimes. But then in real life, I'm all scowly and face-making when Friendy tells me of plots to rule the universe and otherwise become independently wealthy. So in my head I'm supportive of the not-crack smoking. But in Friendy's mind, I'm not supportive of dreams near and dear to the McHeart. Which one of us is right? Maybe world domination is within Friendy's grasp, if only there is a supportive friend to offer words of encouragement. Who made me Queen? Well, besides me. 'Cause in my mind I'm Queen. With a tiara and jewels and a puffy ballgown and stuff.

You Know What's a Cool Word?

Progeny.

Also flabbergasted.

And hullabaloo.

Coolness

Seriously, how cool is Google this week. Happy, Happy Birthday Sesame Street!

And More Happy Thoughts.

I'm been following with horror the case of the 15 year old who was gang raped at her Homecoming Dance. I hesitated to post anything about it, just because it's so discouraging, and I try to avoid the "this world is rotten and the apocalypse must be approaching" kind of statements that sometimes consume us with stories like this. It was hard to think of it from a different angle, though. How could all those kids just stand there? How could this be the buzz that was passing around and no one called 911? What is wrong with teenagers?!? These are the questions that I kept asking myself, and it's hard not to when you read a story like this. But I am opposed to teenager hating. Hate on adults all you want, but don't hate on the kids! At least not as a big clump. Hate them in little clumps.

Anyways, I read this article today, and I had a revelatory moment. The writer was responding to a question that is often asked when something horrific happens in our schools: "what is wrong with our children?" He pointed out that often in situations like this, the youth may "not (be) educated on how to stop it." When I read that, I thought, how silly. Ya pick up the friggin' phone and dial 911. Duh. How dumb are these kids? But then he went on to talk about it, and there is some merit to what he says. These kids may not know who to call. They may doubt that anyone will take them seriously, given their age. In an area like the one where the crime was committed, I'm sure 911 gets a lot of hits. Also, who knows if the security guards would have listened to a kid, or if there was any trust established between the kids and the guards/officers on duty. And how do they know they wouldn't be publicly outed as the "narc." While the situation continues to infuriate me, and I 100% think there were kids who heard rumors or saw things that were not so dumb they couldn't have called 911, and kept calling until someone came, I have to think there are other layers and nuances to the situation.

And really, where were the adults? They had to have known the dark spots are good places to check on dance night. All sorts of illegal and inappropriate activities can be gotten up to at a high school dance when given a nice secluded, dark corner. At no point should the adults and security all just park themselves for a nice chitchat.

What this really comes down to, for me, is that we need to continually have a dialogue with the youth in our lives about right and wrong, and what their responsibilities are to the community around them. This sounds like an obvious idea. One girl understood her responsibility, and called 911. But not all kids are getting this basic education. There are some crazy parents out there. I've met them. Some of them need to be educated before they can educate their kids. So get on that, won't you?

Thanks, Dad! or Why I Have Odd, Unexplainable Opinions

My dad taught me lots of things:

1. How to change a tire. Because he apparently did not share the views of the mother of a lady from church, who taught her "if you have to change your own tire, you've lost it."

2. Air conditioning in an automobile is for sissies. He held that belief pretty much until the last kid left home, and up until their recent purchase of their nice, air condition equipped cars they have been taking road trips in rentals, to ensure that they have not only air conditioning, but also heated seats and a roomy trunk.

3. Wearing headphones while you run is dangerous because you could get hit by a car. Come to think of it, I think that stems from his personal experience of getting hit by a car while walking along a road... minus the headphones because they didn't have them way back when. Same goes for driving cars. You should not drive with headphones because you won't hear the car that's about to hit you... er something.

4. Look for the stud when mounting things to the wall. And generally that means knocking, not using those nifty little stud-finders they sell at the hardware store. Said stud finder is totally useless in finding studly men, by the way.

5. How to check the oil. Because, again, we were not to rely on "it" to ensure this got done.

6. Toyotas are true quality, and Fords are a piece of crap. I swear I grew up with that imprinted in my mind. Which is why I find this confusing and a little disturbing. Come to think of it, I think they may own a Ford now. I have no idea, not being one of those freaks of nature who notices make and model, or can tell it from the frame.

Now I feel inspired to make a list of things my mom taught me. Like, to always use the inside of your wrist to feel a person's forehead, because your hand is often cooler, being the outer extremity and whatnot.

Let's all Go to the Fair! Also internment.

I'm late in posting this, but it has been whirling around in my mind for a while. I went to the Puyallup Fair back in September (thanks, Dizzle for hooking me up with the tickets!). The Puyallup Fair, also known as the Western Washington State Fair, is a super fun fair, and I think it's the biggest in Washington. I could totally be making that up, but I can't find anything on the site that refutes that, so it must be true. I have great memories of the fair. I held a boy's hand there once. Also he let me hold his Harley Davidson bandanna while he went on the roller coaster. That's romance, my friends. And no, that wasn't last year, smarty pantses, it was when I was a young hoodlum. That was also the time my friend almost got kicked out of the fair for whapping one of those people in a big animal costume on the back of the head. Turns out they have little body guards that follow them around. Who knew? I think the dude was hanging back in hopes of entrapping teenagers in the act of fake animal abuse. Because you know at least one teenage boy would try something. Helloooo.

But enough reminiscing. Every year when I go to the fair, that is what I do. I remenisce. Also I ponder how you spell the word reminisce. You think you know, but try typing it in a blog. The other thing I ponder when I go to the fair, ever since I first discovered the existence of such a thing, is Japanese internment camps. I remember I was in my 9th grade Pacific Northwest History class, and in one of the sections, we talked about how the Puyallup Fair grounds were used to house Japanese-Americans during World War II. To which I said, "Wait, WHAT??? No one told me that. That's never in the movies."

I find it interesting that the fact that we had actual internment camps for US Citizens who had committed no crimes in the US is so seldom mentioned. It's mentioned so little that I couldn't remember any of the details I most likely learned at one point, and I had to go to my trusty Internet source. I love (and by love I mean hate) that they called the fairgrounds Camp Harmony during it's internment years. According to this trusted source, the Japanese Americans who settled on Bainbridge Island were given six days to register, sell or rent their homes and farms, pack, and surrender to travel under armed guard to California, where they would spend the next four years. I don't know about you, but I would be cranky. From everything I have read or heard, the Japanese Americans were cooperative, and were treated fairly respectfully. But they were still prisoners. For doing nothing. They lost years out of their lives, I'm sure many of them lost property and businesses and life experiences and all sorts of things. And yet, somehow, most of them have gone on to live their lives quietly, and continued to embrace the country that showed so little faith in them.

Riding the Bus Like a City Girl!

It's been a few months now since I was hired at my new job, and my time using an "extra" parking pass my company was paying for is over. I'm okay with this. I knew it was happening. Plus there are lots of added perks. Like needing less gas and less repairs, therefore saving money, so I can buy cute shoes. Also I have less stress, since I no longer have to worry about being run over by crazy people who don't want to let me merge, and instead try to force me to remain in an exit lane when trying to enter the freeway. AND I can read on the way home, therefore taking some time to relax and exercise my brain a little.

My first day on the bus (we won't count the one-day trial run back in August), I stepped onto the bus, paid the fare, and then politely accepted the transfer ticket being proffered by the bus driver, 'cause, you know, even though I didn't need it, I didn't want to hurt his feelings. Then there was the exciting lurch as I turned to walk down the aisle to take my seat, and an awkward moment where I asked (like all the sudden I have manners or something) "may I sit here?" of the nice looking asian man who concentrated very hard on not noticing me. On the way home that night, I was That Passenger who totally missed that we were at my stop, and had to approach the driver and ask him to just let me out when we were at the next stop light, so I wouldn't have to call my daddy and ask if he could come get me at a park and ride ten or fifteen minutes from my house and take me back to the park and ride where my car was waiting for me.

I'm a big city girl now.

I'm Patrioticest!

And I can prove it because I have this, this and this.

No, not really, dork!

Ten Essentials for the Elite Hiker

1. Bottle of Evian to parch your thirst.
2. stylish windbreaker to, you know, break the wind and make your butt look good.
3. A Swiss army knife with doodads and whatnots because I hear those are handy in the wilderness and such.
4. A walking stick. Because serious hikers have a walking stick. Specifically one that they bought at a store with varnish and carvings and stuff.
5. A backpack to carry your trail mix, camera, and backup windbreaker for when the first one gets old.
6. Tennis shoes to carry in your backpack for when you get tired of wearing your flip flops.
7. I-phone for the map app.
8. hand-held fan mister.
9. Sunglasses to prevent wrinkles around the eyes.
10. Handy beacon for when you get lonely or bored.

If you don't get why this is the silliest hiking essentials list ever, do NOT plan a hike that requires said beacon. You don't want to win the kind of award they give out for that.

I'm Dreaming...

Of a White Christmas. I admit it. I'm thinking about Christmas. It started with having to commencing planning for holiday events for work at the beginning of October. It's hard to search for snowflake clipart and come up with catchy little names for my flyers related to the holidays and NOT start singing the tunes. So today K, a few of her family members and I settled down to watch White Christmas. Best. Christmas. Movie. Ever. You may argue that Miracle on 34th Street or It's a Wonderful Life is the best movie ever, but I am here to tell you, you're wrong. White Christmas has it all. Snappy songs. Tear jerker moments with the General. Bing Crosby (in my opinion, Bing Crosby is a requisite for The Best Christmas Movie). In chatting with a friend, I discovered that there is a title I could hold that I have neglected earning, which his mother wears as a proud badge. Better than Cat Lady, even. The Christmas Movie Lady. No, you can't have it, I saw it first.

Here's what I've come up with so far:
1. White Christmas (which I own)

2. It's a Wonderful Life (which I own)

3. It's a Very Muppet Christmas Movie

4. A Muppet Christmas Carol (which I own)

5. Holiday Inn

6. Miracle on 34th Street

7. A Charlie Brown Christmas (which I own)

8. All those old-school cartoons they show every year. That screwball Rudolph!

9. The Grinch and The Grinch. OF COURSE. Sillies. Best Christmas cartoon ever.

10. Elf. Which I think wins the best new Christmas that I do believe qualifies as a classic.

I reject Santa Clause and Home Alone as valid Christmas movies because I cannot look beyond the horror which is their sequels in order to take them seriously. So don't even try to tell me they are. But seriously, this is only ten. I can't be the Christmas Movie Lady with only ten! What other movies do I need to add to my list?

And yes, we are talking about this in October. These things take prepartion. Embrace it.

My Saturday Night or Why I Ate all the Halloween Candy Already

So my oldest nephew joined myface. He's a teenager, but when he was young we got hugs and kisses every time we saw him and he would make a beeline for my room every time they came over for family dinners because I was the aunt that played with them. Also I had a water bed. So maybe all these years I have deluded myself into believing that I was The Favorite Aunt (as I am with all my nephews and my niece--so what if the youngest one cries in terror and makes a crawl for mom every time he sees me). Because this week my oldest nephew joined myface, and he didn't friend me, even though his mom suggested me. But he DID friend my sister. So I guess now the truth is out there. And we are going to have a rumble.

Embrace Your Stupidness and Other Things I Done Learned.

Things I don't miss about college:

1. Community laundry rooms. Seriously, who steals laundry? Because they forced me to spend hours sitting on top of my dryer studying. And that makes me cranky.

2. Math. I don't use it anymore. They lie when they say you will need it in life. Math only gives you ugly news. Like, you're broke. Or, you have one sock too few. Or, the dam in the valley is going to bust wide open. True story. So I just don't use it. Who needs to know when they don't have money? Not me. What's that you say? There's a flood coming? Why must we always focus on the negative?

3. Being poor. Oh, wait....

4. Going into a test feeling smart and coming out stupid. Science, I'm talking to you.

5. Unfailingly having the roommate who attracts the guy I have a crush on. Not a problem any more. Not too many prospects going on round these parts. Although K has a following I enjoy observing trip over themselves to get her attention.

Still, life was so simple back then. I think I'll go back to college.*

*reference to Avenue Q that I will not post a link to, not being willing to take responsibility for a few racey lines. Youtube at your own risk, peoples. I have the edited version. (Can I get a Holla for censorship, here, people?)

POP Goes the Kiddo!

Maybe you have all heard about the case of the kid in a box on the top of a moving minivan.

Since mom's mistake number one is pretty well established, I'd like to focus on her SECOND mistake. Allowing your child to take responsibility for your actions. ON TELEVISION. 'Scuse me, crazy mom. I'm talking to you. I know that your understanding of child developmental stages is, um, lacking... but I'll just let you in on a little secret. Thirteen year-olds do not have fully developed brains. That's why they don't drive. That's why there's someone older there, to ensure that they don't get bright ideas about how to transport their homelessness box. And that is also why you have control over who interviews your daughter. And also responsibility for stupid things the two of you do together. Because you're the mom. And you could have said no, and, I don't know, not driven the car with your child on top of it? And having not said no, you could have made the right choice the SECOND time a decision was placed before you, the parent, and not let your child take the fall on television. What lesson exactly were you driving home there for her?

I'll Pre Exisiting Your Condition, Buddy.

I. Cannot. No. Words.

Okay, maybe just, are you freaking kidding me?

What kind of slimey... gits... were sitting around the table at the Insurance policy-making meeting and said, hey, you know what shouldn't be covered? Domestic Violence. Yeah. Good idea.

Psst...

Can I tell you a secret? I would just say it on myface except that I think I might get lynched for it there. I feel like you and I are tight enough that you will accept me, warts and all. Not that I have warts. Cause I don't. Just to clarify. But I will say this. You know that new show, Glee? That one everyone seems to be RAVING about. Yes, it's in my top five. And it's funny. And I love the music. But...

Come closer.

It's not THAT good.

I mean, don't get my wrong, it's still one of my top shows. But this whole, posting that you are watching it as your status and then raving about it (29 comments later) with your near and dear friends and their near and dear friends? Seriously? Simmer down, folks. I mean, shoot, you would think your imaginary husband Edward/Jacob was on the show.

PS When did this new mohawk trend start? I'm not opposed to mohawks, but this new buzzed mohawk looks a little... trashy? I don't know about kids these days...

Names I Call Dibs On

What with you all popping out babies and such, I feel that we need to establish something. I'm calling dibs on my baby names now, and you cannot use them until every single one of my eggs has dried up. Which I guess is kind of a bummer since your eggs will most likely be all shriveled and gone by then too.

1. Lucy. There will be no Charlie or Patty to go with her, so those names are all yours. I may call her LuLu, so if you had thoughts about any variation on that, I'm sorry, I call dibs, and I believe that is legally binding. Kind of like Tap Tap Place Back.

2. Luke. Although, if there is a Lucy already, I will forgo Luke. We're not doing that whole cutesy they-all-start-with-the-same-letter thing. Because that's just asking for it. And I don't want 17 kids.

3. Matthew. I don't know if you've picked up on this yet, but I kind of have this thing for Bible names. At least for boys. Hepsibah and Hagar are all yours. I like the idea of giving my kids names that have a story with them. BigSis is the opposite, I know. She believes that her kids should have names that are all their own, for them to put their own mark on. And they have. Their names are now branded with cuteness. But I think it would be cool to tell my kids about their namesake, and how they should be like them because they were good and stuff.

4. Noah. See above.

5. Joshua. See above above.

6. Olivia. So I can call her Liv. 'Cause that's cute.

7. Vivian. It's old fashioned but I like it, probably partly because it's attached to a living loved one. But for that reason I don't know if I'll use it. I might have to have a rule about having hundreds of years between the two people involved in the naming-after process.

8. Eva. Because it's pretty. And if I get tired of calling her Eva I'll call her Evie. Or Ev. or E.

9. Esther.

10. Isaac. But in the Bible kind of way, not the creepy naming-her-after-my-first-boyfriend kind of way. 'Cause that would be wierd.

11. Hazel.

12. Lola. Her name was Lola. She was a showgirl. With yellow feathers in her hair...


Now that we have my dibs established, feel free to use the following, but be aware I will make fun of you:
1. Brooklyn. Um, if you're going to choose a city, why not Seattle?
2. Edward, Bella, Jasper, Alice, Jacob (okay, not Jacob, that's a good standard name), Emmett, or Rosalie. Do I need to explain? Seriously? Little Rosalie: "Mommy, how'd you pick my name?" You: "Well, sweetie, you see there were these vampires...." I excuse those of you with the name Bella in your child's name previously, because it was already popular and who knew, right? But if you have a little Emmett any time soon, it's on.

Feel free to name your baby after me. I *am* quite the role model, after all.

Also, for serious, I recommend those of you still on the baby name hunt check out the social security database. Several of my names I picked were on there, but I don't see myself having children for a wee bit here, since I lack some of the resources to make that happen, so I don't care. I will use them when they are not trendy. Just be aware that there is a way to check and see if you are being trendy. And then you can decide if you care that your daughter will be Bella D. for her entire school career or not. You can also search by the state you live in. I enjoyed looking at Utah's, and seeing that some of the trends haven't changed much in the last five or ten years there. Although there are less names ending in "lyn" for girls, and I don't think that Hunter, Packer, and other 'er's are so high up.

Honest and Rude are Not the Same Thing

Hey Fellas. Here's something that is not hot. Being rude, and pretending like you're just being honest, and were duty-bound to spew forth your toxicness.

Here is my response: No. No you are not duty-bound to be rude.

To say to your loved one, who is expressing concern for your well-being "shut up and back off" might just acheive exactly that. Said loved one might shut up. Might back off. You may not hear from them in any meaningful way again, because your hostility indicates that their opinion is not valued.

Here's an alternative. Say "that's an interesting way to look at it. Here's how I see it. These are the facts I base my opinion on. I guess you and I just see things differently. That's why I choose the path I am choosing. Thanks for taking the time to worry." Or, even "respectfully, I choose not to follow your advice." Or, "thanks for thinking of me!" But definitely NOT "SHUT UP AND BACK OFF."

Taking the energy you have to aim acid words and angry attitudes towards those who love you is silly. You're kind of missing out on all the perks of the relationship. Also, you're no fun to be around. And it's not hot.

On the other hand, it does make me happy to be single.

The Yippiest Accessory You Could Buy

Seriously. What is this?
Okay, it's an incredibly cute puppy dog. A toy dog, I hear those crazy kids are calling them. And I want this one. But not for reals because I fear I would accidently forget to feed it or something.

But what is this?

When did this become fashionable? I mean,I know a certain girl famous for being rich does this, but seriously? I thought we mocked her? When did we start emulating her, girls? I'm noticing this alarming trend. Going to the nearby shopping center with lots of outdoor space this summer, I noticed that quite a few little teenage girls and twenty-somethings were carrying around their own little yippie dog, or leashing it around. Because shopping cannot be done without it. Kind of like the right pair of earrings.

And then today I was at the pet store with a friend. Which, by the way, is a total misrepresentation. Why are there so few pets at the pet store? Remember when they used to have kitties and puppies you could look at? They totally don't now. Just fish and cheepy birds and a few paranoid guinea pigs. Oh, and some lizards. So at least there's that. But that's not my point. My point, it turns out, is I was this close to running out and getting my own personal little accessory, just so I could get this:

Jack Sparrow, you have never been so handsome. Found at petsmart.com.
Bzzzzz. Bzzzzzuy this at amazon.

Pheeeew have looked so cute for halloween. Also at Amazon.

See my dilemma? Even though I reeeeeally don't like dressing up myself, I could dress up a puppy!

Top Five Reasons I Heart TV

Here are five reasons why, when people tell me, all smug-like, that they don't watch TV, like they should get an award, or angel wings or something, I weep inwardly.

Castle. Seriously. Witty, charming man meets snarky, tough, beautiful lady cop. It's like it's about me but, you know, as a cop. And without the charming man... And.... Okay, but it's seriously good. It's partially about the mystery, but also very much about the characters. I mean, Witty Charming Man has an adorable teenage daughter who is normal, not painfully angsty and overdone, and they do things like have laser gun fights in their living room.

Fringe. If you like Sci Fi, I mean like good Sci Fi, not cheesey, gonna get cancelled after two seasons Sci Fi, this is totally your dream show. It has mystery. It has suspense. It has wierdness. It has grossness. And it has a hot guy here and there. And a cow. Also a crazy scientist who totally makes the show. I tell you, it's hilarious and freaky all at the same time.

Glee. It's snarky. It's awkward. It's like a musical that just doesn't end. I heart it. Especially the awkward single teacher with the impossible crush. Who totally sings in the car. The only objection I have so far is, I'm sorry, what high school are your kids going to where they can sing "I wanna sex you up." With your teacher. on a stage. With parents and the principal looking along and grinning like fools. Um, no. If it could happen, that school needs to be shut down. But then, this school is not meant to be just like yours. It's cartoonier and full of musical numbers.

Law and Order: SVU. You gotta give me points for waiting till number 4 to bring this up. It's got Mariska. It's got Christopher. There is drama. There is justice. There is the doink, doink. Also, we learn about Important Social Issues.

Grey's Anatomy. Four words. Candle floor plan. Wait, that's three words. If you don't know what I'm talking about, well, I'm sorry your life is so empty and meaningless. Also, the ELEVATOR SCENE. You know, That One. Siiigh. I've loved Patrick ever since Can't Buy Me Love with the poofy hair. He still has not let me down. (and Yes, there's the small matter of the wildly unrealistic medical problems and happenings--see The Bomb-- but I can suspend reality. I only excuse KJ from watching for that reason because of her medicaliness. The rest of you should be watching.)

A Day in the Life of Holliberry

I feel like I'm failing somewhere here.

This was the conversation last night in my apartment.

K: Ooh, who's this?
Holliberry: Huh?
K: Oh, this guy just friended me. He's kinda cute.
Holliberry: You don't know him?
K: No. Ew, he's kinda old. Graduated in '81. I was... three. Nasty.
Holliberry: Hm. Hey, you should read my blog. I really feel strongly about this one and I think it's so long that no one read it. (Insert your name here) made a comment the other day that confirmed she hadn't. (because, let's face it, none of my guy friends read this blog--not that I'm bitter)
K: Ewwwww. He's a body builder.
Holliberry: Are you still looking at him?
K: Yeah, I accepted his friend request.
Holliberry: Oooookay.
K: Ugh. He posted (something about how he loves his car). Dork
Holliberry: So maybe instead of cyber stalking you should read my blog.
K: He's friends with so-and-so.
Holliberry: I tell you, I was witty and smart and stuff.
K: Mmm.
Holliberry: Also I really want you to read it. I think you would enjoy it.
K: (mutters)Freakin' nasty... (clicks on more pictures of Old Guy).

I don't know if I've mentioned this to y'all, but I really enjoy writing, and I take pleasure in it. Also, if you want me to admire your paper mache ducks you make as a hobby, I would. I would even put it on my desk at work with pride. Because that's what friends are for.

Not reading my blog is like the equivalent of not being excited about owning a piece of my pottery when I offer it to you. Except that while I may never give you a piece of pottery again if you look pained when I offer you one, I still will fully expect you to read my blog. Because if you have time to cyberstalk or do online gaming for three hours a day, you have time to read my deep thoughts. And don't think there won't be a pop quiz.

**In K's defense, she OCCASSIONALLY checks my blog without prompting. But I choose to be petty and whiney to illustrate a point.

Catchin' the Crazy Cooties

So, ever since the criminally insane man escaped at the fair, I've been holding something in. Crazy, I know, since I'm usually the source of many a socially awkward moment filled with inappropriately blunt comments. Or at least that is what I strive for.

I have heard far too many people say that it's outragous that mentally ill people were let loose at the fair. Um, let me reiterate. And I quote: "patients discharged from psychiatric facilities who did not abuse alcohol and illegal drugs had a rate of violence no different than that of their neighbors in the community."

All I'm saying's that the term mentally ill is not interchangeable with the word dangerous. Most mentally ill people are not dangerous. And you interact with mentally ill people all the time. They don't all hear voices.

But seriously, who takes criminally insane killers to the fair?

You Know Who Looks Goofiest?

I've been ruminating lately on your typical American adult's reaction to mental illness. There is a lady who is often seen standing outside of my office. She's generally fairly clean, although her hair sometimes looks a little wild and her clothes are often mismatched. As she stands at the curb, she has loud arguments. With thin air. To your average passer-by (or bus patron, because there's a bus stop), she's a little intimidating. She's very accusatory in her arguments, and if you are in her eye line you question at first if she is angry at you for some fictional act that she is convinced you carried out. This can be a little scary, because she can sometimes be verbally aggressive and gesture wildly. But I've never seen her invade anyone's personal space, and her intent is not to harm anyone. I'm not sure who she is arguing with, or if they are really an actual person somewhere in the world. But having gotten to "know" her by seeing her every day, I see that she has some mental issues, possibly triggered by some horrible damage done to her earlier in her life, or possibly just brought on by lack of medical treatment and support.

Today as I was going about my work, I passed by her several times as she ranted on the sidewalk. She usually will spend a little time doing this, and then move on. There was a group of three women who appeared to be tourists, or at least women who had broken their normal routine and come into a part of the city they did not often traverse. The first time I passed by, two were doing their best to ignore her, but the third looked rather alarmed, as though she thought the woman was angry at her. The second time I passed by, she seemed to have figured out that the woman was in fact angry at an invisible adversary. The third time I passed by, she had the giggles. Look at that funny crazy lady. She has obviously lost her mind.

I know that mentally ill people can be scary, especially since their illness doesn't manifest itself like many physical illnesses and disabilities manifest themselves, and you're generally not able to ascertain what ails them or how it will impact their behavior. You've seen on TV and in movies how the moods of crazy people can turn on a dime, and suddenly they are having a psychotic break and trying to kill you, and it can be easy to imagine the worst will happen.

In reality, the majority of mentally ill people are not violent. I think that it is our responsibility as adults living in a complex society to try to understand mental illness. Chances are, you know at least one person with a mental illness, whether you think you do or not. Some have been diagnosed, some have not. Chances are that if six people are reading this blog (which would be terribly exciting), at least one has been diagnosed with a mental illness at one point or another in their life, whether it is an issue today or has been treated. To stay in the dark about what it means to be mentally ill is a risky thing to do. At some point in your life, someone you love and care about, to some degree or another, will need your understanding. I recommend the website found at the above link for online information. I'm sure there's probably some other ones out there, but this is the most extensive and informative site I have found.

What makes me just a little sick inside is seeing people who have not just discomfort written all over their face when they are near mentally ill people, but disgust. The look seems to communicate that they think the person should have kept a better grip on their sanity. Or it could also be interpreted to mean that they think they are going to catch the person's crazy. Generally this is not case, unless you count things like untreated Syphilis, which leads to insanity if untreated. To me, that look of disdain and distaste is not only disappointing, but offensive. Also prideful. Who are you to think you are so whole and perfect that you can't empathise with the outward manifestations of the confusion and pain? I'm not saying the empathy and understanding come naturally, because I don't think they do; not with most people, myself included. But those traits are something we should develop as we grow into responsible adults and contributing members of society. So go ahead, giggle if you feel uncomfortable. It's a natural result for some people, myself included. But then maybe go home and read a book about mental illness, or take a class, or subscribe to a reliable blog.

The Stereotypes About Seattle and Why They Are Dumb.

There seems to be this toxic attitude permeating the minds of Seattle Drivers. I hear people say, with a little smile like they are talking about how cute their toddler is who cut their own hair, that Seattle has some of the worst rubber-neckers in the nation. Really? Really Seattle? THIS is what we want to be known for?

The rain thing, I get. Although seriously, implanted Seattlites, ya knew it was like this when you moved here. Also you exaggerate. Alabama gets more rain. Also Miami. And you never say to people you meet from Miami, "gosh, how can you stand living there! I would be so depressed!" And YET, Miami is in the top 10 and Seattle is not in the top 24. Olympia is the first city in the Northwest to even make the list. So, seriously, ask me about something else. Ask me about the coffee shops, which really are everywhere. Ask me about the fact that we have the Sound and rivers and lakes and mountains and hills and really close to us at all times here. Whine to me about the weather, and, I'm just warning you right now, you may find that umbrella you're holding jammed up your nose. I would use my own umbrella but I"m not sure where it is right now.

Any other stereotypes I can express my rage at/debunk?

You Know How I'm Really Great? Compliment Me. Now.

You know how people take those silly "what color is my aura," and "how great am I for being born on this date" quizzes? I've decided that really, those quizzes have only one purpose. Read the results of one of my MyFace friends (who never actually acknowledges me, but we're bffl's in her heart, I'm sure):

Abstract thoughts. Loves reality and abstract. Intelligent and clever. Changing
personality. Attractive. Sexy. Temperamental. Quiet, shy and humble. Honest
and loyal.... Determined to reach goals. Loves freedom. Rebellious when
restricted. Loves aggressiveness. Too sensitive and easily hurt. Gets angry
really easily but does not show it. Dislike unnecessary things. Loves making
friends but rarely shows it. Daring and stubborn. Ambitious. Realizing dreams
and hopes. Sharp. Loves entertainment and leisure. Romantic on the inside not
outside. Superstitious and ludicrous. Spendthrift. Tries to learn to show
emotions.

And then along with the summary, they post something like, "gosh, I wouldn't say that I was HUMBLE. What do you think guys?" And THEN, all the happy glowy friends post thing like, "Girl, you are the most humble, sexy, honest, and loyal girl I know! I wouldn't say you get angry tho! UR so sweet!". And the love fest goes on. And then someone like me posts something like, "yeah, you are pretty ludicrous." Because I am THAT MyFace friend. And THEN it gets really quiet, during which time all the previous posters are most likely sending secret messages saying, "that Holliberry girl is so harsh, you are not ludicrous, and by the way have you seen my sense of humor anywhere around your place? Haven't seen it in years."

I'm off to take some aura quizzes. Feel free to make some preemptive glowy comments here.

Happy Baby Safety Month!

In honor of Baby Safety Month, I would like you all to take a moment out of your busy lives to watch this important informational video.*

*Keep in mind irony here, folks.



P.S. I heart babies. Shaking is bad. That's my message. Call me if you need a sitter. :D

NINE!

Happy 09/09/09!

Literacy is Hot

In my continuing quest to celebrate all the special holidays in the month of September, I would like to honor Read a New Book Month today. Because September is Read a New Book month. But you knew that, so I'm just being patronizing here. In honor of this month-o-literacy, I will highlight a few of my favorite books I've read in the last year.

First, there is The Hunger Games, by Suzanne Collins.

This book reminded me slightly of The Lottery. You know, that short story we had to read in high school that I will never, ever forget. If you've read The Lottery you will know what I mean. It's a fantasy book, based on a post-apocalyptic type world where the US is split up into "districts," where the survivors reside, and there is a capitol city where the ruling class lives. Each year, for the entertainment of the elite and to keep all the district people from rebelling, their children are entered into a lottery, and two from each district participate in a reality show of competition called the Hunger Games. Super good. I felt like the world Suzanne Collins constructed was complete and fascinating. Can't wait to read the next book in the series. I believe it's a trilogy, and book number two is out, waiting for me on a bookshelf somewhere and calling my name.

Next on my list is A Great and Terrible Beauty, by Libba Bray. I swear I don't read that much fantasy, but this is also a fantasy book. A fantastic fantasy book.

The main character, Gemma Doyle, lost her mother at a young age, and then was shipped off to a boarding school for girls. There, she begins to discover these magical powers she seems to possess. She also makes some good friends, and they have adventures, discovering a whole world together. Like Hunger Games, I was fascinated with the way the author constructed a complete world, incorporating the world we know with her own magical world. It was also a good girl power kind of book, with strong female teenage characters, and strong friendships. And it's a trilogy, which means the fun is multiplied by three! The only bummer was that by the end of the book I was hooked on this author, and I discovered that she has not written that much, and the other books she has written don't seem to fall in the same category as this trilogy.

Next in my literary line-up is The Missing Piece Meets the Big O, by Shel Silverstein.

There is much symbolism to be found here. I read this book to my teenagers at the leadership retreat we just had, and I felt like it was a really good message for them, as teenagers on the cusp of adulthood, and for me, as an adult on the cusp of... adulthood. Parallels can be drawn to relationships--both friendships and romantic relationships--quite easily. But I also have drawn parallels to other parts of my life. The, "if I meet this career goal I will be happy," part of me. And the "if I move (insert geographical location to escape to here) I will be happy," phenomenon I have been observing in young adults I know.

The last book I would like to recommend is At Home in Mitford, by Jan Karon. This is a nice laid back book with happy thoughts and sunshine infused into the pages.

Pastor Tim serves a small flock in a small town. We keep him company as he goes about serving his flock, and the thoughts he has. If you like a thoughtful scripture reference thrown into your reading here and there, this is the book for you. I really like the way he will ponder how to help people struggling in the story, and to be the best person he can throughout the series. It inspired me to examine my own thought process and try to intentionally visit and revisit in my mind how I can be the best friend and sister and aunt and daughter I can be. And sometimes I even do nice stuff . Look at me, all growing and stuff.

Hey, Honey ;)

It's Honey Month. I'm pretty sure that the aim of that celebration is that you should call everyone by Honey as your term of endearment for the month. Here's a few scenarios:

Boss: I need your time sheet by five
You: Sure, honey, I'll get right on that.

Drive Thru Attendant: Would you like that Quadruple sized or do you just want the fat delivered intravenously, honey?
You: Hmm... We're going to have to think about that, honey. Check back with us in a minute.

Room mate: For crying out loud, would you please stop calling me honey?
You: Sorry, honey.
Room mate: No, really, it's freaking annoying.
You: Aw, honey, don't be a cranky pants!
Room mate: I'm going in my room.
You (through door): Honey, let's talk about this.
Room mate: $!@#%"$!@#%##@!

That last one is probably an accurate prediction of what will happen with me and K this month. I'll test her endurance and get back to you.

Remember the First Day of School?

Because I don't. I have no recollection of how I felt about going to Kindergarten. I'm guessing I was probably excited, because I had gone with my mom to the school barbecue since my sisters were already in school. I do remember that I had the best Kindergarten teacher in the world, and that we had show-and-tell, and snack time, and bunnies. And we had painting easels. And cute little workbooks where we learned about letters and stuff. My most vivid memories involve sneaking the popcorn from snacktime of the floor and eating it when I thought no one was looking, since we ate snack sitting in a circle on the rug. I'm sure I was totally super sly. At least I wasn't that girl that picked her nose and ate her boogers. That was my neighbor. Not to name any names.

I Heart You, Seattle

Don't ever change, Seattle. Then I will always have something to post on my blog.

Workin' 9 to 5:30ish...

I should mention that I am now employed again. So now I'm going to have to make my life about something other than my unemployment. What to do, what to do....

I'm working in downtown Seattle, at a non-profit I don't want to disclose, in case I have Internet stalkers or something, so please don't out me in my comments sections, and run-on sentences are fun. But being that I'm now a city girl, or at least a one who is employed by an organization located in the city, I'm realizing that I will have lots of good fodder for blogging, or just conversational pieces. Not the confidential stuff, of course, because I would like not to get fired. Also because breaking confidences are not cool. But the other stuff. Like the naked man.

So I'm sitting in my office last week, and all of the sudden I hear the woman at the front desk say "there is a naked man out there," with kind of the same inflection one might use to say "those are some ugly pants he's wearing." Except he wasn't wearing pants. Or anything else. Not even socks. So she said the former, not the latter. The bike cops were already talking to him and trying to convince him to put some clothes on, once they located some. Apparently he wasn't very responsive. This might have been a good thing, since one of the responding officers was telling us that naked people can actually be some of the most dangerous and aggressive--the nakedness being an outward manifestation of some serious crazy. I always thought of streakers as peace loving hippies. Not so, apparently. At least not in Seattle. Maybe in Berkley or something. Anyways, of course when you hear something like that you can't stay in your office, even if you don't really want to be scarred with the vision of nakedness. So I started to come out front, and the staff said, "oh, no, you don't want to see this," as she picked up the phone and paged another staff by saying "(Staff name), please come to the front, you've got to see this." Apparently I must exude Mormon-ness because she knew right away that my virgin eyes could not handle the sight of Naked Man. Pretty quickly a cruiser appeared with a real policeman (something about the bike and the neon yellow coat tells me that the bike police pretty much have the authority to direct traffic). Then a fire truck showed up, and I believe a medic. I've been told that the fire station is called to medical scenes because they have trained medics or something and can usually get there first, being based in stations out in the community. Or I could be making that up. But that's what I think I was told once. Anyways, so at some point he sat down on the sidewalk, and eventually one of the officers coaxed him into putting on some pants or something. I was trying not to do the whole standing around gawking thing, because I was supposed to be working or something. As opposed to all the hecklers I hear were across the street yelling things at Naked Man throughout the spectacle.

This didn't happen at my old job.

Thank You, Dr. Oprah!

I just heard Dr. Oprah say the smartest thing. She was talking to obese children and their parents who weren't sure how they got that way. I kind of stumbled in on it, so she might have been quoting someone, but I'll just attribute it to her. She suggested that eating healthy is a shift of thinking. You think that fruits and vegies are too expensive, compared to crappy processed food? How about buying less video games for your kid who sits in front of the tv all the time (better yet, craigslist the tv, etc, you got for their room and gain money) and devoting that money to your grocery budget in order to make it more healthy. Also, I've done some of my cheapest grocery shopping of all time during My Time of Unemployment, and I managed to spend LESS than normal. How? First I bought the fruits and vegies that were in season (which affects their price) and on SALE. Also, I didn't overbuy as much, because I can't leave fruit and vegies on the shelf and come back in six months to revisit the thought of eating them, like the four boxes of crackers I have shoved in the back of my cupboard. Now excuse me while I go look for my chocolate.

I Heart You, Teachers, But...

Okay, so I fully support teachers. They're good. They taught me stuff. They helped me get into college. They are my friends. But, seriously? I get that they don't pay you enough. I get that you have too many kids in your class. I get that your job might very well suck quite a bit. But have you noticed the economy? And the unemployment rate? There are a LOT of people out there without a steady paycheck because they lost their jobs due to this yucky economy. I'm curious now what rate the Kent teachers are paid. I'm pretty confident it is more than I make. Just saying. I'm sure their demands are reasonable, and I'm pro-teacher here, but being without a paycheck is scary. People who intentionally go without one and then throw a party and dance and sing on the news seem just a little bit crazy to me. Or do you still get magical money when you are in a teacher's union? And more importantly, did I put the apostrophe in the right place? Maybe if I had been in smaller classes I would know.

P.S. I heart you Carrie. :)

You Say Potato, I Say Chipotle

I was thinking the other day about chipotle chilies, wondering what exactly a chipotle was, other than the name of a restaurant that makes fabulous chips and guacamole. In wikiworld, they tell me it's a dried jalapeno which has turned red, which apparently they do if you let them ripen long enough. Question answered. Then I realized that there is something about the word Chipotle that has always bothered me: the fact that my parents pronounce it Chip-OAT-lee. Emphasis on the oat, of course. But I always thought it was Chip-OAT-lay. Wikipedia says my parents' pronunciation is right. I thought that could not possibly be, so I looked here because I knew that they have the handy dandy little speaker you can click on to hear a human being pronounce your word of choice. There are two different speakers, a man and and a woman, and they both agree with me on pronunciation, however one of the definitions says that a chipotle is a pungent red pepper and the other says it is a jalapeno. Get it together, dictionary dot com. Wiki, did you fail me? I had to find a tie breaker.

This website I feel fairly confident is posting correct information, being that they're one of the best known dictionaries. They say that I am more right, although they also give a variation on the pronunciation, cheep-OAT-lay. That's at least fun to say.

So we've established that my parents and all you out there who are pronunciation challenged need to take elocution lessons from me, given my expertise. I would also like to establish that jalapenos are gross. Even given the passion with which I love me some Chipotle steak burrito with their yummy, yummy chips and guacamole, my spice tolerance does not expand much further. And I think that really, jalapeno eaters are showing a part of their true character that is best left hidden. You should not flaunt that kind of sickness.

Dizzle, it's not a very strong rant, but that one was for you.

P.S. Blogger does not believe that chipotle is a word. It suggest instead that I substitute the word chortle. Which is a fun word. Chortle chortle chortle.

I'm Not QUITE There Yet...

So apparently they have a place for people who spend all their time online, not even breaking to bathe, and eating at their computers. Besides High School. And I am proud to say that I still bathe from time to time. Also that I hate computer gaming. It's stupid. Yeah, I said it. When it causes people to forget dates they have sheduled, therefore forcing the girl to break the cd in half (no, it wasn't me, and she may not have broken it, but it was seriously considered), it has gone too far. When families sit in different rooms of the same house and "play" with each other and "talk" to each other online, instead of breaking out the gameboard, or, I don't know, going outside and getting fresh air and talking about real life, it has gone too far. When you are a 30 year old man, and rather than, I don't know, asking a girl on a date (again, not my target male) you get together ten of your closest guy friends you never talk to in real life together so you can all do all your techy stuff and play your game cubes or whatever together for what I'm pretty sure stretches out to at least ten hours, it has gone too far. And when teenagers and adults alike refer to someone as their "friend" and then fully admit that they've actually never met that person, and don't know their real name, but they're sure they're "real," what with all the bonding they've been doing over the game, it has gone TOO far.

I'm not even cranky today. Apparently I can rant about anything. Give me a random topic. I will rant.

Poor Mona

I feel that my education was surely lacking in the art history arena, since it was not until today that I learned that people like to vandalize the Mona Lisa. Did you know that:

1. It was stolen in 1911 from the Louvre, and the true thief, an Italian who believed it should be displayed in Italy, was not discovered until two years later when he tried to sell it? Also, the first suspect, who did not turn out to be involved, had threatened to burn down the Louvre in the past.
2. In 1956, it was damaged when someone threw acid on it?
3. Later in 1956 someone threw a rock at it?
4. On August 2, 2009, a deranged woman threw a mug at it, and was taken to a psychiatric institution, where it was determined that she was mad at France for not taking her as a citizen. The good news is, the museum finally wised up and installed bulletproof glass in front of the painting.

It's all true. The Internet told me so.

I Heart You, Moms, but...

I have a lot of love for all of you moms out there. I really do. And I will admit that I read some blogs by mommies. I don't read them because you are mommies, but because I like you, and if you have darn cute kids and talk about them, so be it.

But this reference to "Mommy bloggers". This I don't get. Since when is that particular group of bloggers entitled to a name? I want a name! Where's my group? And why is the Mommy blogger movement a thing? I supposed if I stop and think about it, a lot of my friends who have blogs seem to have established them to give updates on their families, and spend a lot of time focusing on their kids. This I get, because they spend a lot of time with the little whipper snappers. But, hey, didn't you tell me you are sooooo busy you don't even have time to email me unless it's a group email? When are you having time to follow mommy blogs? Don't worry, this is a rhetorical question, as I'm fairly certain none of those who have used that excuse on me read my blog.

And another thing. I just looked at the mommy blog places referenced in that article. One mentioned is this one. It looks like a lovely resource. In fact, there were quite a few little links on there about improving blogs that I found interesting. But I'm not a mommy, and I don't feel like inviting myself in. So why they gotta be like that? Why does it have to be about the moms? Why can't it be about being a woman? You could still post things about healthy kids, and healthy marriages, because those things apply to many women. But hey, healthy food (should) also apply to me too. What about me???? I'm going to go out and hunt me up a good resource for woman bloggers.... Hmm... and Google says... mommy and woman are interchangeable. Awesome. I'm going to go listen to my biological clock tick now.

Am I Wierd...

to be anti-mug? I don't like drinking water out of ceramic mugs. It tastes different. Also, I prefer to drink my beverages out of glass, but plastic is my second best option. A real bummer since we mostly have ceramic mugs at our house. I am not opposed to a hot steaming mug of hot chocolate, let the record show. Am I the only one that feels this way?

All the Little Birds Go Tweet, Tweet, Tweet

This whole twitter thing. What's up with that? I know there are people who love it, and who are addicted to it. Those are probably the same people who follow Ashton Kutcher. I personally tend towards the group that maintains that the internet has sucked us in enough already. Exhibit one: MyFace. Exhibit two: youtube. Exhibit three: Blog feeds. I'm covered. But apparently everyone in the world doesn't agree with me. Silly but true.


I googled "why Twitter," and a few of the very top posts were "Why Twitter Isn't a Waste of Time" and "Why Twitter Sucks." I keep thinking that it will die out. But even the guy that says it sucks says it will succeed. Bummer. I'm hoping that it at least morphs into something a little less ridiculous. I know it can be a place where you can get news about events or other things of interest to you, and that is neat-o. But I'm kind of over that. Just using the technology that I have, I can get more information faster than I ever could in my pre-computer, pre-cell phone days. Yes, that's right, when I was a kid, we didn't even have cable at my house.


I can find plenty of ways to fill my day with technology if I really want to. That's the dangerous and wonderful thing about it. I've noticed that I spend a lot of time on the computer, and walk away from it wondering how so much time has gone by with so little really accomplished. I can research things, catch up on TV shows, catch up with friends, read blogs from my favorite writers, and find recipes. All of these things are fun, and harmless, at least in small doses. But sometimes (especially with this whole unemployment thing), I find myself spending way to much time online. All the sudden I look up and it's dark and I missed the last lovely sunny hours of the day.


I've also seen that my teenagers often don't know what to do without a laptop in front of them or their fancy phones to text, check emails, etc, on. I can't say it's just a problem teenagers have, though, because it can be just as bad with adults. I have recently assessed my own uses of time and come to the conclusion that I need to stop getting sucked into things and make conscious decisions to do other things with my time. With all this free time, shouldn't I be doing some of those projects I've always meant to get to? Shouldn't my apartment be sparkling? Shouldn't I be nice and cook dinner for my roommate or something? I have family picture to catolog for my mom, tapes of family members talking to transcribe and add to the family history, toenails to repaint, old toys I either need to put in a box or let go of and donate/throw away. So why am I not doing those things? I could totally do them all.

But back to this Twitter thing. If it made you "jittery" to not be able to connect to it for an hour or two, would you admit to it? Because you shouldn't. Also, P.S., iReporter, not only do I not understand why CNN keeps letting you post things, I don't think Twitter needs a competitor. Unless that comes in the form of something less silly and more useful.

I Just Might be a Bass

My computer has gone on the fritz, right after my car went on the fritz, right after my mp3 player went on the fritz. Car is fine, mp3 player may never speak to me again. I'm hoping the laptop will continue speaking to me. Right now he as K's brother's getting looked at, AKA the Computer ER. Fingers crossed he will be able to resuscitate it. Noticed I called my computer a he. This might just call for a name. If he pulls through, that is.

Meanwhile the scene in my apartment just might look like this...

(Pretend that one scene from Spaceballs is here, where the princess is singing "Nobody Knows the Trouble I Seen," in a prison cell. I can't find it. Stupid Youtube.)

Update: Thanks BigSis. It was NOWHERE when I searched for it. Grr.

Top Ten Reasons Hot is Good

Although I still maintain that there have been entirely too many MyFace posts lately regarding the weather, I do declare that a record breaking day of 102 or 103 gives me license to talk about it. But I refuse to whine. Also apparently I am a southern belle. I have decided that, generally, we miss out when we focus on how much weather sucks. If you live in Portland, I give you full license to whine. They got up to at least 108, I hear. That is way too high. And if you live in a place where that kind of temperature is something you don't blink at, yes, I am calling you crazy. I don't care if it's a "dry heat." You are crazy to live in that kind of weather ON PURPOSE. With that said, I am, for the most part, enjoying our freakish weather. Here's why:

1. You have the perfect excuse to eat lots and lots of popsicles.
2. That great feeling you get when you drink a glass of cool weather and all the cells in your body seem to thank you in unison.
3. You lose your appetite and desire to cook things, and as a result your calorie intake falls.
4. Two words: Frozen. Grapes.
5. Sandals are fun to wear.
6. Air conditioning feels really good when it's this hot.
7. Swimming pools. Not that I've been in one. But I hear they are nice.
8. Mosquitoes don't like the heat, so less bites when I visit my favorite day camp in the world.

Freakin' Awesome!

This article is linked to on the cnn website with the headline "Seattle Bakes in Freak Heat Wave." Wooh! We're officially freaks! Freaks who generally don't have air conditioning in their house. But I'll leave the whining for the MyFace status.

Have I Mentioned the Weather Lately?

It's just, if it's raining, you complain on MyFace. If it is hot, you complain on MyFace. If it doesn't rain in too long a period, you complain. If it snows, you complain. Can we think of something else to talk about? How about... books. What are you reading? And if not, why not? What's wrong with you?!

MyFace Faux Pas

I would just like to reiterate, if you post something like "My man is perfect, just stay positive and you will find your man" on my wall, I will defriend you. Especially if I did not say anything about being in despair (which I wouldn't, that's you projecting). After I post this video on your wall. And possibly drive to your house and kick you in the shin.

Drinky, drinky, you're a finky.

With such a catchy and meaningless title, how can you resist reading?

People say random things sometimes upon discovering I am Mormon, and/or that I went to BYU. My favorite, and the oddest reaction in my opinion, tends to be somewhat like the following:

"I hate Utah! They make you become members of the bars! And they won't sell you alcohol on Sunday." To which I respond somewhere along the lines of, "Mmm." 'Cause I kind of don't care if they can't get ahold of alcohol as easily as they would like. They could go hiking or something instead. There are lots of mountains, trails, and just dirt in general there.

Apparently recently that has (mostly) changed. Those who wish to imbibe no longer need to join a club to get a beer. It was interesting to me that at least one local who frequented a specific bar didn't like the change. He thought it might bring in strangers, thus increasing the chance of someone causing a ruckus. I'm not entirely sure why there was a law in place to require that people join a bar in order to patronize it. I'm sure it had something to do with the large percentage of Mormons in the state, since members of my religion do not drink alcohol, along with coffee and tea. I find it slightly amusing that MSNBC claims that the law was in place to "sheild Mormons from alcohol." If all they had to do was join the club (put their name in a registery and pay a small one-time--or possibly annual, I don't know--fee) I don't think that would have "shielded" anyone. I'm sure that the heavy taxes were put into place to try to convince people not to drink, so maybe that's the shield. Having spent four years in Utah Valley (where BYU is), which we affectionately called the BYU Bubble, I didn't meet many people who belonged to bars while I lived in Utah. I actually never heard about the law until I had left Utah. I don't think there were may bars near where I lived.

I know many people believe that it's only Mormons in Utah, but actually they only make up about 60% of the population. Yes, that is much higher than other states. But Washington, Idaho, Nevada, and California have quite a few members as well. Washington, for instance, has 257,710 as of the latest count (they report numbers yearly). Compared to Utah's 1,857,667 that is not very many, but it's not a teeny number. But I digress. If you want to see more statistics on Mormons, who number over 13.5 million worldwide, go here.

My first thought upon hearing this news is that it's funny how long out-moded laws stay in place. But then I noticed in the article that the law was only in place for 40 years. That means it was put in place in the late 60's, for those of you who don't want to think that hard. From what I can glean from the ever-reliable internet, prohibition prevented people from getting a drink at the beginning of last century. I'm assuming somewhere in the middle there were bars that didn't require membership, and they had to clamp down. But I could totally be making up history. The bottom line is, in the eyes of your average beer drinker, Utah became a little less wacky this month.

P.S. I have non-Mormon friends who read this blog, so watch your judginess in the comment section if it looks like it's trying to slip the leash.

I Am Beseeching You...

Stop making fun of the innocents!

I've been contemplating a trend I'm seeing in the media lately. It's come on kind of gradually since I was a little kid. I think the thing that to me has been the signal that it's become the way a large amount of society thinks is this. Oh, and this.

Yes I have a sense of humor. I put it down... somewhere... and I really wish I could find it. Oh, there it... no, that's my employment. I should really pick that up some time soon.

I do understand the humor of the geeky guy who doesn't know how to talk to women. I find it painful to watch, but I get it, and I don't begrudge people their laughs. What's troubling me is this: where are the cool virgins? You don't see them in the TV shows. They are all awkward and lacking life experience. If Hollywood manages to create a cool one, at some point they succumb to the temptation and compromise their beliefs. Apparently being stalwart is not sexy. I'm here to tell you, there are lots of 40 year old virgins out there. People who, because of religious beliefs, and/or personal standards they hold to, choose not to have sex. I don't like that men who grow to be a certain age are invited on talk shows to be gawked at like an elephant with two trunks. You can have a whole life without sex. A successful, satisfying life. That doesn't mean that sex is bad, or that those people aren't interested in it, or don't wish they could have it. But there are things in life that are more important than sex, and their choice to not dive right into it does not make them freakish.

What I am witnessing in the mentalities of our youth is worrisome to me. Teenagers should not base their self esteem on how much sexual experience they have had. Neither should adults. And to see a 16 or 17 year old talk about the lack of inexperience of a peer or themselves as though it is crippling is maddening. Smart, strong, beautiful, successful teenagers with bright futures ahead of them are defining themselves by their experience in one area. They are allowing their partners to convince them that their love is defined by those experiences. And the kids who think like this grow into 20-somethings who seek after experiences in such a rash way they become scarred and sometimes truly emotionally crippled. Why do we perpetuate this belief? And why do we laugh at virgins? I say "we" because I'm sure I've shared a chuckle, so I'm totally not casting the first stone, so to speak. It's just, if you really step back from our culture and look at the beliefs around sex objectively, aren't they a little goofy?

Knives On the Other Hand...

Brought to you by the hard working folks at K's office.

Austen Eli Eli

I have some good news for you. BBC is making a new Emma, and I think it will be fabulous. Also JennaL tells me she thinks it will be four hours. Which is AWESOME. And if you don't think so we can't be friends anymore.

I feel the sudden urge to watch me some Eli Stone.

It's Letter Week!

Dear Pentagon,

I see here that you are contemplating banning smoking for all soldiers in uniform, and the sales of tobacco products on military bases. This is a very interesting proposal. I get the part where healthy soldiers are important. Also, the smelliness and phlegminess which are common characteristics of smokers are not hot, so really you are doing them a favor.

Just one little thing. I don't know if you have ever been around someone who just gave up smoking. I am hear to tell you, it makes them very crabby. Put them in a stressful situation and they REALLY get crabby when you won't let them smoke. So someone who is, say, in a combat situation, with a gun, having "nic fits" might be a little trigger happy. I'm just saying. And before you say you will happily supply them the meds to quit, vivid freaky dreams+combat zone+gun= also pretty scary.

I imagine that some would argue that smoking is banned in many workplaces, and it's all part of being professional. Totally agree. That whole All the President's Men, smoking in the newsroom era has passed, and we should respect each other's air space and try not to intentionally give each other cancer. But people have breaks at those jobs, see? They get to go outside and smoke. Only your soldiers still have their uniforms on during those breaks. See, crabby.

Knowing me like you do, Pentagon, you might be surprised that I would take the side of the smoker. But there's this thing called free will. I believe in it. I think sometimes we let people use it in this country. It's not so much that I don't agree with you that the whole military should stop smoking. That would be awesome. They would not only be healthier, they could spend their discretionary money on things that are really important. Like the equipment, music, and wardrobe to shoot a quality music video. My issue is that if you make them do it against their will, it's like you've become the military of some other country. And the soldiers might wonder what exactly they are fighting for in this new country that is so foreign to them. And then you might have to send them all to prison, where they can smoke in peace and choreograph a little jail yard boogie.