Things I learned this Christmas Eve

1. Pizza Hut is open. How do I know this? Because my grandmother decided to just order several pizzas instead of actually cooking a meal.
2. Several lessons were learned from my decision to cook. In an attempt to compensate for my lack of a home cooked holiday meal I decided to cook the turkey given to me by my work. This in itself was an experience, me being the novice chef that I am. Lessons learned: Apparently a thawed turkey is very slick and slimy, it has a slimy nasty plastic bag of I have no clue what and a long muscular thing stuffed into its body cavity. Pouring slimy marinade all over it before you put it into the Reynolds Turkey bag is not wise because then it becomes even harder to get the slick massive slap of wet poultry into the bag. The smell of turkey juice apparently sparks some primal urge in an otherwise perfect cat, which then goes on the hunt meowing hysterically and trying to trip you in the hopes you might drop the bird to the floor. The metal thing bounding the feet isn’t meant to be pulled out before cooking. It’s wise to arrange cooking bag so you can actually see the little red thingy pop out when it is done. There is a difference between a thermometer for food and a thermometer for a human. Next year I will be in line at work early to get a Tofurkey instead, I somehow doubt they will shove plastic bags of mystery gunk and muscular appendages into tofu.
3. Massive amounts of cleavage aren’t appreciated at holiday dinners. I’m sorry; I didn’t know it was a formal dinner, the ordering of the pizza made me think we were just hanging out.
4. Doubling your Zoloft dose on the day of family festivities is a wise decision.
5. Don’t bring up politics when your son is a Republican and everyone else is a Democrat.
6. Sending text messages during the gathering is frowned upon. Sending text messages to relative across the room and making them laugh hysterically is especially frowned upon.
7. When leaving gifts out from Santa make sure there is not a receipt stuck to one of the packages.

Mother announced that she will be having my arch enemy, the living dead Chihuahua put to sleep. After years of having to carry him under her arms everywhere I was surprised she made this decision. It’s kind of like why bother now? He’s been deaf and blind for years now. I told her we should just send him to be freeze dried and she wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. Basically the only thing that makes him appear to be living now is his raspy asthmatic breathing. We could get one of those little sound chips that they have at Build A Bear to stuff in the teddy bears to make them sound like they are breathing for him and have them install it during the freeze dry preservation process. After berating me for how awful I was for suggesting these things she said that she wasn’t sure what she would do. I suggested letting the vet dispose of him after putting him to sleep. She said that she could do that, she never had before and wondered what they do with the animals, if they buried them or just threw them away. At this point I should have kept my mouth shut, however being the know it all that I am I told her that vets sell the dead carcasses to pet food companies for rendering into pet food. She argued that I was joking, I countered with documentation to prove my point. So since she can’t stand the thought of freeze drying him or having him become a meal he must be buried on her farm. Ultimately I screwed myself by opening my big mouth since she will be so upset about his death that the actual burial process will fall on me. Basically I’ll be trying to dig a grave into frozen, hard as a rock soil, in the middle of the freaking winter for the little fucker. And this will put me on schedule to be sick at Christmas and having another bad holiday. He probably planned it this way.

A new pet grave just in time for Christmas.

Mother announced that she will be having my arch enemy, the living dead Chihuahua put to sleep. After years of having to carry him under her arms everywhere I was surprised she made this decision. It’s kind of like why bother now? He’s been deaf and blind for years now. I told her we should just send him to be freeze dried and she wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. Basically the only thing that makes him appear to be living now is his raspy asthmatic breathing. We could get one of those little sound chips that they have at Build A Bear to stuff in the teddy bears to make them sound like they are breathing for him and have them install it during the freeze dry preservation process. After berating me for how awful I was for suggesting these things she said that she wasn’t sure what she would do. I suggested letting the vet dispose of him after putting him to sleep. She said that she could do that, she never had before and wondered what they do with the animals, if they buried them or just threw them away. At this point I should have kept my mouth shut, however being the know it all that I am I told her that vets sell the dead carcasses to pet food companies for rendering into pet food. She argued that I was joking, I countered with documentation to prove my point. So since she can’t stand the thought of freeze drying him or having him become a meal he must be buried on her farm. Ultimately I screwed myself by opening my big mouth since she will be so upset about his death that the actual burial process will fall on me. Basically I’ll be trying to dig a grave into frozen, hard as a rock soil, in the middle of the freaking winter for the little guy. And this will put me on schedule to be sick at Christmas and having another bad holiday. He probably planned it this way.

Holiday Memories from the ER

I must be cursed on holidays in addition to my birthday (or maybe it’s just because my birthday is on a holiday that it sucks). Instead of looking forward to togetherness and family gatherings on the holidays I always look forward to the marathons that will be on A&E and sitting around in pajamas all day. Perhaps since I have this attitude the cosmos align on the holidays to punish me for being antisocial. I think it is genetic. If my family wanted to be social with each other then perhaps they would actually have a family gathering on the holidays. We always send each other a generic Happy Thanksgiving, Merry Christmas, or Happy Birthday text message on the day it is scheduled for in our planners so it isn’t completely unacknowledged. Nothing makes you feel more warm and fuzzy inside than a holiday text message! People always give me a sympathy invite to their holiday family gatherings but it is just too weird when it isn’t your family and you know that the only reason you got an invitation is out of pity, not because of your award winning personality. I gave up on sympathy turkey years ago. So this Thanksgiving I planned to embark on my reliable holiday tradition, sitting back in the recliner and watching whatever marathon was on. I especially needed to stay in since I had been fighting off a cold and something was wrong with my ear. It had been hurting for about two weeks; however since I would rather chew broken glass than go to the hospital I stupidly tried to treat my symptoms myself. A midwife I work with had looked in it and told me she thought it was a piece of wax that was down in my canal irritating it. Of course being that the ear is not the particular hole of the body that a midwife is an expert on this was not the best person to ask. Since I didn’t have a fever I assumed that she was right and I treated my ear as if it was the wax causing the discomfort. This consisted of home remedies of irrigation solutions of peroxide, warm water, heating pads, and just general stupidity on my part. I even bought an ear wax removal kit at the pharmacy, which I didn’t even know that they had before this. Yesterday my ear seemed to be hurting worse and in a vain and stupid attempt at fixing it on my own once again I ended up putting myself in agonizing pain and realizing that it was time to go to the ER , fearing that I had damaged my ear drum. Thanksgiving at the ER….. not the best place to be on a holiday and hopefully it won’t become a tradition. After going through the entire list of what I had put in my ear to the triage nurse she looked at me and asked why I hadn’t went to a doctor sooner and said that I should have known better. I told her I saw the error in my reluctance to seek treatment but thanks for pointing out what a twit I was anyway. I into the waiting room after being triaged to wait my turn. Just my luck the only seat available was between two men, one who I will refer to as the Witless Wonder and the other as the Geriatric Messiah. The Geriatric Messiah looked to be at least ninety, reeked of scotch, and was very loudly making proclamations on anything from gas prices to the end of the world. He kept tapping me on the shoulder to turn and listen to his pointless proclamations. The Witless Wonder was about forty, had a mullet, and a thick country accent complete with overalls and a John Deer cap. He wouldn’t stop talking to me even though I was obviously in a great deal of pain and he paid no attention to the fact that the ear he was talking to was covered by my hand and the fact that I wasn’t even looking at him.
Witless Wonder: You sick?
Me: No I come to the ER on the holidays to have some company and maybe get some free samples.
Witless Wonder: Really?
Me: No.
Witless Wonder: I got a splinter here in my thumb that I got from chopping wood. I tried to get it out but it’s a big one. You want to see?
Me: No.
Then the Witless Wonder, who is completely oblivious to my extreme lack of interest, held his thumb in front of my face to show me the splinter.
Witless Wonder: It hurts like a son of a bitch.
Me: I’m sure it does. (Then a tap on my left shoulder)
Geriatric Messiah: Lady, people can’t even afford food. We are at war. We are all going to die!
Me: Well isn’t that a lovely thought.
Witless Wonder: Don’t I know you from somewhere?
Me: No you don’t.
Witless Wonder: You really look familiar to me. Maybe I know your husband.
Realizing that this might be Witless Wonder’s attempt at finding out if I was available for him to seduce me I rolled my eyes and just glared at him.
Me: You might know him; he’s out there in a big truck with a big Remington on a gun rack. Why don’t you go out there and see?
At that moment I got up and started pacing at the opposite end of the waiting room. After what seemed like an eternity I was finally called back by the nurse who berated me once again about the fact that I should have known not to treat my ear at home. The exam rooms were full so she put me in this little corner and the only privacy I had was a curtain around the gurney I was sitting on which allowed me to hear everything that was going on at the nurse’s station. The doctor came out of an exam room to ask the nurse where he needed to go next.
Nurse: Over there behind the curtain is the girl with the ear. The pain has been going on for awhile but she decided to treat it herself instead of going to see someone.
Dr: The one that may have ruptured her ear drum?
Nurse: That’s the one.
Dr: Why did she do that to her ear?
I then started laughing loudly, thinking about the irony me being at the ER on a holiday with a self inflicted injury, looking like an idiot. They both got very quiet, probably thinking that I was completely crazy.
After a quick record breaking forty five second exam he determined that I had in fact hurt my ear (as if there was any doubt) and that I had swelling behind my tympanic membrane, a result of a massive ear infection, not wax, which was further aggravated by all of my home remedies. I’ll get a five hundred dollar bill for a forty five second exam. I even had to get more than the usual medicine prescribed for an ear infection since my ear in such bad shape. Then I had to go to the pharmacy to stand in a line. Why is there a line in the pharmacy on Thanksgiving? Aren’t most normal people with their families? Thankfully I didn’t get an ignorant pharmacy clerk this time. Then I got to spend the rest of the evening in a drug induced coma. Wonder what fiasco I will find myself in on Christmas.

The Turkey Jerky Casanova

My mother called me last night on my way home from work and asked me to stop by Sam’s Club on my way home and pick up a mega pack of jerky treats for her dogs. Mom has two poodles and a Chihuahua that is so close to death flies are already buzzing around him. I don’t particularly care for the poodles because all they do is give a high pitched bark at every sound they hear, even if it is just the wind blowing. The Chihuahua I absolutely loathe. Someone dropped off this little dog at my mother’s house because they must have heard that she is like Mother Teresa with stray animals. She takes them in and nurses them back to health no matter how old or sick they are. I am a big animal lover and I am just about as bad as she is about taking care of a stray animal, but this particular one I could have said no to. He wheezes every time he takes a breath, his penis no longer retracts and hangs out all of the time, one of his ears has a chunk missing, and his eyes are so fogged up by cataracts he can only see out of a tiny area in the corner of one eye. He is constantly running into the wall or your leg because he can’t see and his hearing is not good either. He is also very ill tempered (which if I had all of his afflictions I would probably be just as mad at the world) and any time he runs into your leg he bites it. My mom took him to the vet when he first came to the house and they couldn’t determine his age for sure. They told her from the looks of him that he was probably very old and only had a few more months to live. That was five years ago. For five years I have endured small bites on my leg every time I go to my mom’s house. Needless to say I loathe the dog. So I was already ticked about having to get out in the thirty degree weather with high winds and snow to get jerky for two dogs that annoy me and one that is my arch enemy. After finally finding my way to pet products in the massive mega warehouse that is Sam’s Club I was ready to just grab the bag and go. I had just grabbed the bag and was starting to leave when a very skinny man approached me. He had long gray hair pulled back in a ponytail, a mustache, wearing old jeans and a flannel shirt. He said that if I really wanted my dogs to be happy I should give them all natural turkey jerky. I told him that they were not my dogs and what I had was fine. He then offered me a piece to try, saying that it was all natural and humans could eat it too. I began to think maybe he was one of the sample people that they always have in there trying to offer you a piece of food assuming you’ll try it, like it, and then buy it. I told him I didn’t need to try a sample and thanked him anyway. He then said that he wasn’t offering samples, he was just going to give me a taste cause I was so cute and then thrust his chest out and licked his lips. It was then painfully obvious he was coming on to me. Is this what I’ve been reduced to? Attempted seductions by hippies offering petrified meat as an aphrodisiac at a wholesale warehouse? I just rolled my eyes and walked past him. He then said “Hey Red, where you running off to?” To this I replied “fuck off”. The first time anyone has brazenly hit on me in months and it has to be Cheech and Chong’s distant cousin offering me turkey jerky. In the past I’ve been offered by men to have drinks bought for me, or dinner, but never turkey jerky. Exactly what kind of pheromones am I giving off to attract this type of man? Forget tall, dark and handsome, it’s now scrawny, gray and annoying. I checked out with my lone bag of dog treats and walked back out into the artic tundra to deliver the freeze dried petrified meat to mom’s freeze dried petrified Chihuahua and his annoying friends. This is my life.

A Republican Amongst Us

My son is five, extremely intelligent and more political than I ever thought about being at his age. He is just like me, capable of having deep philosophical conversations along with having a ditzy blonde moment at least twice a day. (He is a brunette, so I guess in this case I will just call it Sarah Palin syndrome) My son had an election at school a week prior to the recent election. He was so proud of himself that he had voted. I told him I was proud of him for voting. Last night he brought up the election he had at school. He asked me if I wanted to know who he voted for. I said sure if he wanted to tell me. The conversation went as follows:
Damien: I voted for John McCain.
Me: Wow son. So you’re a Republican?
Damien: How did you know? (Sarah Palin syndrome kicking in)
Me: Magical guess. So what made you vote for John McCain?
Damien: He just seems like a very sweet old man and he has that pretty woman with him all of the time. Obama doesn’t have a pretty girl with him.
Me: Which pretty girl? His wife or Sarah Palin?
Damien: The one with brown hair. Not his daughter. She’s pretty too though.
Me: Which daughter?
Damien: The one that is with him all the time. She has yellow hair.
Me: That’s his wife, not his daughter.
Damien: No she’s not. She’s too young to be his wife.
Me: That’s called a trophy wife son. You’ll probably have one some day too, especially since you are a Republican.
Damien: Who are you voting for?
Me: I have an Obama sticker on both of our vehicles. Who do you think?
Damien: You are a Democrat?
Me: Yes.
Damien: You are voting for Obama?
Me: Yes.
Damien: That just won’t work. He doesn’t have a pretty girl with him.
Me: You have a right to your choice; I have a right to mine. We don’t have to both vote for the same candidate.
Damien: Yes we do. Now you have to pick John McCain mom. You have to go with my choice. (My son is getting very agitated at this point)
Me: Wow Damien, you are really opinionated, argumentative, and think that you are always right and everyone should go with your opinions. You make a very good Republican.
Damien: Well, I can’t believe you’re a Democrat. (Arms crossed across chest at this
point, pouty defeated look across his face.)
Me: Sweetie, you do realize that the election is over, right? We don’t get to vote again. They don’t take turns. Obama won. He is the president now.
Damien: Oh. I’m gonna miss John McCain. Can we go visit him?
Me: Let’s change the subject. What did you learn today?
Damien: I learned about Hanukah. Happy Hanukah mom.
Me: Thank you dear. Happy Hanukah to you.
Damien: We should celebrate Hanukah.
Me: We aren’t Jewish.
Damien: What?!?
Me: We aren’t Jewish honey.
Damien: We should be. I want to have Hanukah. Why aren’t we Jewish?
Me: I don’t know, I guess the egg I came from was implanted in the wrong uterus.
Damien: I think we will have Hanukah.
Me: Okay son, you be a Jewish Republican, I’ll be an agnostic Democrat with Catholic tendencies.
Damien: Fine you can be a Democrat mom, just as long as you vote for John McCain.

At this point I feel like beating my head against the wall, wishing I didn’t live in a dry county.

Hooked on Phonics doesnt work for everyone.

When I leave work I am usually exhausted. Yesterday was no exception. I had to stop by Walgreens to pick up a prescription that I had dropped off three days earlier, so I knew that by now it would be ready. When I got there two very long lines of people were at the pharmacy counter. After about fifteen minutes it was my turn at the counter. The woman that had been in front of me was now standing to my side waiting because the clerk told her that her prescription was not ready and when she insisted it must be ready since it too had been called in several days prior the clerk told her to simply stand by and she would talk to the pharmacist about it when he got a spare minute. I told the clerk that I was there to pick up my prescription and gave her my name. The first two initials of my last name are Li. The plastic bins that they keep the prescriptions in at Walgreens are labeled with the first two letters of the last name. She looked in the first bin that was marked LA-LH. She did not look in the second bin which was marked LI-LZ. She then told me my prescription was not ready either. I told her that it must be because it had been called in three days ago. She then said she would see if it was in pending. While she was doing that I started staring at the bins. Sure enough I could see my name clearly marked on one of the prescriptions in the LI-LZ bin. When she got back and told me that it wasn’t pending I said that I knew it was ready because I could see it and I pointed to it. She then got an attitude and said that I was wrong. By this time my patience was wearing thin. The conversation went as follows:
Me: My prescription is right there in that bin, the one marked LI-LZ.
Clerk: No it’s not. That bin starts with LL.
Me: No it doesn’t. That is an L and an I.
Clerk: No it isn’t. It doesn’t have a dot. It has two L’s.
Me: That is a CAPITAL I! That is why there is no dot. It is a capital I.
Clerk: Lady, I know it doesn’t have a dot. It’s an L, as I told you.
At this point I said nothing and just stared at her. I was about to blow a head gasket. Realizing at this point that explaining the alphabet to her was going to be like explaining physics to Forrest Gump I decided to stop trying. I then said in a very firm voice that I could see my prescription and if she couldn’t manage to find it with me pointing to it then I would gladly go behind the counter and get it for her. She then rolled her eyes and looked, of course found it and then began slamming the keys on the cash register because she was obviously agitated. The woman beside me had witnessed the whole encounter and realized that her missing prescription probably couldn’t be found because of the clerk’s lack of skill. She asked if the clerk would mind checking again on hers as well. Magically she managed to find it in the same bin.

French Tips, Drainage Bags and Testicles

I’ve never had a good experience when getting my nails done. The first time I got my nails done I was a complete novice to the process and just my luck I ended up with the Nail Nazi taking care of me. He berated me for chewing my own natural nails down to nubs because he had hardly anything to work with and he also got frustrated with me when he was telling me something and I replied with “what?” or didn’t do what he commanded immediately. How was I supposed to know “You go wah han na” meant “You go wash hands now”? On top of the fact that he was speaking so fast and obviously mad at me it was a very frustrating experience. I then trained myself to listen very carefully and after learning the general process I could usually decipher what they were saying during future appointments. I had not had my nails done in several years when I passed by a nail salon on Saturday that was offering a full set of acrylics for $15. I’m a sucker for a bargain and decided I should devote a little time to myself and at that price I deserved to. I walked in to what I expected to be a full salon and found much to my surprise no one was there. This should have been my first clue. A short guy comes out of the back, introduces himself as Ping, and motions to a seat. After we get through the basic chat detailing what I want he gets to work. He starts talking to me through the mask that they wear. I think this muffling makes an already hard to understand dialect even harder to understand. I really just wanted to relax and not talk. Americans can pick up on the subtle cues that I don’t want to talk to them which I try to project 24/7. The Vietnamese apparently do not. He goes through asking me a million questions I can barely understand in between talking to his brother who is sitting next to him in his native tongue about me and giggling. Ping is done with my first hand and is getting starting on the second when another customer comes in. She is apparently well known to the establishment since they call her by name. Linda (at least I think that was her name, the pronunciation I heard was Lina or Wina, I couldn’t be sure) sat down beside me and Ping’s brother promptly started working on her. I noticed a smell coming from this woman but being she was extremely overweight I assumed it was weird body odor. I then began to drift off in my mind and try to tune everything out (Ping was now carrying on a conversation with his brother and Linda) when I was promptly pulled out of my attempt at a day dream by the brother. He was asking Linda what the tubing was hanging from her shirt. I had not noticed this when she walked in. She then lifted her shirt and showed him that she had a drain coming out of her stomach from a surgery that she recently had where the incision got a massive infection and she now had to have this drain for a few days to get the pus out. I kid you not, a drain bag complete with a bit of orange tinged liquid at the bottom. At least the origin of the weird smell was no longer a mystery. After she explained all of this Ping asked her why she wasn’t home in bed since she had the drain and she responded that she needed to get her nails done for her date. Now exactly what kind of date do you have that is so important you have to show up with a temporary drainage bag connected to your stomach? I could understand if you had something permanent like an ileostomy but a temporary situation? Just wait a few days. The act of getting perfect French tips for the date in the first place seems kind of trivial when you have A FREAKING DRAIN ATTACHED TO YOUR BELLY! Although acrylic nails can be quite beautiful I don’t think their beauty is quite enough to make someone not notice a drainage bag hanging from you. Apparently Ping and his brother did not seem to notice the socially unacceptable practice of showing up for a date with a drainage bag attached. They kept talking and laughing. I must have tuned out while pondering Linda’s date rationale because I was pulled back into the conversation by Ping snapping his fingers at me. He wanted to know if I knew the English word for that thing that hangs down between a man’s legs. I stared at him for a few seconds and then said “testicles”. Then he was all excited that I had given him the right word. He then said “testicles, that's what I meant, dog testicles” to Linda and his brother. In Ping’s home county they castrate their dogs by placing a rubber band around their testicles and waiting for them to fall off. How they got on this particular subject I do not know. I began to think that perhaps I was in a really bad dream or I’d been killed in a car accident earlier in the day and I was on the first level of Dante’s Inferno. Ping finally finished with me, I paid and wished Linda good luck on her date, got in my Jeep and left skid marks in the parking lot. As I was peeling out of there I noticed letters on the roof that said Bargain Nail. Not plural, just one nail. Maybe they had an “S” before but a rival nail salon placed a rubber band around it.

People who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones.

John McCain’s crew has set up automated robot calls to many people to help sway those who are still undecided. In these calls (which I heard a recording of this morning) it is clearly stated that Barack Obama associates with terrorists because of his association with Bill Ayers. For those of you who don’t know Mr. Ayers is currently an American education theorist but he is more well know for his anti-war activism in the 1960’s. Who wasn’t against the war back then anyway? Now understandably he did some radical things with explosives back then but at the time he was all riled up blowing up things Barack Obama was only 8 YEARS OLD! They later became reacquainted as adults and worked on education reform in Illinois, many years after Mr. Ayers had put his extreme radical acts behind him. The phone calls being made make it sound as though Barack was wiring the bombs for him. He was 8 at that time! I was friends with a boy at my school when I was 9 years old who later in his adult life robbed several banks. Does this mean I fraternize with bank robbers? The most hypocritical thing about this is the fact that John McCain threw a fit back in 2004 when similar calls were made against him bringing up his wife’s drug addiction. He can dish it out but can’t take it. He wants to cover up the mess in his own backyard but diligently tries to prove his opponent will create a mess with flat out lies. He is a typical Republican after all but this is just outrageous behavior even for them. He has launched one of the ugliest smear campaigns that I have ever seen or heard of, and it’s just scary to think what will happen if the Crypt Keeper and the Caribou Barbie actually make it to the White House.

Sins of the past cast long shadows on the future....

The past needs to stay in the past. People don't need reminders from others of what happened way back when. Constantly bringing up past mistakes gets us nowhere. People who desire to change do change, and they shouldn’t be dragged down by the ghosts of the past. A person has no problem remembering regrets on their own without having to be reminded by someone else. Nothing is more frustrating than doing something right and having someone say that you used to do it wrong. What we do from today on matters, yesterday is long gone and those that don't want to live in the present need to be left in the past.

My one and only religious blog ever.

I know that it may come as a great shock to those of you who read my blogs that I don’t go to church. I’m not against religion itself, I consider myself to be a very spiritual person in fact. I’m kind of like a Buddhist with Catholic tendencies. I do not agree with organized religion. Those who go to church regularly and love it good for them, it’s just not for me. I don’t like going to a building and being told what I’m going to hell for. I can read the Bible myself and determine that, I don’t need someone else to tell me. My apathy towards church began when I was a child. A neighborhood kid told me I would burn in hell if I didn’t start going to church with her so I started going. When I did go I didn’t have to hear her tell me about my future damnation, I got to instead hear it from my Sunday school teacher, who told me that it was good that I was going to church but my mother was going to burn since she wasn’t there and that I needed to hurry up and get her converted and get myself saved or else if I was killed tomorrow I would burn. It finally dawned on me I didn’t need that kind of negative energy in my life so I quit going. I guess this was the beginning of my transformation into a sinner. Apparently being a good person isn’t enough, you have to have your ass firmly planted on a church pew every Sunday as well. I’ve tried a few more churches since then but I just didn’t get into it. The visits either consisted of someone trying to pair me up with a fellow divorced church man or stares of disappointment because I had missed a couple of Sundays here and there so I wasn’t consistent in my fellowship. All the while the most adamant person staring and judging the hardest is the once committing adultery or some other sin. Sunday mornings at the house of hypocrisy aren’t really my cup of tea. Yesterday I ran into someone that used to attend a church that I went to. She is really into the church. People who are overly religious bible thumpers usually don’t bother me unless they try to “save” my wretched soul and take it upon themselves to make me their latest salvation project. This woman bothers me. She said the usual hi how are you and what have you been up to and then she hit me with we miss you at church. Okay well it’s been about ten years since I’ve been there but whatever. Then she asks me where I attend church now. When I replied no where she looked at me very sternly. She informed me that I really need to start attending church somewhere, preferably her church, because Jesus wouldn’t approve of me not going. Okay number one, unless you are a reincarnation of one of the apostles that actually walked with Jesus back in the day don’t tell me what he wants, because you don’t know. Number two, the bible states not to judge lest ye be judged so isn’t she herself committing a sin by judging me? I shrugged and just said I don’t have the time. She then started in on some sermon and reiterated the fact I really need to go. I then responded to her that I would love to but I don’t think the other members of my coven would approve. That shut her up. I probably should have been sweeter about it and found something else to say to end the conversation but I was tired. And after all, apparently I’m just a sinner anyway so I guess I should protect my title.

Urban Cowboy

Dear Mighty Urban Cowboy,
How can I resist your charm? You must be a really neat person because for all that heavy work you must do there is no dust on those Redwings you wear. I know you said that callous on your hand was from fencing, but your Playstation controller looks pretty worn to me….
Running out of gas while patrolling the subdivision in your oversized dooly truck?
Hey you might get better gas mileage if you dropped that heavy belt buckle.
I guess you are kind of green though, you do recycle. You make sure you save all your Mountain Dew bottles to spit your chew into. And as if all these things weren’t proof enough of your masculinity my redneck friend, you have a strategically placed pair of testicles hanging from your truck to erase any doubts I might have. How can a woman resist?

How what didn't happen yesterday will affect you.

In case you’ve missed every news program out there the bailout plan was rejected yesterday. The House can barely find their own a**hole with a mirror, much less make a major decision that could save the economy. In an effort to save billions they have now caused us to lose trillions. 401K savings dropped like rain yesterday as the stock market dropped more than it ever has. It will affect every single person out there, not just those trying to get a mortgage or auto loan. When banks say they are going to have to stop giving credit, they mean ALL credit. It’s not just those in the market for a house or some big ticket item that will be in trouble. Here’s an example: You have a credit card with a $6000 credit limit. You currently have a balance of $1000 on it. That means you have $5000 available credit. This is the credit the bank will take. Whatever you still have available on the card the bank will take, reducing your credit limit to save themselves from the liability. Then your debt to credit ratio will change, causing your credit score to lower, and things with a price rate based on your credit rating will go up, such as car insurance. Everyone is going to be screwed if there isn’t some type of resolution put into place, it may already be too late. Hopefully today we will have an answer. Oh wait a minute, that’s right, the House won’t resume negotiations until Wednesday, because today is Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year and they must observe this. Wow, is this a Federal holiday that I didn’t know about? Hmmm, it didn’t seem like all of the government agencies and banks were closed today. That’s okay; we can sway in the wind one more day, waiting to see the outcome. We’ve been doing it for eight years now, what’s one more day? Mazal Tov!

The way I see it......

I love Starbucks. Love probably isn’t a strong enough word to describe my feelings for this place. This place is like a vital part of my daily schedule. I’ve tried other coffee drinks at other coffee shops, and nothing ever matches their drinks. One thing that makes me feel better about my purchase of overpriced coffee on a regular basis is the fact that they make me feel more “green” about myself. I tell myself that since they go to great lengths to get approval to use drink cups out of recycled material then they really care and Al Gore would be happy with my choice of a coffee shop that tries to go green. I just have one concern with this place, that every barista that makes my drink uses two cups for one beverage, even when the outer protective cuff is on the cup as well. This practice happens at every Starbucks I go to. If you are going to go to great lengths to do your part for our environment and make your cups out of 10% post consumer recycled content doesn’t it kind of defeat the purpose when you use two cups for each drink?

Tales from the crypt of what used to be our thriving economy.

I should have focused on a financial career. I could have became the head of a bank or mortgage lender, gave loans to every Tom, Dick, and Harry that applied for one, collected my bonuses, and then when they couldn’t pay any more cut my losses and go and let someone else clean up the mess. This is basically what every major mortgage lender has done which has led to the downward spiral that our economy is on. It is very perplexing to me, as well as many other people who just can’t get their head around this. I think aside from being confusing it is hard to comprehend that this could have happened in the US, but it has and it can’t be mended with a band aid. This is my extremely simple explanation of the major contributing factor that has brought us to this point. This is the way I understand it from all of the political magazines and money reports that I read.
Okay first you have Suzie and Johnny. They have just gotten married and are ready to take the next big step, which is home ownership. They go to the bank and apply for a loan. Now the lender takes into consideration both of their incomes to come up with a higher mortgage and allow them to get a higher priced home. Back in the good old days when it was actually harder to get a mortgage loan they considered one income, which made sense because if one lost their job then the other one could always pick up the tab. Or you had a lot of collateral to offer and if you ended up not paying the bank could seize your assets and it wouldn’t be a total loss to them. This might result in a lower price range but this was the smartest move for the consumer. However lenders got greedy and as their commissions went up the requirements for obtaining a loan went down. So Suzie and Johnny buy a house with a mortgage figured on both of their incomes. Everything is going smoothly for a while. Credit card offers come quickly, along with even more lines of credit since they have a loan in the first place. Being of sound financial mind they only get one credit card for emergencies. As the months go by their credit limits build since they always make timely payments and everything’s all happy. They get a furniture set on sale and finance this since they have been managing so well and they figure they’ve got it covered. Then Johnny’s company lays him off because they are moving to Mexico. Why stay in the US and pay Americans what their worth when you can go across the border and pay Pedro 25 cents to do the exact same job? Big business has gotten greedy yet again. So Johnny draws unemployment for awhile until this fizzles out. He can’t find another job because the job market sucks right now. What jobs are available are being filled quickly and those are few and far between because Johnny’s company wasn’t the only one that left the country. Suzie’s doing all she can to cover that fancy mortgage payment with her income, but since it was figured on both of their incomes she can’t reasonably pay it. They pay everything they can with the credit card until it’s maxed out, eventually they max out all of their resources and they are drowning in debt. The cause of all their problems was started by this massive mortgage payment so they do what they have to, which is just mail the keys in and walk away. Now since they had no collateral in the first place they have nothing else to offer the bank so they are left holding the bill.
The second example is Pete. He passes by a house one day and decides he wants to buy it. He goes to the bank and says I want to buy that house. He has no collateral, no down payment, and has been working steadily at the same job for a whopping six months. Mr. Lender tells Pete to sign on the dotted line because he meets the current requirements for obtaining a mortgage loan, which is a pulse. He takes the keys to his house, fills his new home with items purchased on all of his newly available credit lines and cards. He makes the minimum payments while it suits him to do so, but then he decides he’s tired of the obligation and quits making the payments on all of his bills and eventually his mortgage. He walks away from his home leaving the bank with another loss.
These are two really simple examples but it is the basic synopsis of events that have led to where we are at today. Basically a lot of people have done what Suzie, Johnny, and Pete have done and this led to a mortgage meltdown as banks keep accumulating more and more losses. Then they go bankrupt or get a bailout and leave someone else to clean up the mess. This has led to the miserable economy that we are in today and has also made us the laughing stock around the world for looking like idiots. Everyone got greedy and now it’s time to pay the piper.

Apocalypse

I watched an interesting History channel documentary that stated that the anticipated date for the end of the world will occur on December 21, 2012. I then googled this and found many sites devoted to this apparent fact that I did not know even existed. I also found an equal number of sites that talked about the stupidity of those believing this fact. I’m beginning to think it might be true given the pathetic state of our economy and everything seems to be going to hell in a hand basket lately everywhere. Driving home Friday night I passed by tons of gas stations, all out of gas, and the one that finally did have gas had hundreds of cars in line to get what was left. Food prices have gone up and everyone is having to scrimp and save, spending less and thus shoving the economy down this seemingly never ending cycle. 401K’s are dropping value about every ten minutes. I got all exited after checking my retirement report and I’d only lost 37cents. Then it dawned on my dumbass I’ve only been enrolled for about a month in it. (I’ve been slow to reach financial maturity and start planning and saving) I also found an Einstein quote that stated once the bees were gone man would follow in four years. Well, 2012 would be four years from now, and the bees are disappearing around the world, everywhere except Israel. Hmmmm…….It’s really made me think. What if everything is going to end in 2012? I found that the only place geologically in the US that might survive whatever happens would be Berea, KY, for reasons I can’t understand. It’s probably just some ad campaign the Berea Tourist Board and real estate agencies created for obvious reasons. I don’t know. I’d like to be able to say that all of this reflection about our possible impending demise has made me be a better person. I’d like to be able to say this but unfortunately that would be a lie. I’m still the same sarcastic, hateful person I always was. I may rent an RV and spend the 21st of December 2012 in Berea. Then I can return to work on December 23rd to hysterical laughs while people speculate on what an idiot I am.

The way I see it....

I love Starbucks. Love probably isn’t a strong enough word to describe my feelings for this place. This place is like a vital part of my daily schedule. I’ve tried other coffee drinks at other coffee shops, and nothing ever matches their drinks. One thing that makes me feel better about my purchase of overpriced coffee on a regular basis is the fact that they make me feel more “green” about myself. I tell myself that since they go to great lengths to get approval to use drink cups out of recycled material then they really care and Al Gore would be happy with my choice of a coffee shop that tries to go green. I just have one concern with this place, that every barista that makes my drink uses two cups for one beverage, even when the outer protective cuff is on the cup as well. This practice happens at every Starbucks I go to. If you are going to go to great lengths to do your part for our environment and make your cups out of 10% post consumer recycled content doesn’t it kind of defeat the purpose when you use two cups for each drink?

One thing that absolutely amazes me is the amount of emptiness that consumes the brains of so many people I encounter everyday. Women with only thoughts and conversations pertaining to fashion, celebrities, and calories. Men with only thoughts and conversations pertaining to redwings, flavors of chewing tobacco, and what season you can kill a certain animal. How can so many be devoid of any type of cultural influence to at least hold up a half way decent conversation? Even pop culture trivia? I am absolutely perplexed by this. No matter how many times I discover people like this it never ceases to amaze me. It does not matter the level of education. I’ve met some extremely stupid people that were very well educated. I met a woman the other day who I thought would have many interesting stories to tell as she was very well educated and had traveled the world. We talked about shoes. For an entire hour we talked about shoes. I tried to change the subject. Weather’s a safe one, mentioned how we needed the rain which led to the topic of global warming. She then stated “That’s like where it snows a lot, right?” So then I felt perhaps it was better to discuss something current in the news so as she might better understand and to avoid the shoes again so I brought up the fires in CA. She then stated “There’s a fire in CA?” I then stared at her, trying not to give my condescending gaze that I’m so good at bestowing upon people and reverted back to a safe topic for her, that being shoes.
The lack of depth was actually uncomfortable for me. Like, how can nothing be everything you talk about?

Things I've learned thus far.....

Things truly will look clearer in the morning.

Words spoken during anger can’t be taken back and are seldom forgotten.

After an intense yoga session the answers to some of the most difficult questions become obvious.

Don’t waste time trying to maintain friendships you’ve outgrown.

Nothing cleanses the soul like going for a long run in a heavy rain.