A Small Victory

hey you old acquaintances!

I am off to my sister's house for a night of drunken revelry and debauchery.

I lie. The grownups will probably be asleep by 12:01 and the kids will be running wild around the house. Either way, we are spending the night there even though she lives only 3 miles away. Too many idiots on the road after midnight. I shall return this here place maybe tomorrow night, maybe Wednesday morning.

Have a safe New Year, please. Drink responsibly, drive sober. I don't want to read about you in the papers. I'll be thinking of all you of when I send out my silent new year wishes to the world at midnight.

And happy birthday, Trav!

Posted by at 02:24 PM | Permalink | Comments (15)

happy birthday, dad.

Today is my dad's birthday. It has been a tradition on New Year's Eve, ever since my sisters and I were old enough to celebrate on our own, that my mother and father spend this night alone. When we lived at home, we were kicked out of the house by 6pm on that night, which was fine with us because when you are in your late teens the last thing you want to do on New Year's Eve is stay home with your parents. We are still forbidden from coming anywhere near the house after 6. We come over early to give dad his presents, and we sneak a peek at what gourmet dining experience he has planned for the evening. My dad is a stellar chef who once owned his own restaurant, and was known around the fire department for his culinary skills. He makes his own birthday meal because it gives him a lot of pleasure to do so. So we ooh and aaah at the lineup of shrimp and lobster and rack of lamb, and as it approaches 6:00 he gives us our warnings that it's time to go and we better not, under any circumstances, show up at their door tonight. (honestly, I think it's the only night of the year my mom gives him any action, and he doesn't want us to screw it up for him)

There were only two occassions when the tradition of leaving my parents alone for the new year was broken. One involved me, an overflowed toilet bowl, burned cookies, a sick child, and an absent husband.

Then there was last year, my dad's 60th birthday. We planned the mother of all surprise parties for him. We invited about 60 people to a party at his house. You have to understand, my father is a ball-buster of the highest degree. He has played so many jokes on people, pulled so many pranks and just needled and annoyed so many people (all in good nature of course) that we knew this would be the perfect way to get back at him. My sister and I did all the cooking and planning. We just asked a few relatives to bring a dessert. We bought decorations and champagne and beer. At 7pm, the time designated beforehand, 60 people met in my yard (I live across the street from my parents) and we all carried the traveling surprise party to my father's house. It had snowed that day, and the sound of 60 people plus kids trudging and crunching their way through the snow, all pulling wagons and carrying boxes, brought a few curious neighbors out of their houses. We stood in front of my father's house, knowing full well that inside that cozy little home, my parents were sitting in front of a roaring fire with a bottle of wine, anticipating a night alone - just them, the wine and a fine meal. We sent DJ to ring the bell and as soon as he did, we broke out into a chorus of "Happy Birthday." I know we must have looked like idiots standing out there in the snow, holding out trays of food and bottles of liquor, singing happy birthday in front of a house still decorated for Christmas. When my father answered the door, it took him a minute to realize what was going on. The look on his face was priceless. We barged our way into the house and in 5 minutes had set up all the food and drinks and decorations. Instant party. I think dad had a good time, but to this day, I'm still not sure.

In honor of my dad's birthday today, I'll give one good memory of him. When I was in high school, people were under the impression that my father was in the mafia. I don't know what it was. So we were Italian. And he drove a Lincoln. And he had a construction business. People just assumed that with those facts....and well, my sister and I never denied the rumors. It was too much fun to have people think that my dad could order a hit on them if they ever got on our wrong side. At some point, we realized that being associated with the mafia was probably not a good thing, and we set about dispelling the idea. No one believed us. By this time, my father had become this larger than life figure, a godfather or at least sidekick to godfather who made cement shoes for a living and sent enemies to sleep with the fishies. One night we were having some friends over, most of whom were conviced they would be able to find proof around our house that my father was indeed mafia. We told my father about this, asked him to please explain to our friends that he is a law-abiding citizen, that we had enough of the charade. Of course, my father said. Of course he would put an end to that disgusting rumor. Well, we went to the school play with our friends and when we all showed up at my house afterwards, my father answered the door in a pinstripe suit and guido hat. He looked like a cross between Al Pacino and Al from Happy Days. As my friends entered the house, he said loudly "I can't stay. Gotta go make some cement if ya know what I mean." He winked when he said this. My friends stared at him with wide eyes and slack jaws. Dad grabbed his car keys off the counter, put a scowl on his face and said "I catch anyone drinking in this house, I take ya for a ride, capisce?" We never were able to convince anyone after that act that my father was anything other than an ordinary, upstanding citizen.

(I already wrote something sappy about my father on father's day. unfortunately, those archives seem to have disappeared, so I had to use the wayback machine to find the post. It's under June 17). I could expand on that, I could write so many things about him since his life changed after September 11th. I could write about his strength and how he used that strength to get others through a tough time. I could write about the proclomation he received from the City of Los Angeles for his help in their relief efforts at the World Trade Center. I could write about his awards and accolades and all he has done for the volunteer fire service and our community as a whole. About what a good person he is to have as a friend, and how he would give anyone, even his worst enemy, the shirt off his back. I could write about the sacrifices he has made to give his children and his wife everything he thinks they deserve. I could write pages upon pages about the good qualities of my father. But I think his best quality is his sense of humor, so I'll stick with the above memories of jokes played by him and on him.

Happy Birthday, dad.

Posted by at 06:05 AM | Permalink | Comments (20)

the movielife

Most of this weekend was spent watching movies, for better or worse.

I think I am going to devise a new rating system for children's movies. I will calculate the bodily function joke to regular joke ratio and award toilet bowls instead of stars based on how high the fart joke factor is. In this case, Jimmy Neutron, Boy Genius would get four toilet bowls. Enough jokes about farts/burps/elimination to keep the kids in giggling hysterics most of the movie. Oh yea, I laughed, too.

On Friday we watched A Knight's Tale. Pure fluff. No real substance at all. But boy, did I love this movie. It had the Heath Ledger factor which certainly helped, but it was such a clever movie. The two things that really stuck out was the use of modern rock music in a medieval setting (it worked remarkably well), and using Geoffrey Chaucer as a main character. It was a fun movie that required little thinking. [and it had a good fart joke at the end]

Saturday morning we watched Blood and Wine. Despite Jack Nicholson's usual bit of overacting, and despite the fact that J.Lo can't act, and despite the fact that Michael Caine's days have come and gone, and despite the fact that Stephen Dorff seems to play the same character in every movie, I liked it. It had a good story, a plot that turned just enough to be interesting but not too much to get off track, and very good character development. [no fart jokes, but Jack Nicholson sometimes looks as though he is farting]

This morning we watched Startup.com. This was a riveting documentary detailing the rise and fall of an internet startup,back when startups were king. I knew of the story behind govworks.org before I watched the movie, so watching the whole thing unfold, and knowing what was going to happen, gave me a sinking feeling in my stomach. Watching these people high-five at every turn and be so elated at the prospect of a dream coming true, it was almost torture to know it was going to fail. What killed me was not that it failed, but how it did. If I ever in my life meet Kaleil Isaza Tuzman, one of the co-founders of the company, I will bitchslap him one hundred times. There was so many times during film that I wanted to personally wipe that smug, self-important look off of his smarmy face. I found myself wishing he would die broke and friendless. Anyhow, good movie. 4 stars. [no fart jokes here]

So that was my weekend in movies. We took a break from the screen today to go out to dinner with my sisters and their respective men. It was pleasant and non-confrontational and ended with me, Justin and sister #1 singing Frank Zappa's Joe's Garage at the top of our lungs, much to the annoyance of everyone around us.

Oh, and I drank. Heavily. Absolut straight up all through dinner. So pardon this post and the reviews it contains if they seem somewhat...incomprehensible.

Posted by at 07:02 PM | Permalink | Comments (15)

still life: 4:30 a.m.

I get up at 4:30 a.m. most days. The first thing I do is throw on a sweatshirt and go outside. It's bitter cold out these days, but I find the coldest days produce the greatest sights in the sky. 4:30 a.m. is a great time to be out. The stars are incredibly clear. It is quiet, so quiet that when the train blows by the Bellmore station about 8 miles away, I can hear the horn blow. I can hear squirrels rustling through the trees and someone's garbage can lid being scraped down the street by the wind.

There are very few lights on in the surrounding houses. Not many of my neighbors are up at this hour, and for a few moments, I feel like I own the world. I walk around the yard, and head into my aunt's garden next door. There are statues in her garden, angels and mermaids and odd shaped animals and sometimes, in that early morning fog of thought, I wonder if I am dreaming or really standing outside.

Today I look up and see a huge, full moon. White, thin clouds move behind it and the light of the moon causes the clouds to become luminescent. As the clouds move, they give the illusion that the moon is racing across the sky. I remember when I was young and thought this to be true, that the moon moved with the clouds, the stars chasing it an stellar game of tag. I watch this scene until my neck hurts from looking up. By now the sky is getting a little lighter and the birds are starting to wake.

The suburbs where I live is still lush with trees. On the perimeters of the blocks, on the main roads, the trees are mostly gone. But here, in the nest of houses clustered together, the trees still stand. They are huge and foreboding in this light, their bare branches reaching out to the sky. The shadows make them seem a bit frightening, and when the squirrels bounce on the branches and make the trees shake, it looks as if those limbs are admonishing the squirrels for waking the tree.

I am in awe of those trees and the regal way in which they watch over our land. How long must those trees have been here to be that tall, that thick? They were here before the houses, before the land shifted from woodland to homeland. I wonder if they are angry at what has become of their forest. Then again, they only look angry at this hour, in this season. In the summer afternoons, with children climbing their branches and exploring the hidden forts the leaves make, the trees seem happier.

When it gets too cold to stay out anymore, when my breath makes long trails of steam in the air, I walke back through the garden, avoiding the stares of the angels and mermaids, and pause by my door. I point my camera at the sky, trying to capture 4:30 a.m. the way it looks in my mind. The moon, the clouds, the flickering stars, the statues and trees that seem to possess souls. I know it will never look on film the way it looks in my head. Nothing ever does.

Posted by at 06:06 AM | Permalink | Comments (13)

low maintenance resolutions for everyone!

Does this mean I have to find friends that make me feel inferior? Isn't that what family is for?

On that note, I have compiled the Generic List of New Year's Resolutions Guaranteed to Not Make you Feel Like A Total Failure in 2002. If you pick a few items off this list and make them your resolutions, I promise they will be easy to follow through on and you won't have to beat yourself up for not keeping your promises to yourself. This is in keeping with my rule of life: Lower one's expectations and you are never disappointed. This applies to yourself as well. Happy resolving!

I hereby resolve to:
• have my weight fluctuate wildly, never really losing more than one pound total

• spend as many hours as I can in front of the computer playing mindless games

• spend a good portion of my money on cds/video games/computer equipment/movies

• continue on with at least one of my vices

• not kill/maim/cause grave bodily harm to a complete stranger who has done nothing wrong

• make fun of a celebrity

• watch as much television as possible

• lay around the house often, preferably in pajamas, with a beer in my hand

• ignore the surgeon general's warnings on any food or drink product

• talk about my co-workers behind their backs

• steal office supplies

• complain, loud and often, about everything and nothing

• have wild, spontaneous sex (this counts even if you do it with yourself)

• deny my addiction to porn

• take as many online quizzes as possible

• blog at least once a day

• at least once, hint that i may take a blogging hiatus

• have a birthday

• not run for president of the United States

• not dance naked on home plate at Yankee Stadium

• eat foods full of saturated fat and calories

Now, how easy is it going to be to keep your promises this year? Pick one or two, write them down in your journal, and six months from now look at the journal and be excited for yourself that for once, you are keeping your resolutions.

Just another public service from yours truly.

Posted by at 07:40 AM | Permalink | Comments (22)

i might be wrong....

So Rudy is getting his wish. An agreement was signed Friday for the city to pay half the costs of building two new stadiums for the New York baseball teams. (the agreement must be approved by new Mayor Bloomberg).

I already stated in my comments yesterday that I am against this deal. Let me reiterate. Please.

I am a baseball fan. I am a Yankees fan. But I just don't think that this deal is all they are making it out to be. The main P.R. angle to the deal seems to be how "good" for the city the new stadiums will be and how it will boost the economy.

Someone please explain to me the boost the ecomomy theory. The current seating capacity of Yankee Stadium is 57,545. According to the Newsday article, the capacity of the new stadium will be 47,000. The current seating capacity for Shea stadium is 55,601. The new capacity will be 45,000. So both teams will be losing approximately 10,000 seats.

You would think that team owners would have learned by now that it is not a brand new stadium that puts fans in the ballpark. It is the team on the field. Builid it and they will come does not hold water in pro sports. If your team stinks, your brand new, luxurious, shining stadium will be empty. If your team is winning, even a rickety old arena would be filled to capacity. It's the nature of the sports fan. They might be lulled into a false sense of fandom for a week or so by the new food stands and pretty parking lot and jumbo scoreboard, but lose 5 games in a row and they will disappear fast. Maybe I don't get it. Can someone please explain to me how these stadiums will help the economy? If they are going to bring less fans rather than more to the ballgames, that can't help, can it? And you know damn well that the fans will be paying in the end with higher ticket prices, higher parking fees and more expensive food. So now, in addition to paying for the bloated salaries of Mo Vaughn and Jason Giambi, we have to foot the bill for retractable domes, too.

I've heard it stated many times in the past few months that New York City is in a fiscal crisis. Large budget deficits are expected the next few years. How can the city shell out this kind of money towards baseball? How is a retractable dome going to help the economy of Queens or the Bronx, or anywhere in NYC? What difference will it make to those small business that were destroyed on 9/11 that the Yankees can now play without threat of a rain delay? Is that our priority? What difference will it make to the teacher who doesn't have enough textbooks to give her students or has to teach in a makeshift classroom no bigger than a closet that Shea stadium is more accesible from the parkway now? Do you think the members of the firehouses that have to close down due to budget constraints will have their worries lessened any by the knowledge that you can now get bratwurst at a Yankee game?

If the city had a surplus of money, I would not be ranting about this. But just a few weeks ago, Rudy was begging people from other states and countries to come here and spend their money to help New York recover economically. I get this ugly feeling when I hear Rudy spout off his "good for New York" theory about the new stadiums. It smacks of opportunism. Rudy was always a baseball fan first and foremost and he was pushing for new stadiums for a long time.

Personally, I wouldn't mind not having to look at the giant blue toilet bowl that is Shea Stadium when I drive through Queens in the future. I wouldn't mind better parking at Yankee Stadium. But not now. Not when so much money could be used in more productive ways.

I know I will face a lot of disagreement on this issue. If someone could show me hard facts on how these stadiums will boost the economy and pay for themselves, I will be more than happy to post those facts right here and disprove my own rant.

Posted by at 04:42 AM | Permalink | Comments (15)

where is my mind?

I bet you didn't know that there is a tried and true recipe for losing one's mind. Well, not so much a recipe, as you are not exactly cooking your brain...but then again, this is sure to fry your brain so.....as you can see, I obviously followed this recipe and thus am rambling incoherently.

Recipe for Insanity

Ingredients

1 holiday week

1 school vacation

2 wired children

2 friends of wired children (also wired to the maximum capacity)

1 box of sugar glazed donuts

several video games (be sure to include Tekken 3 or similar fighting game)

3 grownups filled to the brim with industrial strenght caffeine

Directions

Take all ingredients. Mix together in small apartment. Add loud noises, such as brand new musical keyboard with 200 different sounds, a computer game that makes barking noises and Terminator 2 playing on a tv somewhere. Simmer for about 2 hours until you feel brain beginning to explode. Recipe is just about finished when your eyes glaze over.

To test for readiness, turn on any Carrottop or Pauly Shore movie. If you laugh, your recipe has been completed successfully. Sit back and enjoy your blissful ignorance as your brain leaves your body and you no longer care about the sounds of screaming and breaking glass coming from the other room.

Posted by at 07:23 PM | Permalink | Comments (8)

I would like to formally apologize for my pissy posting yesterday about the secret santa thing and the petty way in which I behaved. I was in a mood, what can I say?

I would also like to state for the record that my rantings in no way, shape or form reflect on the creators of the secret santa project or the project itself. I will still join next year if they do it again, because I do think the whole idea was neat. Thank you.

Posted by at 05:38 AM | Permalink | Comments (12)

a message to you, rudy

Ruler of the Free World Rudy Giuliani has officially left office. How nice for him that he ended his tenure by collecting the Person of the Year award from Time. How nice that he leaves office with accolades and applause and reverence usually reserved for the Pope heaped upon him.

I know I said some nice things about Giuliani here before. But I only said that he was handling the crisis in New York well. That was it. Has anyone forgotten that before September 11, Rudy was having a public relations nightmare? He was cavorting with his girlfriend through the mayoral mansion while his wife and kids still lived there. He threw out details of his private life to the public and then lambasted the media for doing the same. He played shameless p.r. man to himself and practically dismissed anyone who didn't share his views of the world. He attempted to turn the seedy, loveable streets of New York City into some surreal Disney World and threw his own set of morals of convenience at the City by trying to shut down any art exhibit that didn't jibe with his views, and then form a "decency committee" to hand his morals down to everyone.

But now, because he was able to mobilize the city in its worst time, and because he is a showman and a man who knows how to work the media as well as an audience, he is going to be remembered as the greatest mayor who ever walked the streets of New York. I'm not saying he didn't do a good job in the wake of 9/11, I am just saying what about all the years before that? When people were calling for his head? When the majority of New Yorkers thought he was a misguided egomaniac? I'm not one to fall into the "what have you done for me lately" trap? While I quietly applaud Giuliani's efforts during the past few months, I will not rever him or honor him or think he is worthy of Man of the Year. He has done too much before September for his recent actions to wipe out a history of being a closed-minded, power mad buffoon comparable to Jesse Helms.

As my dad used to say, it takes about 100 atta boys to wipe out just one damn you.

Posted by at 05:28 AM | Permalink | Comments (18)

a bobupndown christmas

Who needs a secret santa, anyhow? I got a Christmas present in the mail from Shel today and it's better than anything on my wishlist. He sent me a mix cd and two stickers. Now tell me how well Shel knows me. The stickers say:

I have PMS and a gun. Excuse me, did you have something to say?

I can only please one person a day. Today isn't your day. Tomorrow isn't looking good either.

These stickers are not going on my car. They are going directly on my office door.

I love you, Shel. You are wonderful!

And now, I am going to make myself absolutely insane by taking the kids to see Jimmy Neutron.

Posted by at 12:37 PM | Permalink | Comments (9)

the secret santa who never showed up

So, just out of curiousity, did anyone else get stiffed by their Secret Santa? And would an email to him/her, when I find out who they are, pointing out my abject disappointment in their ability to follow rules be wholly inappropriate?

Am I being totally materialistic and crass in being disappointed? Perhaps if I had received an email from them stating that they had run out time and/or money I wouldn't be feeling so pissed. But to sign up for something that entails both giving and getting, and completely ignoring the giving part, without any valid explanation, just reeks of selfishness.

If you are reading this, secret santa person, please forget my gift at this point and just take a couple of bucks and put it towards Shel's Penny Drive for Charity and we'll call it even, ok?

Posted by at 08:07 AM | Permalink | Comments (27)

a toast to absurdity

This is all I have to say about last night's dinner: The tiramasu was fantastic. The dinner itself was nice and we generally had a pleasant time. But my stomach turns when I think about my sister marrying that guy. And the whole hypocrisy of last night's dinner....eh, I'll talk about it some other time.

A year ago this week, I was planning my father's surprise birthday party on New Year's Eve. The world at that time was a relatively sane place. My main political worry was facing life with George Bush, Jr. as my leader. Had I been able to see a newspaper from this week, I would have laughed and thought none of it was possible. Is it me or has the news taken on a very absurd tone? I mean, I know the seriousness of the situation, but every time I read about shoe checks at airports, I have to stifle the desire to laugh. It's almost surreal. Sample headline: Security Reviewing Traveler's Shoes. Now doesn't this seem a bit like closing the barn door after the cow has run away? Are we not seeing the forest for the trees? One person decided to hide a bomb in his shoe, so now all the concentration of airlines' already lame security is focused on shoes. Anyone checking bodily cavities? I'm thinkin that with all the publicity these shoe searches are getting, any plans to sneak another shoe bomb on will be scrapped in favor of something else.

And more surrealism. Sample headline #2: Police to be armed with radiation sensor during New Year's Eve celebration. This seems like something out of a 1950's sci fi novel. Cops walking around with radiation detectors? With one million people in Times Square on New Year's Eve, what are they going to do if one of those detectors goes off? Quietly move a thousand or so people to another area? Not likely. If one of those babies goes off and the cops therefore have to alert the reveler's in that vicinity, panic will ensue. There's not much room to move when there are a million people packed into one tight area. And then what? How do you run from radiation? My guess is you don't. I think these $1,400 detectors are just another band-aid on a severed limb, something to make you feel like action is being taken and you are safe. Like shoe searches, only more technologically advanced.

And then we have bin Laden, live on tape. Is anyone paying attention to him any more? The first time he was on the news talking, right after the bombing started, people were rapt with attention, hanging on his every word. He was frightening and chilling. Now, he has become like grandpa in the nursing home who tells the same stories over and over, and you wonder how much of it happened in his head and how much is real. And honestly, I'm wondering if there wasn't a series of tapes made a while ago to be dispersed at intervals, and bin Laden is either already dead in a cave somewhere, or in another country far removed from war, looking every bit like the Westeners he says he despises.

Yep. The world has changed a lot in the past year. I've become almost amused by the way things are reported now, the stretches some media type people take to make a story where none exists, to turn a non-event into major news, to find something riveting in a rather boring war. The day I saw on my television Geraldo Rivera standing in the middle of a war zone I knew this war had reached its absurdity level. Actually, it got worse the next day when someone referred to Geraldo as a journalist.

I did have a point. But I forgot what it was. Which is ok, because I don't have time to write anymore. I'm on vacation until Wedensday and I have a lot of new video games to get through before then.

Posted by at 05:49 AM | Permalink | Comments (10)

and now..your moment of mushiness

I did give and get some presents that didn't come in shiny wrapping paper. Things like love, gratefulness, appreciation, laughter, huge smiles, and a zest for life that I forget to get use out of sometimes. I love my family. I truly believe I am incredibly lucky to have the family that I do. That includes not just my immediate family, but a very large circle of cousins, aunts and uncles, all of whom I see so often that I forget just how fortunate I am to have all this family around me.

I generally reserve some time the day after Christmas to go to the cemetery. It gives me an overwhelming sense of gratitude for just being here, being alive. The kids always come with me, they have learned to appreciate the cemetery the way I have, and we use the time there to talk about the lives of the people we miss. We make my way around the headstones, winding a pre-planned path around the graves of my grandmother (march 25th entry) and grandfather, an aunt I lost long ago, and a few family friends. We've added two new stops to our circuit this year. In April, my kids uncle (see april entries) on their father's side died of a heart attack at 32. They have been to his grave before, with their father, and in some way they look forward to going there. Like Natalie says, it's their way of keeping in touch with him. After that, we will go to the other side of the cemetery, where there are crypts instead of headstones, giant monuments to people who are lavished after death as they probably were in life. There, we will visit with our old friend Pete Ganci, (9/13) and while it will be sad and bleak for a moment, it will also be a little upliftng. The kids have taken a somewhat reverent tone when talking about Pete. He has become the ultimate hero to them, and we will take this occasion to once again, in our hearts, thank him.

Yes, I always get this mushy and morose the day after Christmas. After the weeks spent doing nothing but shopping and bitching and checking my bank account again and again, it's not until after it's all over and I can sit in relative peace and quiet that I count my blessings and enjoy the holiday magic. I usually do it alone, because if I went to my family and starting blubbering about how much I love them like some scene out of a sappy movie, they would have me committed. So thanks for hanging out with me this year for annual moment of mushiness.

Don't make me come over there and hug you.

Posted by at 07:53 AM | Permalink | Comments (14)

364 shopping days until Christmas

When you are a child, Christmas is all about expectations. When you have children, it becomes all about living up to their expectations. Sometimes it seems all so silly to me, to have this day where we lavish each other with festivly wrapped gifts. I watch my kids open a ton of presents, maybe too many, and I wonder if they get it at all. Neither of them believe in Santa anymore, so what do they think this day is for? I actually get nervous when they open the presents, knowing that they are wondering if what they expected and hoped for will be in one of those boxes.

Eventually I stopped philosphizing and analyzing enough to see that the kids were having a grand old time opening their gifts. For the first year, there was no fighting, no screaming, no pouting, no acting like ugly spoiled brats. Have my kids matured?? Could it be? They were truly thankful for every single thing they opened, offering lots of kisses and hugs, even to each other! Now that's what I call the magic of Christmas.

Rather than go into the details of my family's foray into a day filled with sick jokes, bad puns and the usual sarcasm and cynicism, I'll just give you some random quotes heard at on Christmas day:

[while playing a board game]:

Nobody farted. I think Grandpa shit his pants.

The fun will continue tonight as we go out to dinner with the family to "celebrate" the engagement of my sister to Mr. "former heroin addict now born again catholic who thinks the whole world should bow down to Rush Limbaugh and who hasn't worked a full time job in his entire life even though he's 32 years old and whose only means of income is welfare and who sucks my sister's bank account dry and who talks about nothing but himself and who somehow after complaining that he is too sick to work even part time still manages to go to about 50 hair metal reunion concerts in one week and even though he won't let you say 'god damn' in front of him still thinks Motely Crue is the shit" and yea, you can see how much we are looking forward to celebrating this engagement. As with all social engagements that I dread going to, I just look at it as a chance for good blogging material.

Now I have to go find a place for all our new toys.

Posted by at 04:53 AM | Permalink | Comments (11)

twas the workday before Christmas...

Why am I sitting here blogging at 5am on Christmas Eve? Because I have to got work today. As I sit here staring at a pile of unwrapped presents, a list that is not yet complete and a mess of house that would probably make Martha Stewart's insides shrivel up and die, I am going to work instead of taking care of all my last minute details. Not only am I going to the office, but I am going in early, at about 6:30, because I have tons of work to do and my vacation starts tomorrow. But just so you don't think that I am one of those crazy people with solid work ethics, let it be known that I am planning on being out of that building by 11 the latest, and I don't go back until January 2nd. Mind you, the court is furloughed during that time, which, in government speak means "you are to take off from Christmas to the day after New Years but you have to use your own vacation time." Merry fucking Christmas to you too, Mr. Pataki.

And as I'm sitting here reading the local news, looking for any last shreds of Christmas spirit I can cling onto, it occurrs to me that almost every day there is a fatal shooting on the block where I work. I have plenty of protection, though. If anyone comes near me, I'll just point to my shoes and tell them I'm wired.

As I write, I am sitting here wavering on whether I really need to go into the office or not. It's cold, it raining, I have so much to do today, and our time is cut short because of the 40th annual Catalano gathering of the drunken, noisy relatives on Christmas Eve, which begins at 6pm. So if any of you are as silly as me as to be up at 5am today, you have approximately one hour to leave me a comment or email me with a good reason why I should just blow off work today. Please include appropriate excuse to give my boss.

I'll be sitting here, procrastinating and listening to the comforting holiday sounds of Spinal Tap's "Christmas with the Devil." Here, have some legnog. I mean, eggnog.

(addendum: 5:30 am) Alright, who was going to take the time to remind that I am so wrapped up in my own failure to get Christmas ready on time that I completely forgot that today is my mother's birthday? Someone needs to kick my ass, right now.

Posted by at 04:23 AM | Permalink | Comments (15)

santa, satan and scooby poo: worst.party.ever.

Every year I am dragged, kicking and screaming, to the firehouse Christmas party. I have been going to this thing since I was a baby, stopped when I was about 14, and then was forced to start going again when I had kids. Every year, I say no. And every year I get the lecture about the "firehouse family" and traditions and how the kids look soooo forward to it. My ass. They're crying to go home five minutes after we get there. And with good reason.

When I was little, the party was ok. There were food and games and prizes and songs and a generally festive air. Somewhere along the line, the party deteriorated into a 4 hour, mind numbing trip to hell.

Satan's minions must have been out in full force today. Hell was never hotter nor more terrifying. The party started at 1:00, and we were left to our own accord until a little after two. The kids ran around like crazy, fortified only by burnt Bagel Bites and gallons of soda. We gave them handfuls of quarters and sent them to the room with the video games, only to have someone kick them out ten minutes later.

It should be noted that save for my family, I do not like most of these people. Hell, I don't even like my family sometimes. But these people are so low-class, so low on the totem pole of life, that the only analogy I can really offer you is this: Think Clark Griswald's family in Christmas Vacation.

So there we sit, waiting for some form of entertainment, watching the clock for the time Santa is supposed to arrive so the kids can get the presents that I brought for them and we can get home. I'm sitting there minding my own business, trying extra hard not to look like I might want to talk to one of these cretins. But they have these radars. Like a homing system that let's them know a captive audience is just waiting for some incredibly boring conversation. The woman that got me is a mother of one of DJ's classmates. So she automatically assumes I want to talk to her, I need to talk to her, I live only to hear her drone on and on. She chatters about the field trip and the class bully and then repeats verbatim her monologue from last year when she described in full detail how wonderful her son, her neighbors, her whole block is. As my eyes started to roll in back of my head and my brain began to short-circuit, she told me this story:

So I was taking Adam and his friends to play mini-golf and one of the friends, Brendan, starting talking about how there is no Santa Claus and the other kids were yelling at him and he was insisting that Santa is just fake. Fake! The nerve of him telling my kid that! So after I dropped Brendan off I asked the other boys how they felt about what Brendan said and they were all so sad and shocked so I acted quickly and figured out what to tell them. I said 'guys, Brendan is a different religion than us. He's Jewish (emphasis hers). They get so jealous of you this time of year, so they act out by being mean and telling you there's no Santa. Of coures he's lying. It's just because he's Jewish.'

She then smiled at me, this grin that made me think she was awfully proud of herself for coming up with that winner. She waited for me to tell her how ingenous it was. Instead I looked at her and said, "You really are as stupid as they say!" I didn't wait around for a response.

The day then descended into the fourth level of hell, the one where you are surrounded by costumed characters that look nothing like the beloved children's characters they are supposed to be representing. There was a blue dragon, a 7 foot tall Elmo, my brother-in-law dressed as Clifford the Big Red Dog and pinching my ass the whole time, and this big brown walking piece of dirty fur that was supposed to be Scooby Doo but looked more like just the Doo. At one point he bent down to say hello to a little girl and his head fell off. Much crying and screaming of little children ensued.

Then there was the face-painting lady in the green and purple Jester's hat and hair that was such a hideous shade of orange I thought it was fake at first. When she walked in, she spotted DJ and a friend laying on the floor by the door, lulled into a coma by the dull festivities. She walked over to them and kicked Michael on the edge of his foot. This conversation followed:

Lady: Hey, I'm gonna paint some faces now. Come on, get up.

Me: Your hair is on fire.

So then Santa finally came and the kids got their presents and I was scrambling to get the kids out of there as fast as possible. As I was dragging the kids out the door I was thinking that no one could have possibly enjoyed the party less than me. Then I saw a fireman standing talking to the big brown Scooby Doo and handing him baby wipes as they talked. "I'm sorry," the fireman said to Scoob. "I didn't know when I put her on your lap that she had diarreah."

Ok, so there was someone who had a worse time than me.

Posted by at 06:50 PM | Permalink | Comments (13)

the presence of presents

Two more days until Christmas This can not come a moment too soon. My house looks like a cross between Santa's workshop and a garbage dump. Wrapping paper scraps and empty boxes lie strewn across the floor of every room. Presents are piled high, some wrapped, most not, and at last count there 224 presents in all. 224. When the hell did Christmas become all about the gifts? Oh wait, it always was. It just becomes more evident every year. I fully echo Jon's sentiments about Christmas being all about the commercialization, and not deluding ourselves into thinking otherwise. Giving, getting, eating, decorating, getting, giving. That is Christmas.

For an atheist like myself, there is no other side to it. But because I have children who are being raised catholic, and because my entire family - about 6,000 people including cousins - are catholics, there is that other side to Christmas. The happy birthday, Jesus side. And you know what? Even the most ultra religious of my relatives never once mentions the whole nativity thing during the course of our Christmas Eve festivities or Christmas day dinner. It's about the gifts. And Santa. And Mr.Hanky, the Christmas poo.

In the lean years (read: the years I was married), money was scarce and times were tight and Christmas was an exercise in humility. While people piled gifts under our tree and were incredibly generous, I was always embarassed because I would either have not nearly as much for them, or I would be borrowing money from my parents in order to give gifts to...my parents. Nice, huh?

In the years following my divorce, each subsequent Christmas has increased in terms of money in my wallet and gifts under the tree. I am financially better off now than I ever have been (that's not to say I am independenlty wealthy or anything, I still basically live check-to-check, but I am better off), and I suppose I am proving something to myself and to my kids and to my family by my chronic overspending. Guess what? I don't care. I don't care what psychological reasons there are behind my gift buying sprees every December. I love giving. I love buying presents. I love seeing the expressions of joy on someone's face when I give them something they really appreciate. I love buying things for people that have done so much for me throughout the year, knowing full well that a couple of DVD and some video games are much more appreciated than a heart-felt thank you note. We are all consumers, we are all greedy, we all want material possessions. Let's just go with it instead of being in denial, ok?

So I will say, rather than saying that the greatest gift of all is love and I am thankful just to be loved by Justin, that he gave me a great Christmas already, and there's still two days to go. Last month, because I begged for it early, he gave me a camera. Yesterday, he supplied that camera with a zoom lens that I was wishing for. That's not all. After six hours spent shopping, I came home with extra goodies: a Fight Club lunch box, a bobbing head Jack Skellington, Sponge Bob Square Pants Uno, and the import edition of Radiohead's Amnesiac, which comes with a nifty book. And oh! I almost forgot! I got a Buddy Christ! He is currently taking up residence on top of my monitor, and hopefully will insult and horrify the sister's born-again catholic appendage when he stops over today. Despite all my whining about the stress of Christmas time, I love this time of year. Giving, getting and rocking the suburbs with my new sub-woofer.

One last thought on gift-giving and getting. It's two days before Christmas, and a Sunday, which means no mail or deliveries today. As my wishlist remains untouched, it looks highly unlikely that I will be receiving anything from my Secret Santa. Which really sucks because that is not something you join for altruistic reasons. It's not like a toys for tots thing where you give to someone out of the goodness of your heart and expect nothing in return. The whole point of it was giving and getting. I know I sent my secret santa something within 24 hours of receiving her name, and she was pretty damn happy and thankful and yes, it made me feel all joyous and Christmas-like. But whoever happened to be my secret santa (and it is not the same person I gave to, I don't know who it is. Maybe it was YOU!), did not find it necessary to see that I got something in time for Christmas. Bah, humbug! Here's to coal in your stocking, whoever you are.

So now I must finish that most dreadful task of all. Wrapping. I'll pay you if you come over and wrap the remaining 200 presents. And serve you margaritas while you do it. Anyone?

Posted by at 05:16 AM | Permalink | Comments (19)

this monkey's gone to heaven

Posted by at 08:24 PM | Permalink | Comments (7)

I was just going to do a list type thing of my favorite music of the year, but no. You get a long winded rant instead. Enjoy, discuss and debate.

There were a lot of expectations this year, a lot of disappointments. There were also good finds in between. Overall, I think the year was a washout musically. There were very few albums that made me rush out to the store and spend my money.

By far, my best album of the year award, if there were such a thing in my world, would go to Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds "No More Shall We Part."It was everything I expected it to be and more. Haunting, melodramatic, beatiful and poetic, all in true Nick Cave fashion. Of all the albums that came out in 2001, this one definitely got the most airplay on my stereo.

Also anticpated, but not as equally loved, was Radiohead's "Amnesiac."I do like it, I like it a lot. It's just not something I can throw into the mix at any time. I have to really be in the mood for it, and it comes off more like background music than something to groove to. Knives Out, however, is a great song to clean the living room to. Listening to Amnesiac did cause me to break out my copies of Bends and OK Computer, both of which I became obsessed with all over again, so Amnesiac did have a greater purpose.

It was a good year for Mike Patton fans, as he released cds with two bands: Fantomas and Tomahawk. Neither cd is easily accesible, listening wise. They are an acquired taste, like all things Patton (Epic notwithstanding). The Fantomas cd, "The Directors Cut" is all reworked movie scores, featuring music from The Omen, The Godfather and Rosemary's Baby among others. Rosemary's Baby is particularly haunting and Experiment in Terror is oddly beautiful. Not something to listen to when you are out on a joyride, but great on a dark, stormy night with the headphones on.

There were several albums I had been only sort of looking forward to, in that whole "lowered expectations" rule of life. Incubus had disappointed me before, moving from the hard edged, mosh-able music of S.C.I.E.N.C.E. to the lovesick, mainstream Make Yourself in one swift, deadly move. I despised Make Yourself for a long time, until I stopped viewing it as a followup to S.C.I.E.N.C.E and let it stand alone on its own. So when Morning View came out, I was hesitant to listen at first. I really wanted to Incubus to return to their Faith No More influenced sound, but I had a feeling this wasn't going to be the cd that did it. On first listen, I almost keeled over dead. I immediately thought, this is Backstreet Boys for the older crowd. But for some odd reason, I kept playing the cd over and over and, even though the lyrics have a tendency to be incredibly cheesy and almost laughable, I really enjoyed the music. So chalk this one up to good but not great, not really a disappointment because Make Yourself let some of the steam out of the engine to begin with. In that same vein as Incubus (the lowered expectations rule) were Staind, Slayer and Fear Factory, although all three fall under different categories.

Staind is a band I like but don't get fervent about. I seriously dug Dysfunction, in that "I need a cd to play when I hate the world" sort of way. Aaron Lewis does have a tendency to get whiny and self pitying, but nonetheless, I enjoyed playing Dysfunction at very loud volumes. So I looked to Break the Cycle for much of the same. I don't want to say I was disappointed; that's too strong a word. But the cd just left me...blah. Yea, that's the word. I think they were reaching for that accesible sound that would get them played on the radio, something they knew they could achieve once that horrid rendition of Outside with Fred Durst hit the airwaves en masse. So Break the Cycle is a schitzophrenic sort of cd, wanting to be the old, mosh pit type Staind (see, Pressure) but resorting mostly to the top-40 craving Staind (see, Outside, Epiphany). Rated blah for blandness.

Slayer. Good old Slayer; dependable, sturdy, satanic. All I have to say about this superb album is, first of all, its called God Hate Us All. It is vintage Slayer, consistent with every other magnificent piece of head-banging, fast-driving, anger management music they have every issued. Sample lyrics:You self-righteous fuck, give me a reason not to rip your fucking face off, why don't you take a good look in these eyes, cause I'm the one that's gonna tear your fucking heart out, my hate is contagious; you've got no one to run to. Hey, some days you really need that.

Then we have Tool and Weezer, the antithesis of each other. Weezer made us wait too many years for a new cd and then gave us something shorter than Mariah Carey's skirt. Tool makes us wait too many years and then gives us leaden prog-rock with songs that last longer than a Kevin Costner movie. I hated both of these cds on first listen and they led me to two conclusions: I was never really a Weezer fan as much as I was a fan of the Blue Album; and even though I once loved Tool to the point of obsession, they have really run away with their own imaginations. Once a band considers themselves artists and not per se, a rock band, start running.

Speaking of running away screaming, is there anyone out there who even bought Stabbing Westward's

new cd? What the hell happened to them? Once one of my favorite bands (Darkest Days is still one of my most played cds), they turned to utter and complete shit. If there was an award from greatest fall from grace, Stabbing Westward would get my nomination, hands down.

Other cds that made more than a few turns in my cd player this year:

Aphex Twin - Drukqs; Deltron 3030 - Deltron 3030; Gorillaz - Gorillaz; System Of A Down - Toxicity; Wu-Tang Clan - Iron Flag; Jay -Z Blue Print; Rammstein - Mutter; Nickelback - Silver Side Up; Toadies - Hell Below/Star Above (Dollskin is one of the greates songs ever); Clutch - Pure Rock Fury

Cds, bands and individual songs that played over and over again on my stereo this year (not necessarily 2001 releases):

Cold - 13 Ways to Bleed Onstage; Self - Breakfast With Girls; Failure - Stuck on You; And You Will Know Us By the Trail of the Dead; Glassjaw - Everything You Wanted to Know About Silence; Propagandhi - How to Clean Everything; Hayden; Soundtrack of Our Lives - Dow Jones Syndrome, (total obession with) Smashing Pumpkins...and I just realized I can do this forever, so I'll stop.

I know I forgot a lot of cds, and I did want to make a list of cds I wish never came out this year and bands I wish would just go away, and maybe I will. For now, this was my year in music. How was yours?

Posted by at 06:02 AM | Permalink | Comments (17)

where is my mind?

I'm in a terrible rut here. Once again I was up at 3:30 a.m. On a Saturday. I was plagued by psychologically disturbing dreams last night and I had one of those moments - half awake-half asleep - when I could swear the person talking to me in my dreams was talking to me in real life. So was the person/entity in my dreams and talking to me there and I just thought I was awake, or was the person/entity really there and I thought I was dreaming?

I have become delirious. Lack of sleep, waking up before the birds, the crushing stress of Christmas - they have all combined to make me out of my mind. Yesterday at work, we (another secretary and I) were walking around with Krispy Kreme hats on and flashing the IT guy so he would re install internet access on our computers. We discovered, sadly, that bribes begin with blow-jobs, not flashes of white lace bras.

On the way home from work yesterday, I started hallucinating. I thought the garbage can on the side of the road was Santa. A kid on a bicycle looked suspiciously like Frodo. And then I thought the cop who pulled up beside me on his motorcycle was emitting laser beams from his eyes.

So today, still reeling from sleep deprivation I have a full schedule. I am meeting some old friends from back in Natalie's mommy and me days for breakfast. I don't want to go but I promised my one real remaining friend from those days that I would. These are women who, unlike me, are a) still happily married b) do not have jobs outside the home c) have additional children much younger than mine and d) like their conversations to revolve strictly around the consistency of their baby's poo and whether or not wine is appropriate to serve at the PTA luncheon. Don't get me wrong, I do the PTA and class mom stuff, I just don't want to spend all my time talking about. And I certainly don't want to sit there listening to them talk on and on about their wonderful lives and perfect little worlds while they look at me in my oversized sweatshirt that has flames shooting down the sleeves and my cigarettes and penchant for spending all my money on video games and comic books and my 22 year old live in boyfriend and well....you see where I'm going with this. When I am overtired I have a tendency to get giggly. I'll end up having uncontrollable fits of laughter at some really inappropriate time and I will be forever shunned from the world of proper mommy-hood.

Justin's dad sent him a Christmas present yesterday. 500 dollars. Yes, that's right, 500 dollars. Guess who is taking me shopping today? He decided that because he felt guilty taking that much money from his dad, he wouldn't spend any on himself. He wants to spend 300 on me and 200 on the kids. It's ok though, because whatever he buys for me will end up being for him. He already started hypnotizing me in the middle of the night..."You waaaaaaant the X-Box.......You waaaaaant a 3-D card..." I'll let him think he has mad hypnotism skills and I'll walk around the mall in a zombie like trance, pointing at video game stores and eating fellow shoppers for lunch.

I've lost my mind.

Posted by at 03:43 AM | Permalink | Comments (8)

dollars and sense

Tonight, CNN and MTV get together to tell people how they can help the children of Afghanistan. It's actually a message from those very children, asking Americans to help them.

There are several reasons that I have a problem with this.

What message do we send by doing this? My children come home from school wondering why we are bombing a country and then sending them money. My daughter thinks its to make us feel better about ourselves. She's probably right. That's not even the real issue.

Since the bombing started, school children in the USA have raised over a million dollars for the kids of Afghanistan. When was the last time you saw such a gung ho drive to feed the children of America?

I look around and I see homeless shelters and soup kitchens popping up everywhere. Our local church says their food bank empties out monthly. The newspaper's Adopt-a-Family drive for the holidays asks for help for hundreds upon hundreds of families who can barely afford to put a decent dinner on the table. Children are living in motels without the basic supplies needed to get through the school year. They don't have proper winter clothes. People are sleeping on the street and eating out of garbage bags. The line at the free clinic to get vaccinations for children winds down the block and around the corner. There are school districts where children are literally getting lessons in closets. Where the walls are falling down around them and there aren't enough textbooks to go around.

And we are sending over a million dollars to feed the kids of a country we are at war with. How do I explain to my children that our president wants us to feed the children of Afghanistan when they know damn well that at least 5 kids in their class are getting free lunch and wear clothes that come out church bins?

I am not really an isolationist. I don't want to see the kids over there starve to death. I just which as much fervor was put into efforts to keep our own kids healthy and fed.

Charity begins at home, and sometimes it ends there, too. Yes, I have a very narrow view. I know I am not thinking globally. But until all of my neighbors and the children of the country I live in have decent health care and enough food on their tables and the basic necessities of life, I will keep giving my money locally.

Posted by at 05:17 PM | Permalink | Comments (15)

you must learn

It's 3:30. I've been up since 3am. I am back on that merry-go-round of nightmares, too-little sleep and days spent acting like I am up for a part in Dawn of the Dead. It's going to be a bah-humbug sort of day.

As promised yesterday, What I've Learned

• life will never ever imitate your favorite tv show

• having one good friend is always better than having 20 so-so acquaintances

• a teacher who fails you with a 64 when 65 is passing is not teaching you a great life lesson, he is just a sadistic fucker

• no matter how many drugs you are given, childbirth will still hurt like a bastard

• spending your life riding the handbasket to hell is much more fun than riding in the car with grandma and grandpa to church every sunday

• special edition of anything is usually not very special

• xyzzy

• a band's third cd is usually the worst

• george lucas is the spawn of satan

• things like "heartache" and "lump in the throat" are not just sayings, they are real physical inflictions.

• your parents were right

• never trust a guy who says "there is nothing in this joint besides pot"

• never apologize for being who you are. unless you are a serial killer.

• if you want to be the kind of person that spreads gossip, be prepared to be the kind of person who is the subject of gossip

• parenting a pre-pubescent girl is the greatest torture in the world

• lower your expectations, and you are never disappointed

• as cliche as it may sound, there is no better feeling than a spontaneous hug from a child

• unconditional love is a gift. never take it for granted

• the rock stars you idolized when growing up will eventually become old and bitter and you will be embarassed to tell anyone that you once wrote them a fan letter and sealed it with a kiss

• stuffed animals do not come alive after you are asleep

• never have orange juice after brushing your teeth

• sometimes it's ok to be selfish

• a list can go on forever if you don't forcefully put a stop to it

So, what have you learned?

Posted by at 03:30 AM | Permalink | Comments (27)

Happy Birthday, Keith.

My birthday wish for you: That when you "roll into Los Angeles and be like 'Yo, L.A., whaddup?" L.A. embraces you like long a lost friend, and maybe says "Yo, Keith in the hizzouse!"

Posted by at 02:46 AM | Permalink | Comments (11)

Christmas with the King

Tonight's required Christmas listening: King Diamond - No Presents For Christmas

There's no presents, Not this christmas

They don't give a damn

I got your Christmas spirit right here, babe.

And no, I have no idea what those lyrics mean. It's King Diamond, ya know

Posted by at 06:27 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

cash money prose

Despite my frequent hostile outbursts in the office, my insistence on using foul-mouthed language and my total abuse of the kindness of my bosses, they have bestowed upon me a Christmas gift. It came in the form of cold, hard cash, double what they gave me last year, and suffice it to say it is more than enough to buy the zoom lens I've been craving and have enough left over to put towards a macro lens.

I am feeling very appreciated.

And as if this day wasn't smile-inducing enough, I have had a poem written about me. D has clearly managed to capture my inner soul and classy qualities. Or have I read too much into those lines?

Posted by at 12:54 PM | Permalink | Comments (12)

mmmmm....tests

I've been way too serious lately.

Take the Corporate Mascot Test at Willaston's Lounge!

Inner demons, annoying bunny, Morrisey....who needs psychiatry when you have online tests?

I also took the autism quotient test at wired http://www.wired.com/wired/archive/9.12/aqtest.html. I scored a 32: Eighty percent of those diagnosed with autism or a related disorder scored 32 or higher. I only find this interesting because when Natalie was first tested for her learning disabilities when she was little, I was told she had "autistic tendencies" and that she probably got them from me. We seem to be getting along just fine, thanks.

I was going to do my whole list of "What I Learned" just like my pal, Homer Simpson. But I need to get to work, so I will do it...at work! Meanwhile, a life's lesson from Homer:

There is no such thing as a bad doughnut.

Ain't that the truth?

Posted by at 05:25 AM | Permalink | Comments (14)

doctors and hookers

I had an appointment with DJ's Dr. last night, just me and him. I went into that office frustrated, defeated and confused. When I came out, I was a different person. Twenty minutes with the kindest pediatrician in the history of the world, and my life has changed.

DJ has been suffering from a medical problem for some time now. We were told, about a year ago, that the medical problem was really a mental health problem. That all he needed was some psychiatry to fix him up. Three therapists and no change later, I was only left feeling that the problem was my fault, that somehow I manifested this thing in his head to the point where it became physical. Bad parenting, divorce, etc. somehow all played a role in this.

We had seen a different pediatrician, who suggested a specialist, who gave me three whole minutes of his time, wrote some instructions down on a piece of paper and told me to call him back in 6 months and let him know how we were doing. He barely even looked at DJ. So I decided to try one more time. This time I struck gold.

DJ's condition has a name and course of treatment. It is not as uncommon as I thought, it is certainly not psychological, and the doctor was furious at whoever told me it was, and he can recover nicely from in in due time. It will take a lot of work and discipline, but we will be ok.

The nice thing about putting a name to it is that it opens up a whole new world for me. I can read about it, I can talk to others about. There is a whole network of support out there waiting for me now that I know where we stand.

The bad thing is the guilt. I feel bad for assuming this whole time that it was something he could help, that it really was in his head and it didn't have to be that way and he was causing his own problems. I yelled at him too much and made him feel bad for something he couldn't help.

Years from now, when DJ is in therapy, I am sure he will blame me for his cross-dressing habit and the hookers in his trunk. But, hey.....don't we all blame our parents for those dead bodies?

Posted by at 04:19 AM | Permalink | Comments (10)

give a little bit...

I would like to gently remind everyone of Shel’s penny jar project. It is not too late to empty those piggy banks and give to a good cause of your own choosing. The basis of Shel’s project is that so many people have given so much money to World Trade Center related charities (and that is wonderful) that a lot of the smaller, local charities who normally see their coffers fill up this time of year are losing out. Shel would like you to take any spare change you have, gather it up and give it to a local charity. Then let him know which charity you gave to so he can list it on his site and add it to the running total.

Shel has also asked that those of us who gave talk about why we gave. It’s pretty simple for me. I have always believed that charity begins at home. Every time I see Sally Struthers on the television, begging people to give to third world countries, I am reminded that there are so many people, right here in our own backyards, that are starving or without basic necessities or health care. And it’s not just about food. It’s about all the other things that so many people can’t afford. Counseling. Therapy. Medicine. Shelter. Protection.

There are so many different ways you can help. If you don’t want to send money, that’s fine. Every shelter can use necessities like toiletries and school supplies for kids. Can you imagine not having the supplies you need to do your homework because your family can’t afford them? Ask your local Kiwanis chapter if there is a specific family you can help. Buy a toy for their kids. Buy them a book. Give them a basket of food for Christmas. Go to the nearest shelter. Ask them what they need. Shampoo. Soap. Washcloths. Brushes. They seem like little things to you but to someone in a bad situation, it means their dignity.

If you can’t give material things, give time. Support your local soup kitchen. Ask your local civic groups if they will be serving a holiday dinner to the needy. Drive a shelter resident to a job interview. Talk to a troubled kid. Give your used books to the hospital. Hold someone’s hand at the AIDS clinic.

I know Shel is looking for your spare change, but I think he would be just as happy if you wrote him and told him that you really couldn’t afford to give dollars, but you gave time, you gave your presence.

Don’t confine your generosity to the holiday season. The farther away it gets from Christmas, the more the local charities need your help. Think of how fortunate you are. You have internet access? You spend money paying an ISP every month? That makes you more fortunate than a whole lot of people. Take a little of what you have, be it money or time or something you are no longer in need of that someone else could use. Give. Then give again. Then feel really good about it and spread that goodness that you feel around.

Never stop caring, never stop giving, never stop doing what you can to make someone else’s life a little easier.

Posted by at 03:28 PM | Permalink | Comments (7)

i'm a perfectionist, and perfect is a skinned knee

I was driving home from work yesterday, contemplating life and whatnot. I tend to do most of my thinking in two places - the shower and the car. Ok, so most of my thoughts in the car are given to pretending to be my alter-ego, Gridlock Avenger: Superhero of the Roadways and Destroyer of All Who Drive Like Morons. But sometimes I do have a rationale thought or two. And sometimes I am better off without those thoughts.

I realized two things yesterday, in a succession of revelations that caused me to gasp out loud. The first is that Christmas is a week away. One week. I am in such denial. I haven't wrapped a single thing yet. I still have presents to buy. Half of my ornaments are still in a box on the living room floor. There is just no time for Christmas. There is not enough time in the world to do all those fun, crafty things I wanted to do, to share those magic moments with my children, to set the stage for yet another version of The Best Christmas Ever. I have a week left to get all this shit done.

So it really didn't help that the subsequent realization caused me to go into a zombie like trance where I shut down all rationale thought. I am going to be 40 in August. Yea, I just realized that. I know, August is a long way away, but so was Christmas at one point, and it just snuck up behind me and smacked me on the back of the head. I don't want to be 40. I have been a thirty something for so long and I really like it this way. I do not want to give up my 3 for a 4. I feel suddenly old, like I will not be able to excuse my juvenile behavior any longer. That all my talk will have to be about retirement funds and Touched by an Angel and I'll have to trade in my Pantera cds for something more palatable to someone of my age. Maybe Celine Dion. My life basically began in my 30's. Is this where it ends too? Is someone going to knock on my door every day telling me to grow up because I'm 40 years old? Yep, August is still ten months away, so you now have ten months of my midlife angst to look forward to.

Anyhow, I failed to mention yesterday that you should go over and see Miguel at his new digs. The redesign is nice and all, but it seems oh so familiar.....

My secret santa, Kara, got her gift yesterday and she seemed be quite pleased with it. She also has a nice site, so why don't you go visit her? Happy Holidays, Kara!

I'm not even going to touch this story with a ten foot pole. I thrive on controversy and confrontation and healthy debate, by this is one issue that I am going to hang on the sidelines for.

And finally, I took some really nice pictures that I am awfully proud of, too bad my damn scanner won't work. I really think it's an XP issue...I want to go back to 98. Maybe it's Al Qaeda's fault.

It's Wednesday, it's payday, and though the pay won't last long this week, I'm still grateful to have it. I certainly will not be dropping it in the bucket of any Salvation Army bell ringers this week, but I will give them a little dose of this.

And D? Lesbian polar bears aside, I am ready for another day of pouring blood.

Posted by at 04:28 AM | Permalink | Comments (21)

Istanbul is Constantinople

I had planned on blogging a whole bunch of stuff tonight. It was one of those days that was just rife with good material. Unfortunately, Natalie took the exact moment that I got on the computer to spring the news on me that she "has a huge, humungous stupid" test on Middle East geography tomorrow. I guess I'll be getting a crash course in Turkmenistan instead of writing here tonight. Did you know such a place existed?

Ooh look at that. I made a post about something I do as a parent. How consistent of me.

Posted by at 07:42 PM | Permalink | Comments (10)

defending my space

Last night I not only got an email telling me my blog is inconsistent, but a complete stranger (to me) Instant Messaged me to critique this space. These things happened at the exact same time, and I felt like an unwilling participant in a verbal gang-bang.

The email said something to the effect that I obviously did not know what I wanted to be. What was I going for here anyhow? Political blog? Personal? News? Links? I honestly didn't know I had to declare my blogging emphasis the way one declares a major in college. Can't I just be a Liberal Arts blogger, writing a little of this, a little of that?

Of course this blog is inconsistent. It is about consistent as I am, which is to say, not at all. The tone and content here depends on a solid mathematical equation used to determine what kind of mood I am in. Grams of Caffeine Intake x Number of Times Boss Called Me "Sunshine" x Road Rage Factor (based on a 1-10 scale) divided by level of hormones. You take that number, apply it to my scale of Blog Subjects (lowest being "write something mushy about how much you love the whole damned world" and highest being "i hope you all die a gruesome death") and there you have it, my formula for inconsistent blogging.

Honestly, I don't know what the theme here is. It used to be a strict news/links kind of place, but somewhere along the line it became more personal. I like it this way. I like not being confined to a certain subject or limited to one area of concentration. If you come looking for me bashing George Bush and it's not here today, come back and check tomorrow. Good chance it will be here. If you came looking for links and news, you may be disappointed to find a very personal story. Basically, I run the show here. And it's a different show every day.

As for Miss Instant Messenger, who was upset because I don't tell enough "cute" stories about my kids or talk about things I do like a real parent does, I say this. My kids are not cute. I have an 8 year old boy and an 11 year old girl. 8 year old boys do nothing but tell fart jokes and play video games. 11 year old girls do nothing but whine. All the time. There are no cute stories to be had in that kind of life. Once in a while I will write about their exploits on the field or at school, mainly because I am proud of them in those kinds of ways, but I honestly do not thingkanyone wants to read (nor do I want to write) about how many different ways a child can say "poopy head" or a young girl's misguided attempts at putting on make up.

As for my stories of being a mother: Let's just say that tying your children down and forcing them to watch Goonies while you lecture them about why it's one of the greatest movies ever is not the kind of parenting one brags about. We won't even mention the closet incident.

So thanks for the attempts to "fix" my blog, guys. I'm kind of happy with the way it is. This is my place, my rules, my prerogative to be as pissy or sweet as I want to, to talk about the weather or The Simpsons or the political climate in Greenland.

Is it Friday yet?

Posted by at 04:21 AM | Permalink | Comments (50)

and in other random ramblings...

So George Bush had some pre-cancerous lesions removed from his face today.

Now, if they could just remove those pre-cancerous lesions from his cabinet, we'll be ok.

Two days ago, bin Laden was said to be surrounded. I actually heard a talking head on tv say that Ol Dirty Laden should be dead in 24 hours. So today, in a statement that's sure to boost the confidence of Americans, it was announced that ODL's whereabouts is "anyone's guess." I'm guessing the guy already shaved his beard, put on a pair of khakis and a floral shirt, and is taking a garden tour of Hawaii right now. Wanna play Guess where ODL is now? We all put in a dollar and whoever comes the closest to where he's found wins it all. If you want to be altruistic about it, you can donate the winnings to the Coalition to Clean up After We Bomb the Hell Out of You fund.

And I know Chris doesn't care, but I do: the lead singer of Big Country was ">found dead yesterday. If you're under 30 you're probably saying big who?, but as horrible as this band would probably sound if you put on one of their cds now, they were the shit back in the 80's. I don't even mean their big hit, "In A Big Country." "Inwards" and "Fields of Fire" were much better. Another piece of my life shot to hell.

I used to do a site of the day occasionally. I don't anymore. No idea why I stopped, maybe laziness. So I just want to take the opportunity to plug Jon Sullivan, one of my most favorite blogs in the entire world. He's got recipes. And animals. And lots of wonderful pictures. He even has pictures of the food he makes with his recipes. Always entertaining, whether he is talking about zoos or politics. His comments are just as enthralling as his site. His mom and dad always visit and his dad's a hoot. It's just one of those blogs that, when I'm having a bad day, I can go to for a smile. Thanks, Jon.

And now, my margarita awaits me. Nothing like a bit of tequila to wipe out a monstrous Monday.

Posted by at 08:01 PM | Permalink | Comments (13)

let the bunny fill you with love

Today's mail brought very pleasant surprises. Candi sent me brownies and a sweet/funny card. The card is hanging on my wall, the brownies...well, they were gone ten minutes after I opened the box. Candi also gave me a nice little gift today in helping me fix up the css I screwed around with and messed up yesterday. The nifty new font and colors are courtesy of her patience and kindness.

Also in the mail today was a nice big box. The return address label on the box said "Be quick before Filler Bunny becomes Killer Bunny!" I finally, finally got my Filler Bunny and Filler Bunny comics, courtesy of D and Pix, who already sent me the Dave McKean stuff last week. What did I do to deserve those two? There were two bunnies in the box and I will be shipping one off to England this week so D can have his very own bunny in a glass jar.

Thank you, thank you, thank you, Candi, D and Pix. You all rock my world.

Posted by at 07:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (11)

bitter pills

New, bitter, resentful journal entry today.

That is all. Time is precious when you are stealing someone else's computer for a few moments.

Posted by at 12:52 PM | Permalink | Comments (9)

monday musings

There are some nights when the bed is so comfortable you feel as if you are sinking into the pillows and blankets. It's a wonderful feeling that doesn't come often enough for me. Unfortunately, it also makes it very hard to get out of bed in the morning. Especially when it is dark and cold and your bed seems like a safe haven from the monsters of Monday.

So I haven't had enough coffee yet and my mind is still stuck somewhere in the dreams of last night, where I didn't have enough money to pay for my food at the deli, and DJ was running away from someone or something but was wearing cleats and couldn't move fast enough. Anyhow, all I can offer for this morning is some random musings.

Like, how the Packers' run to the top was depressingly short lived. I'm almost happy for the Bears; they were never one of those teams I hated. But I sure do feel this sense of satisfying spiteful smugness that the Lions' first win of the season came against the Vikings. How the mighty have fallen. I've been informed that despite my horrible, embarassing showing in this year's office football pool (made more humiliating by the fact that I finished tied for first last year), I am still in first place in the Monday night pool, which pulls in a few hundred for the winner. So this football season may not be a total washout for me after all.

I had a revelation yesterday. Tim Allen must have done something wrong in a past life or someone in Hollywood is blackmailing him. He is being forced to make an insipid, horrendous holiday movie every year. I'm not saying he deserves to be making good movies, I'm just saying that it must suck to be Satan's tool.

And while Time Magazine is probably agonizing over who the person of the year should be (Osama? Guliani? The Anti-Christ?),please keep in mind that Jessica has already chosen yours truly for that honor. I humbly and gratefully accept, and with the power accorded me as the Person of the Year, I hereby declare today today to be Friday instead of Monday. Go forth and enjoy.

Posted by at 04:54 AM | Permalink | Comments (14)

seeking:

anyone who knows anything about lucid dreaming; experiences lucid dreaming; wants to talk about lucid dreaming or OBEs, sleep paralysis,sleep associated hypnagogic and hypnopompic Experiences or just dreams in particular.

Please leave comment or email me.