I'm Tired of Funding Murder

Every day I am bombarded with images of disgraceful women. Our country's pop culture media adores them. The worse they are, the better. These women set very low standards, and a bigger tragedy seems to be that there is an abundance of these horrible females to fill page after page of trash magazine print.

Over the past couple of days there has been a remarkable exception to this vile standard. The media has splashed the life and face of an amazing, brave, progressive woman. A lady with vision who dedicated herself tirelessly to improving the lives of others, and showing younger women how to stand strong in the face of severe danger. Unfortunately, the danger hit too close to home, and after a successful speech of hope given to a thousand eager listeners, she was murdered.

Benazir Bhutto was an amazing voice of peace amid a sea of warmongers, fear peddlers, ruthless dictators, and those who profited from the misery of others. I am still fuming over her untimely death. She wanted to make peace with India and Israel, and stabilize her country. What adds to my anger is the fact that my tax dollars went to fund the murder of this great lady.

The U.S. has given the Musharraf regime billions of dollars to fight the so-called war on terror. Have they caught Osama bin Laden? Nope. Instead they have used those funds to increase their military might and keep a strangle hold on Pakistan. This is the government that has banned all free media, jailed attorneys who represent people mistreated by the government, and repeatedly uses torture. The only reason Musharraf agreed to hold elections in the first place was to keep the U.S. gravy train flowing. This is a man who took power in a coup, do you think he really cares about elections! Bhutto was going to defeat him, so her death was very convenient.

Of course, the Musharraf regime is pinning the blame on our favorite Snowball; al Qaeda. I'm sure within the next few weeks they will do a bang up job showing the link between radical Islamic extremists and Bhutto's murder. Also a prediction, the Bush regime will go right along with it, and breath a big sigh of relief that the attention of the American people is once again distracted from the occupation of Iraq.

Speaking of Iraq, if we had done things properly, instead of making a grab for the third largest oil reserve in the world, maybe we could have played a part in taking down Musharraf and bringing Bhutto back to power. We would have been instrumental in spreading the peace and democracy that our own dictatorship claims to promote, and best of all, it would have been one less murder you and I would have paid for.

Thought of the Day: My Favorite Idaho Game

The plan was made to take a two hour drive from Nampa to New Meadows (like any of you know or care about either place, but I'm attempting to be descriptive). On this trip, I was able to show Jeff how to play my favorite Idaho game, which I call, "What's that Smell?"

It's easy to play, and somewhat disturbing. Basically you drive along any given stretch of road surrounded by nothingness until everyone in the car gets a horrible look on their face and exclaims, "What's that smell!?!"

Unfortunately, the answers aren't always the most creative and usually boil down to one of three smells: the White Satin Sugar factory (big, horrible stench), Onions (potatoes aren't the only thing grown in Idaho), or Cowshit (no explanation needed on this one).

We played this game all the way up to New Meadows. We didn't get to play it on the way back, because I was too busy white-knuckling the steering wheel of the rented Chevy Aveo when a huge snowstorm hit. It took us 3.5 hours to get back to my sister's house, but in that time, I concluded that unless someone dies, I'm not visiting in the winter ever again.

California, I love and miss you!

Thought of the Day: Idaho Get Over Yourself

I'm in Idaho spending a few days with my family. I'm psyched to see my friends, my niece, and my siblings, but not too happy to be in this place. It's a nice area if you didn't grow up here during the '80s, you know, before they had tall buildings, culture, and civilization. Although Southern Idaho has changed a great deal, it's gotten a bit carried away with itself.

For example:

• Airport Security - I went to pick up my husband last night and there were three police officers walking around harassing cars stopped at the curb. Most of the planes coming into the Boise airport aren't even regular-sized aircraft, they are a step above the propeller Buddy Holly planes, so there aren't many people or tons of gallons of jet fuel aboard. Also, most Americans don't know where Idaho is, let alone some Islamic terrorist who lives in a shithole in Afghanistan and rides around on a donkey. Trust me, the little nuclear plant in the middle of the state isn't going to be enough to make a would-be fundamentalist board a Big Bopper prop plane.

• Real Estate Prices - They have houses here selling for over $500K! Unless you get 50 acres of land with it, you have to be a fucking moron to even consider paying that price tag, because most of Idaho (even the populated areas) contain vast fields of nothingness. Real estate developers have tried to make some cities and areas more "exclusive" than others, but the truth is that no matter how spiffy the neighborhood might be if you drive a mile in any direction you are going to run into a trailer with a broken down barn in the backyard and three rusted out cars on the front yard.

• Police Protection - The crime rate here is so low that there are police patrolling speed limits everywhere. This is one of the more attractive features about living here; the idea that you can leave your garage door open for an hour, and your possessions will still be there when you remember to close the door. However, between Point A and Point B there is a long road with no cars, and driving 50 mph should not be a crime punishable by a smoky with an attitude and an insurance-raising ticket. If you are going to have cops patrolling every long strip of road running through those vast fields of nothingness the least you could do is offer traffic school to those of us who would like to get to the mall in a reasonable amount of time.

• Family Values State - Stop touting the idea that you are the state that represents family values just because you have a church on every corner. The county I grew up in had one of the top teen pregnancy rates in the Northwest, there is a huge meth problem in the poorer Idaho counties, and Larry Craig is your longtime representative (need I say more).

I'm bias and I'll admit it. This place has a lot of demons and bad memories from my past, but it also gives me a tremendous amount joy driving by places where I spent years engaging in juvenile mayhem. However, as the eternal realist, the image of Idaho doesn't add up to the reality, so get over yourself, and for fuck's sake leave me alone at the freakin' airport!

Thought of the Day: Grateful for What I've Got

I've spent many years trying not to stand in front of the mirror and notice my flaws. When my daughter began to mimic me, as most little ones do, I really kicked it into high gear, because I didn't want her to look at her own reflection with disappointment. I've finally come to a point in my life where I'm happy with the way I look, big ass and all.

Today, I feel especially grateful for my large hips, slightly matronly upper arms, and all of my other flaws, because Pamela Anderson filed for divorce again. Let me explain. Pam is basically the physical manifestation of every straight man's dream. She has ginormous inflata-boobs, a tiny waist, a round butt, and despite being short, great legs. Her face isn't too bad either except for the fake lips and way too much eye shadow, yet I have a better personal life than this beauty queen. Weird isn't it.

Like many women I've spent time dreaming of what life would be like if I had the "perfect" body, and looks that could kill. Now I stop and look around at all of the women the media has declared as perfection and they are really a fucked up bunch. It's actually very sad that Ms. Anderson keeps winding up with losers, and that she doesn't seem to respect herself much.

Maybe I'm capitalizing a bit on someone else's misery, but after reading the news story about Pam's marriage to Paris Hilton's former boyfriend (like that wasn't a big enough flag!), I feel damn grateful for everything I've got, even though it never has a prayer of fitting into single digit sizes.

Thought of the Day: Glowing Cats

Scientists in South Korea have cloned cats that glow in the dark.

No...I'm not stoned right now, I'm completely serious, and by cats I do mean litterbox pooping felines that say "meow".

Don't get me wrong, I'm a big fan of science. I like the idea that in a world filled with reality television, corporate-run governments, and Brittney Spears, there is still enough human innovation to create technology that, crappy cell phone service aside, makes our lives better. However, sometimes I think that a few people have a little too much alone time in the lab, and the glowing cats advances that theory.

The glowing cat scientists say that the experiment was designed to detect disease in human beings, but during my long and decently traveled life, I have yet to see someone suffering from a weird glow-in-the-dark disease (except for those folks in Chernobyl who also have three eyes and I really don't want to see a dog with more than two eyes, so Korean researchers, don't even go there).

I understand cloning. Cloning will make it possible to advance transplant science and grow healthy skin that can be of aid to burn victims or people who have extensive scar tissue, but I'm not too down with the glowing. Then again, I always wonder what kids will be into by the time Rachael becomes a teenager. Instead of the tongue piercings maybe it will be, "But Moooommm, everyone is drinking the glow juice, and it will only make me green for, like, ten days max." Oy vey!

Thought of the Day: Pissing on Ike Turner's Grave

Ike Turner died yesterday. He had a tremendous talent for making great music, and I'll be the first to give him that credit. However, he was an absolute bastard of a human being, and I am perplexed as to why I'm looking at all of these glowing reports of his career.

I've never understood the need our society has to make people greater in death than they were in life. Look what happened with Anna Nicole Smith! She was a stripper who spent most of her early years hosting parties at the same house where her son slept, then got famous for being pretty, married a really old guy for money, and finally overdosed. Yet when she died everyone acted like some great person was gone, and the country should feel at a loss. Give me a fucking break!

Now we get to Ike Turner; a man who was arrested multiple times for drug charges, along with episodes of drug-induced violence, and brutalized one of the most talented women ever to sing a note. I've heard people say that Tina would have never gotten to where she is today without Ike, but given the beatings, threats, black eyes, chokings, and split lips, I think she might have preferred to go it on her own and find out.

A man is only as good as the woman who stands beside him, and if the woman can't stand, because he's beaten her too hard, then he isn't shit.

Thought of the Day: iHate iTunes

All I wanted to do was download Kate Bush's "Running Up That Hill". I wasn't looking to save 99 cents and download it for free from some scary Nigerian virus site. No, I was willing to be bilked a buck to get the song quick, so that I could listen to it while I worked out.

I started my downloading quest at 9:30 PM. I plugged my iPod Nano into my computer, and went to the iStore. I found the song, and clicked the "Buy It" key, but iTunes informed me that the iTunes version I upgraded to two weeks ago was so old that the song wouldn't download. Annoying, but nonetheless, I still wanted the song, so I went to the Apple site to download this week's version of iTunes, which was only supposed to take 6 minutes. Apparently 6 iTunes minutes are like 6 moon minutes (you know with the whole time/space thing where minutes on the moon are double what they are here).

I downloaded the new version, restarted the computer, and the whole system went wacky. After a phone call to my husband accusing him and his brother of screwing up the computer, which he denied, but those two + computer = very bad things, I looked forward to downloading the song. I re-set the computer, went through the iTunes update download again, and clicked on my desktop's iTunes shortcut, but it wouldn't open, so I clicked the "Help" key. Apparently this week's iTunes update requires you to delete QuickTime, and re-install it as a stand alone program. I did all this, because now I wasn't fucking going to bed until I had this song!

I finally gave up at 11:30 PM. The closest I got to actually having the song was streaming the original circa 1980s Kate Bush video on a YouTube site set up by some weird French guy. I know that downloading music is supposed to be the wave of the future, and I may sound like an old fart, but I'll take a good mix CD any day. At least if I had a CD, I would have been able to do my workout, while listening to sweet Kate make a deal with G-d.

Thought of the Day: Why I Say My Prayers at Night

My cousin, Alex, and three of his friends in Iraq.

Thought of the Day: The Misadventures of Felony Melanie

One of my young co-workers came at me first, "Mel, I think you'd better get out here."

I approached the reception area of my office and found a police officer at the front door. Outside there was the policeman's motorcycle accompanied by a police car with two more cops. In less than 5 minutes another two police officers showed up.

"Is this your vehicle, ma'am?" asked the motorcycle officer.

Then it hit me, Voldemort had reported the car as stolen.

Voldemort is the name we have bestowed on the woman my brother-in-law foolishly chose to marry six years ago. They are going through a messy divorce, and today I found myself right in the middle of it.

My brother-in-law had swapped vehicles with me a couple of days ago, because he needed the momvan to haul some stuff. What he didn't tell me was that during one of his messy court proceedings around mid-November, the court ordered him to turn over the car to her temporarily. He also forgot to disable the LoJack system allowing the police to find the car with little effort.

Two hours I was outside with a very nice officer, and in the end Voldemort ended up with the car. She has one that she talked her mom into buying for her, and another vehicle owned by my brother-in-law's company that she's refused to turn over violating her own court order.

The nice officer told me it was a good thing that they found me at work, because had I been driving the car, SoCal's procedure for pulling over a suspected carjacker is to force them off the side of the road, and with guns drawn make them lie on the ground to cuff them. I would have really been pissed had that happened, today I was merely inconvenienced and annoyed.

My co-workers got a kick out of the situation asking me what else I had been arrested for, and if I had a secret life I wasn't telling them about, and nicknaming me 'Felony Melanie.' They were also in awe of how calm I was in a situation where they would have completely freaked out and had a meltdown. Maybe I'm just jaded, but I'd prefer to say that I remain eternally amused at these weird life situations I always seem to find myself in. Beside, shit like this makes my blog worth reading.

Thought of the Day: How Do You Like Them Apples !?!

My daughter's birthday celebration was fantastic. She showed up to Chuck E. Cheese in her Pepto Bismol pink princess costume. Prior to Sunday, she had worn it all of five minutes before tearing it from her body like it was burning her skin, but that morning, she sat in the middle of the living room floor in her underwear, and proclaimed, "If I can't wear my princess dress, I'm not going." It was her birthday, so I let her wear the costume figuring it would be off the moment we got to the place with the shittiest pizza known to man, but, hats off to her, she wore that costume the whole time.

The party was only supposed to be from 1:00 - 2:30, but we finally left at 4:30. I was exhausted and deaf, but the munchkin was happy, and the dad got some good footage, so all was well. We went home, opened gifts, and rested for all of 30 minutes before we were out meeting my folks-in-law to celebrate with a birthday dinner. She was sung to by the waitstaff and got to eat a big sundae without finishing her meal. Any 4-year-old kid should have thanked their lucky stars for this dream day, but I've learned that my daughter isn't your typical 4-year-old.

As I was changing her into her jammies that night, she was clearly exhausted. I told her it was time to go to sleep, and in two seconds, she stood up on her bed, got in my face and said, "Mommy, I'm 4-years-old now, I do what I want."

21 fucking hours of labor, countless sleepless nights, ear infections, teething, kissing ouchies, the loss of a great set of boobs to gravity, and it's 'I do what I want.' Thankfully, I'm not one to lose my cool. I looked at her and said, "Do you drive a car?"

She thought and replied, "Yes, Grandma and Papa gave me a car." (referring to the little electric, way too expensive gift my in-laws gave her the day before)

"Do you drive a big car?" I asked.

"No." she said.

"Do you make money?"

"No." she said sticking her pouty lip out.

"Then I guess you have to listen to me for a few more years." I smiled.

Mommy wins again, but for how long is the question.

Thought of the Day: Four Years Ago Today

It's 9:05 AM and four years ago I was in the worst pain of my life. I sat on the edge of the bed wanting to close my eyes and just breathe through it, but my mother-in-law was in front of me telling me to focus on her. The pain subsided, my own mother arrived, Jeff was there, and the unbearable pain began again.

Prior to this, I never had a pain that I couldn't wrap my head around. When I popped my hip out of joint in 7th grade gym class, I could wrap my head around that. When I nearly cut the tip of my finger off, I could wrap my head around that (by the way, never chop vegetables while arguing with your asshole boyfriend). I've even been punched straight in the face, but even that paled in comparison to these terrible labor pains.

Finally, I took matters into my own hands. I grabbed my husband by the collar and told him it was time for the epidural, and he was not to return to my side until he made it happen. A few minutes later a nice young man with a bald head and glasses, dressed in blue hospital scrubs gave me the best shot I've ever had, and all the pain was gone.

I slept through the worst part of my labor while Jeff dozed beside me in the rocking chair and the mothers watched television and browsed through a large book of names. At around 5:15 PM, it was go time. They told me I would spend three hours pushing, but I'd had enough of this labor bullshit and wanted to see this tiny human I had been incubating for nearly a year. Thanks to learning the pilates extended stomach crunch movement, I had her out in 30 minutes.

The moment your child emerges from your body is the most real experience you will ever have. It was a physical, spiritual, and emotional release that I had never imagined could be possible. I never truly realized my power as a woman until that moment. Now I was a mother, and the tiny doll baby in the blue and pink striped stocking cap swaddled tightly in white nursing blankets was my daughter.

There was the usual celebration with phone calls and excitement, then a couple of hours later after Jeff and my mother-in-law went home and my mother was asleep in the portable bed across the room. It was just me and my little girl, now named Rachael. I spent a few moments freaking out and feeling weird. When your life completely changes in the matter of a few hours, even if it's for the better, there is still some fallout.

Today, my little one turned four. She plays games on the computer, insists on picking out her own clothes, drags a step ladder across the kitchen floor when I'm cooking so she can stand beside me and help, takes care of the dog, and yells at me when she thinks I'm not listening to her. Maybe I don't discipline her enough and let her talk back way too much, but I don't care. She has an amazing spirit, and is a pretty good kid, in general. Besides, it's always been my goal to raise a fabulous woman, and after four years, I think I'm well on my way.

Thought of the Day: California Rain

Yesterday was one of the most humorous days I've had so far here in Southern California, because it rained. It not only rained, but it rained really heavy. In Seattle we referred to this particular type of rainstorm as "pissing rain". You know, the kind of storm when you come in drenched and you've only walked a few feet from your car to the office, and someone asks, "what's the weather outside like?" Your only response as you wonder if you are going to have soggy socks all day is, "it's pissing rain."

I was listening to the rain piss down while I was getting ready for work, and I wondered how my new comrades in SoCal would respond to this huge amount of wetness, of course anticipating the worst. I was not disappointed. My commute to work took nearly double the time, because people here fear the rain. They also don't get the fact that their car is made of steel while rain is only a group of tiny water beads, because they were driving as if speeding up would cause the rain to hurt their cars.

My favorite scene of the day was when I ventured out for lunch, which I almost never do, but had to in lieu of the opportunity for nostalgia. I sat eating my lunch and listening to grunge music (like I said it was all about nostalgia), and I saw a guy feverishly wiping his outside car windows down with a towel, and had to restrain myself from yelling, "Hey Maynard, give it up! It's going to be pissing rain all day!" Instead, I just opted to watch him go from window to window, panicking and wiping, not understanding that according to the laws of physics steel is much stronger than tiny drops of water.