Sweetie, Santa Isn't Real

I never really knew how challenging this time of year would be for my Jewish child.

I grew up in an agnostic house where a tree was put up around the first week of December, decorated with little interest from me who always looked for any opportunity to escape into my bedroom and watch television, then depending on whether or not my mom was trying to impress my stepdad that particular year, we would exchange gifts and have some sort of meal on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day. It was never a pleasant time, because my mom would have the "ideal" family holiday experience in mind, and we were not even close to the "ideal" family, so at some point in the preparations she would completely wig out and tell all of us that the holidays were canceled and we weren't getting presents.

I've never liked holiday music, ungodly huge amounts of decorations, and I've already mentioned my disinterest in the tree experience. Celebrating Hanukkah is great. All you have to do is throw a dreidel and menorah on the table, say a prayer and light some candles. On December 25th I have a very Merry Christmas, because I get a paid day off, and a chance to practice the yearly ritual of gathering with other Jews at my favorite Chinese food restaurant.

Although we've accumulated Hanukkah decorations such as lights, a throw pillow, a table runner, and a cute, dreidel shaped candy tray, its been our discretion as to whether or not to put them out.

This year has turned out to be quite different. Our daughter is 5 years old, and wants our yard to be as flashy as our Christmas celebrating neighbors. No problem, Jeff bought blue and white house lights, and I ordered an inflatable, light up, 6' dreidel for the yard. We put up several menorahs in the house, and strung a 'Happy Hanukkah' sign we once used for a party across the fireplace mantle. It seemed as though we had our daughter's holiday spirit under control, and nurtured in a healthy way until the fateful night I got the question.

It's the question that I'm sure every non-Christian, non-Christmas celebrating parent dreads; "Mommy is Santa going to come to our house?"

I responded quickly with a comeback that I believed would be sufficient, "No, honey, we don't celebrate Christmas. We celebrate Hanukkah."

She started crying, and I admit it; I panicked.

"Honey, there's no such thing as Santa Clause." replied the flustered mommy.

"Huh?"

I explained that Santa was a fictional being, and that it was the parents who placed the toys under the tree.

"But why would the parents tell their kids that there is a Santa Clause when there really isn't?" replied the freakin' smart kid.

I had to choose my explanation carefully lest I ruin such childhood joys such as the Tooth Fairy, Elijah and the mysterious disappearing cup of wine on Passover, or the idea that the government works for the best interest of the people. I explained to the ever curious Rachael that it was kind of like telling their children a nice fairy tale, and that in no way, shape or form should she ever, ever reveal the non-existence of Santa Clause to any other child, especially her young, Christmas celebrating cousin, Savanna.

She seemed happy with this, and I'm still not sure if I committed a grave faux pas, only time will tell on that front. I think the idea that Santa isn't real is a bit comforting to my little Jewish child especially when she goes down aisle after aisle of Christmas decor at Target searching for the lone Hanukkah item that was not to be found, until finally settling on a big plastic Santa in which she pointed, laughed out loud, and whispered, "Mommy, he isn't real."

Sorry, My Ass!

I hate George W. Bush, that's been obvious for nearly his whole presidency, but lately I have been more pissed off than ever at the schmuck. His latest say nothing/do nothing was his pathetic excuse for an apology about the economy.

Let me break it down for you Georgie. While you and your war profiteer friends raped the treasury of the country you were placed as the leader of, millions of Americans lost their jobs, houses, savings, health care, and opportunity for a college education. Now, after all of this, you get to trot off into the sunset, live in an exclusive 8,000+ residence in Dallas, and continue to be completely removed from the mess your administration created.

Last week you said "Sorry about the economy", and this week you finally admitted that we were in an economic recession, but refused to admit any fault. Thankfully, enough people saw through you and your party's bullshit, and elected a politician who doesn't have his head shoved up his ass 24/7.

The part that irks me the most about the destruction of my country is that the people who helped destroy the economy, create the mortgage crises, and profited from the war got away with it. They are millions, even billions, of dollars richer, while good, hardworking people who spent their lives saving money for retirement are now in the poor house doing the countdown to homelessness.

We got the change of government that we needed, but now I want some justice...in a big way. I know Georgie Boy can't be tried for his crimes, but I want all of the other bastards responsible for this to pay dearly. Don't let Alan Greenspan go quietly into the night, it was his recommendations that cheered on the deregulation. How about Phil Gramm; he carried the deregulation flag, and championed a lot of the economic policies that brought us to our current economic and housing crises. Don't get me started on the greedy banking industry, the manufacturing companies that have sent our jobs to China and India, and those in our culture who have constantly promoted the lie of linking capitalism to freedom and happiness.

Electing Barack Obama was the first step, but along with the new administration I want congressional hearings and trials. I want the war profiteers tried, jailed, and fined. Let's take just a portion of the money they "lost" in Iraq and put it into a fund for all of the veterans returning from the Iraq War with traumatic brain injuries. Instead of letting Henry Paulson hand the rest of the bailout to the corporations who got us into this mess, why not give every American citizen their own large stimulus package. If you want the economy stimulated, cutting every man, woman and child a check for $100K would do the trick.

I agree that our country has been like a spoiled child for quite sometime. We have lived off of credit, went overboard on how much house we could own, and forgot to invest in our futures, but as with everything, I take it back to the leadership. After September 11th, had we been told to be more fiscally responsible and spend at least 10 hours per week volunteering for a community organization instead of being told to go out and shop, it might be a completely different world right now.

Kid Birthday Parties -- WTF!?!

I just have one question that I hope some parental historian can answer for me: When did a kid's birthday party, or parties, become the focus of so much of the average parent's schedule and disposable income?

I used to laugh at the idea of a parent spending $300 on their four-year-old's birthday party when I read about it in a magazine several years ago. I scoffed at the thought of these pretentious, 'keeping up with the Jones' suburb dwellers wasting money that could otherwise be put into the child's college savings account. After all, how could reasonable people justify hundreds of dollars for a kid's birthday party.

The cash register rang in at $66 and change today at Party City when I went to purchase some of the items for Rachael's upcoming 5th birthday party. I looked at the two bags (that's right, $33 per bag) of items. I didn't buy anything outrageous; Tinkerbell plates, Tinkerbell cups, Tinkerbell napkins, Tinkerbell streamers, Tinkerbell curling blower thingies, and some generic goodie bags (because I'm about ready to boycott the fucking Disney machine), and it came to $66 and change.

Her birthday isn't for another three weeks, but she was amped to go shopping for her party after spending the better part of the afternoon at her classmate's birthday party. The classmate had his party at the local kosher bakery, which was a cute and different idea. For those of us who have spent way too much time at My Gym and Chuck E. Cheese, cookie decorating at the kosher bakery was a welcomed departure.

The best part of the party was when the Israeli bakery owner took the kids and their parents on a tour of the back of the bakery. She let the kids take a spin in the big mixing vats telling them they were all cookie dough. Then with her heavy accent showed them the table where they would be shaped into cookies, and finally said to the kids, "Okay, now who wants to go into the big oven!" I'm not kidding, she really said that to a group of Jewish kids with their Jewish parents present. I'll be laughing about that for at least the next two weeks.

For Rachael's party I thought we'd be a bit more humble and have the party at home. Jeff and I thought it would be cheaper, but the $66 and change I spent today is only the beginning. Since she's still in preschool, we had to invite all of the kids in her class, who are accompanied by one or two parents and siblings, because I'm not going to say "no" to another kid who wants to come and have fun. Then there are the kids she knows from the neighborhood, our friends with kids, relatives, and anyone else we can think of who will assist us in getting rid of that monster-sized cake from Costco. We are clocking in at 33 people right now, and still have another 15 RSVPs that haven't come in yet.

We scheduled it for 1:00 in the afternoon, so that means lunch food. As expert party planners, we have a couple of games with prizes, my husband is renting a blowup jumphouse with a slide, and we have an enormous pinata that Jeff got for $10 in Tijuana. He was so happy about scoring the supersized pinata in the shape of a giant five for such a low price, until I reminded him that we have to fill it with candy, which will probably cost around $50. In the end, it won't be any cheaper to have the party at our house, and I'll be stuck with a big mess when it's over, but what can you do.

We all strive to give our kids what we didn't have growing up if we came from nothing, and if we had a great childhood, then we have the desire to give them the same happiness. I don't remember many of my birthday parties, but the few I do remember were big and fun, and all of my friends were there, and we played games and ate a big cake, and they were really wonderful memories. However, I can guarantee one thing, my mother never spent anything close to $300 on them.

Protecting Marriage?

Here in California there is a proposition on the ballot known as "Prop 8". The State of California made a bold and progressive move to recognize the rights of gays and lesbians to marry, and Prop 8 wants to repeal this progress. I'm always pissed when someone tries to tell another person, especially a complete stranger how to live their life, but the argument as to why Californians should vote "yes" on Prop 8 is completely asinine. According to the "Yes on 8" bigots, voting in favor of Prop 8 is protecting marriage.

Marriage is an age-old ritual practiced in nearly every culture. Some cultures allow for more than one spouse (most often more than one wife, because women aren't stupid enough to opt for more than one husband), there are also cultures where marriage is a set length of time, where a mandatory separation happens once a year, and where the marrying parties never meet until their wedding night. In this country, marriage has been defined as the union of a man and woman, but that concept has failed miserably.

The United States has a 53% divorce rate, and the sad part is that 2007 was the year with the lowest rate of divorce since 1970. Let's face it, we Americans suck at commitment. The hypocrisy is that most of the gay couples I know have been together longer than most of the straight couples I know, yet some of us heteros feel there is nothing wrong with telling the homos they can't enter into a commitment despite our distorted history with the marital institution.

The other big argument that the "Yes on 8" homophobes use is that gay marriage will be taught in the schools, which is another steaming pile of bullshit. Schools barely have time to teach math, reading, English, and other essentials, yet alone the ins and outs of marriage. The haters keep flashing the children's book, "King and King" in everyone's face claiming that kids will be exposed to gay marriage via this children's book. I got news for you parents, your kids will be exposed to a lot more harmful shit than some fiction book, like hardcore gangster rap delivered by wannabe homeboys who live in the upper middle class 'burbs, slutty clothing from their friends (especially preacher's daughters), weird demon-summoning rituals where you splash water at a mirror and turn around three times taught by that creepy, older, goth chick whose parents ignore her, and the average, run of the mill, drugs and alcohol. In fact, when you look at the roster of scary shit that your kid will be exposed to, two girls kissing doesn't seem so bad.

The key, as a parent, is to know how to respond. Instead of freaking out over the "King and King" book, simply tell your kid that this is how some families are, but our family is like this. It's just that simple. The other, lesser stated, yet obvious, point is that most kids won't get the whole homosexuality thing until they are well into puberty. When I first moved to Idaho at age 5 with my mom and sister, we were all but destitute. The three of us lived in a 300 sq ft. studio apartment, and lived on $25 per week. I don't think we would have made it had it not been for Jessie and Bobbie.

Jessie and Bobbie were a lesbian couple in their early 60s who lived downstairs from us. They saw the situation my mom was in, and helped us out. They did everything from drive my mom to doctor's appointments and the store when we didn't have a car, to babysitting my sister and I, and cooking us meals. Bobbie was an old school dyke who spent her career in the military, and had an anchor tattooed on her chest. Jessie did the traditional marriage and family after high school, and spent several years as a punching bag for her abusive, alcoholic husband. I remember visiting both of them for years after we left the apartment, and watched as they called next of kin family members to sign papers and give "okays" for each other, because these ladies weren't allowed to be married. The funny thing was that despite knowing them for years, I didn't figure out that they were a gay couple until I was 14. In my child mind, I thought Jessie slept in the bedroom, and Bobbie slept on the couch, and they were just best friends.

The last thing about this Prop 8 that should tell you voting "yes" isn't kosher is the fact that the whole "Yes on 8" movement has been funded by the Mormons. They are the secret "protect marriage" folks. Mormons, you know, the people who believe that when they die, they get to be gods of their own planet, and that all of the women in the world (Mormon or not) get to marry the Mormon men, and will be pregnant for eternity having spirit babies to populate their planet. Mormons, you know, the folks that believed it was perfectly fine to have as many wives as you could get, until the United States government refused to recognize Utah as a state, then suddenly someone in the church had a "vision".

The other group aiding in the "protection of marriage" are the Knights of Columbus, which is a Catholic organization. Given that the Catholic church has made hiding child molestation a practice for the past 25 years, I don't think they should have much of a say on the definition of morality.

In the end, the only people who can protect, nurture, or destroy a marriage are the two people who are married, so why not give gay people the equal opportunity to make someone else completely bonkers without the convenience of being able to walk out the door any minute. Instead when their spouse screws up their life, makes them dreadfully unhappy or straight up crazy, they should have to go through the same gut-retching legal drama that the rest of us have to deal with, which would make even the homophobes happy, because it would mean those homosexual married couples would be a little less gay.

Sarah Palin: Pretty Vacant

Men in power never cease to amaze me, not because they do great or mighty things. No, they amaze me by doing such stupid shit, I can't believe they are in the power positions they are in. The latest dipshit move by a powerful man is Sarah Palin.

Fresh on the heels of watching Hillary Clinton lose the primaries, Republicans recognized a void. There were a lot of pissed off ladies who were Hillary fans, and they wanted to capitalize on this anger to win votes; enter Sarah Palin. She was a woman, a governor, a right-wing lunatic conservative, and completely unknown meaning she was unlikely to be linked to scandal. In the mind of a Republican male, especially an old, Republican male like John McCain, she was the perfect pick. She would enable him to get all of the Hillary gals on board the "straight talk express".

The only problem is that John McCain is a man, and again, an old, traditional man who hasn't a clue about the mental workings of the younger generation of gals he was marketing Sarah to. He also made simplistic assumptions: Sarah is a working mom, therefore working moms would be able to relate to her. Unfortunately, she is a working mom who has the hypocritical view of touting her family as her first priority, but went back to work three days after giving birth to a Down's Syndrome child. Most women I've talked to, both conservative and liberal, couldn't believe that.

Sarah is all for traditional family values, and women who are into family values will like that, which would make sense if her daughter wasn't knocked up at 17. Traditional family values, again, dictates that your family comes first, and if you're daughter is banging a hockey-lovin', self-proclaimed redneck, where the hell are you to knock some sense into her head?

The final blow to the whole 'chicks will dig Sarah, just because she's a woman' theory was the fact that she was anti-choice even in the case of rape and incest. A woman who believes women aren't smart enough to make their own choices, and don't believe they should be relieved of a burden after an act of sexual violence?!? Nice going dipshits!

Despite all the above, the simplistic, powerful males in the Republican party still believed Sarah was a winner, and they put her out there to read a great speech from one of Resident Bush's speech writers at the convention. They raved about how well she did reading the speech, which really shouldn't be surprising since she worked as a news anchor before running the thriving metropolis that is Wasilla, Alaska.

There was a lot of attention paid to Sarah, which was exciting to a campaign that was damn near dead. However, as time has wore on, the audience that Sarah was brought on board to secure is getting sick of her, and here's why: she's cute.

Again, the powerful men made a dipshit decision by choosing beauty over brains. Sarah's a lovely looking gal, we know that, but most of us are getting really fucking sick of looking at her face. She botched the Katie Couric interviews, and used way too many "ya sure, you betchas" during the debate with Joe Biden. In her effort to be Miss Cutesy Tootsie, she is pissing off the average American woman. There is nothing we hate more than watching a bitch with no brains advance in the world, because she's pretty.

Now, all of the men are raving over Sarah, not because of her opinions on policy or her revolutionary ideas, no, they like her sunshine smile, and her laugh. This might be cool if we were talking about the star of the latest Disney movie, but we are talking about the potential second in charge of a country that is failing miserably. Women don't relate to smiles and shtick, they relate to a strong woman with a brain who faces adversity and does her best with what she has, and if she happens to be less than a beauty queen, all the better.

I smiled when I first saw Sarah, because I knew what those men had done and what they were thinking. I knew they would fail miserably, like they always do when they underestimate the fairer sex. For next time, gentlemen, just remember, if there's one thing a woman hates, it's another woman who gets four times further in life by doing half the work, which is Miss Sarah in a nutshell.

Patronize Me Not

I was excited when Hillary Clinton was running for president. I had that same excitement when Ruth Bader Ginsberg was placed on the Supreme Court, and when Indra Nooyi became the CEO of PepsiCo. Women have arrived in a major way, and as a feminist since birth I'm incredibly pleased. However, tonight I find myself completely pissed off at John McCain's choice for Vice President.

Governor Sarah Palin of Alaska is probably being Googled by millions as I write this, because although the Republican mouthpieces are proclaiming her vast popularity status, nobody except Alaskans know who the hell she is. Those who are familiar and quickly becoming familiar are perplexed. Why would McCain, who if elected would be the oldest sitting president, select an unknown, relatively inexperienced woman as his Vice President? The answer is simple: he needs a vagina-owner.

When Hillary wasn't voted in as the Democratic nominee, there were a lot of hurt feelings on the part of her supporters. A few of the more wingnut supporters claimed they would rather vote for McCain. I guess McCain must have taken this idea and run with it by figuring that a woman was the only thing that could counter a black guy.

Not only is this extremely patronizing on McCain's part, but horribly sexist on the part of the Republican party. In politics, why is it that men still choose to use women as a way to smooth over publicity-related situations rather than draw from their natural talent and abilities. Bill Clinton was a pro at using women to rectify his publicity nightmares. Every time he got caught with his pants down (literally), you could count on the fact that a woman would be appointed to some sort of high profile office whether they were qualified or not (i.e. Janet Reno). Now John McCain has gotten in on the act with Sarah Palin, a person he's only met face-to-face once prior to this appointment. Most jobs I've ever interviewed for had at least three face-to-faces before the offers came.

There are so many other accomplished women in the Republican party, and given McCain's age and health status I would feel a hell of a lot more comfortable with a Vice President Christine Todd Whitman or Vice President Kay Bailey Hutchison, even Vice President Elizabeth Dole, rather than the former mayor of Wasilla.

The saddest part of this political game of patronization is that the person who deserves the most credit for placing women in top posts based solely on their accomplishments and talents is George W. Bush. Yes, that's right, I said it. George W. didn't appoint Condoleezza Rice, because she was a woman (and a black one at that) and would be good for his image, he appointed her, because he truly believed, as he still does today, that she is the best person for the job. He did the same with Harriet Miers. However misguided his appointments have been, he looked at Condi and Harriet as people, not as vagina-owners. Now if that numbnuts can see past vagina-ownership, how the hell come no one else in either party seems to be able to?

FYI Senator McCain - just because you put a vagina-owner right next to you as you "so-called" second in charge, doesn't mean those of us other vagina-owners aren't going to see past the ploy.

And to those Hillary supporters who claim they will be voting for McCain, fuck you. If you miserable, pathetic group of pussies are willing to put this great country through four more years of hell just because your candidate didn't win then you can all just go fuck yourselves.

Black (and Minority) Women in America Should Be Pissed!

The family went bowling last night at one of these new places that does "cosmic" bowling. They have funky lights on all the lanes, music and big, flat screen televisions. For the first 30 minutes of our bowling session they showed the Olympics, which for me was the best of both worlds: family time + Olympic viewing. Once the Olympics were over, they switched to music videos, and that's where the trouble started.

I'll admit, I haven't seen a music video in a long time. The moment MTV started banning hard rock after the Grunge era, I was out. In the time that I haven't been video watching something terrible has happened; black and minority women have been turned into video whores.

I know this has been an issue amongst black women in the U.S. for quite awhile. I recently saw a panel on BET hosted by MC Lyte where prominent black women were discussing the problems regarding negative stereotypes and exploitation of their sisters in popular culture, but I really hadn't realized the extent until this eye-opening bowling session.

When I was still watching videos, there were regular appearances by amazing lady MCs who could bust out some kickin' beats. You couldn't argue with the talent of women like Queen Latifah, Salt 'n' Pepa with Spinderella, YoYo, TLC, and Sista Soulja. Now I'm wondering where all of the lady MCs have gone, or for that matter, positive minority female role models.

I grew up watching "The Jeffersons", "Good Times", "227", and "The Cosby Show", and in my young adult years, I really liked "Living Single" and the short-lived "All American Girl". All featured black and minority women in more than just the "standard" roles. Unfortunately, aside from Sandra Oh on "Grey's Anatomy", S. Epatha Merkerson on "Law & Order", Oprah, and precious few others, most of the minority women featured in television, and especially music videos are disposable eye candy.

No wonder minority women have come out so strongly for Barack Obama! At this point, I think they want Michelle Obama in the White House as much as her husband, so women of color can actually have an accomplished, intelligent role model to show their daughters. There are so many great women of all ethnicities with interesting stories to tell that it's just a crying shame only one negative image of them is prominent in our culture.

At this point, I think that women, particularly in the black community, should give a collective smack upside the head to the black men making the degrading videos. It would be one thing if the vast majority of minority women on television were portrayed positively (as in the Caucasian community), with just a little bit of skank (i.e. Girls Gone Wild), but when the only images are negative, further exploiting that image is irresponsible.

I would encourage both women and men to help combat these images by limiting your child's exposure to negative stereotypes. Even if you're a white person with white kids, having them see minority women portrayed as whores will give them subconscious ideas of superiority that permiates the notion of a power structure based on skin color. Also, the next time you want to watch something interesting and entertaining, search the internet for a list of independent movies or books written by minority women. "Mi Vida Loca" was a very good movie about two young Mexican women growing up in Los Angeles, and "The Color Purple" is one of my favorite films of all times. Trust me, these flicks are better than the run-of-the-mill, blow 'em bullshit, no plot crap that Hollywood has been spewing out lately.

For those who want deeper involvement in changing the culture, organizations like The Women's Media Center [www.womensmediacenter.com], are working to make women of all backgrounds and ethnicities, and their stories heard.

Although I look forward to my family's next bowling adventure, I think I will opt for an ally that is a little more Rockabilly, because I'd rather have my daughter listen to a crooning and fabulous Pasty Cline than ask me why those half naked ladies are considered "bootylicious".

Olympics Redux

I'm looking forward to many things; a change in perspective, the upcoming election, our first family vacation to Hawaii, and fitting into my smaller size jeans after nearly two months of this hellish diet (the wretched inability to have a drink after a long day either signals a pending drinking problem, or extreme willpower, I haven't figured out which one I have yet). However, the main thing I'm not looking forward to is the end of the Olympics.

I'm an Olympics junkie. Unlike a potential drinking problem, I'll admit my Olympics addiction. The games served as quite a lifesaver four years ago when I was a stay-at-home mom. I watched hours and hours of sports I never knew existed; hand ball - why not, badmidden - bring it on, table tennis - a bit of a stretch, but I'm game, speed walking - holy shit, that's an Olympic sport. It was all good.

I've had the same enthusiasm watching this year's Olympics. The opening ceremonies were unbelievable, and the story of that little boy who survived the earthquake and pulled two classmates to safety was so perfect I wondered if it was real (this is China after all, and they have some image issues). The games have been amazing, who wasn't ready to pee their pants when Phelps became the most medaled champion in Olympics history, or when Usain Bolt lived up to his name and won the title of the fastest man in the world!

The best and saddest part about the Olympics is that it is the one time we actually come together as a world, drop the politics, and create something unbelievable. I wish we did that more often. Alone, a group of people are strong, but when they work with another group of people towards a common goal, they are unstoppable (and I don't mean in a 'hey, let's gang up and invade that country' kind of way).

I'll watch the closing ceremonies from my vacation, which seems fitting as I watched the opening ceremony while on a business trip. Then I'll wait the agonizing four years until the next Olympics of 2012 in London. Who knows, maybe I'll get crazy, book a plane ticket, and take the trip over the pond to be there in person, at least it would be something to cross off the old bucket list.

Evangelicals: Still Fucking it up for the Rest of Us

I've got nothing against Jesus; he seems like a great guy, but as of late, I've had a huge issue with his followers. Today both presidential candidates went to a local Orange County mega-church to answer questions. I don't have a problem with that either. If 22,000 people want answers from two people who are vying to represent them, they should be able to hear where the candidates stand.

My issue has been with the constant blurring and subsequent erosion of the separation of church and state. Since 2000, Evangelical Christians have been on a quest to show their might via the vote. Their modern-day crusade has led to one hell of a strong-arming of government, and the introduction of a litmus test that should never be an issue in this country: the candidate's faith.

Our fore fathers were so worried about the legacy left by the Puritans that they made sure to include a separation of church and state in the Constitution. Remember the Puritans, you know, the assholes who burned hundreds of young women at the stake, because they misconstrued hormonal reactions for witchcraft. Yep, our fore fathers knew, and they had enough sense to head radicals off at the pass by including a separation of church and state in the document that our system of government was founded on.

Yet here we are in the new millennium with a group of people, who today, rallied in Washington D.C. to have abortion and same sex marriage pushed to the forefront of the national political agenda. Gas is $4 per gallon, unemployment is the highest its been in decades, millions of people are losing their homes, our government is pissing away billions of tax dollars in an unwinable war, but the Jesus folk think that two guys kissing is the greatest threat to our nation.

At this point, not only should the Evangelicals not have an audience with the candidates, they shouldn't be allowed to vote. They all came to the polls and voted for George W. (twice), because a vote for George was a vote for Jesus, and look at the sorry state our country is in today. You would think that after eight years of misery, they would have learned their lesson, but nope, they still don't want educated women making choices about their bodies.

I was brought up to be a tolerant person, to respect everyone's personal life choices, and to fight and defend a person's right to do their own thing. I've done that on the stipulation that anyone can be or do anything as long as they don't force it on others. Now, I don't think I can be so ready to go to bat, because I've personally suffered from the last eight years of Evangelical strong-arming, and I'm sick of it.

Judging by the panderfest that happened when McCain had his Q&A hour at the OC mega-church, the Evangelicals will likely stand behind the pro-war, anti-energy efficiency, anti-choice candidate, because that hour contained more ass-kissing than Happy Hour at Fire Island, which is a damn shame. Who would have thought that you had to sell your soul to the devil before speaking at a Christian church, but I guess some people who want to be elected bad enough will say anything to anyone.

Either way, I'm pissed off that a group of people who have a track record for making bad decisions have been given such power, and that they didn't wise up and learn their lesson the first time (or two). What would Jesus do? I'm not sure, but I have a feeling that he would see through the bullshit, and he sure as heck wouldn't be a member of a mega-church.

Celebrity Spawn

Viable energy policy be damned, have you seen how much People Magazine paid Brad and Angelina for pictures of their newborn twins! In America's race to be the most celeb-obsessed country, I think we've actually hit number one, which is good because we haven't been number one in the world for anything in a long time, except Greenhouse gas emissions.

People paid $14 million to the Jolie-Pitts for their kiddie pics, and I'm not going to lay one iota of blame on the uber-beautiful, megastar couple. Why not take the money. If People can sell a minimum of 3.5 million copies of that issue in order to recoup kiddie pic payoff money, why not let snoopy folks get their fill of baby pics. This is, after all, a couple who has their own charitable foundation, and used the money from pics of their last baby to fund it.

If someone (aside from sickos and child molesters) wanted to pay me a ridiculous sum of money for pics of my kid, my first instinct would be to look at my beloved little girl and say, "give Mommy a big smile, Sweetie, you're going to Harvard".

I've heard commentary claiming that the Jolie-Pitts are terrible, because they are selling pictures of their kids, but the truth is that stalker photographers would have hounded them mercilessly anyways, so why not cash in. As for the safety of the two newest and weirdly named Jolie-Pitt kids, they are newborns. Within two months they will look nothing like the overpriced photos People shelled out bank for.

The most pathetic aspect I can see from this whole situation is that Americans have become so obsessed with celebrity that $14 million isn't unreasonable for celebrity spawn photos. When it comes down to it, do you really care what someone's kid (aside from relatives and friends) looks like?

The only thing that would remotely motivate me to purchase the Jolie-Pitt spawn issue of People is if the twins were conjoined. Now that would be something to shell out $4 for.

Back from the Dead

I know. I've been gone awhile. I could give you a long and drawn out sob story about work being a scary, time consuming, pain in the ass, but most people say that about their jobs. I could do a lot of boo-hooing about personal life drama, but again, most people have that as well, and they are only interested in personal lives of celebrities, not suburb punk mamas. Anyways, many apologies for stupidly choosing to play computer games at night and grump at my family, rather than taking my frustrations out in witty, angst-ridden ramblings...especially in an election year.

While I was gone a few interesting things seemed to have happened. People are selling their souls for gas money. My Prius now costs $45 to fill, and no one in Europe has an iota of sympathy for our whining American asses. The worst part of all is that the Amish are now laughing at us, and one of the presidential candidates (I'll give you a hint: the old, white, out of touch guy) wants to drill in beautiful Alaska. The only joy that has come out of this aside from watching rednecks choke while trying to syphon gas from their neighbor's pickup trucks, is that it proves my anti-capitalist theories. Capitalism gone amok is very bad...very, very bad.

Speaking of whores who would sell their souls for a buck, the election battle seems to be in full swing. I'm already so sick of the corporate news media that I want to puke. I think I'm in favor of France's system of calling a moratorium on all media coverage two weeks prior to the election. The most scary thing I've seen from the news is watching people try to justify John McCain. He is so out of touch, and doesn't have a clue about a lot of things, but people just scramble to defend the guy. Maybe he was the right candidate 8 years ago (and G-d knows would have done a far better job than the numbnuts that got elected), but his policies don't seem to address big issues of concern right now. He has no plan to enact an alternative energy policy, his drilling in Alaska won't yield results until 2020 at the earliest, his healthcare solution is non-existent, and he's all for staying in Iraq. I think I'll vote for the secret Muslim, black guy who wants to raise taxes and hates Israel (according to those fucking propaganda emails that people keep sending me...seriously, stop it).

I experienced my first California earthquake the other day, and was halfway through it before I figured out that it was an earthquake and not a semi-truck backing up too close to the office. I didn't have much of a reaction, which surprised my native Californian co-workers. I guess I would have been a little more jumpy had pictures began falling off the walls, but it was only a 5.4 and it was centered closer to my house rather than my office, so no big deal. The most annoying part came right after when I had a hundred people asking me, "so what did you think of your first earthquake." Not much. I guess I need something in the 6.0-6.5 neighborhood to get me rattled and panicky.

I'm smiling from ear to ear that Alberto Gonzales' corrupt crew of uber-Christian lawyers are all being indicted right now for politicizing the Justice Department. Monica Goodling, that miserable piece of garbage of a woman (and traitor, in my humble opinion), will definitely be dis-barred and likely be doing jail time. It is such a breath of fresh air to finally see some semblance of the democracy we claim we have poking its head back into the light after eight long years of living under a repressive regime. For awhile it seemed like Bush & Co. could wipe their butts with the Constitution, and no one was willing to call them on it. This should be a lesson to all, if someone says they love Jesus just to get elected into anything, then turn and run away.

For what it's worth, I don't believe for a second that Alberto had no knowledge of what his aides were doing, and if he didn't he's a bigger numbnuts than George W., and that's a title that makes suicide look like the better option.

7 People Who Annoy the Crap Out of Me

1. People Who Talk on Their Cellphones at the Gym - I realize you are in your 20s, and finding out where the weekend party is happening while doing heavy cardio is a great way to keep connected and multi-task, but you are annoying the shit out of me. I'm in my mid-30s, and during the one hour I'm able to eek out at the end of a day that consists of dealing with a wild ass toddler, a more than full-time job, and the million other things, I would like to sweat my guts out in peace. I don't want to know what 'like the dealio is', and mostly, I want you to be struggling as hard as I am while doing this damn machine, so get off the phone and sweat.

2. Obama is a Muslim Emailers - Stop forwarding me your asinine , right-wing, propaganda emails. Much like most of the U.S., Barack's baby boomer parents got divorced, and he was mainly raised by his mother, the white woman from Kansas (America's heartland). If he was truly a Muslim, even that crapfest at Fox News would have uncovered it by now. All you are doing by sending these emails is (a). pissing me off, (b). advancing my theory that you are a mindless idiot who will believe anything, and (c). making me believe that the U.S. is doomed because of dip shits like you. Do you want four more years of this economy? Neither do I, so lay off the Forward key.

3. Celebrity Wannabes - What happened to the good ol' days when celebrity was reserved for people who were talented? Thanks to the reality show genre, any asshole with an interesting face can be famous for 15 minutes. Andy Warhol predicted it years ago, but that lucky bastard died before he had to see this devastation come to fruition. This blog is about as famous as I'll ever get, and that's fine with me. Why can't this young generation of attention whores wake up and realize that being on stage might seem fun, but controlling everything from behind the scenes is so where it's at.

4. Jogging Suited Stay-at-Home Moms - I was a stay-at-home mom for awhile, and I have mad amounts of respect for any lady that decides that raising decent human beings is more important than making money, if they have the luxury of that choice. However, the jogging-suited, busy-body mom really pisses me off. It's not their designer jogging suit, or the fact that they like to stand up all perky in the parents meeting and volunteer to deliver the kosher pizza to the classroom every Wednesday, it's that they give you 'the look' every time you tell them you have a work obligation, so you aren't available to go over the school curriculum with a fine toothed-comb. It's not that I don't care about my kid's education, I do, that's why I send her to a good, private preschool. I pay the teachers to know their shit, and since they all have degrees in early childhood education, and I don't, I'll give them credit for knowing what they know, so get off my ass and stop making mindless small talk with me, so I can get to work 15 minutes late instead of 30 minutes late.

5. SUV Drivers Who Complain About Gas Prices - You annoy me, but you also make me laugh my ass off. You had to be the big man and get yourself an over-priced Hummer, now you are suffering, and it serves you right. Hummers are military vehicles, and you bought one thinking you could impress everyone. You made fun of us tree-huggers with our Prius' and now you are taking a second on your nearly foreclosed house to pay for your tiny penis syndrome vehicle. You made your oil dependent bed, now lie in it (while you still have your house).

6. People Who Hang Out in Triple-Digit Weather, but Still Deny Global Warming - Thank goodness these morons do their denial banter on television, because if they were within a yard of me, I'd shove my heat-stroked foot squarely up their ass. I grew up in the desert part of Idaho, and yet I've seen weather that I would have never thought possible. Super floods, super fires, storms of the century, drowning polar bears, yet you still believe there is no global warming. Yep, it's best if you stay away from me, or they'll have to send a spelunker to find my Vince Camuto wedge.

7. Crabby People Who Go to Shows for Kids, Then Get Mad that Kids are Talking - Last night we went to see Bugs Bunny on Broadway at the Hollywood Bowl. We had a great time until some old bag told my daughter that she was being too loud and was very rude. Rachael is 4 1/2, and for those of you who have been around kids ever, they ask a lot of questions, which Rachael was doing. What do you expect at a show that features cartoons. I know it's the Hollywood Bowl, and people go there for culture, and under normal circumstances, I wouldn't take Rachael, because of her motor-mouth habits, but this was a Bugs Bunny thing for kids as advertised by the promoters at the Hollywood Bowl. It's like going to see Kung Fu Panda and getting angry that the kid noise is disruptive. If you want to experience culture, and bitch out some kid for talking, don't go to things that feature cartoons, you grumpy asshole.

As a note, I went to confront the lady at the end of the show, but she hauled ass halfway through the encore. I guess it's easier to gripe at a small child then it is to deal with a mad mama.

Annie Where Art Thou...and Whilst You Shut Up Please!

I've never had a good relationship with the redheads I've come across. For some reason that particular hair color always belonged to personalities that conflicted with mine. Whether it was Lenny Bisby, the neighborhood bully who threw hot sauce in my face when I was in the second grade, or that chick named Kim who I locked horns with in the 8th grade, truth be told, the only ginger I've ever dealt with on a civil basis was a sweetheart named Michelle who I knew in art school.

Now I find myself loathing all things red-topped once again. This time the subject of my disdain isn't even real, she's an orphan from the depression era 1920's and her name is Annie.

Its a sad and sorted tale, the relationship Annie and I shared. It started back when I was 10. Annie was the tough girl that everyone was quite fond of. She had crazy, red hair and a stinky mutt, but Annie was a talented survivor who made good in the end. I loved her story, and her music, and the cool costumes. I watched Annie over and over again imitating her every move.

Annie and I were inseparable for close to a year, but as with all things in time, she and I grew apart. There were other things coming into the picture; Fraggles, Inspector Gadget, and John Taylor of Duran Duran. My love and affection soon turned towards John, and Annie was all but forgotten; cast aside as an adorable childhood memory.

However, Annie and I weren't through, not by a long shot. Two months ago, Annie re-entered my life, this time befriending my daughter, Rachael. I knew from the moment Rachael saw Annie, she was under the same spell that had captured me 25 years ago. Rachael loves everything Annie does, and all she ever wants to do is talk about Annie. She imitates Annie's tough talk and catch phrases, copies her dance moves, and sings the songs of her beloved Annie, much to my chagrin.

I find myself loathing Annie more and more with each passing day. How could it be that in 25 years my feeling towards Annie could have changed so dramatically? After all, Annie wasn't the one who changed, I was.

Oh, I know...it's the five millionth time I've heard "It's a Hard Knock Life" or perhaps it's the fact that I can't watch anything on TV, because the movie of the day is always Annie. The little redhead is adorable in small does, but 24/7 is more than any mere mortal should have to endure. Sorry Annie, but you grow old with age, same as the rest of us, only we don't get to keep our 'the sun will come out tomorrow' smiles as bright and wrinkle-free.

Best Election Ever

I've already espoused my affection for Barack Obama, so no need to go on further. This will be the best election ever, not because my beloved, yet dysfunctional country, will finally be forced into the new millennium by electing the candidate who is right for the job, not the one they could see themselves having a beer with, it will be the best election ever due to the Cletus factor.

Gas prices have gone through the roof driving people into such desperate means that ignorant-ass, rednecks will be forced to vote for a black guy rather than watch their family starve. This is sad and pathetic, but I choose instead to see the humor in it. I can just see Cletus right now, lumbering up to the votin' booth in his finest Van Halen circa 1980s t-shirt (the one he used to wear to work until one of them illegal Mexicans took his job), looking at the ballot and wantin' like hell to vote for that McCain fella, but Cletus stops, grits his remaining teeth, and punches the card for Obama.

Cletus now knows, what those of us with an education past 8th grade have known for awhile; the Republicans are ineffective corporate whores who don't give a fuck about the working class, and never will, and that by voting for McCain, Cletus won't be able to afford the gas to drive his Chevy to church or the unemployment office. Therefore, as much as he hates blacks (and believe me, Cletus does), he will vote for the black guy, because he can barely afford the payments on his trailer.

If it seems like I'm being elitist and bagging on rednecks a bit too much that is because they deserve it. White, ignorant, Midwestern, Christian, rednecks were the ones who got Bush into office twice. For the far-reaching pain their stupidity has caused my beloved country, they are just going to have to bend over and take my abuse. I just hope like hell they've learned their lesson, then again, for those remaining Cletus-like hold-outs, there will always be a gallon of gas at $5 to push them to, finally, do the right thing.

Highs, Lows & Everything After

It was one of those weeks. The kind that shake you to the core. I envy the life I had before last Sunday, even the life I had Sunday afternoon. I was solid in knowing where everything stood; who was who; and what was what.

I apologize for my vagueness, but what was revealed Sunday night was the kind of thing one takes to their grave, and now all I'm left with is the angst, sadness, and insecurity brought on by the revelation. I cried like I never have before in my life, not even when my mother died in my arms.

Parents die before their children, if they're lucky. It's normal, the proper place in the life cycle. I attended the funeral of a dear friend of the family, who was like family, last Friday, and I shed a few tears, but she had been sick for quite sometime and the writing was on the wall. I left with a certain amount of sadness, knowing that I would miss her, but when she passed, it didn't feel wrong.

This was not the case with the revelation. It was so very wrong. I cried until my chest ached and my eyes were nearly swollen shut. Then I spent an uncomfortable night tossing and turning. All I wanted to do on Monday was curl up in bed, in a dark bedroom, and cry, but I had a work deadline that forced me from my heartbreak. I have never been so grateful for work in my life. I could walk through the door of the business and feel that at least one aspect of my existence was normal.

The next few days after were shaky, and each night I cried myself to sleep, but as the week wore on life began to feel a bit normal again. Now here I am a week later. I can't think about the revelation too hard, or I end up in tears. It sneaks up on me from time to time, but I can, once again, envision life returning to a relative state of normalcy.

The hardest part will be the fact that I will carry the revelation in the back of mind for the rest of my life, and I will take it to my grave, but it is necessary in order to ensure that that which is most precious to me remains whole, happy, and continues to thrive.

Again, many apologies for such awkward vagueness, but writing has always been my way of working things out and finding comfort even when it doesn't make sense to others.

All For Naught

Every time I turned around today I saw photo after photo of young faces. They were smiling, handsome, proud, some in uniform, others posed with their spouse. I watched 30 second tributes to them from a variety of news anchors, and was left with great remorse and seething anger.

Memorial Day was established to honor the fallen who gave their lives serving in the military, but were never able to enjoy a hero's welcome. On this Memorial Day I can't feel pride as an American citizen, because the faces on the news are lives that were wasted on an illegal and immoral war that was sold to us, in part, by the very media that was voicing the 30 second tributes.

Where was that mainstream media when the Bush Administration took our military resources from Afghanistan and directed them into the death pit that is Iraq? How come this same media continues to ignore the outcries from U.S. soldiers back from Iraq to four-star generals who criticize the plan for "winning" the war to the families who have to deal with the burden of non-stop deployment and the daily threat of a pending coffin. I know the mainstream media doesn't give much of a damn about the anti-war movement, because the same company that owns the news probably owns a share of another company that manufactures the weapons, but to watch tribute after tribute from the very source that could have gone after the failed policy from the beginning left me with such a feeling of disgust.

As long as this immoral war continues we are disrespecting our servicemen and women. Our government is failing to give them proper leaves, much needed health care, adequate support for their families, and we are all part of this disrespect. Many leaders say that there can be victory in Iraq, but they fail to look at the long history of that region. It is tribal, it is sectarian, and it is occupied by a group of people whose core belief system links death and glory.

If we truly want to honor our military on Memorial Day, then I hope we get it right in 2009 by shaking their hands on U.S. soil when they are all at home where they should be.

Dance Class Wars

My husband sometimes makes a practice of talking out of his ass. Case in point; Rachael was 10 months old when Jeff looked at me and said that there was no reason in the world why she couldn't be in the Nordstrom print ads. Having watched way too many E! True Hollywood Stories about child actors, I was completely against it.

My child is absolutely gorgeous, loves to sing (and unlike the rest of our tone-deaf family can carry a tune), can dance without looking like she's convulsing, and doesn't mind getting up in front of a small audience. However, I'm not too keen on the idea of whoring her whimsical kid instinct out to the highest bidder.

After many banters back and forth between my husband and I, we signed baby Rachael up with a local talent agency (who required a $100 retainer), got the headshots done (which was another $300), and got no calls (I mean zilch, zero, nada). Sometimes as a dig, if I'm feeling a bit bitchy, I'll ask Jeff how much interest that $400 would have earned in a college account by now. I haven't done that in quite awhile, because the whole "my kid could be a star" thought pattern hasn't reared it's ugly head until recently.

We signed Rachael up for gymnastics in March. She went for about a month and a half and got bored with it, so we signed her up for tap and dance classes. She went to two classes and absolutely hates it. My first thought is 'she tried it, she's done, time to move on'. Jeff has a bit of a different approach. Rachael loves to sing and dance, he tells me, so let's make her do the dance classes, she'll get used to it and love them.

All the while, Miss Rachael is telling me that she would to go to karate. Every kid loves to sing and dance, but not all want an audience or a stage. In a culture so obsessed with stardom, and living in SoCal, an area where if you don't have a modicum of stardom, you're not shit, I really don't want to encourage this camera-chasing behavior in my kid. If Rachael prefers kicking someone's ass in karate as opposed to dressing in pink tights and singing and dancing, that's fine with me. In fact, I'm downright proud!

The issue of dance class vs. karate still isn't resolved in the Punk in Suburbia household, so it may be awhile before we have a favorable resolution. Until then I'll be happy buying my kid little doctors lab coats and encouraging her to bandage the dogs then asking her to sing yet another rendition of "It's a Hard Knock Life".

A Few Things I Don't Understand

I haven't had much time for reflexion, since I work way too many hours, but there are little things I've noticed that straight up perplex me. Little ironies that leave me scratching my head and wondering, 'what idiot thought this would be a good idea.' Maybe someone out there has an answer, but I have a feeling many of these things are void of explanation.

Justin Timberlake - Seriously, I don't get it, and I never have. I realize he's not of my generation, so maybe that accounts for something. However, I'm not such an old fart that I can't recognize a handsome young man when I see one. Zach Ephron I totally get, and if I was my niece's tender age, I would be gaga, too, because he's their generation's John Travolta (circa Grease). Justin, though, isn't sexy. His looks are awkward at best, and he has a white guy 'fro, which I'm not saying is a bad thing since I'm married to a guy with a Jew 'fro, but as a general aesthetic rule, white 'fros aren't all that great. His music sucks. From that boy band he used to be in up to his latest over-produced, cultivated-in-a-lab, pop tart CD case of shit, his mark on music more forgettable than anything clever he's ever done, including ripping off Janet Jackson's top at the SuperBowl. If someone could take a moment to explain the whole Justin thing, I would be most appreciative.

Where Does the Bra Go? - I don't know if I don't understand this one, or if it just annoys me, but I went out shopping the other day for a dress to wear to my nephew's Bar Mitzvah, and the question I walked away with was "where does the bra go?" All of the new styles include necklines, straps, and a lack of sleeves, which is fine if your clothing size is single digit, but mine isn't, therefore a natural assumption should be made by clothing makers that once you've crossed the threshold into a non-single digit size a bra is an essential. These clothing makers went to school to learn the fashion industry, so why are they so fucking stupid on this issue! Since the age of 11, I've had boobs, and not tiny, training bra-sized boobs, full on knockers. I sport a size that broads in Newport Beach pay thousands for, yet I can't seem to find a dress that has straps thick enough and strategically placed to hide my bra. I ended up wearing something I bought last October, because it had sleeves. It looked good on, but to some degree I feel a bit robbed.

Gas Tax Holiday - Does Hillary Clinton or John McCain really believe people are going to fall for this bullshit. Their great idea for bringing fiscal relief to millions of Americans is to lift the federal gas tax for the summer. For three months we could save a whole 18 cents! Yippeee! That will definitely off-set the 6 million who have been thrown into poverty since 2000, as well as those trimming their grocery bills in order to afford gas to get them to work. If this is the best solution our so-called "leaders" can come up with, then we definitely need to start an honest discussion about revolution. Barack Obama said that their wonderful gas tax holiday would save Americans a grand total of $30, which is why I'm voting for him. He has been the only one (including the media) who has talked about this being nothing more than populist bullshit, and I respect him for it. I just don't understand why these two power-hungry assholes thought it was a good idea.

Workload - Why am I killing myself working close to 60 hours per week for a salary that falls $15,000 per year short of the California average for someone in my field with my number of years of experience? Frankly, why am I killing myself for any job? I made myself a promise years ago that I would never live to work again, but I've found myself in the same predicament 10 years later. Back then I could afford to make work my life, because I was promoting concerts, loved the music industry, and all I had in my personal life was a family I didn't care to spend time with, and a failing marriage that I was running away from. Now, I have a daughter who is the center of my universe, a husband that I love to be with, friends I like to hang out with, and a family I adore, but I never get to be with them, because work has become my life. I've been postponing having another child, because of work, and I know it's unacceptable. If I didn't like the idea of the business I would have been out after two weeks, but at this point, I don't think ideas are enough to keep me working like a dog and neglecting my family. I just don't understand why its taken me this long to figure it out.

No More Wedge Issues

Barack Obama belongs to a church that has a pastor who said that America's fucked up foreign relations policies brought on the 9/11 attacks. This is why my country is in the state it's in right now; stupid wedge issues.

George W. went all over the U.S. proclaiming his love for Jesus, and that won him the election the second time. In the past four years, "Jesus' candidate" has nearly bankrupted our country, gotten us further into a financially devastating war, helped create circumstances that have led to a world-wide food shortage, and sold our oil market out to cronies causing millions of Americans to delve further into poverty. Even Fox News would be hard pressed to point to why the presidency of "Jesus' candidate" should be praised.

Along with the whole Jesus' candidate bullshit was the 'let's stop the gays from marrying' wedge issue that got Republicans into absolute power. All my life all I heard from the Republican party was "if we had complete control, we would make the country better". You had your chance, and not only did you fail miserably, but you brought us into the worst economy since the depression.

Before Democrats get on a high-horse, let me say that the great opposition party that the Democrats were supposed to be ended up being nothing more than a group of spineless, image-conscious weaklings. Democratic kowtowing to Republicans is patently unacceptable especially in a time where the daily lives of the people who trusted them are getting worse. If the Republicans are assholes and block every bill that the Democrats propose, then Democratic politicians should let them be assholes, but get on every news station and let the American people know exactly what is happening. Instead Democrats are trying to play nicey-nice with a group of capitalist shills who don't give two fucks who suffers as long as their corporate buddies make their profit margins.

Barack Obama could have the most racist creep of a pastor that I've ever heard, but I'm still voting for him. Rev. Jeremiah Wright is finally being allowed to stand up and speak about his remarks, and the news media is already screaming that based on an interview that hasn't even happened yet, Obama will be finished. At least that's what they're hoping. If I've learned one thing in the past few weeks, it's that the corporate owned media would rather take the millionth tour of some wingnut Texas cult's compound than talk about international food riots, or the enormous protest that happened in Washington D.C. on tax day. That's right, a half million people gathered in our nation's capital on tax day to protest, but you didn't hear about it. However, the unibrow chick in the prairie costume showed you the dorm style rooms where women and children live on the FLDS "ranch" in Texas over and over again.

I want everyone to join with me this year, and every time a wedge issue comes up, write media sources, both political parties, and whoever else is promoting the wedge issue and speak out against the trivialization of the election process. We can't let a racist pastor keep us from the one candidate who isn't feeding from the corporate trough and might actually make some changes in this country.

The Wrong One Got the Tumor

I have an amazing friend who is one of those fun people you always look forward to talking to. We met in a new mom support group after I had Rachael and she had her son. Two years ago, she had twins who were born with issues. She is one of the strongest people I know, because having three children under the age of 3 with two of them being sick would absolutely break me. She slept on the floor of the twins' room for nearly the entire first year of their lives to make sure she would be there if one of them stopped breathing in the middle of the night.

Unfortunately, I haven't gotten to the worse part yet. My dear friend gets through the first grueling year and a half with her twins, and manages to line up the treatment they need to improve. Her husband begins opting for more out-of-town projects for work, and one day comes home after three weeks in Barcelona (which got him out of a week of three kids with croup), and tells her he's had an Epiphany. He says his life hasn't been too much fun, and he's decided to start enjoying himself more. He joined a role playing club, a wine/dinner party group, and got himself a text message buddy. He travels three weeks a month, and doesn't call home for days. He holds my friend financially hostage and lives in a state where the divorce laws would leave her with next to nothing.

On top of everything, my friend is having surgery tomorrow morning to remove a tumor at the base of her brain. My mother died of a brain tumor, so this is hitting me very hard. I think due to the location and the fact that it's a completely different tumor, my friend will be okay, but I hate the idea of her having to record birthday messages to her children in case she doesn't make it. I hate it even worse that she is recording those messages alone, because her piece of shit husband is out gallivanting with some other chick having a fun life and not giving a fuck about his wife or three kids.

Where is the justice in a situation that holds a sick woman hostage in a mentally and financially abusive marriage? I'm glad I no longer live in the same state, because I'm not a violent person, but I would have beat the living crap out of her bastard husband by now, or at least helped her cut the brakes to his car or some other Soprano-like action that would rid her of him, yet leave her with benefits and insurance money.

It may be wrong of me to say, and something bad will probably happen to me, because of it, but I'm going to say it anyways, because it's the truth: the wrong person got the brain tumor. Now I'm going to go try to call my friend, give her some comforting words, and pray like hell as soon as I hang up the phone that I'm talking to her again by next week.

Get a Freakin' Clue

It amazes me that one could be around average Americans for months at a time traveling throughout all of the major, and several of the minor, cities in the U.S. and still be completely clueless about the struggles of my fellow citizenry. This was the thought running through my head while I watched the local news recap of John McCain’s visit to Orange County.

He was endorsed by Madame Reagan, the wife of the patron saint of the conservative movement, but managed to bumble through his comments on the economy. Americans are truly suffering right now, and not just the folks who were considered “working poor” or “one paycheck away from disaster”, middle class folks like me who have honest-to-goodness careers. I heard the story of one woman whose husband abandoned her leaving her to raise two kids on her income alone. She worked in the mortgage industry for years making $70,000 annually (which, for reference, the average salary for a college-educated, mid-career employee in Southern California is $65,000). She was laid off and has found herself having to ask for help from a food bank, while her mother has moved in with her to help support the household.

John McCain’s answer to all this suffering is that he doesn’t know that much about fixing the economy. Instead he went on a tirade about how stupid people were to buy houses they couldn’t afford, and that the government shouldn’t be obligated to bail them out. (Even though they’ve faithfully paid taxes?!?) I half expected him to start talking about how in “his day” you had to walk up hill both ways to get to a one-room school in the snow with no shoes. Grandpa was on a rant that today’s generation is too spoiled.

I agree to a certain extent that people were very careless by taking these ‘too-good-to-be-true’ loans, but I also recognize where their desire came from. Having a nice home is the cornerstone of the American Dream. When you read profiles of success stories they always include info about the subject’s home. Since January, there have been 3,000 home foreclosures in my county. What’s McCain’s response to this (aside from his Grumpy Grampy tirade about lack of responsibility)? He wants to give government money to mortgage lenders, so that they can incentivize people to keep their homes. Yep, that’s right, when faced with a groundswell of human suffering and defeat, let’s give all the cash to the pigfuckers who got us into this mess in the first place.

Sadly, this was all he would say regarding the economic crisis. The rest of his speech was all about Iraq, and how it’s really cool that we’re there…and hey that asshole in Iran could use a good woopin’…and how the glorious surge was working…and, even though 4,000 American soldiers are dead you got to break eggs to make an omelet…blah, blah, fucking blah. I can’t believe this is the same guy who I would have voted for back in 2000 when he was running against Bush. I’m not sure what happened over the past 8 years, but much like a bad marriage, this guy is nothing like the one I met via regular appearances on The Daily Show exchanging verbal spars with a then (yet even more clueless) Resident Bush.

It’s disturbing to me that he is one of three possible people that might lead our nation, and if he winds up with the top spot, the suffering that has happened so far will be nothing compared to the dismal state of life in 2010.

Open Letter to the Dumbasses Who Graffitied My Synagogue

Dear Wannabe Graffiti Badasses,

On Wednesday night you decided to come onto the premises of my synagogue and do your best graffiti work. You wrote things on the parking lot where I drop my kid off at school, and probably thought you were pretty fucking rebellious. In fact, I bet you went home with your fellow badasses thinking that you were all the shit.

I guess the only problem with your rebel-rousing plan was that you forgot to read the name on the building whose parking lot you graffitied. You left a tirade of "666" and pentagrams, but here's the kicker; Jews don't believe in the devil. Sure, there is the belief in evil and an entity known to us as the yetzer hara, however, it doesn't have horns, a pitchfork, or a tail, and looks nothing like the guy on my Danzig albums. "666" and pentagrams are offensive to Christians, not to Jews, so you should have done your research.

Also, you may want to think about adopting another means of implementing graffiti, because pink sidewalk chalk just doesn't strike the fear into the hearts of men that it should. I hate to break it to you band of wandering dumbasses, but you basically wasted an entire evening when you could have been doing something more productive like watching paint dry.

Lastly, let a real punk give you some advice: you live in Irvine, so no one is ever going to be afraid of you. Irvine is basically a realized version of Stepford. Your parents are pasty-ass white people who paid way too much for a house that looks like the ones next door to you (and across the street, hence Stepford), they likely went to USC, and they work corporate jobs. Just because you grow your hair down past your ears, shop at Hot Topic, and make your teachers nervous by drawing pentagrams on your notebook doesn't mean people are afraid of you, they just think you are an asshole kid who may need prescription antidepressants.

For what it's worth, I do appreciate the laugh. And by the way, if you're thinking about coming back for a Round Two that involves swastikas or some Nazi bullshit, keep in mind that that kind of graffiti would be classified as a hate crime, which is also a federal crime, and there's no way in hell your spoiled lily ass would survive a minute in youth detention with those kids from Garden Grove.

Still Rolling Her Eyes and Chuckling,

Mel

$4,400 Sex & An Interesting Midnight Conversation

As someone who loves watching hypocrites go down in flames, I giggled with delight when New York Governor Eliot Spitzer got busted for buying sex after running on a reputation of being a superhero-like crime fighter with the nickname of "Mr. Clean".

I'm not a cold-hearted bitch, because I feel terrible for his wife and daughters. Hopefully, Mrs. Spitzer has already enlisted the services of her favorite Jewish uncle to take her cheating bastard husband to the cleaners in the divorce that should soon follow. However, this was only part of the conversation I found myself having at midnight with my husband earlier in the week when this story broke.

We fall asleep at night listening to talk radio. Jeff had heard the story earlier in the day, but at midnight, when I finally made it to bed after working way too long of a day, his mind was still trying to wrap around the concept of paying thousands of dollars for sex. I'm not sure what was more shocking to him: a guy actually paying $4,400 for sex or the fact that it was a Jewish guy paying $4,400 for sex.

He decided to ask me about this whole thing, since in my husband's mind due to the fact that I grew up poor, worked in the music industry, visited Seattle often during the whole grunge movement, and regularly listen to punk music, I am the ultimate authority on the seedy underbelly of society. Fortunately, for him, he's half right about that.

Jeff: "Do you think he really paid $4,400 for sex?"

Melanie: "Yes, or they wouldn't have busted him in such a public way."

Jeff: "For $4,400 is that just one time, or do you think it was for several meetings?"

Melanie: "I haven't meant too many hookers in my day who run a 'buy 3 get one free' program, so my guess it was $4,400 a pop, or a bang."

Jeff: "Well, for $4,400 he'd better have gotten a blow job with that. That's what I'd expect."

Melanie: "No, for $4,400, you expect sex and blow jobs for the next 10 years, and you'd want her to detail your car once a month for that same 10 years."

Jeff: "No, you're wrong."

Melanie: "Oh really?!"

Jeff: "I'd never pay $4,400 for sex in the first place."

This I truly believe; first and foremost, because Jeff is a moral guy who would never have such blatant disregard for his family the way that schmuck Spitzer did, and secondly, because my husband is cheap. We've gone rounds over his talent for frugality, but at least I have the comfort of knowing that it will never be me in Mrs. Spitzer's position. Not only, because of the whole cheap thing, but also because my husband would never likely run for governor since he hates politics, and I'd never stand by him in that kind of a scandal, because I'm nobody's doormat and why should I bear the brunt of enormous humiliation for his fuck up especially a fuck up where he made the decision to render a wife the harshest insult by taking up with another woman...and paying her.

By the way Republicans, don't act all high and mighty over this sex scandal. At least when a Democrat is caught sticking his schlong where it doesn't belong, it isn't in another guy's ass.

Why I'm Supporting Barack Obama

Everyone and their dog keeps crowing about Barack Obama's lack of accomplishments, so I thought I'd put this little list together.

Barack Obama Accomplishment List:

• First African-American President of the Harvard Law Review
• Practiced as a Civil Rights Attorney in private life
  
• Taught Constitutional Law at the University of Chicago Law School
  
• 8 Years in the Illinois State Senate
• Created the Earned Income Tax Credit in the State of Illinois providing an enormous tax cut to working families
• Spearheaded the legislation necessary for the expansion of Early Childhood Education in the State of Illinois
• Worked with law enforcement and legislators to pass measures requiring that all interrogations and confessions be videotaped in capital cases
• Has done extensive charity work based around community empowerment
• Currently advocates for US involvement in ending the genocide in Darfur
  
• Married to a Harvard graduate who has spent several years running a non-profit leadership training program
• Opposed the illegal and immoral Iraq War!
  

While I acknowledge that Hillary Clinton may have more "experience" in terms of dealing with Washington, my question is, do we really want someone like that in Washington? We are standing at the crossroads where the next five years is going to matter greatly. There are economic, environmental, food supply, foreign, and infrastructure challenges that will require a staunch individual to stand up to very monied special interests. This individual will have to rally members of the government, who have been bought off and propped up by those special interests, to do the right thing for America. At this point, I don't think Hillary can do that, because she is part of that "purchased for the highest dollar" establishment.

Barack Obama stood in a room full of Detroit auto workers and told them they had to make more fuel efficient cars. The room went silent. He stood in a room in Texas and spoke out against racism, and the room went silent. Any other politician would have been crapping themselves had they said something that made a room of people go uncomfortably silent, and would have been scrambling to make an apology, but Obama didn't. He actually stood by what he said, and that speaks louder than any of the accomplishments listed above.

Barack Obama is the only candidate who doesn't tell us what we want to hear, but what we have to hear. He also hasn't had a problem telling us that we are all going to have to make sacrifices in order to put our country back in order. Nobody wants to have to sacrifice, but deep down we know we've all fucked things up, and now we've got to bite the bullet and go clean up our room.

I doubt that a law professor who lives in Chicago, grew up in Hawaii, and is a fan of R&B has that much inkling into the punk movement, but anyone who is willing to tell a Texas redneck that there's no excuse for his racism, is punk enough for me.

35 and Still Alive

I turn 35 on Tuesday. It's not a monumental birthday like 18, 21 or 50, but nonetheless, it's a birthday. At this point my daughter is more excited about my birthday than I am. I'm sure she envisions a celebration that will be similar to her recent Chuck E. Cheese party only with Mommy and all her fellow mommy friends.

I don't have the heart to tell her that the older you get the more your birthday just becomes another day. Sure, there will be the humorous card from my co-workers, a "happy birthday" wish from my husband along with a dig about how I'm getting older, so I should think seriously about giving him another baby, and I can almost lay money down that somewhere in the equation a cake will appear (although given my recent lack of exercise and consumption of Valentine's candy, I should be more cautious than I most likely will be).

The coolest thing about turning 35 is the realization that I'm at the happiest place I've been so far in my life. At age 5, I was being dragged away from my father across country by a mother who was running from demons, either real or imaginary, I'll never know. At 15, I was a zit-covered, hormonal ball of confusion who hated living in Idaho (not that that ever changed), and spent the bulk of her day dreaming about making life happen. At 25, I was in art school having a blast and actively working in the music industry, but I was also in a marriage that was quickly going South and dealing with clinical depression.

At 35, I have the great fortune of being bound for life to someone I'm completely in love with, I have an adorable (albeit, exhausting) child who makes me smile (and yell) everyday. We live in a cool house in a place that is sunny most days of the year. I have a decent career that may be a thorn in my ass (particularly right now) due to the workload, but has given me the opportunity to push myself professionally. I own a hybrid, have excellent cholesterol, and have only found 3 gray hairs, so far.

There are downsides. I was diagnosed this week with tension headaches, but that's better than something serious. All I have to do to relieve most of the stress causing the headaches, according to my doctor, is get back into my regular exercise routine. I need to drop 10-15 pounds (which also would be helped by said exercise routine), but I'm finally at a point in my life where I can have a piece of chocolate at night and not hate myself, because I don't look like a supermodel.

I can see why the world fears us women in our mid-30s. We are vital, running households, managing work environments, comfortable with our confidence, and don't give a fuck about what the world thinks of us. It's a good age. My only fear at this point is that it's all downhill from here, but given the fact that everything has been an upswing, I think I'll ride it out for at least another 50 years. Not an unreasonable life goal for a woman with the blood pressure of an 18 year old.

Consumption Whore

As I entered my second straight day of a merciless consumption orgy I realized as I walked into, yet another store, that this was the dark side of acquiring a new residence. How is it that we moved from one house into another, yet all of the shit contained in the insane amount of boxes in our garage just doesn't work in the new house!?!

Some of this is my fault. I wanted nice bedding. A simple, elegant, and dare I say, romantic pattern that would make Jeff and I feel like our bedroom was a place for us to relax and become reacquainted as a couple from time to time. When I didn't have the money or desire to change the look of my bedroom, I saw gorgeous patterns everywhere, but for the past two days, it's all been the ugliest things I've laid my eyes on since the days of neon spandex and leg warmers.

Why is the '70s now considered retro? The '70s was such a low point in fashion, home styles, and decor in general that everyone had to be on cocaine in order to get through it, so whose bright idea was it to bring those burn orange and babyshit green colors back for a Round Two?

The bedding is just the tip of this disgusting consumption tirade. New walls equal new space, and new space means the art you have doesn't seem to fit with the massive amounts of empty that make up you dwelling. I'm not one of those people who can go buy a print at Target and be happy with it. I'm one of those emotionally deep bitches who has to have some sort of "connection" with everything I hang on my walls, or I just can't stand staring at it. I need to be able to give people a story about what they see when they walk into my house. I wish I could just throw some sort of Thomas Kincade, Wal-Mart art bullshit up and be happy with it, but I'd rather live in a one room hovel then resort to that.

The second misfortune in my pretentious quirk is that I like certain artists, and certain types of artwork, so decor for my walls cannot be obtained quickly or cheaply. I don't mind this consumption, it's like hunting prey. What I mind is going from store to store for two days looking for one of those little, skinny cabinets that I can use in my bathroom to hold toilet paper, or search stores for a half hour trying to find a tabletop mirror, because my blind ass needs a mirror two inches from my face in the morning so my makeup won't look like crap.

I'm sick of shopping for shower curtain rings that match my kid's clear monkey shower curtain, a napkin holder which seems to be out of style at the moment, reasonably priced sheets with a thread count over 350, and space saver items for the kitchen, because despite having a large kitchen, we somehow ended up with more stuff than we have space. For example, that all-in-one tortilla maker/fajita cooker that was on clearance, so my husband bought it and we used it twice back in 2001. Still taking up space, still collecting dust, but do you think he can part with it; hell no, he got a great deal on it.

The good news is that I ended up finding great bedding, on sale, so I'm going to go enjoy it now, because tomorrow I still have to figure out what I'm going to use to hold the toilet paper.

Breaking News Reality Check

I woke with a start at 3:00 AM as the anxious broadcaster was barely able to contain the excitement in her voice proclaiming there was "breaking news". There was a cut to a commercial break and during the 90 seconds of drivel about mattress sales, the latest revolutionary, natural health product, and the token public service announcement, I wondered what the urgent "breaking news" could be.

Although the Resident-In-Chief only has a few more lame duck months in his pitiful presidency, he would be stupid enough to start a war with Iran. Perhaps there was a 50 car pile up on the 5 Freeway or civil war in an unstable country. My mind raced until the woman's voice came back on air with the "breaking news".

Breaking News: Police have just been to Brittney Spears' house, and although there are unconfirmed reports of a suicide attempt, nothing has been substantiated. However they are taking her to a hospital in an ambulance.

You've got to be fucking kidding me!

There are so many levels of wrong here I don't know where the hell to begin. Maybe I should start with the obvious, which is that a has-been pop tart's mental breakdown is not exactly "breaking news". Breaking news is a political assassination, or an natural disaster, or a major financial crisis that will affect millions of people.

When I went to journalism school I learned about the history of the profession, and felt proud to join it. I studied great journalists like Edward R. Murrow and Walter Cronkite. My favorite female journalist was Nellie Bly. Many know her as the lady who went around the world in 80 days, but what they don't know is that she was hired as a reporter (when women weren't hired) by doing one of the most shocking undercover investigations of the late 1800s. She suspected that female immigrants were being carted off to mental institutions, not because they were insane, but because had no knowledge of their new American culture. To prove this, she had herself committed to one of the most notorious women's asylums in the country.

Poor Nellie would be vomiting and pulling her hair out if she could see what has become of the profession she fought so hard to be a part of. Journalism was set up to keep an eye on the government and big business, as the fourth institution in this country. Without freedom of the press, you can't have a democracy, but much like the failed dream of a true American democracy, the press has fallen by the wayside, sold off to big corporations and is now busy creating sensationalist info-tainment instead of covering real news.

Television networks used to be willing to lose money on the news broadcasts, because they weren't about making money or getting high ratings, the news was the news. It was a vehicle to keep the country informed, and to let politicians and big business know they were being watched. Now, the caliber of your average news broadcast makes the National Enquirer seem dignified.

Aside from the complete collapse of media integrity, I find it very disturbing that they are fixated on Brittney hoping for an Anna Nicole ending. They want to be there for every ounce of this woman's self-destruction, and if they're lucky, maybe they can be standing over her while she overdoses!

There used to be an award for journalistic integrity that was presented once a year at a large journalism conference. One year it was won by a photographer who happened to be standing in front of the nightclub where, late actor, River Phoenix was having his last party. River came out of the club and overdosed on the sidewalk. The photographer snapped photos until he realized that the actor had died in front of him, then he destroyed the film in his camera, because he felt that no one should see a brilliant, young actor die so tragically. I don't know what ever happened to that photographer, but I would lay money down that he isn't one of the vultures hovering around Brittney hoping to create "breaking news".

Back to Suburbia

As I was pulling into my new neighborhood to unload, yet another car full of boxes, I heard that familiar song running through my head: "Little boxes on the hillside, little boxes made of ticky-tacky, little boxes on the hillside, little boxes just the same."

I was back in Suburbia, once again, and the only difference between this new neighborhood in California and my old neighborhood in Washington is that it rains less, and there's a gay couple that lives across the street. How sick is this: the house we are moving into on Wednesday was built by the same company that did our Washington house.

It's been over two years since I started this blog in an effort to try to reconcile the life I lead with the inner me that feels awkward in this suburban existance. More often than not, I feel like an alien walking around amongst these perfect houses with smiley neighbors keeping busy in their perfect yards. In my heart I feel that I don't belong here, but at the same time I'm not rushing to change it.

I've heard other people talk about this. They are like me; grew up poor, were never supposed to make it, but they did. They achieved the 'rags to riches' American dream, yet remain patently uncomfortable with their life circumstance. Not that they, or I, want more, it's more of a feeling of guilt, like someone from such humble beginnings doesn't deserve to have so much.

I look at my new, massive, beautiful house, which I know I will be happy raising my child in, but there's a part of me that, remembers being the little girl who, for awhile, lived in a 300 square foot studio apartment with her baby sister and young, single mother.

Don't get me wrong, I'm proud of what I've done, because given my upbringing, background and statistics, I should never be where I am today. Thankfully, I've never thought much of statistics and I'm always willing to give an enormous "fuck you" to anyone who attempts to tell me what I should be or what I should do or what I should say.

This house is monumental for another reason; one that is the reason why I'm taking shelter in the comforts of Suburbia, this is my 50th residence. In my 34 years of life, I have had 50 addresses. Some places I managed to stay in for years (although not many) and some I stayed for a few months. Moving around taught me that home is where your family is, but it also left me with feelings of insecurity like no matter where I was, I didn't belong there. I don't want to pass that onto Rachael. She should have the comfort of knowing where her bed is at night, and feeling like no matter what she's up against, there will always be a place she can come home to.

So here I am ready to re-enter Suburbia having told my husband that we will stay a minimum of 10 years in our new house. Sandwiched between the very nice, mixed race couple on one side, and the very nice, taking Christmas decorations to a new and disturbing level neighbors on the other side, I will find a way to reconcile my past with what my life is now. Thankfully, my job is demanding enough that I don't have to join the PTA.