I’ve battled weight issues for over 20 years. From anorexia and extreme dieting to binge eating due to depression, there aren’t too many diets in the world that I haven’t tried. I have spent my life comparing myself to others, with a constant reel-to-reel going off in the back of my head that tells me I don’t look good enough. One of my most self-conscious body parts have been my upper arms.
I started out with twiggy upper arms as a young teen, and then as I got a little curvy in my later teens and early 20s I got into body building. My upper arms were awesome when I was doing multiple reps of various toning routines with 25 lb. dumbbells. They were toned, rock hard, and always one of my best qualities. Unfortunately, a more rigorous college course schedule during the beginning of my junior year, along with the onset of what would be a 5-year bout of severe depression took my life from body builder to couch potato, and my arms from brick to marshmallow.
I came out of my depression and immediately lost weight, but the damage to my upper arms was done. They were now matronly, and no matter how much weight I would lose, they would never return to being the slender twiggy arms I once had. I have spent the last ten years covering my upper arms with everything from sleeves to shawls. I would never even entertain the idea of walking out of the house in a tank top sans jacket, or some other appropriate upper arm cover. My upper arms were an embarrassment, a symbol of that awful time in my life were I let myself go, they were a part of my body that was to never see the light of day, until my recent move to California.
Southern California is hot, and I got here in June. I had packed a cache of summer sweaters, which are very popular in the Northwest. It can be a very warm summer day, but once the sun goes down, you might need a little something to keep you from shivering. Summer sweaters make sense there, but down here people looked at me like I had a third eye when I talked about them.
At the end of June, I ventured out shopping at my favorite clothing store, and took a long, hard look at the sleeveless shirts. They were nice and stylish, so I decided to be daring and tried one on. It fit well, but the moment I saw my pasty, white, matronly, upper arms I ripped the shirt off, and darted back to the sales floor looking for something with sleeves. A couple of weeks went by, the temperature went up, and I decided to go back to my favorite store and try again. The second round in the dressing room with the sleeveless shirts weren’t as bad, but I didn’t buy them. I opted to walk around a bit hoping that I would find something else with sleeves, but as I paced the mall I noticed other women, who were my size, going sleeveless. Perhaps years of the self-loathing along with the back-of-the-head negativity soundtrack had blown this upper arm thing way out of proportion. Maybe I was the only one who really noticed that my upper arms weren’t up to par.
I went back to my store and purchased two of the sleeveless shirts, and I’ve been wearing them ever since. They are definitely a nice garment for a typical Southern California summer day, and this whole upper arm issue has forced me to re-consider my self-image completely. How odd is it that in the Mecca of body-obsession that is Southern California, I have finally overcome my weight issues?
For the past two weeks I haven’t once looked in the mirror and thought something bad about myself, and that is amazing. Even as an anorexic 16-year-old I didn’t have a kind word to say to myself, but now it’s all gone. Don’t get me wrong, I can’t wait until my elliptical trainer arrives with my furniture, but my motives for getting on that bad boy have shifted from wanting to look perfect to having the desire to live into my elder years without the aid of a wheelchair or medication.
I have finally, after over 20 years, come to grips with what I look like, and I’ve discovered that I have a really great head of hair, I’ve got a pretty face, I look good in black, metro cut slacks and garments that accentuate my small waist, and that I can rock a sleeveless shirt just as well as the next suburb punk mama (minus the cool tattoo, of course).
Monday, July 23, 2007
Saturday, July 21, 2007
Weekly Recap 7/15-21: The Plame Game & Not Posh in Paris
Headline News Recap
Score yet another one for the Regime as Judge John Bates dismissed Valerie Plame’s suit against Karl Rove, Scooter Libby, and Dick Cheney this week. Apparently the courts are reluctant to hold public officials responsible for their actions. Throw on the fact that this judge was appointed by Chief Justice (and neocon Great White Hope) John Roberts, along with the judge’s previous service on the U.S. Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Court, and you have the perfect recipe for the dismissal. Plus, why should we start holding our homegrown junta responsible now. In the past six years, they have started a war that has put our grandchildren into debt, cost thousands of lives, and fueled a huge anti-American movement amongst Islamic fundamentalists by lying to us, they have let corporations go haywire selling our infrastructure out for pure profits, they continue to not give a rat’s ass about the American public, so why should we be surprised when they out a CIA operative as revenge then let one of their appointees dismiss the lawsuit. These bastards don’t need to be impeached, they need to be imprisoned!
Congress pulled an all-nighter in an attempt to force an Iraq War pullout deadline. Not surprisingly, Senate Republicans blocked the measure claiming that once they have the magic report in September they will be better able to make a decision about a timeline. I’m just wondering what excuse they will use to continue letting their cronies in the war profit machine carry on with their moneymaking at our soldiers’ expense once September rolls around.
The federal government has decided to lift the ban on carrying cigarette lighters on airplanes. Let me get this straight, I can’t carry on a bottle of gel for my hair, but Smokey McChimneyLungs can crowd me in the middle seat while schlepping a small device that starts fires. I knew the influence of tobacco companies couldn’t be held at bay for long.
For a short time today, while Resident Bush received a routine colonoscopy to screen for precancerous conditions, Dick Cheney was president. Never fear American Public, this is no different than the past six years where Cheney has made all of the decisions, while Bush has had something else shoved up his ass…his head.
I think I heard some sort of rumor that a new Harry Potter book is coming out, or something to that nature. Okay, people, it’s a good series, and it encourages kids to read, but people have been waiting out for days in front of book stores to get their copies of the new Potter book. It must be nice to not have to work for a living or worry about having a social life. You know, Amazon.com is really easy to use, and sometimes they offer free shipping.
In Local News
Tomorrow night my company is doing a huge event on a private estate in Malibu with a lot of celebrities. I guess it would be cool if I gave a rat's ass about celebrities. They told me that the dress code for this event is “L.A. Casual Chic”. What the fuck is that!?! You know, events in Seattle were simple; you had casual which meant slacks and a nice shirt, or formal which meant cocktail dress or gown. Thus far, I have had to dress tropical/Hawaiian chic, nautical, evening casual, and now L.A. casual chic. Thankfully, black goes with everything, even nautical. I should look at this as an opportunity to expand my wardrobe, but it all seems so superficial. Besides, I’m not down with spending money on nautical themed clothing.
Worthless Entertainment News
It was reported this week that Paris Hilton recently attempted to make friends with new Los Angeles resident, Victoria “Posh Spice” Beckham, only to be snubbed by the Poshster. Let’s start by stripping away the fame, money, gossip mongers, and look at this situation in real world terms. Posh is 33-years old, married, and has kids, other than some high profile, red carpet events, and a few soccer games; Posh isn’t out making the nightlife rounds. Paris is 26, single, parties like mad, and has just done time in jail. What the hell would they have in common other than being famous and living in L.A.? Plus, what mother in her right mind would want to have a drunk driving, party girl around her kids.
Now that the whole Harry Potter series has come to an end, newspapers and other media outlets have been speculating as to what Author J.K. Rowling will do with her time. How about sit on her ass and spend the millions in profits that the little wizard has provided her. If she never touches her keyboard again, I’m sure J. will have plenty to do, and lots of money to do it with.
Asshole(s) of the Week
Los Angeles Archdiocese and Cardinal Roger Mahony – This week to avoid a trial were hundreds of victims might actually have their day in court; the Los Angeles Archdiocese settled a massive lawsuit paying out $660 million to victims of child sexual abuse by its priests. The ringleader in this case was Cardinal Roger Mahony who moved molesting priests from parish to parish to avoid prosecution. Sure, the money might help some of the victims, but most of these people who were molested as kids are now in their 40s or 50s, and their lives have been riddled with broken marriages, addiction, and sadness. The damage has been done, and like I said, the money might help, but it doesn’t take away the pain. Also, why the hell is Mahony allowed to get off scot-free? He aided and sheltered known child molesters, isn’t this a crime? The church’s insurance will actually end up paying a decent portion of the settlement, but at least parents are aware that trust has nothing to do with faith, especially when it concerns your kids. For making the childhoods of hundreds, and perhaps thousands, of people a living hell, and relegating them to a life of pain, Los Angeles Archdiocese and Cardinal Roger Mahoney, you are the Assholes of the Week.
Score yet another one for the Regime as Judge John Bates dismissed Valerie Plame’s suit against Karl Rove, Scooter Libby, and Dick Cheney this week. Apparently the courts are reluctant to hold public officials responsible for their actions. Throw on the fact that this judge was appointed by Chief Justice (and neocon Great White Hope) John Roberts, along with the judge’s previous service on the U.S. Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Court, and you have the perfect recipe for the dismissal. Plus, why should we start holding our homegrown junta responsible now. In the past six years, they have started a war that has put our grandchildren into debt, cost thousands of lives, and fueled a huge anti-American movement amongst Islamic fundamentalists by lying to us, they have let corporations go haywire selling our infrastructure out for pure profits, they continue to not give a rat’s ass about the American public, so why should we be surprised when they out a CIA operative as revenge then let one of their appointees dismiss the lawsuit. These bastards don’t need to be impeached, they need to be imprisoned!
Congress pulled an all-nighter in an attempt to force an Iraq War pullout deadline. Not surprisingly, Senate Republicans blocked the measure claiming that once they have the magic report in September they will be better able to make a decision about a timeline. I’m just wondering what excuse they will use to continue letting their cronies in the war profit machine carry on with their moneymaking at our soldiers’ expense once September rolls around.
The federal government has decided to lift the ban on carrying cigarette lighters on airplanes. Let me get this straight, I can’t carry on a bottle of gel for my hair, but Smokey McChimneyLungs can crowd me in the middle seat while schlepping a small device that starts fires. I knew the influence of tobacco companies couldn’t be held at bay for long.
For a short time today, while Resident Bush received a routine colonoscopy to screen for precancerous conditions, Dick Cheney was president. Never fear American Public, this is no different than the past six years where Cheney has made all of the decisions, while Bush has had something else shoved up his ass…his head.
I think I heard some sort of rumor that a new Harry Potter book is coming out, or something to that nature. Okay, people, it’s a good series, and it encourages kids to read, but people have been waiting out for days in front of book stores to get their copies of the new Potter book. It must be nice to not have to work for a living or worry about having a social life. You know, Amazon.com is really easy to use, and sometimes they offer free shipping.
In Local News
Tomorrow night my company is doing a huge event on a private estate in Malibu with a lot of celebrities. I guess it would be cool if I gave a rat's ass about celebrities. They told me that the dress code for this event is “L.A. Casual Chic”. What the fuck is that!?! You know, events in Seattle were simple; you had casual which meant slacks and a nice shirt, or formal which meant cocktail dress or gown. Thus far, I have had to dress tropical/Hawaiian chic, nautical, evening casual, and now L.A. casual chic. Thankfully, black goes with everything, even nautical. I should look at this as an opportunity to expand my wardrobe, but it all seems so superficial. Besides, I’m not down with spending money on nautical themed clothing.
Worthless Entertainment News
It was reported this week that Paris Hilton recently attempted to make friends with new Los Angeles resident, Victoria “Posh Spice” Beckham, only to be snubbed by the Poshster. Let’s start by stripping away the fame, money, gossip mongers, and look at this situation in real world terms. Posh is 33-years old, married, and has kids, other than some high profile, red carpet events, and a few soccer games; Posh isn’t out making the nightlife rounds. Paris is 26, single, parties like mad, and has just done time in jail. What the hell would they have in common other than being famous and living in L.A.? Plus, what mother in her right mind would want to have a drunk driving, party girl around her kids.
Now that the whole Harry Potter series has come to an end, newspapers and other media outlets have been speculating as to what Author J.K. Rowling will do with her time. How about sit on her ass and spend the millions in profits that the little wizard has provided her. If she never touches her keyboard again, I’m sure J. will have plenty to do, and lots of money to do it with.
Asshole(s) of the Week
Los Angeles Archdiocese and Cardinal Roger Mahony – This week to avoid a trial were hundreds of victims might actually have their day in court; the Los Angeles Archdiocese settled a massive lawsuit paying out $660 million to victims of child sexual abuse by its priests. The ringleader in this case was Cardinal Roger Mahony who moved molesting priests from parish to parish to avoid prosecution. Sure, the money might help some of the victims, but most of these people who were molested as kids are now in their 40s or 50s, and their lives have been riddled with broken marriages, addiction, and sadness. The damage has been done, and like I said, the money might help, but it doesn’t take away the pain. Also, why the hell is Mahony allowed to get off scot-free? He aided and sheltered known child molesters, isn’t this a crime? The church’s insurance will actually end up paying a decent portion of the settlement, but at least parents are aware that trust has nothing to do with faith, especially when it concerns your kids. For making the childhoods of hundreds, and perhaps thousands, of people a living hell, and relegating them to a life of pain, Los Angeles Archdiocese and Cardinal Roger Mahoney, you are the Assholes of the Week.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Lord, Don't You Buy Me a Mercedes Benz
Sometimes the news does its job, and actually reports the goings-on of the citizens of the city you happen to live in (and not just the famous ones who play soccer and have lip-syncing wives). One of the local SoCal stations aired a news story that just reeked of elitism, and for the first time in a long time, it wasn’t biased or slanted towards the elite.
On July 10, 2007, 24-year-old Elizabeth Sandoval was crossing Glendale Avenue when she was hit by some maniac in a Mercedes Benz doing about 60 mph. The impact was enough to throw Elizabeth over 75 feet. Thankfully, she died on impact, so it is unlikely that she felt the brunt of the pain. The asshole in the Mercedes took off, and the police began a manhunt for the car and its driver.
Here’s where the elitist part comes in; Mercedes implants GPS tracking devices in all of their vehicles. In the hours that followed Elizabeth’s hit and run death, the Glendale Police Department asked Mercedes to activate the GPS and help them find the person responsible for killing this young woman. Mercedes refused. They told the police that they would have to obtain a court order leaving the seasoned police chief stunned by their lack of response. I guess if you can afford a Mercedes, you don’t have to be culpable for your actions.
On a Lexus chat site there was wide discussion of this story with most of the Lexus owners agreeing with Mercedes’ actions (real shock there). Nearly all of the Lexus owners, in their own special, way claimed that if Mercedes gave the Glendale PD the information they needed to catch this killer, it would be violating their customers’ privacy rights. What about Elizabeth’s right to cross the street without being mowed down by an over-priced car? By the way, do those Lexus owners know that they are essentially driving a Toyota Camry with a different label?
The driver was identified as 20-year-old Ari Grigoryan (am I just smoking crack to think that a 20-year-old has no business driving a Mercedes?). He has repeatedly been pulled over by police for exceeding the speed limit. The police wanted to question him shortly after Elizabeth’s death, but they couldn’t find him or the car. If he was an innocent customer, like Mercedes assumed via their lack of cooperation, then why didn’t he go down to the police station and answer questions?
The police found the car five days later in a shop with the entire front end repaired and the license plates removed, with no help from Mercedes Benz (who violated not one, but two court orders to protect this killer). Grigoryan is no where to be found, and Elizabeth’s family is planning her funeral.
I think there should be a nation-wide boycott of Mercedes Benz. If you are the type that needs a flashy, status symbol car, go get yourself a Lexus. Better yet, with all that money you save trading in your Mercedes Benz, you could buy a swanky, new hybrid and make the world a better place to live. Although the boycott argument will probably fall on deaf ears given that we live in a county that puts more value on a shiny, Mercedes Benz status symbol than they do on the life of a 24-year-old Mexican store clerk, it is something that average folks can do on a grassroots level to show that they don’t appreciate a corporation passing judgment on another person, especially when that judgment is the best bias money can buy.
The longer I live in this country, the more I’m convinced that we really need an attitude adjustment which should start with the de-corporatization of our lives. Quality, affordability, and environmental standards didn’t make Mercedes the luxury label it is today, marketing and product placement did. You don’t buy a Mercedes, because you want a decent car with great gas mileage, you buy a Mercedes to show off your success. However, if having a car or any other material object is the best way you can show your success to others, you’re a big, superficial loser.
Elizabeth’s family said she was a woman who was always happy, and had one of those radiant personalities that just made everyone smile. She had her whole life ahead of her, yet it wasn’t as valuable as a car manufacturer’s obligation to its customer, even if that customer was a lousy coward who went out one night thinking he was cool, speeding down Glendale Avenue in a car he was too young to have purchased himself, and killed a girl who was way more of an asset to society than he was. Maybe if Elizabeth’s father could have afforded to buy a Mercedes this story would have had a much different ending.
On July 10, 2007, 24-year-old Elizabeth Sandoval was crossing Glendale Avenue when she was hit by some maniac in a Mercedes Benz doing about 60 mph. The impact was enough to throw Elizabeth over 75 feet. Thankfully, she died on impact, so it is unlikely that she felt the brunt of the pain. The asshole in the Mercedes took off, and the police began a manhunt for the car and its driver.
Here’s where the elitist part comes in; Mercedes implants GPS tracking devices in all of their vehicles. In the hours that followed Elizabeth’s hit and run death, the Glendale Police Department asked Mercedes to activate the GPS and help them find the person responsible for killing this young woman. Mercedes refused. They told the police that they would have to obtain a court order leaving the seasoned police chief stunned by their lack of response. I guess if you can afford a Mercedes, you don’t have to be culpable for your actions.
On a Lexus chat site there was wide discussion of this story with most of the Lexus owners agreeing with Mercedes’ actions (real shock there). Nearly all of the Lexus owners, in their own special, way claimed that if Mercedes gave the Glendale PD the information they needed to catch this killer, it would be violating their customers’ privacy rights. What about Elizabeth’s right to cross the street without being mowed down by an over-priced car? By the way, do those Lexus owners know that they are essentially driving a Toyota Camry with a different label?
The driver was identified as 20-year-old Ari Grigoryan (am I just smoking crack to think that a 20-year-old has no business driving a Mercedes?). He has repeatedly been pulled over by police for exceeding the speed limit. The police wanted to question him shortly after Elizabeth’s death, but they couldn’t find him or the car. If he was an innocent customer, like Mercedes assumed via their lack of cooperation, then why didn’t he go down to the police station and answer questions?
The police found the car five days later in a shop with the entire front end repaired and the license plates removed, with no help from Mercedes Benz (who violated not one, but two court orders to protect this killer). Grigoryan is no where to be found, and Elizabeth’s family is planning her funeral.
I think there should be a nation-wide boycott of Mercedes Benz. If you are the type that needs a flashy, status symbol car, go get yourself a Lexus. Better yet, with all that money you save trading in your Mercedes Benz, you could buy a swanky, new hybrid and make the world a better place to live. Although the boycott argument will probably fall on deaf ears given that we live in a county that puts more value on a shiny, Mercedes Benz status symbol than they do on the life of a 24-year-old Mexican store clerk, it is something that average folks can do on a grassroots level to show that they don’t appreciate a corporation passing judgment on another person, especially when that judgment is the best bias money can buy.
The longer I live in this country, the more I’m convinced that we really need an attitude adjustment which should start with the de-corporatization of our lives. Quality, affordability, and environmental standards didn’t make Mercedes the luxury label it is today, marketing and product placement did. You don’t buy a Mercedes, because you want a decent car with great gas mileage, you buy a Mercedes to show off your success. However, if having a car or any other material object is the best way you can show your success to others, you’re a big, superficial loser.
Elizabeth’s family said she was a woman who was always happy, and had one of those radiant personalities that just made everyone smile. She had her whole life ahead of her, yet it wasn’t as valuable as a car manufacturer’s obligation to its customer, even if that customer was a lousy coward who went out one night thinking he was cool, speeding down Glendale Avenue in a car he was too young to have purchased himself, and killed a girl who was way more of an asset to society than he was. Maybe if Elizabeth’s father could have afforded to buy a Mercedes this story would have had a much different ending.
Friday, July 13, 2007
Weekly Recap 7/8-14: The Arrival of Posh and Becks & Renegade Christian Patriots
Headline News Recap
Between the release of the latest Harry Potter movie and the arrival of David and Victoria Beckham to Los Angeles real news has been nearly non-existent in the mainstream media. Thank goodness for the internet or I would almost have to begin believing that those in power want us to stay glued to stuff that means nothing instead of focusing on how badly they are screwing us and our country.
Andrew Speaker, the selfish bastard that endangered perhaps hundreds of people including his new wife by ignoring health official warnings to postpone his wedding and be treated for a multi-resistant strain of Tuberculosis, is being sued by nine passengers who were seated near him during his international flight. I am not being overly critical of this guy, because two years ago it was discovered that I had latent TB, which is an ant fart compared to what this guy has. Within minutes of being diagnosed I educated myself about TB and immediately went on the nine-month drug regimen. This drug wiped out nearly all of my energy and most of the iron in my blood, but I wasn’t going to risk my TB ever becoming active. Due to this prick’s actions, everyone on all of the flights he was on will have to undergo TB testing for at least the next year. Anyone he talked to from the clergy member who performed the wedding to the hotel concierge will have to do the testing. Sometimes in life you get what you deserve, other times you just have to take your seat on the plane and hope that the person next to you isn’t a selfish ass with a communicable disease.
Conrad Black, former CEO of Hollinger International, Inc., one of the largest print media corporations, has been found guilty of mail fraud for giving himself a $5.5 million payout without stockholder approval. He and two other top Hollinger executives, who have also been convicted, could face 20+ years in prison. At this rate I’m beginning to think that anyone with the letters CEO below their name on the corporation’s letterhead should be monitored 24/7. Here’s a clue: if they charter a private jet and take 50 of their closest friends to an exclusive party in Bora Bora, it is highly likely that they aren’t doing with their own money.
Scientists have now developed a removable tattooing process. The process utilizes micro encapsulation in which microscopic beads of dye are suspended under the skin in the normal tattooing process. A few years later when Buffy the Mall Chick doesn’t feel like having that cool Asian symbol from the Jessica Simpson album hanging above the crack of her ass, she can hightail it to a professional that can run a laser over the tattoo causing the microcapsules to burst allowing the body to naturally absorb the ink. Call me crazy, but I still remember the day when getting tattooed actually meant something.
In Local News
So far, I know that David Beckham likes to get manicures, he’s obsessive/compulsive and takes showers five times a day, Posh wants to keep to themselves despite going on every L.A. radio station and most of the local news channels to talk about their new life in the U.S., and she drives an SUV. The kicker is that I don’t give a fuck, because I don’t watch soccer, I never liked the Spice Girls, and two more spoiled celebrities is the last thing we need here in LaLa Land. I would hope that once the Beckhams settle into their privileged life in Beverly Hills all of this hullabaloo would be over with, but that would be delusional.
In other local news, we finally leased a condo, and have been driving through Orange County’s finest suburb neighborhoods to figure out where we want to buy. Like I said, given my marriage to the real life Clark Griswold, there’s no way in hell this punk is fleeing the ‘burbs anytime soon.
Worthless Entertainment News
Charlie Sheen is engaged to be married for the third time to estate agent, Brooke Mueller. I’m not sure what kind of an education you need to be an estate agent, but Brooke is an idiot. There are a few givens in life: eating a diet of Twinkies and French fries will make you fat, having unprotected sex while vacationing in Haiti will have you going home with more than handmade souvenirs, and marrying Charlie Sheen will guarantee that within three years you will be doing a stint in divorce court to bitch about his drunken, violent outrages, his on-again/off-again addiction to coke, and his penchant for hookers. Brooke, if he seemed convincing when he told you that all that was behind him, it’s because he’s an actor.
Morrissey ripped into Madonna this week about her adoption of an African boy stating that he wouldn’t be surprised if she ‘made that African boy into a coat and wore him.’ That Mozzy is one funny bitch. One of my favorite memories was the look on the faces of the Idaho concert goers when he ragged them out for hunting and eating meat. His coolness will never end. Never!
Asshole of the Week(s)
Ante & Katherine Pavkovic and Christian Sugar – Earlier this week Hindu Cleric Rajan Zed was asked to give the Senate’s opening prayer making him the first Hindu to be invited to give a prayer. Unfortunately, three self-proclaimed Christian patriots shit all over the moment by rudely interrupting Zed and asking Jesus to forgive the ‘abomination’. I have read the Constitution, and nowhere in that document does it declare Christianity as the official religion of the United States. There is no Christianity Amendment, nor does it outlaw any other religion. In fact, the only reference the Constitution has about religion gives us the freedom to practice whatever kind of faith we want. I could see the Christian extremists getting all up in arms if a Muslim was asked to come give the opening prayer, because right now Islam has a huge PR problem, but a Hindu! Hindus, next to Buddhists, are some of the most peaceful people in the world. The crux of their belief is that all religions are one, and that we are all brothers and sisters. Younger Hindus often refer to older Hindus as “auntie” or “uncle” whether they are blood related or not. When was the last time a Hindu caused anyone harm, especially in the U.S.? These Christian patriots are far more of an abomination than any Hindu I’ve ever met, so for ruining a nice day, and for the unpatriotic act of betraying America’s mission of welcoming people from all nations, Ante & Katherine Pavkovic and Christian Sugar, you are the Assholes of the Week.
Between the release of the latest Harry Potter movie and the arrival of David and Victoria Beckham to Los Angeles real news has been nearly non-existent in the mainstream media. Thank goodness for the internet or I would almost have to begin believing that those in power want us to stay glued to stuff that means nothing instead of focusing on how badly they are screwing us and our country.
Andrew Speaker, the selfish bastard that endangered perhaps hundreds of people including his new wife by ignoring health official warnings to postpone his wedding and be treated for a multi-resistant strain of Tuberculosis, is being sued by nine passengers who were seated near him during his international flight. I am not being overly critical of this guy, because two years ago it was discovered that I had latent TB, which is an ant fart compared to what this guy has. Within minutes of being diagnosed I educated myself about TB and immediately went on the nine-month drug regimen. This drug wiped out nearly all of my energy and most of the iron in my blood, but I wasn’t going to risk my TB ever becoming active. Due to this prick’s actions, everyone on all of the flights he was on will have to undergo TB testing for at least the next year. Anyone he talked to from the clergy member who performed the wedding to the hotel concierge will have to do the testing. Sometimes in life you get what you deserve, other times you just have to take your seat on the plane and hope that the person next to you isn’t a selfish ass with a communicable disease.
Conrad Black, former CEO of Hollinger International, Inc., one of the largest print media corporations, has been found guilty of mail fraud for giving himself a $5.5 million payout without stockholder approval. He and two other top Hollinger executives, who have also been convicted, could face 20+ years in prison. At this rate I’m beginning to think that anyone with the letters CEO below their name on the corporation’s letterhead should be monitored 24/7. Here’s a clue: if they charter a private jet and take 50 of their closest friends to an exclusive party in Bora Bora, it is highly likely that they aren’t doing with their own money.
Scientists have now developed a removable tattooing process. The process utilizes micro encapsulation in which microscopic beads of dye are suspended under the skin in the normal tattooing process. A few years later when Buffy the Mall Chick doesn’t feel like having that cool Asian symbol from the Jessica Simpson album hanging above the crack of her ass, she can hightail it to a professional that can run a laser over the tattoo causing the microcapsules to burst allowing the body to naturally absorb the ink. Call me crazy, but I still remember the day when getting tattooed actually meant something.
In Local News
So far, I know that David Beckham likes to get manicures, he’s obsessive/compulsive and takes showers five times a day, Posh wants to keep to themselves despite going on every L.A. radio station and most of the local news channels to talk about their new life in the U.S., and she drives an SUV. The kicker is that I don’t give a fuck, because I don’t watch soccer, I never liked the Spice Girls, and two more spoiled celebrities is the last thing we need here in LaLa Land. I would hope that once the Beckhams settle into their privileged life in Beverly Hills all of this hullabaloo would be over with, but that would be delusional.
In other local news, we finally leased a condo, and have been driving through Orange County’s finest suburb neighborhoods to figure out where we want to buy. Like I said, given my marriage to the real life Clark Griswold, there’s no way in hell this punk is fleeing the ‘burbs anytime soon.
Worthless Entertainment News
Charlie Sheen is engaged to be married for the third time to estate agent, Brooke Mueller. I’m not sure what kind of an education you need to be an estate agent, but Brooke is an idiot. There are a few givens in life: eating a diet of Twinkies and French fries will make you fat, having unprotected sex while vacationing in Haiti will have you going home with more than handmade souvenirs, and marrying Charlie Sheen will guarantee that within three years you will be doing a stint in divorce court to bitch about his drunken, violent outrages, his on-again/off-again addiction to coke, and his penchant for hookers. Brooke, if he seemed convincing when he told you that all that was behind him, it’s because he’s an actor.
Morrissey ripped into Madonna this week about her adoption of an African boy stating that he wouldn’t be surprised if she ‘made that African boy into a coat and wore him.’ That Mozzy is one funny bitch. One of my favorite memories was the look on the faces of the Idaho concert goers when he ragged them out for hunting and eating meat. His coolness will never end. Never!
Asshole of the Week(s)
Ante & Katherine Pavkovic and Christian Sugar – Earlier this week Hindu Cleric Rajan Zed was asked to give the Senate’s opening prayer making him the first Hindu to be invited to give a prayer. Unfortunately, three self-proclaimed Christian patriots shit all over the moment by rudely interrupting Zed and asking Jesus to forgive the ‘abomination’. I have read the Constitution, and nowhere in that document does it declare Christianity as the official religion of the United States. There is no Christianity Amendment, nor does it outlaw any other religion. In fact, the only reference the Constitution has about religion gives us the freedom to practice whatever kind of faith we want. I could see the Christian extremists getting all up in arms if a Muslim was asked to come give the opening prayer, because right now Islam has a huge PR problem, but a Hindu! Hindus, next to Buddhists, are some of the most peaceful people in the world. The crux of their belief is that all religions are one, and that we are all brothers and sisters. Younger Hindus often refer to older Hindus as “auntie” or “uncle” whether they are blood related or not. When was the last time a Hindu caused anyone harm, especially in the U.S.? These Christian patriots are far more of an abomination than any Hindu I’ve ever met, so for ruining a nice day, and for the unpatriotic act of betraying America’s mission of welcoming people from all nations, Ante & Katherine Pavkovic and Christian Sugar, you are the Assholes of the Week.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Confessions of a Neglectful Blogger
I know I’ve been bad about this lately, and it has been brought to my attention. I could give you the big excuse about the move from Seattle to California, but that would be a little too obvious, and a bit untruthful.
One of the great things about blogging is the ability to discuss any of life’s daily traumas, joys, or random observations, and have an online community who empathizes with you, or is just somewhat amused by what you have to say. However, the issue of barriers comes up. Should I talk about this? What if I discuss this person and they figure out that I’m talking about them? Is everyone going to get bored out of their minds hearing me go on and on about the same stuff?
My issue as of late isn’t the move, although it has been exhausting. It isn’t even my life squatting at the in-laws, it’s been a bit weird, but they are quite accommodating. The job has been a bit more of a challenge than I thought it would be, but what new job doesn’t come with a learning curve. The main focus of my life and the reason for neglectful blogging has been due to the unanticipated impact this uprooting has had on my daughter.
Jeff and I thought we did a good job psyching her up for the move. We talked for weeks about all of the positives of life in California, and Rachael was very excited when she first arrived at Grandma and Papa’s house. Due to starting the new job during the busiest month of the year, I was absent for nearly our entire first week of life in California, but Rachael didn’t seem to mind. She had plenty of attention from her grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins, and I thought her adaptation was going very well.
Her issues started around the end of the second week of life in California. It was about that time that she kept asking me when we were going home. I tried to psyche her up, once again, by telling her that we were going to have fun picking out a new house, and that she would have her Dora bed in her new room, but she wasn’t as excited this time. Jeff had to fly back to Seattle to oversee the house sale, and that’s when our problems with Rachael really began. She was adamant about sleeping in my bed, and developed new phobias such as a fear of the dark, and reluctance to taking a shower. She became angry, bit one of the kids she rides to daycamp with, and has backslid in potty training to where she is having little “accidents” at least three times per day.
I know her anger and insecurity first hand, because my mother was a bit loony and moved us every six months throughout my entire childhood, which is one of the reasons it is so hard for me to watch Rachael go through this. I’ve tried to assure her that everything will be okay. Jeff and Fozzy are down here now, and that has helped to an extent, but we are still having potty issues. We went last night and looked at a couple of places to rent beginning August 1st. My hope is that, in a couple of weeks, once we are settled in a place of our own, my little girl will go back to being the happy sprite she was in Seattle. Until then, I’ll be a bit on edge, overly concerned, and wonder if this is the first step to weekly therapy session that begin at age 20.
Not the most interesting blog I’ve ever written, but at least it’s honest, which in the world of blogging might just be the reason we all do this in the first place.
One of the great things about blogging is the ability to discuss any of life’s daily traumas, joys, or random observations, and have an online community who empathizes with you, or is just somewhat amused by what you have to say. However, the issue of barriers comes up. Should I talk about this? What if I discuss this person and they figure out that I’m talking about them? Is everyone going to get bored out of their minds hearing me go on and on about the same stuff?
My issue as of late isn’t the move, although it has been exhausting. It isn’t even my life squatting at the in-laws, it’s been a bit weird, but they are quite accommodating. The job has been a bit more of a challenge than I thought it would be, but what new job doesn’t come with a learning curve. The main focus of my life and the reason for neglectful blogging has been due to the unanticipated impact this uprooting has had on my daughter.
Jeff and I thought we did a good job psyching her up for the move. We talked for weeks about all of the positives of life in California, and Rachael was very excited when she first arrived at Grandma and Papa’s house. Due to starting the new job during the busiest month of the year, I was absent for nearly our entire first week of life in California, but Rachael didn’t seem to mind. She had plenty of attention from her grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins, and I thought her adaptation was going very well.
Her issues started around the end of the second week of life in California. It was about that time that she kept asking me when we were going home. I tried to psyche her up, once again, by telling her that we were going to have fun picking out a new house, and that she would have her Dora bed in her new room, but she wasn’t as excited this time. Jeff had to fly back to Seattle to oversee the house sale, and that’s when our problems with Rachael really began. She was adamant about sleeping in my bed, and developed new phobias such as a fear of the dark, and reluctance to taking a shower. She became angry, bit one of the kids she rides to daycamp with, and has backslid in potty training to where she is having little “accidents” at least three times per day.
I know her anger and insecurity first hand, because my mother was a bit loony and moved us every six months throughout my entire childhood, which is one of the reasons it is so hard for me to watch Rachael go through this. I’ve tried to assure her that everything will be okay. Jeff and Fozzy are down here now, and that has helped to an extent, but we are still having potty issues. We went last night and looked at a couple of places to rent beginning August 1st. My hope is that, in a couple of weeks, once we are settled in a place of our own, my little girl will go back to being the happy sprite she was in Seattle. Until then, I’ll be a bit on edge, overly concerned, and wonder if this is the first step to weekly therapy session that begin at age 20.
Not the most interesting blog I’ve ever written, but at least it’s honest, which in the world of blogging might just be the reason we all do this in the first place.
Sunday, July 01, 2007
Weekly Recap 6/24-30: You Seriously Don't Need It & Scary Roid Rage
Headline News Recap
Months of ridiculous marketing hype finally culminated with the release of the iPhone. The iPhone, which is touted as a device that is simple to use, and can hold your whole life in one tiny box, had morons waiting in line up to 72 hours to spend a minimum of $500 for the slumming version of the iPhone and up to $100 per month in an AT&T rate plan. Let me put this all in perspective for a moment; it’s a fucking cell phone. Yes, it might be fun to own the newest and latest thing, but it is just one more electronic device in this world that you are going to have to learn how to use. It may be able to play music, store pictures, check your email, and receive calls, but you barely know how to store your mother’s phone number, let alone sync your daily calendar on your iPhone. Besides, do you really want to spend nearly $1,000 on something that you could accidentally drop in the toilet when you are rushing from one business meeting to another (per a post-it-note on your desk, because you still can’t figure out how to put it into your iPhone calendar)?
Paris Hilton was released from an L.A. County jail after serving a daunting 23 days behind bars. On “Larry King Live” Hilton’s first post-prison interview, she complained about the food, said she was going to work on behalf of children’s causes, and claimed that reading the bible helped her get through her ordeal. For fuck’s sake, it was 23 days! Nelson Mandela spent 27 years in prison, Daw Aung San Suu Kyi, the honored Nobel laureate who has spent years trying to bring peace and democracy to her country of Myanmar, just had her 2000 house arrest extended without a trial or due process, Mumia Abu-Jamal has been on death row after being wrongly convicted since 1982, and still faces the gas chamber, yet Larry King continues to squander any shred of credibility he still has left over Paris Hilton. Whatever!
Chinese food is no longer going to drum up images of yummy Kung Pao Chicken or Egg Foo Yung after it was revealed this week that shipments of contaminated toothpaste and seafood produced in China have caused the FDA to examine the safety of various edible products. Am I the only one who considers it alarming that the U.S.’s strongest emerging rival is the one we trust to produce our food? Am I missing something here? China was busted last month when it was discovered that they had been using garbage (yes, that’s right, actual trash) as stuffing for children’s toys. Wake up America! Pay an extra buck and get the toothpaste made in Scranton.
In a study released earlier this week by Durex (the condom company), France was taken to task as only 25% of French respondents claimed they were happy in bed. The blow to the French lover reputation was hit even harder when the same study revealed that the British were the most satisfied lovers in Europe. Way to go Brits! The study also found that Japan was the lowest for sexual satisfaction (no shock there), and the Greeks were the horniest getting busy an average of 164 times per year.
Congress is attempting, once again, to subpoena Vice Resident Dick Cheney for his part in just about everything underhanded, deceiving, and screwed up that has gone on for that past seven years. Although they think they might have a good chance at getting the Veep to own up to his part in just about everything screwed up that has gone on for the past seven years, what they don’t know is that he plans to avoid the subpoena by requisitioning the last tie fighter, and blasting off into the galaxy to create a new and more powerful Death Star.
In Local News
Things at my job ended up working out way differently. Instead becoming obstinate when I brought to light the lack of organization and teamwork within my department, and my unwillingness to work insane hours due to said lack, my new bosses agreed with me. They also told me they had been lacking strong leadership within my department, and needed someone with the ability to organize and motivate a team, which is why they hired me. That’s right, in one turn-of-events conversation; I went from being the low man on the totem pole, to the head of the department. Life is kind of funny sometimes. Thankfully I love a good challenge, and in one week have managed to institute changes that have created more cohesion and trust within the department. The past two events since the changes have gone smoothly, and everyone is much happier, and not as overworked.
Continuing on a rosy path, we sold our Seattle house today clearing the way for an end to us squatting at my in-laws. I can sign a lease beginning August 1st, and officially become a California resident. In honor of my new Californianess, I put my sweaters in storage and purchased some short-sleeved and sleeveless shirts. My second act as a new Californian will be to purchase adjustable weight dumbbells, because the guns need some work. Seriously, I don’t want to be dealing with wingspan at 40.
Worthless Entertainment News
Entertainment news was disturbing this week when police discovered the bodies of WWE wrestler Chris Benoit, his wife, and 7-year-old son in their Atlanta home. Apparently Benoit had juiced up, bound his wife at the wrist and ankles, strangled her, smothered their son in his own bed, and a day later hung himself on his weight bench. The WWE did a big televised tribute to Benoit on Monday night’s show, but after details of the grizzly death emerged, WWE owner, Vince McMahon came on Tuesday night’s show and banned references to Benoit from further WWE programs. I guess McMahon has never heard the term ‘you reap what you sew’. I’m not saying that the WWE encourages juicing, but the Gorgeous Georges and Andre the Giants of yesteryear look nothing like the walking He-Man action figures of today. Wrestlers used to be fat an obnoxious, now they are muscled and obnoxious, and may potentially kill their families during a serious act of “Roid Rage.”
The Spice Girls have announced a comeback tour. I guess since Brittney has gone all loony, Jessica is off dating instead of dancing, and Christina Aguilera continues to become more and more irrelevant, the world was in danger of losing all shitty, worthless, lip-syncing, annoying, over-produced pop music.
The latest Harry Potter movie is already receiving reviews in which critics claim that the movie is considerably “grimmer and grittier”. Harry is about puberty age right now, so what do you expect. I have a nephew who is in the beginning stages of puberty, and I wish it was as good as grim and gritty. Give it up critics, the Harry you see today isn’t the sweet, abused kid who entered Hogwarts, he’s got raging hormones, and wizard acne. Grim and gritty, you ain’t seen nothing yet.
Asshole(s) of the Week
American Politicians – According to a survey that came out this week, Americans are desperately unhappy with their government. Bush is receiving the lowest ratings of any president in history, and Congress isn’t doing much better. Enrollment in both the Democratic and Republican parties is down, and people all over the U.S. are pissed off. There is no excitement over any presidential candidate in the current roster of schmoes running for office, and hey, people are pissed off. This is what happens when people elected by the people choose to bow to corporate funders instead of advancing the will of those who got them into office. I hope everyone in D.C. is keeping a banker’s box close to their desk, because the theme of the 2008 election is going to be “throw the bums out”, and truth be told, you all deserve it. Instead of ending the war, you squabble over funding it, instead of coming up with a healthcare plan to cover the 48 million uninsured Americans, you spend hours debating illegal immigration, instead of working on tax relief for middle class families, you continue to kowtow to corporate interests that ship jobs overseas and import tainted toothpaste. For defying the will of the American people time and time again, American Politicians you are the assholes of the week.
Months of ridiculous marketing hype finally culminated with the release of the iPhone. The iPhone, which is touted as a device that is simple to use, and can hold your whole life in one tiny box, had morons waiting in line up to 72 hours to spend a minimum of $500 for the slumming version of the iPhone and up to $100 per month in an AT&T rate plan. Let me put this all in perspective for a moment; it’s a fucking cell phone. Yes, it might be fun to own the newest and latest thing, but it is just one more electronic device in this world that you are going to have to learn how to use. It may be able to play music, store pictures, check your email, and receive calls, but you barely know how to store your mother’s phone number, let alone sync your daily calendar on your iPhone. Besides, do you really want to spend nearly $1,000 on something that you could accidentally drop in the toilet when you are rushing from one business meeting to another (per a post-it-note on your desk, because you still can’t figure out how to put it into your iPhone calendar)?
Paris Hilton was released from an L.A. County jail after serving a daunting 23 days behind bars. On “Larry King Live” Hilton’s first post-prison interview, she complained about the food, said she was going to work on behalf of children’s causes, and claimed that reading the bible helped her get through her ordeal. For fuck’s sake, it was 23 days! Nelson Mandela spent 27 years in prison, Daw Aung San Suu Kyi, the honored Nobel laureate who has spent years trying to bring peace and democracy to her country of Myanmar, just had her 2000 house arrest extended without a trial or due process, Mumia Abu-Jamal has been on death row after being wrongly convicted since 1982, and still faces the gas chamber, yet Larry King continues to squander any shred of credibility he still has left over Paris Hilton. Whatever!
Chinese food is no longer going to drum up images of yummy Kung Pao Chicken or Egg Foo Yung after it was revealed this week that shipments of contaminated toothpaste and seafood produced in China have caused the FDA to examine the safety of various edible products. Am I the only one who considers it alarming that the U.S.’s strongest emerging rival is the one we trust to produce our food? Am I missing something here? China was busted last month when it was discovered that they had been using garbage (yes, that’s right, actual trash) as stuffing for children’s toys. Wake up America! Pay an extra buck and get the toothpaste made in Scranton.
In a study released earlier this week by Durex (the condom company), France was taken to task as only 25% of French respondents claimed they were happy in bed. The blow to the French lover reputation was hit even harder when the same study revealed that the British were the most satisfied lovers in Europe. Way to go Brits! The study also found that Japan was the lowest for sexual satisfaction (no shock there), and the Greeks were the horniest getting busy an average of 164 times per year.
Congress is attempting, once again, to subpoena Vice Resident Dick Cheney for his part in just about everything underhanded, deceiving, and screwed up that has gone on for that past seven years. Although they think they might have a good chance at getting the Veep to own up to his part in just about everything screwed up that has gone on for the past seven years, what they don’t know is that he plans to avoid the subpoena by requisitioning the last tie fighter, and blasting off into the galaxy to create a new and more powerful Death Star.
In Local News
Things at my job ended up working out way differently. Instead becoming obstinate when I brought to light the lack of organization and teamwork within my department, and my unwillingness to work insane hours due to said lack, my new bosses agreed with me. They also told me they had been lacking strong leadership within my department, and needed someone with the ability to organize and motivate a team, which is why they hired me. That’s right, in one turn-of-events conversation; I went from being the low man on the totem pole, to the head of the department. Life is kind of funny sometimes. Thankfully I love a good challenge, and in one week have managed to institute changes that have created more cohesion and trust within the department. The past two events since the changes have gone smoothly, and everyone is much happier, and not as overworked.
Continuing on a rosy path, we sold our Seattle house today clearing the way for an end to us squatting at my in-laws. I can sign a lease beginning August 1st, and officially become a California resident. In honor of my new Californianess, I put my sweaters in storage and purchased some short-sleeved and sleeveless shirts. My second act as a new Californian will be to purchase adjustable weight dumbbells, because the guns need some work. Seriously, I don’t want to be dealing with wingspan at 40.
Worthless Entertainment News
Entertainment news was disturbing this week when police discovered the bodies of WWE wrestler Chris Benoit, his wife, and 7-year-old son in their Atlanta home. Apparently Benoit had juiced up, bound his wife at the wrist and ankles, strangled her, smothered their son in his own bed, and a day later hung himself on his weight bench. The WWE did a big televised tribute to Benoit on Monday night’s show, but after details of the grizzly death emerged, WWE owner, Vince McMahon came on Tuesday night’s show and banned references to Benoit from further WWE programs. I guess McMahon has never heard the term ‘you reap what you sew’. I’m not saying that the WWE encourages juicing, but the Gorgeous Georges and Andre the Giants of yesteryear look nothing like the walking He-Man action figures of today. Wrestlers used to be fat an obnoxious, now they are muscled and obnoxious, and may potentially kill their families during a serious act of “Roid Rage.”
The Spice Girls have announced a comeback tour. I guess since Brittney has gone all loony, Jessica is off dating instead of dancing, and Christina Aguilera continues to become more and more irrelevant, the world was in danger of losing all shitty, worthless, lip-syncing, annoying, over-produced pop music.
The latest Harry Potter movie is already receiving reviews in which critics claim that the movie is considerably “grimmer and grittier”. Harry is about puberty age right now, so what do you expect. I have a nephew who is in the beginning stages of puberty, and I wish it was as good as grim and gritty. Give it up critics, the Harry you see today isn’t the sweet, abused kid who entered Hogwarts, he’s got raging hormones, and wizard acne. Grim and gritty, you ain’t seen nothing yet.
Asshole(s) of the Week
American Politicians – According to a survey that came out this week, Americans are desperately unhappy with their government. Bush is receiving the lowest ratings of any president in history, and Congress isn’t doing much better. Enrollment in both the Democratic and Republican parties is down, and people all over the U.S. are pissed off. There is no excitement over any presidential candidate in the current roster of schmoes running for office, and hey, people are pissed off. This is what happens when people elected by the people choose to bow to corporate funders instead of advancing the will of those who got them into office. I hope everyone in D.C. is keeping a banker’s box close to their desk, because the theme of the 2008 election is going to be “throw the bums out”, and truth be told, you all deserve it. Instead of ending the war, you squabble over funding it, instead of coming up with a healthcare plan to cover the 48 million uninsured Americans, you spend hours debating illegal immigration, instead of working on tax relief for middle class families, you continue to kowtow to corporate interests that ship jobs overseas and import tainted toothpaste. For defying the will of the American people time and time again, American Politicians you are the assholes of the week.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Why I Love & Hate Southern California
I should begin with a little background and me and Southern California, just to be fair. In my teen years, SoCal was the shit. It was the hair-raising, heavy metal '80s. Motley Crue was the most hardcore band around, my bangs made me three inches taller, and the coolest place in the known universe was the Sunset Strip in Los Angeles. I would spend hours with my friends watching Headbanger's Ball on Saturday night (back in the day when MTV didn't suck and played videos) dreaming of the day when we would rent an apartment in L.A. and spend our nights cruising the Strip.
As I approached age 18, I cooled on SoCal and turned my love to a new place, my own Pacific Northwest neighbor, Seattle. I entered college, found indie rock, began my career penning entertainment articles for some of the most alternative zines during the height of grunge, and any thoughts (or love) I had for relocating to Southern California went straight into the crapper.
I spent a year flying back and forth to L.A. while working for PolyGram, and hated being there. People were fake, I heard tale after tale of friends stabbing each other in the back to climb the corporate music business ladder, and my home in Seattle was much more inviting. Grunge was dead, but the community was still alive, well, and filled with pretentious music snobs who knew far more than the corporate hacks down in sunny California.
Even as I left the music industry and settled into a normal life, the thought of leaving my beloved Seattle for Southern California seemed like move I never wanted to make. Then I had my daughter. I knew, the moment we all came back from Rachael's first big family Hanukkah that I shouldn't rule out Southern California.
I'm here now, and I can't say I hate it. It has been an adjustment, but I really don't miss Seattle as much as I thought I would. I have figured out a list of loves and hates about my new residence.
Loves:
*The weather - Sunny almost all the time, which is damn cool. I know it's not this beautiful all the time, but the fact that I can come out of the house every morning and not see rain and gloom is the best.
*Friendly people - Californians are friendlier, straight up. Most Seattle natives are socially retarded, and I'm not the only one who will verify that, most of the major newspapers in Seattle have written articles about how people there are stand-offish and introverted. They call it the "Microsoft personality." People here are friendly.
*Traffic - No, I'm not smoking crack, traffic is actually better in Southern California. I have double the miles in my morning commute than I had in Seattle, and I do it in half the time. Here there are large volumes of people in cars going the same way. In Seattle, there are fewer cars, but the dumbasses planning the roads don't make enough lanes to move traffic through. The major I-5 has to merge with another major interstate, the 405, and they filter traffic down to one lane. Dumbasses!
Hates:
*Housing Prices - Holy crap! I'm going to pay an arm and a leg for a box with no yard on the sketchy side of town. The same money you pay for a large, new home, with a fantastic, huge yard in Seattle, you can get a 1,500 sq. ft. townhouse with a little courtyard area that you could spit across in an area of town that you'd better think twice about springing for an alarm system. This reality check has forced us to lower our standards a bit.
*Barbie People - Everyone here spends way too much time, energy, and money focusing on being perfect. From pole dancing exercise classes to advertisements for deals on plastic surgery, looks are what's important. If you aren't wearing the latest and hottest shoes, you might as well put a bullet in your head, and if you have wrinkles, don't plan on keeping them if you don't want to continue hearing pithy whispers behind your back.
*Displacement of the Moral Compass - I'm a fairly liberal, open-minded lady. Whatever sick, twisted thing you're into for shits and giggles is okay with me, but in California they take it to an extreme. Case in point, the woman who got all of these Hollywood celebrities into pole dancing for exercise was featured in an article along with her seven year old daughter. She was smiling and sitting against the pole, as her little girl was hanging upside-down on the pole with her legs wrapped around it. What the fuck!
I'm sure I'll come up with more loves and hates, but this will do for now. Until then, I'll enjoy the sun, and try to find a radio station that is better than mediocre.
As I approached age 18, I cooled on SoCal and turned my love to a new place, my own Pacific Northwest neighbor, Seattle. I entered college, found indie rock, began my career penning entertainment articles for some of the most alternative zines during the height of grunge, and any thoughts (or love) I had for relocating to Southern California went straight into the crapper.
I spent a year flying back and forth to L.A. while working for PolyGram, and hated being there. People were fake, I heard tale after tale of friends stabbing each other in the back to climb the corporate music business ladder, and my home in Seattle was much more inviting. Grunge was dead, but the community was still alive, well, and filled with pretentious music snobs who knew far more than the corporate hacks down in sunny California.
Even as I left the music industry and settled into a normal life, the thought of leaving my beloved Seattle for Southern California seemed like move I never wanted to make. Then I had my daughter. I knew, the moment we all came back from Rachael's first big family Hanukkah that I shouldn't rule out Southern California.
I'm here now, and I can't say I hate it. It has been an adjustment, but I really don't miss Seattle as much as I thought I would. I have figured out a list of loves and hates about my new residence.
Loves:
*The weather - Sunny almost all the time, which is damn cool. I know it's not this beautiful all the time, but the fact that I can come out of the house every morning and not see rain and gloom is the best.
*Friendly people - Californians are friendlier, straight up. Most Seattle natives are socially retarded, and I'm not the only one who will verify that, most of the major newspapers in Seattle have written articles about how people there are stand-offish and introverted. They call it the "Microsoft personality." People here are friendly.
*Traffic - No, I'm not smoking crack, traffic is actually better in Southern California. I have double the miles in my morning commute than I had in Seattle, and I do it in half the time. Here there are large volumes of people in cars going the same way. In Seattle, there are fewer cars, but the dumbasses planning the roads don't make enough lanes to move traffic through. The major I-5 has to merge with another major interstate, the 405, and they filter traffic down to one lane. Dumbasses!
Hates:
*Housing Prices - Holy crap! I'm going to pay an arm and a leg for a box with no yard on the sketchy side of town. The same money you pay for a large, new home, with a fantastic, huge yard in Seattle, you can get a 1,500 sq. ft. townhouse with a little courtyard area that you could spit across in an area of town that you'd better think twice about springing for an alarm system. This reality check has forced us to lower our standards a bit.
*Barbie People - Everyone here spends way too much time, energy, and money focusing on being perfect. From pole dancing exercise classes to advertisements for deals on plastic surgery, looks are what's important. If you aren't wearing the latest and hottest shoes, you might as well put a bullet in your head, and if you have wrinkles, don't plan on keeping them if you don't want to continue hearing pithy whispers behind your back.
*Displacement of the Moral Compass - I'm a fairly liberal, open-minded lady. Whatever sick, twisted thing you're into for shits and giggles is okay with me, but in California they take it to an extreme. Case in point, the woman who got all of these Hollywood celebrities into pole dancing for exercise was featured in an article along with her seven year old daughter. She was smiling and sitting against the pole, as her little girl was hanging upside-down on the pole with her legs wrapped around it. What the fuck!
I'm sure I'll come up with more loves and hates, but this will do for now. Until then, I'll enjoy the sun, and try to find a radio station that is better than mediocre.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Just When I Thought It Was Safe to Be Content
I have developed a rather nasty habit in life. Whenever I feel like calm might enter my world, I get a little twinge in the back of my head. The twinge is a slight bit of doubt that at any moment everything could go to shit, and my calm will evaporate in an instant. I can usually ignore the twinge and chock it up to neurosis, then I have a day like today, and in an instant my calm evaporated.
I started what I thought was an amazing job just a little under two weeks ago. I was hired to a management level position with a company that produces auctions for non-profits. Since this is the work I've been doing for the past 5 years, I was psyched. It was right up my alley, the company was filled with people my age with similar family situations, the owners of the company seemed like they really were into treating their employees well, and all was right with the world.
They asked me to start right in the thick of their busiest time of the year. In my first week, I put in 60 hours over 6 days. Nothing out of the ordinary for this seasoned events person, it was my world, and I was happy to jump in with both feet. The bad thing was that I had barely left my other job, and with the move, I was one tired lady.
This week was a little bit lighter, but still has me booked to the tune of 50 hours. 'No big deal' I thought, because there is always a learning curve, and if I'm going to be producing events I need to see how this company does their events. The downside is that I'm exhausted, and I haven't seen a lot of Jeff nor Rachael.
I left a little early yesterday to go look at a townhouse, after making sure all of the events were current. My twinge began screaming this morning when I was called into the boss' office and told that the office hours were 8:30 AM to 6:00 PM, no exceptions. Originally they told me that they gave comp time for extra hours worked. I thought it might be hour for hour, or at worst 30 minutes per hour worked. I was told that for every three events I get one day off. In other words, I could do three Saturday events that stretch into 16-hour work days, and get one measly day off.
I spent the rest of today feeling like I wanted to cry. Years ago I worked for a concert promoter that ran me into the ground. I promised myself after that experience that I would never sacrifice myself for a job, and now that I have a child I really don't feel like giving my life to someone for a mediocre salary.
When I'm at work, I'm a complete superfreak. I outwork everyone around me, and catch on to new things quickly. For fuck's sake I taught myself PhotoShop and In Design! I'm willing to work when there is something to do, but when there isn't I'm not going to warm a seat and stare at a computer screen. I'm not a clockwatcher and I don't work hourly, that's why I'm a manager as opposed to an assistant or a coordinator.
Tomorrow I'm taking the bull by the horns, going into the boss' office and telling him that if I can't take 30 minutes in the morning to drop my kid off to catch the bus to daycamp, even though I will be working until midnight on a weekend, then I'm not the gal for them.
I usually try to tell myself that everything happens for a reason, but I feel like someone punched me in the face. Things will turn out the way they turn out, but unfortunately this time, the twinge was right.
I started what I thought was an amazing job just a little under two weeks ago. I was hired to a management level position with a company that produces auctions for non-profits. Since this is the work I've been doing for the past 5 years, I was psyched. It was right up my alley, the company was filled with people my age with similar family situations, the owners of the company seemed like they really were into treating their employees well, and all was right with the world.
They asked me to start right in the thick of their busiest time of the year. In my first week, I put in 60 hours over 6 days. Nothing out of the ordinary for this seasoned events person, it was my world, and I was happy to jump in with both feet. The bad thing was that I had barely left my other job, and with the move, I was one tired lady.
This week was a little bit lighter, but still has me booked to the tune of 50 hours. 'No big deal' I thought, because there is always a learning curve, and if I'm going to be producing events I need to see how this company does their events. The downside is that I'm exhausted, and I haven't seen a lot of Jeff nor Rachael.
I left a little early yesterday to go look at a townhouse, after making sure all of the events were current. My twinge began screaming this morning when I was called into the boss' office and told that the office hours were 8:30 AM to 6:00 PM, no exceptions. Originally they told me that they gave comp time for extra hours worked. I thought it might be hour for hour, or at worst 30 minutes per hour worked. I was told that for every three events I get one day off. In other words, I could do three Saturday events that stretch into 16-hour work days, and get one measly day off.
I spent the rest of today feeling like I wanted to cry. Years ago I worked for a concert promoter that ran me into the ground. I promised myself after that experience that I would never sacrifice myself for a job, and now that I have a child I really don't feel like giving my life to someone for a mediocre salary.
When I'm at work, I'm a complete superfreak. I outwork everyone around me, and catch on to new things quickly. For fuck's sake I taught myself PhotoShop and In Design! I'm willing to work when there is something to do, but when there isn't I'm not going to warm a seat and stare at a computer screen. I'm not a clockwatcher and I don't work hourly, that's why I'm a manager as opposed to an assistant or a coordinator.
Tomorrow I'm taking the bull by the horns, going into the boss' office and telling him that if I can't take 30 minutes in the morning to drop my kid off to catch the bus to daycamp, even though I will be working until midnight on a weekend, then I'm not the gal for them.
I usually try to tell myself that everything happens for a reason, but I feel like someone punched me in the face. Things will turn out the way they turn out, but unfortunately this time, the twinge was right.
Friday, June 15, 2007
Weekly Recap 6/10-16: Mainstream Media Mistakes & California Dreamin'
Headline News Recap
I think I might have heard something about Paris Hilton and jail, but I’m not quite sure. How sick, sad, and wrong is it when the country is at war, the poverty level is on the rise at a pace that will rival the Great Depression, people are losing their homes left and right, and the only thing I continue to hear about on the news is this spoiled bitch! Murrow is rolling over in his grave. Once upon a time, I took journalism classes. I read all of the books and heady theory about this profession. I wrote scholarly papers about working in this profession, and now I am soooo glad I didn’t pursue a career in this field. If there are still journalists with integrity (aside from Anderson Cooper), they should be focusing more on a massive demonstration/walk out against their corporate owners who keep assigning them to cover this crap, and less on whether or not a bleach blonde heiress will have to do her measly 23 days in jail. Journalists of the U.S. unite now, save yourselves and your profession while you still can, and walk out! You can broadcast at will, with honesty for once, on YouTube!
Convicted scumbag Scooter Libby is due to report to prison to serve his 30-month jail sentence for his role in outing CIA Agent Valerie Plame Wilson. There are already rumors that Resident Bush will grant Libby a pardon, since he cuts a fair amount of slack to all of the Regime lackies, although the White House has kept mum about the issue. Funny the word ‘mum’ should come up since that mumming sound is actually the photocopier working overtime to print all of the pardoning paperwork that Bushie will need in about 6 months when most of his other former staff and advisors are sent to join Libby in the poky.
A watchdog group that tracks the Pentagon’s spending discovered $7.5 million allocated to build a “gay bomb”. If developed and implemented, this gay bomb, upon impact would have filled the air with a gas causing enemy troops to want to have sex with each other. Under their same old, “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy, The Pentagon denies ever discussing or pursuing the idea, which is just so bitchy and gay.
America’s wealthy keep getting wealthier, and are now pursuing new ways to spend it. Sales of luxury goods in the U.S. (i.e. $10,000 handbags, $70,000 pen sets, yes, I’m not kidding they make a pen that retails at $70,000, $15,000 neckties, etc.) have reached into the double digits, while those in the disappearing middle class can barely afford a pair of jeans at Wal-Mart. The American worker’s income increased a measly 4.6 percent in 2006, while those making over $350,000 enjoyed double-digit increases. Keep going uber-rich people, you are obviously too busy shopping to read a history book, so I hope on one of your spending sprees you stock up on cake, because you’re going to need it.
In Local News
We are now officially Californians, which means I do have to get off my butt and change the info on my profile eventually. We landed in Los Angeles, and right off the plane I saw Lenny Kravitz. Then we went to a deli in Marina del Rey and I saw Jennifer Lopez. Too bad I don’t give a fuck about celebrities or I could have enjoyed the spottings as much as my brother-in-law did. Aside from living near LaLaLand, it is nice to wake up to see the sun every morning, and since I’m Miss Chilly Pants, I love the warm weather. However, I’m still not quite used to having a Governor Schwarzenegger yet, and I don’t know if I ever will be.
We still haven’t sold our house. Our do-nothing agent keeps blaming the market, but four other houses in our neighborhood have sold. She’s got until next Friday at 5:00 PM to hand us over a decent offer or we are canning her ass.
Worthless Entertainment News
Shar Jackson, the pregnant girlfriend Kevin Federline dumped to be with Britney Spears, is pregnant with yet another Federline offspring. This is all so Jerry Springer. When I heard this story I was actually secretly hoping that Shar and Kevin conspired all along to rid Britney of money, not that I would wish that fate even on an idiot like Britney, but it would give me some hope in humanity that there was not a woman in this world with such low self-esteem and bad judgment that she would lower herself to being dumped, while pregnant, then take back the very man who left her, especially since that man is Kevin Federline. Either scenario aside, this is all so pathetic.
I would comment on the last episode of “The Sopranos,” but I haven’t seen it yet. My in-laws don’t have HBO, so my brother-in-law taped it for me. I’ve heard some who hated it, some who loved it, and others who thought it was so-so. However, if anyone spoils the ending for me, I’m warning you now, I’ll verbally abuse you.
Asshole of the Week(s)
The Mainstream Media – Okay, this is a totally lazy thing to do, two Weekly Recaps in a row, but I moved and started a new job within 48 hours, and I’m fucking tired. Besides, the Mainstream Media has really earned it this week. For ignoring important news, and reporting on your own media creation, Paris Hilton, because you are the only ones who give a rat’s ass about this person, Mainstream Media, you are the Assholes of the Week.
I think I might have heard something about Paris Hilton and jail, but I’m not quite sure. How sick, sad, and wrong is it when the country is at war, the poverty level is on the rise at a pace that will rival the Great Depression, people are losing their homes left and right, and the only thing I continue to hear about on the news is this spoiled bitch! Murrow is rolling over in his grave. Once upon a time, I took journalism classes. I read all of the books and heady theory about this profession. I wrote scholarly papers about working in this profession, and now I am soooo glad I didn’t pursue a career in this field. If there are still journalists with integrity (aside from Anderson Cooper), they should be focusing more on a massive demonstration/walk out against their corporate owners who keep assigning them to cover this crap, and less on whether or not a bleach blonde heiress will have to do her measly 23 days in jail. Journalists of the U.S. unite now, save yourselves and your profession while you still can, and walk out! You can broadcast at will, with honesty for once, on YouTube!
Convicted scumbag Scooter Libby is due to report to prison to serve his 30-month jail sentence for his role in outing CIA Agent Valerie Plame Wilson. There are already rumors that Resident Bush will grant Libby a pardon, since he cuts a fair amount of slack to all of the Regime lackies, although the White House has kept mum about the issue. Funny the word ‘mum’ should come up since that mumming sound is actually the photocopier working overtime to print all of the pardoning paperwork that Bushie will need in about 6 months when most of his other former staff and advisors are sent to join Libby in the poky.
A watchdog group that tracks the Pentagon’s spending discovered $7.5 million allocated to build a “gay bomb”. If developed and implemented, this gay bomb, upon impact would have filled the air with a gas causing enemy troops to want to have sex with each other. Under their same old, “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy, The Pentagon denies ever discussing or pursuing the idea, which is just so bitchy and gay.
America’s wealthy keep getting wealthier, and are now pursuing new ways to spend it. Sales of luxury goods in the U.S. (i.e. $10,000 handbags, $70,000 pen sets, yes, I’m not kidding they make a pen that retails at $70,000, $15,000 neckties, etc.) have reached into the double digits, while those in the disappearing middle class can barely afford a pair of jeans at Wal-Mart. The American worker’s income increased a measly 4.6 percent in 2006, while those making over $350,000 enjoyed double-digit increases. Keep going uber-rich people, you are obviously too busy shopping to read a history book, so I hope on one of your spending sprees you stock up on cake, because you’re going to need it.
In Local News
We are now officially Californians, which means I do have to get off my butt and change the info on my profile eventually. We landed in Los Angeles, and right off the plane I saw Lenny Kravitz. Then we went to a deli in Marina del Rey and I saw Jennifer Lopez. Too bad I don’t give a fuck about celebrities or I could have enjoyed the spottings as much as my brother-in-law did. Aside from living near LaLaLand, it is nice to wake up to see the sun every morning, and since I’m Miss Chilly Pants, I love the warm weather. However, I’m still not quite used to having a Governor Schwarzenegger yet, and I don’t know if I ever will be.
We still haven’t sold our house. Our do-nothing agent keeps blaming the market, but four other houses in our neighborhood have sold. She’s got until next Friday at 5:00 PM to hand us over a decent offer or we are canning her ass.
Worthless Entertainment News
Shar Jackson, the pregnant girlfriend Kevin Federline dumped to be with Britney Spears, is pregnant with yet another Federline offspring. This is all so Jerry Springer. When I heard this story I was actually secretly hoping that Shar and Kevin conspired all along to rid Britney of money, not that I would wish that fate even on an idiot like Britney, but it would give me some hope in humanity that there was not a woman in this world with such low self-esteem and bad judgment that she would lower herself to being dumped, while pregnant, then take back the very man who left her, especially since that man is Kevin Federline. Either scenario aside, this is all so pathetic.
I would comment on the last episode of “The Sopranos,” but I haven’t seen it yet. My in-laws don’t have HBO, so my brother-in-law taped it for me. I’ve heard some who hated it, some who loved it, and others who thought it was so-so. However, if anyone spoils the ending for me, I’m warning you now, I’ll verbally abuse you.
Asshole of the Week(s)
The Mainstream Media – Okay, this is a totally lazy thing to do, two Weekly Recaps in a row, but I moved and started a new job within 48 hours, and I’m fucking tired. Besides, the Mainstream Media has really earned it this week. For ignoring important news, and reporting on your own media creation, Paris Hilton, because you are the only ones who give a rat’s ass about this person, Mainstream Media, you are the Assholes of the Week.
Weekly Recap 6/10-16: Mainstream Media Mistakes & California Dreamin'
Headline News Recap
I think I might have heard something about Paris Hilton and jail, but I’m not quite sure. How sick, sad, and wrong is it when the country is at war, the poverty level is on the rise at a pace that will rival the Great Depression, people are losing their homes left and right, and the only thing I continue to hear about on the news is this spoiled bitch! Murrow is rolling over in his grave. Once upon a time, I took journalism classes. I read all of the books and heady theory about this profession. I wrote scholarly papers about working in this profession, and now I am soooo glad I didn’t pursue a career in this field. If there are still journalists with integrity (aside from Anderson Cooper), they should be focusing more on a massive demonstration/walk out against their corporate owners who keep assigning them to cover this crap, and less on whether or not a bleach blonde heiress will have to do her measly 23 days in jail. Journalists of the U.S. unite now, save yourselves and your profession while you still can, and walk out! You can broadcast at will, with honesty for once, on YouTube!
Convicted scumbag Scooter Libby is due to report to prison to serve his 30-month jail sentence for his role in outing CIA Agent Valerie Plame Wilson. There are already rumors that Resident Bush will grant Libby a pardon, since he cuts a fair amount of slack to all of the Regime lackies, although the White House has kept mum about the issue. Funny the word ‘mum’ should come up since that mumming sound is actually the photocopier working overtime to print all of the pardoning paperwork that Bushie will need in about 6 months when most of his other former staff and advisors are sent to join Libby in the poky.
A watchdog group that tracks the Pentagon’s spending discovered $7.5 million allocated to build a “gay bomb”. If developed and implemented, this gay bomb, upon impact would have filled the air with a gas causing enemy troops to want to have sex with each other. Under their same old, “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy, The Pentagon denies ever discussing or pursuing the idea, which is just so bitchy and gay.
America’s wealthy keep getting wealthier, and are now pursuing new ways to spend it. Sales of luxury goods in the U.S. (i.e. $10,000 handbags, $70,000 pen sets, yes, I’m not kidding they make a pen that retails at $70,000, $15,000 neckties, etc.) have reached into the double digits, while those in the disappearing middle class can barely afford a pair of jeans at Wal-Mart. The American worker’s income increased a measly 4.6 percent in 2006, while those making over $350,000 enjoyed double-digit increases. Keep going uber-rich people, you are obviously too busy shopping to read a history book, so I hope on one of your spending sprees you stock up on cake, because you’re going to need it.
In Local News
We are now officially Californians, which means I do have to get off my butt and change the info on my profile eventually. We landed in Los Angeles, and right off the plane I saw Lenny Kravitz. Then we went to a deli in Marina del Rey and I saw Jennifer Lopez. Too bad I don’t give a fuck about celebrities or I could have enjoyed the spottings as much as my brother-in-law did. Aside from living near LaLaLand, it is nice to wake up to see the sun every morning, and since I’m Miss Chilly Pants, I love the warm weather. However, I’m still not quite used to having a Governor Schwarzenegger yet, and I don’t know if I ever will be.
We still haven’t sold our house. Our do-nothing agent keeps blaming the market, but four other houses in our neighborhood have sold. She’s got until next Friday at 5:00 PM to hand us over a decent offer or we are canning her ass.
Worthless Entertainment News
Shar Jackson, the pregnant girlfriend Kevin Federline dumped to be with Britney Spears, is pregnant with yet another Federline offspring. This is all so Jerry Springer. When I heard this story I was actually secretly hoping that Shar and Kevin conspired all along to rid Britney of money, not that I would wish that fate even on an idiot like Britney, but it would give me some hope in humanity that there was not a woman in this world with such low self-esteem and bad judgment that she would lower herself to being dumped, while pregnant, then take back the very man who left her, especially since that man is Kevin Federline. Either scenario aside, this is all so pathetic.
I would comment on the last episode of “The Sopranos,” but I haven’t seen it yet. My in-laws don’t have HBO, so my brother-in-law taped it for me. I’ve heard some who hated it, some who loved it, and others who thought it was so-so. However, if anyone spoils the ending for me, I’m warning you now, I’ll verbally abuse you.
Asshole of the Week(s)
The Mainstream Media – Okay, this is a totally lazy thing to do, two Weekly Recaps in a row, but I moved and started a new job within 48 hours, and I’m fucking tired. Besides, the Mainstream Media has really earned it this week. For ignoring important news, and reporting on your own media creation, Paris Hilton, because you are the only ones who give a rat’s ass about this person, Mainstream Media, you are the Assholes of the Week.
I think I might have heard something about Paris Hilton and jail, but I’m not quite sure. How sick, sad, and wrong is it when the country is at war, the poverty level is on the rise at a pace that will rival the Great Depression, people are losing their homes left and right, and the only thing I continue to hear about on the news is this spoiled bitch! Murrow is rolling over in his grave. Once upon a time, I took journalism classes. I read all of the books and heady theory about this profession. I wrote scholarly papers about working in this profession, and now I am soooo glad I didn’t pursue a career in this field. If there are still journalists with integrity (aside from Anderson Cooper), they should be focusing more on a massive demonstration/walk out against their corporate owners who keep assigning them to cover this crap, and less on whether or not a bleach blonde heiress will have to do her measly 23 days in jail. Journalists of the U.S. unite now, save yourselves and your profession while you still can, and walk out! You can broadcast at will, with honesty for once, on YouTube!
Convicted scumbag Scooter Libby is due to report to prison to serve his 30-month jail sentence for his role in outing CIA Agent Valerie Plame Wilson. There are already rumors that Resident Bush will grant Libby a pardon, since he cuts a fair amount of slack to all of the Regime lackies, although the White House has kept mum about the issue. Funny the word ‘mum’ should come up since that mumming sound is actually the photocopier working overtime to print all of the pardoning paperwork that Bushie will need in about 6 months when most of his other former staff and advisors are sent to join Libby in the poky.
A watchdog group that tracks the Pentagon’s spending discovered $7.5 million allocated to build a “gay bomb”. If developed and implemented, this gay bomb, upon impact would have filled the air with a gas causing enemy troops to want to have sex with each other. Under their same old, “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy, The Pentagon denies ever discussing or pursuing the idea, which is just so bitchy and gay.
America’s wealthy keep getting wealthier, and are now pursuing new ways to spend it. Sales of luxury goods in the U.S. (i.e. $10,000 handbags, $70,000 pen sets, yes, I’m not kidding they make a pen that retails at $70,000, $15,000 neckties, etc.) have reached into the double digits, while those in the disappearing middle class can barely afford a pair of jeans at Wal-Mart. The American worker’s income increased a measly 4.6 percent in 2006, while those making over $350,000 enjoyed double-digit increases. Keep going uber-rich people, you are obviously too busy shopping to read a history book, so I hope on one of your spending sprees you stock up on cake, because you’re going to need it.
In Local News
We are now officially Californians, which means I do have to get off my butt and change the info on my profile eventually. We landed in Los Angeles, and right off the plane I saw Lenny Kravitz. Then we went to a deli in Marina del Rey and I saw Jennifer Lopez. Too bad I don’t give a fuck about celebrities or I could have enjoyed the spottings as much as my brother-in-law did. Aside from living near LaLaLand, it is nice to wake up to see the sun every morning, and since I’m Miss Chilly Pants, I love the warm weather. However, I’m still not quite used to having a Governor Schwarzenegger yet, and I don’t know if I ever will be.
We still haven’t sold our house. Our do-nothing agent keeps blaming the market, but four other houses in our neighborhood have sold. She’s got until next Friday at 5:00 PM to hand us over a decent offer or we are canning her ass.
Worthless Entertainment News
Shar Jackson, the pregnant girlfriend Kevin Federline dumped to be with Britney Spears, is pregnant with yet another Federline offspring. This is all so Jerry Springer. When I heard this story I was actually secretly hoping that Shar and Kevin conspired all along to rid Britney of money, not that I would wish that fate even on an idiot like Britney, but it would give me some hope in humanity that there was not a woman in this world with such low self-esteem and bad judgment that she would lower herself to being dumped, while pregnant, then take back the very man who left her, especially since that man is Kevin Federline. Either scenario aside, this is all so pathetic.
I would comment on the last episode of “The Sopranos,” but I haven’t seen it yet. My in-laws don’t have HBO, so my brother-in-law taped it for me. I’ve heard some who hated it, some who loved it, and others who thought it was so-so. However, if anyone spoils the ending for me, I’m warning you now, I’ll verbally abuse you.
Asshole of the Week(s)
The Mainstream Media – Okay, this is a totally lazy thing to do, two Weekly Recaps in a row, but I moved and started a new job within 48 hours, and I’m fucking tired. Besides, the Mainstream Media has really earned it this week. For ignoring important news, and reporting on your own media creation, Paris Hilton, because you are the only ones who give a rat’s ass about this person, Mainstream Media, you are the Assholes of the Week.
Monday, June 11, 2007
Leaving Suburbia
I thought when we bought the perfect house in the perfect neighborhood that I had discovered the key to happiness. This is the reason why I entered this weird world of Suburbia in the first place. Despite my years of media and cultural studies I bought into the idea of the American Dream.
You buy the perfect house in the perfect neighborhood and you have an instant community of perfect friends who will assist you in living the perfect life. I'm almost ashamed to admit that I actually believed this, but two years later, I know where it came from. I was raised by a mother who told my sister and I that being strong, progressive women was important, but she really didn't mean it, because at the same time she touted the American Dream. Our lives would be perfect if we had husbands who could take care of us and babies to keep us occupied. Sure a career would be good for a while, but trading in a security badge for maternity clothes was the path we would have to choose in order to be happy. I grew up hearing this, and rejecting it with every fiber of my being.
I wasn't going to be a mother or a wife or a housewife who lived in Suburbia, so a few months after the excitement of moving into my Suburbia residence wore off, I spiraled into a deep depression wondering if I had chosen Suburbia, or if I was living out a dream that had been pounded into my head by a woman I despised. My worst fear was that I had become the very thing I never wanted to be. I also discovered that the facade of the Suburbia community was just smoke and mirrors. In this perfect neighborhood everyone would smile at you and say "hello", but no one really wanted to know you.
Clarity came slowly through a few therapy sessions, a new hobby for blogging, and heading back into the working world. I began to realize that I chose to marry a man who wanted a family, as did I, and although I loved my dwelling, the perfect neighborhood wasn't for me. Community is where people know you, and want to know you, not where you pay homeowners' dues and hope someone gives a rat's ass about you. It took me two long years to realize this.
As crazy and hypocritical as my mother was, she always tried to tell me that home was where your family and friends were, not the structure you pay property taxes on. Although I will miss my beautiful dwelling, I'm leaving Suburbia along all of the smoke and mirrors of the American Dream. Community and happiness isn't about what you have, it's about who you're with, so this past weekend, I boarded a plane with my young daughter in tow, and headed South to California. My house won't be as big, but I'll be able to watch my nephew in his school play. My new neighborhood may not be suitable to grace the front of a postcard, but I'll be able to share meals with my sister-in-law, and my daughter will have her cousins to grow up with.
However, never fear dear readers, I will never abandon my writing. Besides, I'm living in LaLa Land now, and life here can be like living on a different planet. I am also married to Mr. Suburbia, so I will likely end up in a similar place, but this time, I'm keeping my eyes open for fellow punk-minded mamas, because there has to be others like me actively and proudly rejecting the American Dream.
You buy the perfect house in the perfect neighborhood and you have an instant community of perfect friends who will assist you in living the perfect life. I'm almost ashamed to admit that I actually believed this, but two years later, I know where it came from. I was raised by a mother who told my sister and I that being strong, progressive women was important, but she really didn't mean it, because at the same time she touted the American Dream. Our lives would be perfect if we had husbands who could take care of us and babies to keep us occupied. Sure a career would be good for a while, but trading in a security badge for maternity clothes was the path we would have to choose in order to be happy. I grew up hearing this, and rejecting it with every fiber of my being.
I wasn't going to be a mother or a wife or a housewife who lived in Suburbia, so a few months after the excitement of moving into my Suburbia residence wore off, I spiraled into a deep depression wondering if I had chosen Suburbia, or if I was living out a dream that had been pounded into my head by a woman I despised. My worst fear was that I had become the very thing I never wanted to be. I also discovered that the facade of the Suburbia community was just smoke and mirrors. In this perfect neighborhood everyone would smile at you and say "hello", but no one really wanted to know you.
Clarity came slowly through a few therapy sessions, a new hobby for blogging, and heading back into the working world. I began to realize that I chose to marry a man who wanted a family, as did I, and although I loved my dwelling, the perfect neighborhood wasn't for me. Community is where people know you, and want to know you, not where you pay homeowners' dues and hope someone gives a rat's ass about you. It took me two long years to realize this.
As crazy and hypocritical as my mother was, she always tried to tell me that home was where your family and friends were, not the structure you pay property taxes on. Although I will miss my beautiful dwelling, I'm leaving Suburbia along all of the smoke and mirrors of the American Dream. Community and happiness isn't about what you have, it's about who you're with, so this past weekend, I boarded a plane with my young daughter in tow, and headed South to California. My house won't be as big, but I'll be able to watch my nephew in his school play. My new neighborhood may not be suitable to grace the front of a postcard, but I'll be able to share meals with my sister-in-law, and my daughter will have her cousins to grow up with.
However, never fear dear readers, I will never abandon my writing. Besides, I'm living in LaLa Land now, and life here can be like living on a different planet. I am also married to Mr. Suburbia, so I will likely end up in a similar place, but this time, I'm keeping my eyes open for fellow punk-minded mamas, because there has to be others like me actively and proudly rejecting the American Dream.
Friday, June 08, 2007
5 Years and Counting...
I wasn’t looking for anything permanent the night I got that curious email. The whole ‘meeting people over the internet’ thing seemed creepy to me, but from the tone of the email I thought maybe this guy named Jeff was new to Boise, and I could show him around.
We spent the next week trading emails, and I swore I wouldn’t give out my phone number, because of the internet creepy factor, but he persisted. Little did I know this was a trait that I would come to both love and, at times, loathe about this interesting new person. We had a series of marathon phone conversations that equated to three to four hours every night for a month. I chuckle about it now, because the idea of my husband spending that much money on a phone bill is completely contradictory to his nature.
I found out during the course of our conversations that he was in Seattle, and worked for British Airways. He loved to travel, had an affinity for Billy Joel music, and grew up in California. On the surface we didn’t have all that much in common, but we both had an incredible sense of adventure, and despite the long distance, there was an amazing connection. He insisted on flying down to meet me in person, so we set a date.
I was nervous as I approached the airport gate to wait for him, it was pre-9/11, and so you could stand there with baited-breath waiting for your guest to arrive. He was one of the last people off the plane, and I’ll never forget how handsome he looked in his dark blue suit, red tie, and pale blue shirt. He made me smile, because along with his dapper look he also wore the largest coat I had ever seen. I told him prior to his visit that Idaho was a rugged place, and that it had been a rather cold February. He took my advice wearing a thick, hooded, green winter jacket that came down to his mid-thigh.
Our first weekend together was amazing. I’ll never forget the surge of excitement I felt when his plane was delayed on Sunday night. I had two extra hours to spend with him, and I was all smiles. My roommate told me a few days later that I was just beaming after that weekend. I flew up to Seattle two weeks later, and a long distance relationship had ensued.
Fate had another plan for us. By the end of March I had split from the concert promotion company I had worked for. It was devastating to be out of the business I had worked my whole life to get into, and I was completely lost. The only thing I knew, without a doubt, was that I was done with Idaho for good. I split with the company, and two days later was traveling on a one-way ticket back to Seattle with two suitcases and $300 in my pocket. Several friends made generous offers of guest beds and couches until I got on my feet, but Jeff insisted that I stay with him. I objected strongly since our relationship was so new, but just like with the phone number, he persisted. We moved in together in March 2001, and spent the next five months traveling all over the U.S.
In August, we bought a house, I got a job, and we settled down to a more domesticated life. He popped the question in December 2001 while we strolled along the Inner Harbor in one of my favorite places, Victoria, British Columbia.
Exactly five years ago today, we had a big, fat, Jewish wedding. I had always said that if I married again it would be a small ceremony, unless I married someone who hadn’t been previously married, then it was his call. Jeff wanted a big celebration, so I consented. Although his family lobbied for a California wedding, we were Seattle folks, so the wedding would be held in the Jet City. 95% of our guests were from out-of-town, and at first we thought we’d have a modest turnout. Wrong! Everyone paired our wedding with their vacation, so we welcomed over 140 friends and family members to our event.
On the day of the wedding, I kicked into event manager mode and went to work finishing last minute table favors. When I called on my mom and sister to help, they instead got into a huge screaming match in the middle of the kitchen. Unlike the bridezillas on TV, I didn’t sweat it. Instead I went to the cupboard and grabbed two of the small, airline sized bottles of vodka that Jeff collected over the years, and proceeded to retire to the family room with my dad to share a strong drink. Later I realized that consuming only two small bottles of vodka on your wedding day is not a wise move.
I carried on making it my hair appointment on time, then to the synagogue where I signed the ketuba (traditional Jewish marriage contract), and sat in a room in the basement, completely out of sight, until my stepdad and mother came down to get me. The three of us walked down the aisle, and in the amazing 30 minutes that followed Jeff and I became official.
By the way, the no food/all vodka issue came up during group photos after the ceremony, where I came within two breaths of passing out cold. Thankfully, my new sister-in-law was a nurse, and she ordered my new nephew to grab some sports drink and a folding chair. For all of those ladies out there who may want to marry, don’t forget to eat on your wedding day, because going to the emergency room instead of to the dance floor will not be the kind of memory you want of your wedding day, no matter how funny it will be later on.
We sailed away on a cruise for our honeymoon, then spent the following year working, traveling, improving our house, and just when we had done just about everything, and decided life was a little too boring, along came Miss Rachael.
We have had a lot of fun, some tears, a few bumps, and a lot of growing in the past five years, but the one thing I can honestly say with pride and heart in hand is that I love Jeff just as much today as I did five years ago when I met him at the end of the aisle wearing that stunning white dress.
Here’s to us, and the next five years, and all of the years after that! Little did I know that not hitting the ‘delete’ key was the best decision I would ever make.
We spent the next week trading emails, and I swore I wouldn’t give out my phone number, because of the internet creepy factor, but he persisted. Little did I know this was a trait that I would come to both love and, at times, loathe about this interesting new person. We had a series of marathon phone conversations that equated to three to four hours every night for a month. I chuckle about it now, because the idea of my husband spending that much money on a phone bill is completely contradictory to his nature.
I found out during the course of our conversations that he was in Seattle, and worked for British Airways. He loved to travel, had an affinity for Billy Joel music, and grew up in California. On the surface we didn’t have all that much in common, but we both had an incredible sense of adventure, and despite the long distance, there was an amazing connection. He insisted on flying down to meet me in person, so we set a date.
I was nervous as I approached the airport gate to wait for him, it was pre-9/11, and so you could stand there with baited-breath waiting for your guest to arrive. He was one of the last people off the plane, and I’ll never forget how handsome he looked in his dark blue suit, red tie, and pale blue shirt. He made me smile, because along with his dapper look he also wore the largest coat I had ever seen. I told him prior to his visit that Idaho was a rugged place, and that it had been a rather cold February. He took my advice wearing a thick, hooded, green winter jacket that came down to his mid-thigh.
Our first weekend together was amazing. I’ll never forget the surge of excitement I felt when his plane was delayed on Sunday night. I had two extra hours to spend with him, and I was all smiles. My roommate told me a few days later that I was just beaming after that weekend. I flew up to Seattle two weeks later, and a long distance relationship had ensued.
Fate had another plan for us. By the end of March I had split from the concert promotion company I had worked for. It was devastating to be out of the business I had worked my whole life to get into, and I was completely lost. The only thing I knew, without a doubt, was that I was done with Idaho for good. I split with the company, and two days later was traveling on a one-way ticket back to Seattle with two suitcases and $300 in my pocket. Several friends made generous offers of guest beds and couches until I got on my feet, but Jeff insisted that I stay with him. I objected strongly since our relationship was so new, but just like with the phone number, he persisted. We moved in together in March 2001, and spent the next five months traveling all over the U.S.
In August, we bought a house, I got a job, and we settled down to a more domesticated life. He popped the question in December 2001 while we strolled along the Inner Harbor in one of my favorite places, Victoria, British Columbia.
Exactly five years ago today, we had a big, fat, Jewish wedding. I had always said that if I married again it would be a small ceremony, unless I married someone who hadn’t been previously married, then it was his call. Jeff wanted a big celebration, so I consented. Although his family lobbied for a California wedding, we were Seattle folks, so the wedding would be held in the Jet City. 95% of our guests were from out-of-town, and at first we thought we’d have a modest turnout. Wrong! Everyone paired our wedding with their vacation, so we welcomed over 140 friends and family members to our event.
On the day of the wedding, I kicked into event manager mode and went to work finishing last minute table favors. When I called on my mom and sister to help, they instead got into a huge screaming match in the middle of the kitchen. Unlike the bridezillas on TV, I didn’t sweat it. Instead I went to the cupboard and grabbed two of the small, airline sized bottles of vodka that Jeff collected over the years, and proceeded to retire to the family room with my dad to share a strong drink. Later I realized that consuming only two small bottles of vodka on your wedding day is not a wise move.
I carried on making it my hair appointment on time, then to the synagogue where I signed the ketuba (traditional Jewish marriage contract), and sat in a room in the basement, completely out of sight, until my stepdad and mother came down to get me. The three of us walked down the aisle, and in the amazing 30 minutes that followed Jeff and I became official.
By the way, the no food/all vodka issue came up during group photos after the ceremony, where I came within two breaths of passing out cold. Thankfully, my new sister-in-law was a nurse, and she ordered my new nephew to grab some sports drink and a folding chair. For all of those ladies out there who may want to marry, don’t forget to eat on your wedding day, because going to the emergency room instead of to the dance floor will not be the kind of memory you want of your wedding day, no matter how funny it will be later on.
We sailed away on a cruise for our honeymoon, then spent the following year working, traveling, improving our house, and just when we had done just about everything, and decided life was a little too boring, along came Miss Rachael.
We have had a lot of fun, some tears, a few bumps, and a lot of growing in the past five years, but the one thing I can honestly say with pride and heart in hand is that I love Jeff just as much today as I did five years ago when I met him at the end of the aisle wearing that stunning white dress.
Here’s to us, and the next five years, and all of the years after that! Little did I know that not hitting the ‘delete’ key was the best decision I would ever make.
Sunday, June 03, 2007
Where Have You Been?
My co-workers laughed when I told them that Jeff and I were taking a cruise to Alaska for our 5th wedding anniversary, because I'm always cold. Seriously, I'm the one wearing a coat in 80 degree weather. I take iron pills and yet, I'm shivering while standing in the sun. The cruise was great, but I did freeze my ass off. Here are a few things we did and saw:
Mmmmmm. Reindeer? Kosher reindeer? They've got some weird tastebuds up North, and paaaleeaasee, like they have more than a dozen Jews in Alaska.
Told you I was cold! The scenery, however, was gorgeous.
Kids, this is a glacier. They did once exist until the U.S. government walking hand-in-hand with big business helped perpetuate global warming.
Jeff and me on the high seas on our only sunny, warm day in Alaska. We were heading to Ketchikan on one of the water taxis.
Finally, Mel finds a way to keep warm in Alaska!
Mmmmmm. Reindeer? Kosher reindeer? They've got some weird tastebuds up North, and paaaleeaasee, like they have more than a dozen Jews in Alaska.
Told you I was cold! The scenery, however, was gorgeous.
Kids, this is a glacier. They did once exist until the U.S. government walking hand-in-hand with big business helped perpetuate global warming.
Jeff and me on the high seas on our only sunny, warm day in Alaska. We were heading to Ketchikan on one of the water taxis.
Finally, Mel finds a way to keep warm in Alaska!
Friday, May 25, 2007
Weekly Recap 5/20-26: Blundering Betrayal & Get Well June
Headline News Recap
The following is a fictional conversation that the voting public had with the Democratic Party during last year’s November elections to present:
Public: We have a job opening.
Democrats: Great! We really want to work for you.
Public: One of the job requirements is that you stop the Bush Administration’s illegal war in Iraq.
Democrats: (a bead of sweat dripping down the brow) I think we can do that.
Public: Sorry, but I don’t want you to “think” you can get you can get it done, if you want this job, you HAVE to get this done. This is what we want.
Democrats: We’ve lost a little ground in the past few years, but we are ready to come back strong, and take this on.
Public: So, you can get the job done.
Democrats: Absolutely!
[7 Months Later]
Public: What the hell was that!
Democrats: What?
Public: You were specifically hired to get our troops the hell out of Iraq, and you gave the Bush Administration what they wanted!
Democrats: It’s not like that, and we are fighting this Administration. You just don’t understand how things really are.
Public: Are you trying to bullshit me right now with politico speak, because it’s not working. You were hired to do a job with very clear instructions and you didn’t do it.
Democrats: What are you going to do, fire me? Look at your alternative, and you know you don’t want that.
Public: You’re right, we really don’t want those guys, but we don’t want you either. In fact, we don’t need any more bullshit from either of you.
Democrats: So what are you going to do? In the end you will pick the lesser of two evils, which means we will stay right where we are.
Public: You know, November 2008 is still a year and a half away, and we might be able to come up with something better than either of you.
Democrats: (snickering) Good luck.
Public: (readying the boot to go up the ass) Fuck You!
On Thursday a bird crapped on Resident Bush’s sleeve during an outdoor press conference in the Rose Garden, which is poetic justice considering that Bush has been shitting on everyone else for the past six years.
Researchers in Argentina released a study that says Viagra may help with jet lag. According to the report, lab rats that were given Viagra and exposed to the same elements that simulated jet lag recovered 50% faster. The other rats just fell asleep claiming they had headaches.
Former president and noble humanitarian, Jimmy Carter, made headlines this week when he referred to Resident Bush as the “worst [president] in history”. The GOP in their effort to be compassionate pounced on Carter like a cat on a dying bird claiming that he was irrelevant, amongst other slurs. I may not agree with President Carter (particularly his latest book), but instead of golfing or fishing, this guy is spending his retirement building houses for poor people, which is good considering the rate at which the worst president in history is creating poor people.
A pair of gay flamingos at a wildlife refuge in the UK have adopted an abandoned baby chick. Workers at the Slimbridge refuge noted that these two birds have been so desperate to have a family that they have seen them chase other birds away from their nest in order to sit on the eggs. Members of Focus on the Family wasted no time in researching the possibility of getting a court injunction against the bird adoption claiming that no fag bird is capable of raising a productive chick, and that despite designing a flaming pink bird with a weird beak and long, stick-like legs, G-d would consider this an abomination.
In Local News
June Daugherty, former UW Women’s Basketball coach and current WSU Basketball coach, suffered a heart attack earlier this week. Fortunately, she was close to a medical facility and was able to receive the attention she needed to quickly save her life. I’m a big fan of June. She was the coach at Boise State while I was there, then as I moved to Seattle, so did she, taking the helm of my new alma mater’s Women’s Basketball team. I was very pissed when UW sacked her after she delivered them a stellar record, and although she is now working for the rival team at WSU, my hope is that she makes a fantastic recovery and spends the next decade kicking UW’s basketball ass. June is a dedicated lady, and fantastic role model. If we had a little less Paris and a little more June in the world, life would be way more ideal.
Worthless Entertainment News
Scott Stapp, former vocalist for the quasi-Christian band Creed, was arrested in Florida on domestic violence related charges after his wife called police, because he came home drunk, high and violent. What I’m wondering now is, does anyone actually still give a damn about Creed? They were worthless when they were popular, and now that their music has been moved to the 99 cents bin isn’t there a better story out there? C’mon Lindsay has to be getting high and making an ass out of herself at some nightclub in L.A.
“The View” ladies, Rosie O’Donnell and Elisabeth Hasselbeck, got into it this week, when Lis decided to twist Rosie’s words using some Right Wing style punditry. Apparently Lis made the mistake of thinking she was Sean Hannity, and that Ro was Alan Colmes, which created a huge explosion when Ro proved that she wasn’t a patsy, kiss ass, bitch (like Colmes) and fired back. For the record, I like Rosie. She is mouthy, bold, and doesn’t give a fuck about being politically correct or mainstream. She says what we all want to say, but don’t have the balls to say for fear of making someone angry.
Some chick won “American Idol”, and now all the headlines are talking about her bright career. What about the guy who won it last year? What happened to his bright career, or the person who won it two years ago? Sorry chicky, but your bright career will come to a screeching halt the moment the next season of “Idol” begins. You may do the tour, but if you want a bright career, horde all of the money you can right now while you still have half of your 15 minutes left, and invest in a college education, because two years from now, you don’t want your bright career to include waitressing.
Assholes of the Week
Congressional Democrats – In the interest of time, I will refer you to the first entry in this Weekly Recap. For not doing what we told you to do, and for constantly being pussies when we needed you to have balls, Congressional Democrats, you are the Assholes of the Week.
The following is a fictional conversation that the voting public had with the Democratic Party during last year’s November elections to present:
Public: We have a job opening.
Democrats: Great! We really want to work for you.
Public: One of the job requirements is that you stop the Bush Administration’s illegal war in Iraq.
Democrats: (a bead of sweat dripping down the brow) I think we can do that.
Public: Sorry, but I don’t want you to “think” you can get you can get it done, if you want this job, you HAVE to get this done. This is what we want.
Democrats: We’ve lost a little ground in the past few years, but we are ready to come back strong, and take this on.
Public: So, you can get the job done.
Democrats: Absolutely!
[7 Months Later]
Public: What the hell was that!
Democrats: What?
Public: You were specifically hired to get our troops the hell out of Iraq, and you gave the Bush Administration what they wanted!
Democrats: It’s not like that, and we are fighting this Administration. You just don’t understand how things really are.
Public: Are you trying to bullshit me right now with politico speak, because it’s not working. You were hired to do a job with very clear instructions and you didn’t do it.
Democrats: What are you going to do, fire me? Look at your alternative, and you know you don’t want that.
Public: You’re right, we really don’t want those guys, but we don’t want you either. In fact, we don’t need any more bullshit from either of you.
Democrats: So what are you going to do? In the end you will pick the lesser of two evils, which means we will stay right where we are.
Public: You know, November 2008 is still a year and a half away, and we might be able to come up with something better than either of you.
Democrats: (snickering) Good luck.
Public: (readying the boot to go up the ass) Fuck You!
On Thursday a bird crapped on Resident Bush’s sleeve during an outdoor press conference in the Rose Garden, which is poetic justice considering that Bush has been shitting on everyone else for the past six years.
Researchers in Argentina released a study that says Viagra may help with jet lag. According to the report, lab rats that were given Viagra and exposed to the same elements that simulated jet lag recovered 50% faster. The other rats just fell asleep claiming they had headaches.
Former president and noble humanitarian, Jimmy Carter, made headlines this week when he referred to Resident Bush as the “worst [president] in history”. The GOP in their effort to be compassionate pounced on Carter like a cat on a dying bird claiming that he was irrelevant, amongst other slurs. I may not agree with President Carter (particularly his latest book), but instead of golfing or fishing, this guy is spending his retirement building houses for poor people, which is good considering the rate at which the worst president in history is creating poor people.
A pair of gay flamingos at a wildlife refuge in the UK have adopted an abandoned baby chick. Workers at the Slimbridge refuge noted that these two birds have been so desperate to have a family that they have seen them chase other birds away from their nest in order to sit on the eggs. Members of Focus on the Family wasted no time in researching the possibility of getting a court injunction against the bird adoption claiming that no fag bird is capable of raising a productive chick, and that despite designing a flaming pink bird with a weird beak and long, stick-like legs, G-d would consider this an abomination.
In Local News
June Daugherty, former UW Women’s Basketball coach and current WSU Basketball coach, suffered a heart attack earlier this week. Fortunately, she was close to a medical facility and was able to receive the attention she needed to quickly save her life. I’m a big fan of June. She was the coach at Boise State while I was there, then as I moved to Seattle, so did she, taking the helm of my new alma mater’s Women’s Basketball team. I was very pissed when UW sacked her after she delivered them a stellar record, and although she is now working for the rival team at WSU, my hope is that she makes a fantastic recovery and spends the next decade kicking UW’s basketball ass. June is a dedicated lady, and fantastic role model. If we had a little less Paris and a little more June in the world, life would be way more ideal.
Worthless Entertainment News
Scott Stapp, former vocalist for the quasi-Christian band Creed, was arrested in Florida on domestic violence related charges after his wife called police, because he came home drunk, high and violent. What I’m wondering now is, does anyone actually still give a damn about Creed? They were worthless when they were popular, and now that their music has been moved to the 99 cents bin isn’t there a better story out there? C’mon Lindsay has to be getting high and making an ass out of herself at some nightclub in L.A.
“The View” ladies, Rosie O’Donnell and Elisabeth Hasselbeck, got into it this week, when Lis decided to twist Rosie’s words using some Right Wing style punditry. Apparently Lis made the mistake of thinking she was Sean Hannity, and that Ro was Alan Colmes, which created a huge explosion when Ro proved that she wasn’t a patsy, kiss ass, bitch (like Colmes) and fired back. For the record, I like Rosie. She is mouthy, bold, and doesn’t give a fuck about being politically correct or mainstream. She says what we all want to say, but don’t have the balls to say for fear of making someone angry.
Some chick won “American Idol”, and now all the headlines are talking about her bright career. What about the guy who won it last year? What happened to his bright career, or the person who won it two years ago? Sorry chicky, but your bright career will come to a screeching halt the moment the next season of “Idol” begins. You may do the tour, but if you want a bright career, horde all of the money you can right now while you still have half of your 15 minutes left, and invest in a college education, because two years from now, you don’t want your bright career to include waitressing.
Assholes of the Week
Congressional Democrats – In the interest of time, I will refer you to the first entry in this Weekly Recap. For not doing what we told you to do, and for constantly being pussies when we needed you to have balls, Congressional Democrats, you are the Assholes of the Week.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Discrimination By Any Other Name...
I’m not a whiner, and one of my pet peeves are frivolous lawsuits that create a backlog in our court system and prevent real cases from getting the attention they need, so when I found myself on the receiving end of some hardcore discrimination, my first reaction was to consider undertaking a process that contradicts my usual modus operandi.
I’ve been working at The Facility for nearly two years. Lately, it’s been a rollercoaster with the boss’ untimely and quick death from liver cancer. The weeks that followed his passing were downright depressing. My supervisor (who I will refer to as Nan) and I didn’t care for his management style as he was a bit too much of a micro-manager, but we liked him as a person and enjoyed working with him when he wasn’t breathing down our necks. Throughout the last days of the boss’ illness, Nan and I noticed that one of our co-workers (let’s call him Freaky) was taking the boss’ imminent passing particularly hard. This made sense, because he worked very closely with the boss. However, Freaky’s behavior became more and more peculiar.
Some of my regular readers may remember Freaky from an essay I wrote about a year ago. I discussed his insubordination on a project I assigned him to, and his sick obsession with useless details.
The guy is whacked, but I never knew to what extent until the boss’ departing. The shit hit the fan about ten days after the boss had passed away when the Powers that Be asked Nan to step in as interim boss. This was the most logical move as she was the next in line on the food chain.
One of the first things Nan had to do was take on a new set of duties that she had never been cross-trained for, because the boss liked to keep his power to himself. She needed some backup, so she told our department assistant (to be known as Lee) that she was now working with her exclusively. In lieu of the boss’ illness, Freaky had taken it upon himself to supervise Lee at an extremely unhealthy level. He gave a whole new definition to micro managing, and even grilled her when he felt she took too long on a potty break. Lee was ready to give her notice and walk when Nan and I figured out what was going on, and pulled her aside to discuss the matter. We had seen this behavior with Freaky one other time when he supervised a temp. The power went to his head and he turned into a complete asshole, so this latest behavior was nothing new.
When Freaky was no longer Lee’s supervisor (which he never was in the first place), he went ballistic. He refused to do any of his work and would not give credence to Nan’s new position as the boss. He also began spending long periods of time locked in the boss’ office. My curiosity was peaked as to what he was looking at, and like a good former investigative reporter told Nan that I was going to see if anything was out of place. The boss was very anal retentive so his office was meticulous; the papers were stacked neatly by topic, and his files were labeled clearly and picture perfect. Nothing was out of place, until I opened his personal file drawer. It looked like a bomb went off in it. Freaky had plowed his way through all of the boss’ confidential files, which included personnel files on everyone in our department. Lee also confided in us that Freaky was also photocopying like crazy and downloading files onto CD, which is way inappropriate on so many levels.
The worst part of all of this came when Lee gave Nan and I an eight-page journal of her experience being supervised by Freaky. I consider myself to be a woman who has seen some appalling shit in her life, but this report was disturbing. It confirmed that Freaky wasn’t just weird, but completely fucking crazy. Nan, Lee and I spent the next week wondering if Freaky was going to walk in with a gun, and make headlines.
Nan requested meetings with the big boss at The Facility to work everything out, and get Freaky’s ass canned, because by that point, he deserved it. Big Boss talked to all parties and agreed with us at first, but at the beginning of this week, she did a complete 180. Freaky walked into a meeting with Big Boss, the Director of Human Resources, and the head of our oversight board and framed the entire situation as a personality dispute. Us three evil women were ganging up on this sweet guy who was trying to deal with the passing of a dear co-worker. He also told them he was completely unaware that the three of us perceived his behavior poorly. What a truckload of pure bullshit!
For the past two weeks, every time Freaky has got me alone he has told me that Lee was a liar, and at one point told me that he was training her his way. Would a guy who was completely unaware of his inappropriate behavior make preemptive statements and defend actions he was supposed to be oblivious to?
The discrimination part came quickly, and has left me just plain stunned. After the meeting with Freaky on Monday, Big Boss and the Director of HR have refused to meet with anyone else on this matter. They sided with Freaky, and would not hear statements from the rest of us. Basically, they took the word of Freaky, an admin assistant with less than two years at The Facility, over the word of two managers (me and Nan), one of which has been with The Facility for six years, and Lee, a person who was directly supervised by and on the receiving end of Freaky’s harassment. I checked the EEOC website, and this is Discrimination 101.
To make matters worse, Nan found out that late last year, the boss gave Freaky a 25% annual pay raise after giving him a mediocre performance review. Nan has been here for six years, and has never received an annual raise of more than 4%. The other three most recent employees (all female) and myself have never received an annual increase of more than 4%, but this guy is here for one year and gets a 25% bump with an average performance review!?! This is such a direct violation of the Equal Pay Act that a first year attorney could win this case without going to court.
My dilemma now is where do I go from here? I gave my notice now that we are California-bound, and my last day is June 8th. My sister says I should just move on with my life, but this situation is so fucking unjust. The Facility prints this laundry list of “values” on the back of our security badges that includes things like Communication, Teamwork, Trust, Integrity, but it’s all talk. I’ve told Nan that she should sue. She’s been holding this place together for six years, and they’ve let an abusive underling come in and usurp her authority. Lee is so afraid of Freaky (who happens to be 6’2” & 200+lbs.) that she’s ready to quit, and as for me, I’m just straight up pissed.
If I was staying in town, I would have already filed a claim with the EEOC, and I’d have scheduled an appointment with a labor attorney. I told Lee that if she wanted to sue I would testify on her behalf, and would even fly up as needed to see this thing through. I wish Nan would consider taking legal action, but she has had health issues and doesn’t think the stress is worth it. She wants to find a new job, and move on with her life. Maybe I should do the same, but discrimination is a hard pill to swallow. I’ve felt invisible at certain points in life, but feeling invisible, and having someone tell you that you are, are two different things.
I’ve been working at The Facility for nearly two years. Lately, it’s been a rollercoaster with the boss’ untimely and quick death from liver cancer. The weeks that followed his passing were downright depressing. My supervisor (who I will refer to as Nan) and I didn’t care for his management style as he was a bit too much of a micro-manager, but we liked him as a person and enjoyed working with him when he wasn’t breathing down our necks. Throughout the last days of the boss’ illness, Nan and I noticed that one of our co-workers (let’s call him Freaky) was taking the boss’ imminent passing particularly hard. This made sense, because he worked very closely with the boss. However, Freaky’s behavior became more and more peculiar.
Some of my regular readers may remember Freaky from an essay I wrote about a year ago. I discussed his insubordination on a project I assigned him to, and his sick obsession with useless details.
The guy is whacked, but I never knew to what extent until the boss’ departing. The shit hit the fan about ten days after the boss had passed away when the Powers that Be asked Nan to step in as interim boss. This was the most logical move as she was the next in line on the food chain.
One of the first things Nan had to do was take on a new set of duties that she had never been cross-trained for, because the boss liked to keep his power to himself. She needed some backup, so she told our department assistant (to be known as Lee) that she was now working with her exclusively. In lieu of the boss’ illness, Freaky had taken it upon himself to supervise Lee at an extremely unhealthy level. He gave a whole new definition to micro managing, and even grilled her when he felt she took too long on a potty break. Lee was ready to give her notice and walk when Nan and I figured out what was going on, and pulled her aside to discuss the matter. We had seen this behavior with Freaky one other time when he supervised a temp. The power went to his head and he turned into a complete asshole, so this latest behavior was nothing new.
When Freaky was no longer Lee’s supervisor (which he never was in the first place), he went ballistic. He refused to do any of his work and would not give credence to Nan’s new position as the boss. He also began spending long periods of time locked in the boss’ office. My curiosity was peaked as to what he was looking at, and like a good former investigative reporter told Nan that I was going to see if anything was out of place. The boss was very anal retentive so his office was meticulous; the papers were stacked neatly by topic, and his files were labeled clearly and picture perfect. Nothing was out of place, until I opened his personal file drawer. It looked like a bomb went off in it. Freaky had plowed his way through all of the boss’ confidential files, which included personnel files on everyone in our department. Lee also confided in us that Freaky was also photocopying like crazy and downloading files onto CD, which is way inappropriate on so many levels.
The worst part of all of this came when Lee gave Nan and I an eight-page journal of her experience being supervised by Freaky. I consider myself to be a woman who has seen some appalling shit in her life, but this report was disturbing. It confirmed that Freaky wasn’t just weird, but completely fucking crazy. Nan, Lee and I spent the next week wondering if Freaky was going to walk in with a gun, and make headlines.
Nan requested meetings with the big boss at The Facility to work everything out, and get Freaky’s ass canned, because by that point, he deserved it. Big Boss talked to all parties and agreed with us at first, but at the beginning of this week, she did a complete 180. Freaky walked into a meeting with Big Boss, the Director of Human Resources, and the head of our oversight board and framed the entire situation as a personality dispute. Us three evil women were ganging up on this sweet guy who was trying to deal with the passing of a dear co-worker. He also told them he was completely unaware that the three of us perceived his behavior poorly. What a truckload of pure bullshit!
For the past two weeks, every time Freaky has got me alone he has told me that Lee was a liar, and at one point told me that he was training her his way. Would a guy who was completely unaware of his inappropriate behavior make preemptive statements and defend actions he was supposed to be oblivious to?
The discrimination part came quickly, and has left me just plain stunned. After the meeting with Freaky on Monday, Big Boss and the Director of HR have refused to meet with anyone else on this matter. They sided with Freaky, and would not hear statements from the rest of us. Basically, they took the word of Freaky, an admin assistant with less than two years at The Facility, over the word of two managers (me and Nan), one of which has been with The Facility for six years, and Lee, a person who was directly supervised by and on the receiving end of Freaky’s harassment. I checked the EEOC website, and this is Discrimination 101.
To make matters worse, Nan found out that late last year, the boss gave Freaky a 25% annual pay raise after giving him a mediocre performance review. Nan has been here for six years, and has never received an annual raise of more than 4%. The other three most recent employees (all female) and myself have never received an annual increase of more than 4%, but this guy is here for one year and gets a 25% bump with an average performance review!?! This is such a direct violation of the Equal Pay Act that a first year attorney could win this case without going to court.
My dilemma now is where do I go from here? I gave my notice now that we are California-bound, and my last day is June 8th. My sister says I should just move on with my life, but this situation is so fucking unjust. The Facility prints this laundry list of “values” on the back of our security badges that includes things like Communication, Teamwork, Trust, Integrity, but it’s all talk. I’ve told Nan that she should sue. She’s been holding this place together for six years, and they’ve let an abusive underling come in and usurp her authority. Lee is so afraid of Freaky (who happens to be 6’2” & 200+lbs.) that she’s ready to quit, and as for me, I’m just straight up pissed.
If I was staying in town, I would have already filed a claim with the EEOC, and I’d have scheduled an appointment with a labor attorney. I told Lee that if she wanted to sue I would testify on her behalf, and would even fly up as needed to see this thing through. I wish Nan would consider taking legal action, but she has had health issues and doesn’t think the stress is worth it. She wants to find a new job, and move on with her life. Maybe I should do the same, but discrimination is a hard pill to swallow. I’ve felt invisible at certain points in life, but feeling invisible, and having someone tell you that you are, are two different things.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Weekly Recap 5/6-12: Preaching Pope & Endangered BJs
Headline News Recap
Pope Benedict XVI is on his tour of South America stressing a stringent form of morality that includes the excommunication of anyone who advocates, performs or receives an abortion. Normally I could give credence to the Pope with the full knowledge that his values are antiquated and amusing, but this was the same guy who greenlighted moving priests who molested children from town to town in order to avoid being sued. Tell you what Pope Benedict I’ll take you seriously when you talk about morality if you and your organization actually start engaging in the practice.
The third longest ruling head of state, King Malietoa Tanumanfili II of Samoa, passed away at the age of 94. In the news story Samoan authorities said that the cause of death was still unknown. I may not be a doctor, and have never met the King of Samoa, but I’ll go for the long shot here and say that the cause of death had something to do with him being 94.
The cremated remains of 200 people including James Doohan (Scotty from “Star Trek”) and Astronaut Gordon Cooper went missing in the mountains of New Mexico. They were supposed to be sent into orbit then retrieved and given back to the surviving relatives, but something went wrong, and now Scotty is once again exploring new frontier. Call me old fashioned, but what’s wrong with a good burial?
Next time you want to show Grandpa your cool new iPod, don’t do it! Scientists have discovered that the technology in the iPod interferes with the electromagnetic technology in a cardiac pacemaker. Wouldn’t it be a bitch if all you wanted to do was show Grandma your Punk Rock playlist and ended up killing her that would guarantee no more birthday checks.
I laughed out loud at another scientific finding this week. Apparently HPV isn’t just for uteruses anymore. HPV contracted from oral sex is the leading cause of throat cancer. Cancer is nothing to laugh about, although the thought of all of those guys who were so against women getting vaccinated for HPV panicking because it now affects their BJs is good for a few belly laughs. I will lay money on the fact that in lieu of this finding, keeping women to their morals won’t be such an issue anymore, not when it could deprive good Christian husbands of a well deserved BJ.
The White House reaffirmed its support of Paul Wolfowitz, the World Bank president who is now in deep shit for bypassing the World Bank’s regulations by giving his girlfriend a huge pay raise and promotion. First of all, this is one of the architects of the Iraq War, which means he doesn’t give a rat’s ass about regulations. Second, when the White House throws its support behind you, it means you’re fucked. Bye-bye Wolfy, don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out!
In Local News
Puget Sound Energy, the company that kept some people in the dark for up to 10 days during the big blackout, treats their employees very well. With overtime, PSE employees average $114,000 per year in salary. I’ve been wondering why I’m not running the heat since its warm, I’m not running the lights since its spring, and my fucking bill is still in the neighborhood of $200 per month.
Still no offers on my beautiful, Wisteria Lane house, but yesterday I read on Google News that Seattle is one of the top real estate markets in the country. To quote my mates in England – Bollocks!
Worthless Entertainment News
Paris Hilton going is to jail for 45 days and trying to petition the Governor to get out of it, but I’m sure you’re hearing about this little incident for the first time.
A slew of shitty movies hit theaters including “28 Weeks Later” (like the first one was a thrill), “Georgia Rule” (isn’t Lindsay’s 15 over with yet?), and “The Ex” (too many ‘women are evil’ clichés for its own good). Thankfully, “Shrek 3” will be out soon. Even if it sucks I’ll enjoy watching my little one laugh at Donkey.
Some chick was eliminated from “American Idol”. I would tell you her name, but frankly, I don’t give a fuck now, have never given a fuck, and will never give a fuck about anything that has to do with “American Idol”.
Asshole(s) of the Week
Too Many To Name Individually – Between Paris Hilton’s prison prissy fits, the Republicans who can’t decide where they stand on abortion even though it’s a deeply personal issue that only the woman contemplating getting one should be stressing over, Karl Rove doing his totalitarian bullshit, presidential candidates who don’t want to disclose their income statements because it will make the rest of us realize that they are the 1% who rule America, the Congress who just gave a big hand job to the drug companies while giving elderly Americans the finger by passing legislation that makes it harder for Grandpa to get prescriptions from Canada, the six motherfuckers who were planning to open fire on troops at Fort Dix, the wonderful Bush Regime that sent all of the disaster clean up equipment to Iraq leaving next to nothing available (including National Guard troops) when that big ass twister hit Kansas, and…at this point, I’m too fucking depressed to single out anyone else. For doing what you do, and unfortunately, what you will continue to do, you are all Assholes of the Week.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Thank G-d for Paris Hilton
I can’t believe I’ve spent so much time in life being grateful for my family, friends, and a decent home, when I should have focused all of my energies and praise on Paris Hilton.
Perhaps I’ve had my head in the sand, and overlooked the tremendous gift that Paris brings to my life. You see, my life is mundane, and Paris brings “beauty and excitement” to it, or so she claims on her MySpace site. I’m not alone in the drudgery of daily life, apparently everyone else has a boring, average, and simple life that is uplifted just by knowing that Paris exists on the same planet as we do. I am particularly envious of those regular folks who reside in California, because they get to live in the same state as Paris, whereas I have to live a few hundred miles further away.
Paris’ gift of presence to the world doesn’t just end with the glamour she brings to all our mundane lives; she further enhances our being by providing “hope to young people all over the U.S. and the world”. You hear that kids! Be grateful that Paris is willing to lend her valuable time to be your role model. She may not serve on the Board of a charitable foundation or volunteer for worthwhile causes or spend her time receiving a valuable education that would enable her to give something positive back to society, but she was the chick that made the phrase, “That’s Hot” popular.
Our socialite goddess is in the throws of a very nasty legal battle whereby the County of Los Angeles wants to punish her for violating her probation. The probation may have stemmed from a drunk driving arrest, but her subsequent violations had nothing to do with alcohol. All Paris wanted to do was drive her Bentley. Is that so wrong? The people who read her mail told her it would be okay, so that means that this whole thing wasn’t her fault. She might have been driving late at night with the headlights off, but that’s a mistake anyone can make, besides L.A. has plenty of streetlights and the neon signs from the clubs are illumination enough. It’s not like she hit someone crossing the street or killed anyone in the process of driving recklessly, that would have required an entire high-powered legal team, and she has only needed the assistance of two influential attorneys.
The thought of Paris in jail for 45 days should be a national tragedy. Yesterday she released a nicely scripted statement that said she wasn’t above the law, was sorry for her probation violations, and just wanted to be treated fairly. All Paris ever wanted was to be treated like a regular person when she entered clubs with VIP access, took private jets for travel, was whisked away to private dining rooms at restaurants, had her bodyguards clear the bathroom at Starbucks so she could use it, you know, just like the rest of us. Paris is a woman of the people, and by people, I mean anyone who has a net worth of over $10 million. The rest of us are relegated to fawning over her via the internet, magazine and newspaper profiles, watching her TV show, and listening to her brilliant CD.
My point is that all of us with mundane lives should be grateful for what Paris brings to us, and should rise up in anger that Los Angeles County would lock such a humanitarian away for 45-days whether the reasoning is legitimate or not. Forget the increasing poverty, the unjust and illegal war, the widening of the gaps between rich and poor, our suffering environment, the inadequate education system, or the off-shoring of American jobs, this country should be focused on righting this wrong against Paris.
Thankfully a decent human being named Jonathan has started an online petition addressed to Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger asking him to pardon Paris, but I prefer the other petition at www.ipetitions.com/petition/45daysforParis/.
When someone, such as Paris, is so out of whack that she thinks this much of herself, a mere 45-day jail sentence might be the big reality check she needs. What I’m wondering now is would it be possible for the media to serve the 45 days along with Paris, because their priorities and sense of what is important seem to be just as screwed up as hers.
Perhaps I’ve had my head in the sand, and overlooked the tremendous gift that Paris brings to my life. You see, my life is mundane, and Paris brings “beauty and excitement” to it, or so she claims on her MySpace site. I’m not alone in the drudgery of daily life, apparently everyone else has a boring, average, and simple life that is uplifted just by knowing that Paris exists on the same planet as we do. I am particularly envious of those regular folks who reside in California, because they get to live in the same state as Paris, whereas I have to live a few hundred miles further away.
Paris’ gift of presence to the world doesn’t just end with the glamour she brings to all our mundane lives; she further enhances our being by providing “hope to young people all over the U.S. and the world”. You hear that kids! Be grateful that Paris is willing to lend her valuable time to be your role model. She may not serve on the Board of a charitable foundation or volunteer for worthwhile causes or spend her time receiving a valuable education that would enable her to give something positive back to society, but she was the chick that made the phrase, “That’s Hot” popular.
Our socialite goddess is in the throws of a very nasty legal battle whereby the County of Los Angeles wants to punish her for violating her probation. The probation may have stemmed from a drunk driving arrest, but her subsequent violations had nothing to do with alcohol. All Paris wanted to do was drive her Bentley. Is that so wrong? The people who read her mail told her it would be okay, so that means that this whole thing wasn’t her fault. She might have been driving late at night with the headlights off, but that’s a mistake anyone can make, besides L.A. has plenty of streetlights and the neon signs from the clubs are illumination enough. It’s not like she hit someone crossing the street or killed anyone in the process of driving recklessly, that would have required an entire high-powered legal team, and she has only needed the assistance of two influential attorneys.
The thought of Paris in jail for 45 days should be a national tragedy. Yesterday she released a nicely scripted statement that said she wasn’t above the law, was sorry for her probation violations, and just wanted to be treated fairly. All Paris ever wanted was to be treated like a regular person when she entered clubs with VIP access, took private jets for travel, was whisked away to private dining rooms at restaurants, had her bodyguards clear the bathroom at Starbucks so she could use it, you know, just like the rest of us. Paris is a woman of the people, and by people, I mean anyone who has a net worth of over $10 million. The rest of us are relegated to fawning over her via the internet, magazine and newspaper profiles, watching her TV show, and listening to her brilliant CD.
My point is that all of us with mundane lives should be grateful for what Paris brings to us, and should rise up in anger that Los Angeles County would lock such a humanitarian away for 45-days whether the reasoning is legitimate or not. Forget the increasing poverty, the unjust and illegal war, the widening of the gaps between rich and poor, our suffering environment, the inadequate education system, or the off-shoring of American jobs, this country should be focused on righting this wrong against Paris.
Thankfully a decent human being named Jonathan has started an online petition addressed to Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger asking him to pardon Paris, but I prefer the other petition at www.ipetitions.com/petition/45daysforParis/.
When someone, such as Paris, is so out of whack that she thinks this much of herself, a mere 45-day jail sentence might be the big reality check she needs. What I’m wondering now is would it be possible for the media to serve the 45 days along with Paris, because their priorities and sense of what is important seem to be just as screwed up as hers.
Monday, May 07, 2007
Top 10 Ways to Honor My Dead, Gay, Control Freak Boss
After a sudden, nine week battle with liver cancer, my boss died today at around noon. He wasn’t a sentimental person and hated emotion, so the best way I can think to remember him is to create a very organized list with no spelling or grammatical errors that clearly states something positive avoiding any possibility of making anyone look bad.
Here it is, the top ten ways I can best honor my dead, gay, control freak boss:
1. Reorganize my desk putting all of the rubber bands together by correct size, group all of the highlighters in descending order lightest to darkest, and label all of my files meticulously. (He was a big fan of multiple files.)
2. Politely sip a martini, and scold that bitch of a bartender if he makes it too dry or not dry enough. (His last request in the hospital was for a martini, and my co-workers and I spent the next couple of days trying to figure out how to smuggle one in for him. We chickened out in the end, because we didn’t know if the alcohol combined with the assload of painkillers would result in a murder or assisted suicide that we could all end up doing time for.)
3. Schedule a meeting, then schedule two more meetings about the original meeting with the possibility of backup meetings to support the subsequent meetings scheduled to prepare for the initial meeting. (WTF?!?)
4. Show tunes, show tunes, show tunes. (He was a big “Chicago” fan.)
5. Take my dog for a walk with my life partner, and give couples with small children dirty looks. (He always enjoyed this activity, and although he never admitted it, he was totally the type to give parents of small children the stinkeye.)
6. Writing a scathing review of a co-worker, then micromanage even their smallest task for the month following. (Sadly, a trait he was quite fond of in himself.)
7. Go straight into the office in the morning, shut the door, and keep everything very ‘hush hush.’ (We always did wonder what the hell he was doing all day.)
8. Slot machines, slot machines, slot machines. (He did love those slots!)
9. Make fun of the other gay people who live in the same gay area of town that I do, but preface it with the statement, “My partner and I aren’t like that.” (Weird how they always seem to do this.)
10. Never hesitate to take that trip to Paris, because I’m too concerned with working a job. (Even though his job was his life, it was just a job. When he was lying in his hospital bed dying, he said his biggest regret was never taking time off to go see Paris.)
Farewell, my friend, I hope you are finally visiting Paris.
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