Shame on You, Mr. Huckabee!

Sometimes while surfing the Internet I think how smart Al Gore is for inventing the dang thing.  I mean, really, the Internet is the bomb!  If it weren't for the Internet, imagine how much quality time I would be forced to spend with my family.

Other times while surfing the Internet I get confused about the news.  For example, while reading a legitimate news article I start to think I'm reading fiction.  'Tis the season to read and hear dumb shit  stupid stuff.

Well, imagine my confusion when I watched this dark, threatening video starring Fire and the scary voice of Mike Huckabee.  I really wanted to believe this was a joke or a new skit from Saturday Night Live.

Instead, I learned this is no joke.  At least not to Mike Huckabee.
Apparently, he thinks I may go to go hell after voting or at least as a result of my voting.

The Bully Huckabee wants me to believe that my vote could lead me to the depths of hell.  If I were a better Christian,  I would vote the way the bully wants me to vote and thereby skirt going to the bowels of hell.

Anyone else sense the irony?

Certainly Mr. Holier-than-thou is familiar with the following verses:

"Why do you see the speck that is in your brother's eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye?"    Matthew 7:3

"Judge not, and you will not be judged; condemn not, and you will not be condemned; forgive, and you will be forgiven;"  Luke 6:37

"Only, let every one lead the life which the Lord has assigned to him, and in which God has called him." 1 Corinthians 7:17

"Let no one seek his own good, but the good of his neighbor." 1 Corinthians 10:24

I know we are all (especially those of us in swing states) immensely tired of political commercials. ALL political commercials.

I just think its sad morally wrong to resort to bully tactics and question a person's Christianity as a result of political views the person may or may not have.

Shame on you, Mr. Huckabee.

Happy Adoption Month ~ My Best Decision

November is National Adoption Month.  How appropriate for it to share the month with Thanksgiving!

Despite how effortless Madonna and Angelina Jolie make it appear, adoption is its own form of labor. It comes in the form of countless paperwork, a home study that questions one's ability to parent, a trip in front of an actual real-life judge, and sometimes adoption even includes a trip or two halfway around the world...

My Best Decision

I wonder how many decisions an average person makes in a lifetime?  It must be shocking. Everything from the little decisions like whether to have a bagel or cereal for breakfast to the big decisions like choosing a President.

Having a child was a big decision for me. A huge decision. ENORMOUS.

That wasn't the case for the majority of my friends.  Their life seemingly followed the children's song "Cindy & Johnny sitting in a tree k-i-s-s-i-n-g.  First came love, then came marriage, then came Cindy with a baby carriage."

Stupid Cindy.

Didn't she realize how totally off track her life could have gone?  I was sitting in that damn tree, too.  I even got married, but no amount of k-i-s-s-i-n-g was leading to that elusive baby carriage. Where in the name of everything good was my baby carriage?

Babies literally seemed to be falling effortlessly into my friends' laps via their vi-jay-jays while I looked on helplessly.  In desperation, I started taking my basal temperature daily before my feet left my bed.  My hubby and I started religiously tracking our intimate moments, and soon our bedroom behavior became something I could have displayed on a line graph or colorful pie chart.

All that tracking, led to medicines, which led to stronger medicines, which led to intimate moments when my hubby's sperm was washed, and counted.  Eggs were plucked from my ovaries and introduced to hubby's sperm.  They got along well and several lovely embryos were created.

Oh the joy!  The excitement!

The crushing heartbreak.

Who knew that within my seemingly pleasant self lived a uterus who was a serial killer. Seriously, my uterus is a total bitch.

During one of several invasive procedures, I had what I can call nothing short of an epiphany.  
I was miserable because I wanted to be a mom.  I saw pregnancy as the means to becoming a mom, but what I really wanted more than anything in the whole wide world was to be a mom.  In that instant, I knew there were children who wanted a mom more than anything else in that whole wide world.  I was busy trying to make something that was already made.

In the midst of what would be another failed attempt to pro-create, we made a life-changing decision. We made the best decision of our lives.  I picked up the phone and started calling adoption agencies.

I knew my body would fail me again, and I knew what I wanted to do.
I wanted to leave the quest for pregnancy behind and begin the journey to parenthood.

Some decisions really are HUGE. I love being able to very clearly recall and reflect on the best decision of my life.

I chose adoption.

Happy Adoption Month to all of my fellow friends whose lives have been blessed by adoption.

Crack in a Crock

I am not a crackhead, but I think I now understand crackhead addictions.

I know I don't typically blog about recipes, but I've got to share this recipe with you.
You MUST make it, eat it, and then continue reading.

I admit I am taking liberty with the name, but the recipe is totally legitimate.

Crack in a Crock Dip

In a crockpot place the following items:

A bunch of cooked, shredded chicken
1 cup of ranch dressing
2 containers of cream cheese
1.5 -2 cups of shredded cheddar cheese
Hot sauce (I don't know how much.  It probably depends on how hot you want it to be.)

Turn crockpot on and cook for several hours until the delicious smell draws you to it like a fly to a big pile of horse dung.

You are now, no doubt, wondering why I don't write a food blog.  Clearly, I'm talented at this.

Once the crack in a crock is ready, get a a bag of chips or crackers.

If you're health conscious, grab some celery sticks.  Actually, if you're health conscious just stop reading and go away.  You are already judging me for the obscene amount of cheese in this recipe.  Haven't you realized life is too short not to eat cheese?  Cheese is good!

Ok, unhealthy conscious folks who I totally relate to, commence eating.

Start by putting one appropriately sized spoonful of crack in a crock on your plate.
Eat it with a chip in a civilized manner.

If you are like me, the feeling starts rather quickly.
The crack in the crock makes you start thinking like this:

It's sooooooooo very good that when others approach, tell them it tastes like total crap.  You don't want to share this goodness with anyone.  No sharing!

Add another spoonful to your plate, only this time make the spoonful at least three times the size of your first serving.  Eat the dip as quickly as possible so you can put more crack on your plate.
In fact, who really needs a plate?

Ditch the plate, grab a chip and use it as a spoon while standing over the crockpot. Remind yourself you are burning more calories by hovering over the crockpot than you would be if you were sitting down.

Now you will notice your eyes are darting around.

Is someone trying to eat your dip?
Hunch over the crockpot. Nobody's getting your crack in a crock.

Slowly reach over, unplug the crockpot and carry it to a private place. Might I suggest a bathroom or closet?  You need privacy.

While walking there you may get crack in a crock dip on your new shirt.  Don't worry.  You can lick and suck it off your shirt once you are in the privacy of your closet.

Eat all of the crack in the crock.

You WILL feel your arteries start to clog immediately, and you will actually feel the cells on your butt begin to multiply.

Despite all logic, you will absolutely want more crack in a crock.

Being an addict is tough!

Who Are These Undecideds?

Yes, voting is a big responsibility.  

I already know many of my Facebook friends are going to make the wrong choice.  I get it.  Democracy is complicated.

But I have nooooooooooo earthly idea how there are some people in our universe who still don't know which candidate they plan to support.

Honestly.

Mr. Romney sends me love letters daily.  I can't go to my mailbox without pulling out an oversized, glossy card telling me how much he and Mr. Ryan plan to do for me if I would just vote for them. President Obama visited my hometown and openly admitted he's not too proud to beg for my vote. And I do love it when men beg.

I've watched three debates and approximately 36 million political commercials.  I've watched  Saturday Night Live point out the absurdities of both camps.  The nightly news is literally stalking each campaign and giving me play-by-play updates of what the candidates said, ate, and wore during the course of a day.

I've watched as Facebook friends have "liked" political Facebook pages while other Facebook friends blasted them for their stupidity.

In other words, I can't get the mail, turn on the television, stalk view Facebook without being bombarded with political factoids, exaggerations, mistruths, innuendos, and blatant pleads to vote for a certain candidate.

How are there earthlings who remain undecided voters?  What else do they need to make up their minds?  If they are truly this indecisive, should we even want them voting?

Seriously, even my young, relatively clueless children have opinions about this election cycle.
My son reports his father, who is running for absolutely nothing, has low polling numbers.   Apparently the only way for my hubby to raise his polling numbers is to allow my son to have more desserts.  Clearly, politicians could buy my son's vote with candy and cake.  Maybe that would work for the undecided voters, too!

Hey, Prez and Mittens, have you thought about passing out candy corn?

Undecideds, it's time to decide.

And You Think You Have Problems

You are feeling overwhelmed by your job, your kids are driving you up a wall, the bills are mounting, your free-time is dwindling, and your cat continues to puke hairballs like it's his job.  You just want to shut all the blinds, curl up in the fetal position and have a pity party for yourself.  

Then you read this article about the pain and suffering some people have to endure :
Woman's Non-Stop Orgasm Too Much of a Good Thing?

Of all the lousy crap that happens to you in the course of a week, why couldn't you have the problem of non-stop orgasms?  Wouldn't that make your job more interesting?  It would add some excitement to bill paying.  Heck, even cleaning up cat vomit might be arousing less awful.

I suppose it could get annoying, but I imagine there are several of us willing to be inflicted with this disease for a couple hours days just to confirm that it's an actual problem.

Is this how men feel all the time?  Poor men.  Oh, how they struggle with this in silence!
Strike that.  Men do not suffer in silence.  They struggle loudly and unapologetically over pretty much any ailment they suffer. My hubby talked endlessly for days about a splinter he had in his finger. The splinter was removed by ME, but the discussion about the pain and discomfort continued long after the dreaded splinter was removed.

In addition to being amused by a condition that sounds enviable, the article got me thinking about career choices.  When I was growing up, I had all sorts of career options.  I could be a journalist, social worker, nurse, artist, biologist, veterinarian, accountant.

I never imagined having Jim's job.
Jim "studies the neuroscience of sexual response, and is currently engaged in studying persistent genital arousal."

I can't swear to it, but I'm pretty sure I once knew a creepy guy in college who used the pick-up line "I'm studying persistent genital arousal."

This is a real job????

I'm thinking the economy isn't as bad as the nightly news suggests.
If you can make a living studying genital arousal then there is hope for this nation's future.

10 Reasons Why I Won't Be Running a Marathon

I have friends running in a marathon this weekend.  There are really only ten reasons why I won't be participating, and I'm just sure you will understand.

Reason #10
I have two energetic children, one cat with bowel problems, another cat with a sensitive gag reflex, and a full-time job outside of the home.  Every day is a marathon.  Why would I voluntarily run another one on a perfectly good Saturday?

Reason #9:
Sweat.  Some women glow when they sweat. I just sweat. I sweat a lot.  I sweat in places I didn't know I had sweat glands.  And my sweat smells. And not like roses.  Once I got sweat in my eyes.

Reason #8
Sweat stings when it gets in my eyes, and I have a low threshold for that kind of discomfort when exercising.

Reason #7
Fear of death.  You know people do die while exercising.  It's true. 100% of people die after exercising.  It might be years or decades later, but they do die.

Reason #6
My exercise bra is a death trap. It's difficult enough to put it on dry, but taking it off while it is soaked with my sweaty sweat is a feat of athletic prowess. I've been trapped in my exercise bra in the past and it's a horrifying experience. I would have called 911, but I don't want anyone seeing me hanging half in and half out of an exercise bra that for some reason shrinks to half it's original size when soaked in my smelly sweat.

Reason #5
Is there an intermission in a marathon?  No, I don't think so.  I have needs. I need snacks and pee breaks. Since running walking traveling by foot for over 26 miles would take three days minimum, I'm a little unsure how to have my basic needs met.

Reason #4:
Crying in public is embarrassing. Yes, I cry when I'm sad, hungry, and feeling intense pain.  I'm fairly certain I would cry publicly for 24.6 miles.

Reason #3.
My bunion is the size of Texas.  That's right. I have a bunion that will not fit in Ohio. My bunion could kick your bunion's ass.  When I run, my bunion turns red and angry. I don't like it when it's angry.

Reason #2
I would get lost. I don't care how well marked the course is, after several miles of running I know I experience loss of blood flow to my brain.  All the blood seemingly pulls to my gigantic bunion. With the loss of blood flow to my brain, my brain becomes incapable of following simple tasks like following arrow signs or being able to stay on track.

Reason #1
I own a car. The last time I wanted to travel over 20 miles, I went by car.

Good luck to all my running friends.  My bunion and I wish you the best.

Hook a Left, Alumni Band!

Pssst.  Know any Ohio University Alumni Band Members?
If so, can you forward this to them?  I would be most appreciative.
Ohio University's Homecoming is October 13th, and everyone is getting excited!


Hey, Alumni Band!
Let's cut to the chase. You are in the top 5 best things about Ohio University's homecoming.

Here is my scientifically researched Top Five List.
As a psychology and English major, by "scientifically researched" I mean "my own opinion." Since I am a Bobcat, I am certain all of my fellow Bobcats will agree with my "research."

Top 5 Best Things About OU's Homecoming:

#5.  Drinking beer with friends you haven't seen in forever.

#4.  Watching the homecoming parade while drinking beer with friends you haven't seen in forever.

#3.  Hanging out before the game at Tailgate Park while drinking beer with friends you haven't seen in forever.

#2.  Going late to the game because you're drinking beer with friends you haven't seen in forever, and you know you can miss part of the first half of the game as long as you don't miss halftime.

#1.  Watching the Alumni Band perform during the parade, at Tailgate Park, and at the football game all while drinking beer with friends you haven't seen in forever.

Can't wait to do these 5 things again this October!

We'll line up along Court Street to await the parade....

What?

Are you kidding me?

Ohio University has changed the parade route?
Errrrrr....

So the current plan is to start the parade down at the bottom of a steep hill.
Basically think of it as the bowels of Ohio University.  It's a lovely spot if you're into bowels.

My hubby once rented an apartment in that same bowel area when he was an O.U. student. It's since been destroyed because it was so heinous. Even by bachelor, fraternity boy standards it was heinous. Great place to start a parade.

The route will require parade participants to walk up hill on a winding street.  I'm going out on a limb here, but that hill is pretty darn steep for 21 year olds carrying book-bags. I'm wondering how older mature alumni members will feel carrying their tubas and drums up that hill?

Alumni Band, may I make one teeny, tiny suggestion?

When you arrive at Court Street, can you hook a left?  If only for a few blocks yards.

Yeah, you're supposed to take a right thereby hardly performing at all on your beloved Court Street.
 Yeah, OU says the route has been changed for "safety reasons."
Yeah, following the parade route would be the sensible, conservative, and obedient approach to take.

Yeah.

Um. (pause)  You don't strike me as a sensible, conservative, obedient band.  And I mean that as a compliment.

You are Rock Stars!
You want to please your fans, leave a mark on the world, and be unique.
You play that funky music while gyrating and dancing.  You know you want to play on Court Street. It's in your bones!  You've been playing on Court Street for decades.  You don't want to return to OU just to play in the bowels when you can frolic thru the main artery. You want to play Court Street.

I know you do and Bobcat Nation wants you to do so, too!

Hook a left!  Please hook a left.

And while you're at it, play that funky music!