Boston, You're Our Home

The Stendells sang it so well...

"Yeah, down by the river
Down by the banks of the river, Charles.
Aw, that's what's happenin' baby
That's where you'll find me
Along with lovers, buggers and thieves.
Well, I love that dirty water
Oh, Boston you're my home."

Today Boston is America's home.

On a sunny Monday while our East Coast brothers celebrated the 117th Boston Marathon, terror erupted.  Individuals went from cheering for runners to caring for the injured.  Lives were changed in a heartbeat.

On Monday our nation was left shocked, scared, stunned, and heartbroken.

The week was young.

As the week progressed, law enforcement in and around Boston worked tirelessly while Bostonians heeded requests to stay indoors.  The media nearly talked themselves into a babbling tizzy.

It culminated with an arrest on Friday.  Ironically enough Friday is Patriot's Day.  Yes, April 19th is Patriot's Day.  Patriot's Day, for those of you not in the know, celebrates the first battles of the American Revolution (the battles of Lexington and Concord).  The night before this first battle was Paul Revere's ride to warn the minutemen.

Boston, we love you.

I first met Boston when I was a high school teenager.  My parents took my sister and I on a vacation to Boston so we could "learn some American history." My mother insisted we walk the Freedom Trail. All of it.

We walked in and out of over fifteen historical places while my parents seemingly read ever placard they encountered.  It was the longest walk of my life.  I complained loudly during the entire walk.

As a surly teenager, I have almost no memory of the actual historical sites, but I do remember seeing one cute Bostonian boy after another.  My sister and I were convinced Boston was the hub of all beautiful young men.  I'm now 39-ish, and I still think this may be true.
Case in point: Ben Affleck, Matt Damon, Edward Norton, Matthew Perry, Steve Carell, and my hubby.

The point is I was a boy-crazy teenager I fell in love with Boston.  It was beautiful and full of life.  I'm not sure how you can visit Boston and not fall in love with it.  I suppose it only makes sense, in some cosmic way, that I would go off to college in Ohio, find the only young man from Boston on the college campus, and later marry him.

Boston, you made America proud this week.
You are wicked pissah!

Go Sox!

Georgia on My Mind

Remember when schools were segregated?  

Me neither. I'm just such a young, vivacious thing that I wasn't even a twinkle in my mother's eye when the Supreme Court ruled in 1954 that segregation in public schools was unconstitutional.

I read about it in history books.  I know the transition from a segregated society to an integrated one didn't happen smoothly nor expediently.

BUT I did kind of think it already happened.

"We must come to see that the end we seek is a society at peace with itself; a society that can live with its conscience."*

I'm a clueless white lady so I thought overt, organized racial segregation was a thing of the past.

Yes, I know racism exists. Yes, I know racism is alive and well in the hearts of some very narrow-minded, ignorant people. BUT I thought the days of organized, overt racism were over.

That all changed when I read "Georgia High School Students Fight Against Segregated Prom."

According to the article, "The segregated prom has been a tradition at Wilcox County High School, with separate dances for each race for as long as people can remember."

Now some students are trying to change that. Yes, now as in 2013.  A mere 59 years AFTER the United States Supreme Court ruled segregation in public schools as unconstitutional.

The article continues, "The idea hasn’t gone over too well with some people. Some students ripped down signs for the Integrated Prom. Last year, when a biracial student tried to attend the whites only prom, police came to turn the student away."

Georgia, what are you thinking?

I read this article and I actually thought I was reading one of those fake new stories from The Onion.  Please tell me this is just part of some really bad joke.  Please.

"The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy."*

To the students planning the integrated prom in Georgia, you are making your community a better place. Do not be discouraged by the heartless acts of a few.  You are on the side of justice.

"True peace is not merely the absence of tension; it is the presence of justice."*

* Quotes are from Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr. They are also some of the quotes etched in stone at the MLK Memorial in Washington, D.C.

A March Madness of Another Kind

I don't exactly understand all aspects of our nation's sequester, but I know I don't like it.  
I don't understand a lot of things so this should surprise absolutely no one.

In fact, I wasn't really paying attention to the sequester news because it all sounded too familiar.  Like children in a school yard, politicians started their name calling while refusing to take responsibility for anything.  Unlike school children, they did this while making a hefty wage.

Now my interest in the sequester is growing because the sequester has impacted me.  Yes, that pesky little sequester is putting a damper on my family's vacation plans.  We plan to go to Washington DC to see where nothing gets done while well-paid, arrogant, politicians fight cherry blossoms.

I was hoping my family could go on a tour of the White House.  No can do.  The tours have been suspended because of the sequester.  Yes, those tours are part of the trillion dollar cuts.  This makes perfect sense, right?  Those federal tour guides probably make beaucoup bucks.

The realization that the White House is closed to tours got me thinking more about this sequester.  While I was wallowing in self-pity about not being able to tour a big white house, I saw this article: "Popular stipend stripped for many U.S. military service members."

My "Is this a joke" attitude changed immediately to my uglier "Are you pooping me!?" attitude.

So let me get this straight:

The sequester is automatically cutting things like college tuition for our military service men and women.  You know those folks who travel to dangerous places, miss anniversaries, miss the birth of their children, and....DIE for their country? Yeah, those folks have their tuition reimbursement stipend taken away from them.

In the meantime, those charged with fixing this problem continue to get paid handsomely for their work failures.

Here's the thing about my "Are you pooping me?" attitude. I feel like screaming, ranting, and banging my head against a wall.  Blessedly when Amanda Harrison feels like screaming, she does something a little more productive and powerful. She started a petition on change.org to right this wrong.

If you're reading this, please consider going to http://www.change.org/RestoreTuitionAssistance and signing her petition.  Then take a moment and let others know that they should do the same.

If your not angry enough to act, then read this:  http://americablog.com/2013/03/politicians-avoid-pay-problems-during-sequester-budget-cuts.html

If you're still not angry enough to act, then I want whatever drugs you are taking.

This truly is March madness.

10 Signs of the Gumpification of America

I certainly mean no disrespect to Forrest Gump, who I absolutely adore, but is America  getting more stupider or is it my imagination?  

Here are 10 reasons, in order, of why I'm concerned Americans' collective brain is turning to applesauce.

10.  Using words that aren't words like "gumpification" and expecting everyone to think you're witty and clever when really you're just a moron. 

10.  Honey Boo Boo.

9.  The belief global warming is fictional.

8.  All things Kardashian.

7.  Rush Limbaugh.

6.  Needing police to keep the peace on Thanksgiving night so shoppers won't hurt one another as they race to get those pre-black Friday deals.

5.  Mississippi (I would have said Florida, but they have Disney World and that place is awesomeness).

4.  Honey Boo Boo (I'm sorry, but that show counts twice).

3.  Facebook users who post pictures of themselves holding signs saying something ridiculous like, "If I get a million likes my husband will let me get a puppy."
Lady, here's a tip: Get the puppy and ditch the husband.  You can do it even without a million likes!

2.   Fox News.

And the number one piece of evidence suggesting our nation's dwindling intellect...drum roll...

1.   Congress!!

"I Have Chlamydia" and Other Reasons I "Love" Jon Stewart

I am a horrible less than perfect mediocre mother. 

I love my kids. I really, really, really do!  I love them more than air.  I love them to the moon and back.

You know what else I love?

Alone time. Gloriously peaceful, quiet, alone time.

I love to pour myself a glass of wine beverage and sneak into my bedroom to watch my television crush, Jon Stewart.  I DVR his show since I cannot possibly stay up past 10:07 P.M. to watch it in real time.

Over the years Jon and I have developed quite a relationship.  Jon expects nothing from me and makes me laugh at the absurdity around me.  He keeps me up to date on all the "news" I need for one day, and I can fast-forward him if he starts to annoy me. It's truly the perfect relationship.

The other night while squirreled away watching Jon, my sweet 9 year old son came into the room.  He snuggled up with me and I melted.  How many more years do I have with my sweet boy wanting to cuddle?  On the other hand, Jon was making some pretty pee your pants funny astute observations about the Mayan calendar and it's relationship with North Korea.

In a moment of parenting weakness, I decided I could cuddle with my son AND watch Jon.  Simultaneously.

Certainly this is a rookie mistake, and I should know better.  I should. I didn't.

Shortly after making this lazy parenting decision, Jon proclaimed jokingly, "I have chlamydia!"

The audience laughed, and my son asked, "What's chlamydia?"

I took a breath, and I simply told my son it is a disease.

In the next breath, my sweet son loudly blurts out, "I HAVE CHLAMYDIA!"
He then laughs hysterically a lot like Jon Stewart had just done.  

I immediately know this is an exclamation he will make on the playground, in the classroom, and most definitely in Sunday school all in an attempt to generate laughter from his equally clueless peers.

That's the night I got to talk with my son about sexually transmitted diseases.

Thanks, Jon. Thank you so much for providing me with that unscripted, awkward, parenting moment.

Jon, I don't want you hanging around my kids anymore, but in fairness, I don't think my son ever wants to watch your show again!

Who Voted for these Bozos?

I have a job. 
My job has deadlines.
I cannot just sit on my thumbs and pontificate about how much I hate my boss.
I actually have to meet my deadlines.
I actually have to w-o-r-k.
Yeah, it's rough. That's why I get paid to do it. I am not a volunteer.
If I don't meet deadlines, and instead choose to blame everyone around me for the lousy job I am doing, I risk losing my job.
It's called reality.
R-E-A-L-I-T-Y

Reality seems to be missing from our United States Congress.

The last I heard, Congress is not composed of volunteers.
They can neither compromise nor meet a deadline, BUT they continue to get handsomely paid for these failures.

They have plenty of time to meet with the press to complain about the President, taxes, other members of Congress, but they cannot compromise?

Did they skip kindergarten?  It's time to share the damn crayons. You cannot all have the red one!   Is there a time-out chair in Congress? They need disciplined.

This particular Congress will go down in history as one of the least productive Congresses in our nation's history.

Way to go!  We are all so proud we voted for you. Do you actually think we took time to vote just so we could have the pleasure of watching you totally muck up our state of affairs while we sip on $8/gallon skim milk?  Is that what you think?

I would like to propose a new reality television show called "Politicians R Idiotic, Cowardly Kwyjibos" or "PRICKs" for short.  Please brush up on Bart Simpson trivia or refer to the Urban Dictionary if you're not sure of the definition of a Kwyjibos. Yes, I'm pleased with my urban dictionary prowess.

Every Friday night Americans could tune in and see all the ridiculous things our Congress members did or didn't do in the course of the week. You know, like the time they had the giant cojones to block the reauthorization of the Violence Against Women Act and then deny there is a war on women.

Then, at the end of the mind-blowing hour, we call or text our vote for which idiot Congress person should be relieved of his or her duties.  The following Friday evening Ryan Seacrest would reveal, in an overly suspenseful manner, which lame Congress person gets booted into a low paying job in middle America.

In fact, that could even lead to a spin-off show, "Can Your Ex-Congress Person Survive Middle Class?" The answer, of course, is "No," but I digress.

I, for one, do not want to go over any cliffs.
However, if the entire Congress were to slip off a cliff, I think we wouldn't even notice they were gone.

David Gregory Must Be Stopped!

If you've not yet heard, sit down because this is going to shoot...errrrr.... knock your socks off!

David Gregory is a gun-touting 30 round magazine carrying journalist who was trying to have a rational conversation with NRA's Wayne LaPierre on Sunday's Meet the Press.  As you can tell from this article, I don't think it turned out the way David Gregory anticipated.

Apparently in Washington DC there is a ban about possessing magazines even if they are not attached to an actual gun.  David Gregory's was not attached to a gun.

And you know what this means, right?

All those politicians in DC are way more valuable than those of us not in DC as evidenced by stricter gun control laws.    David Gregory needs to go to jail for breaking the law.

Duh!  Of course, that's what it means!  Just ask the 7,000 people who have already signed an official petition asking for charges against David Gregory.

Obviously, he posed a threat to Mr. NRA and possibly to our national security. However, certainly Mr. NRA would be opposed to charges because that's a violation of the journalist's freedom, right?  This country doesn't need more gun control, right? Guns don't kill people, right? That's what David Gregory does? On Meet the Press?

I am sooo darn confused!!!!!

I would think, as a nation, we would want to create environments that allow for the safe ownership and use of guns.  An environment were we are more concerned about the safety in our schools and public areas than we are about the safety on the set of Meet the Press.

As I ponder the absurdity of all of this, I'm thinking about whether or not I need to make and sell "Free Gregory" t-shirts.  In the spirit of American entrepreneurship, of course!

Democracy Unglued

I love voting.
I love, love, love, love it!

I love it so much I wish I could vote twice, but those darn polling people are pretty sharp. I'm 92% sure I would never get past them twice.  As it is, I have a hard enough time getting through the process one time.  This is because I am nearly incompetent.

I wake up excited to vote.  Yes, I'm that person.

I race out the door and down the block to my polling place.  Ironically enough, I vote in a church. Please don't tell Mike Huckabee this or I'm pretty sure he would damn me to hell twice.  Once for voting "incorrectly" and another time for voting "incorrectly" in a church. But I digress...

I race into the polling place with my very fat wallet that contains no actual money, but every receipt or scrap of paper I've ever been handed in the last 31 days which is somewhere in the neighborhood of 5,000 slips of paper.

I know the nice polling people will need to see my ID.  I know this.

None-the-less, when asked to produce it, I cannot free it from my wallet's plastic cover.  While trying to free my ID from the wallet that binds it, half of those nearly 5,000 slips of paper decide to take flight.  They float around me like large confetti while I continue to dig and scratch at my ID.  Since I am no longer in my early 30s, no one ever asks to see my ID when I'm trying to buy my boxed wine.  For this reason, my ID is permanently glued inside my wallet.

The nice polling man says I can stop my epic battle to free my ID and just show it to him through the crusty plastic.  Brilliant!  So I do this while simultaneously trying to clean up all the scraps of paper that litter the area.

The nice polling man points out to me that my license has expired.  Whaaaat?

Yep.  Two weeks prior to voting I had the audacity to turn a year older and my license expired.  Apparently this explains why my ID could not be extracted from my wallet.  It has been nesting there undisturbed since the last time I voted.

The good news is I am still able to vote.  I just need to provide a bunch of other information including my social security number which is always a fun memory game for me to play at 6:30 in the morning.

After all of that, my moment to actually vote comes.  I love it!
Absolutely my favorite part of the entire adventure!  Uncle Sam wants MY opinion!  Boy, do I have opinions!

My polling place is "old school."  No, there's no hanging chads to worry about.
Just me, my lady parts, my ballot, and a black pen.  I carefully color in the oval spaces next to the candidates I support.

Then it happens.  Why does it always happen?
I start to have flashbacks to all the standardized tests I've failed as a youth.  I mean, come on people, there is a reason I have a liberal (no pun intended) arts education.  It's not because I nailed the math section of the SAT.

Suddenly, I am not 100% sure if I want to vote yes on Issue One or not.

Yes.  No.  No.  Yes.  Crap.

Now I'm forced to read the fine print.  Did I mention how much I hate story problems?  I look around incase my neighbor's ballot will offer me a clue it will come to me.  As I look around the polling place I realize, not for the first time, what a great country this is.

There I stand.
I'm with my lady parts, a wallet containing no money and a plethora of recyclable confetti, an expired license, and a nearly unglued state of mind.  All I have are my opinions and a desire for this country to do well in the next four years and beyond.

Despite all of my obvious inadequacies, I have a voice. I have the right and the privilege to vote.

God Bless America!

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.

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.

10 Reasons Why I Can Never Be President

Oh, let me count the ways!

There are actually a little over 16 million reasons why I would never make it as President of the United States of America.

For starters, there are at least 10 reasons why I could never make it successfully through a national debate.

10.  I cannot go 90 minutes without peeing.  I've tried.  I just can't. I have yet to see a nominee ask nice Jim Lehrer if they can take a wee little break to go number 1.

9.  I don't always think clearly on my feet. If lovely Jim Lehrer asked me what national issue is of the greatest concern, I am fairly certain I would blurt out, "Bacon shortage!"  That's right. I wouldn't even be able to put it in a full sentence. I would answer it like a contestant on a game show.

8.  I would definitely end up yelling at someone.  Sweet Jim Lehrer clearly tells the candidates there are time limits, but no one seems to pay attention to that.  I'm a rule follower.  Stop talking and stay on topic!!  I'm fairly certain I would yell this at my opponent during the debate.

7.  Neither candidate in the history of national debates has ever reached under the podium and pulled out a Cosmopolitan. I would totally do that.  Kind Jim Lehrer would tell me I have two minutes to talk about world peace and I would reach under the podium and pull out a Cosmo.  I would then likely look into the camera, smile, and say "Cheers!" before guzzling it on live television.

6.  Eye rolling is not an effective form of communication.  I have a bad habit. When I hear stupid stuff, my eyes literally start rolling around in my sockets. I am seemingly helpless to stop this from occurring especially after drinking cosmopolitans.

5.  On a related note, the F-bomb is not presidential.

4.  I do not have a single presidential-looking outfit to wear to a national debate. Clearly I don't own a red or a blue tie.  I do have a solid red dress, but I always feel like an obscenely large little orphan Annie when I wear it. I would be too self conscious to wear it during a national debate. And I would need to buy new shoes.

3.  I would giggle. Yep, also un-presidential. While my opponent pontificates about the economy, I would giggle while singing in my head, "I'm running for pres-i-dent!  I'm running for pres-i-dent!"

2.  My husband would be sitting in the front row not listening to me.  I would find this greatly distracting and would likely call him out on it.  "Hey, honey! Are you even LISTENING to me?"

1.  The debates don't start until 9 PM Eastern time.  This is awfully close to my bedtime. Unless I could wear my sexy flannel pajamas to the debate, I would obviously have to decline my nomination.

No, I could never be POTUS.

BUT I am absolutely ready to be a voter. Don't forget to register to vote!

Most Ridiculous Commercial... Or Is It?

Most Ridiculous Commercial... Or Is It?

Do you remember commercials? I forgot what they were until I started watching the 2012 Olympics religiously every night as if it were my job and the fate of all Olympic gold medals rested squarely on my shoulders.

Do you remember commercials? I forgot what they were until I started watching the 2012 Olympics religiously every night as if it were my job and the fate of all Olympic gold medals rested squarely on my shoulders.

Yeah, commercials are those televised advertisements most people use as the time to tinkle and refill beverages or we fast-forward through them (thank you to the person who invented TIVO and the DVR).

It's been awhile since I've seen an actual commercial, but I'm sad to report they stink just as much as they have in the past. In fact, they are arguably worse now than previously. Apparently commercial writers are on to the fact that no one pays attention to them anymore so they have really lowered the bar on what passes for a quality commercial.

After watching an obscene amount of television over the last several weeks, I believe I have the authority to crown the worst commercial on television.

The winner is....(drum roll)...(suspenseful pause)...

The Air Optix contact lens commercial!

A man who is old enough to know better starts the commercial off looking absolutely grief stricken. Perhaps he has received a devastating diagnosis or maybe his wife and kids have been in a horrific accident or possibly he has made horrible investments and he is about to loose everything.

Nope.  This moron just fell asleep with his contact lenses in his eyes.
He stutters the following statement, "I never meant to sleep in my contacts."

The optometrist kindly tells him "Don't worry."
As luck would have it, this idiot fell asleep in contact lenses designed to be slept in.  Somehow he's managed to forget this tidbit since the last time he's been to the eye doctor.

I have absolutely no empathy for this twit.  Maybe I'm annoyed because the last time I fell asleep with contacts in my eyes I woke up and momentarily thought I had been miraculously cured of my nearsightedness.  At no point did I consider racing to the optometrist to confess my stupidity while looking like I might die as a result of my action.

I hate to sound sexist, (actually this is a bold-faced lie.  I really don't mind sounding a little sexist) but I don't think it's an accident that the commercial features a nearsighted worried man and a female optometrist.  There isn't a woman on the planet who would show this much concern over her own eyes.  She would be too busy changing diapers, cleaning up cat vomit, and wallowing in guilt to even consider rushing her eyes to the optometrist office after sleeping in her lenses.  Hell, she'd just be thrilled she managed to sleep!

The point is, this commercial stinks.  It's horrible.

On top of it all, the pathetic, worrisome man looked familiar to me.  Who is he?

Then while watching it for the 40th time it came to me.  The man looks like Paul Ryan minus the piercing, ice blue, frightening as hell eyes.  If Paul Ryan had brown eyes, he would be doing lousy contact lens commercials.

Then it hit me.  Is it possible this commercial was paid for by democrats to elect President Obama?  You only need to watch the commercial once to know, that worrisome guy is an idiot!

It could very well be the best subliminal message ever relayed via commercial!

Achieving World Peace

Every once in a great while I have an epiphany. Something that was once confusing and complicated is revealed to me clearly and simply.

Not to brag, but the other day I had an epiphany. A pretty significant one.

Yeah, I realized how to achieve world peace.

I'm sure this is valuable information, and I'm probably stupid and naive for sharing it so broadly. I should probably call Homeland Security, the CIA, or whoever is responsible for finding the way to create world peace. I mean, really, I probably will get the Nobel Peace prize for this one. It is that significant. Consider yourself lucky to hear it from me first.

Ok. Here goes...

The key to world peace is to equip everyone with a high quality air conditioner.

There is conflict in the Middle East because they are HOT.
Hot, hot, hot.

Heat makes people rabid in their irritability. I know this first hand because my loving family of four recently spent 9 days without electricity. We were loving to one another one minute, and in the next minute, it was scary ugly. We were unarmed so no one actually died. I can only imagine the destruction that armed hot people can create.

While we are equipping everyone with air conditioners, I think we should also give every family and organized terrorist organization a dishwasher. When you are hot it is one thing, but when you are hot and surrounded by dirty dishes, it's enough to make you want to go fight with the first person you see. In my case that's my husband, but it could just as easily be Afghanistan.

Do you see the brilliance behind my plan?
Cool the world off. Coolness = peace.

In fact, I'm fairly certain PEACE is an acronym for:

P. Provide
E. Everyone with
A. Air
C. Conditioning;
E. Eliminate war

Wonder where I should keep my Nobel Peace Prize?

Perhaps next to my Pulitzer.

The "V" Word as in VAGINA

I am raising children so there is a laundry list of words and word combinations which can get you in trouble in my house.

Imagine hitting your thumb really hard with a hammer.
All of the possible words and word combinations you might say at that moment are banned in my house. This is one reason why I don't work with tools. I just can't risk the flood of profanity that would inevitably flow from my mouth. That, and I completely loathe home projects that involve tools, but I digress.

In addition to the obvious bad words, other really foul language like stupid-head, moron, and shut-up are also banned. I have tried banning "fart-face," but the alliteration coupled with the giggles makes the word difficult to ban in a house where 50% of us are children and 75% of us act like children.

You know what word is not banned in my home?
Vagina.

You want to know why?
Because it is an actual part of the female human body.

Children are curious creatures who have all sorts of questions.
It's hard to get all worked up over words that are body parts. We don't typically sit around talking about vaginas and penises, but I try not to overreact when the words are uttered. I might sweat a little and breathe easier when the questions have subsided, but I don't totally freak out prohibit our children from talking in the house for a day.

Why don't I ban the kids from talking in the house if they say the word vagina?
Well, because that is maybe the most asinine idea I've ever heard.

So help me understand why Michigan's male Speaker of the House banned two female state legislatures from speaking on the House floor because of comments they made which included the "V" word. Glad I don't live in that house!

"They will not be recognized to speak on the House floor today after being gaveled down for their comments and actions yesterday that failed to maintain the decorum of the House of Representatives."

The "V" word can get awfully messy all on its own, but I've never really thought the word itself would reduce the decorum of the House of Representatives. Isn't that what the elected officials do?

Wow! That is one powerful vagina! I mean hotpocket! Can I say "hotpocket"? What about "hoohoo"? Is "vajayjay" permissible? Oh, I'm so confused!

I can think of all sorts of "V" words that make my skin prickle. For example, varicose veins, venereal disease, vampires, and viagra give me the willies. The scariest and most dangerous word of all, however, isn't even a "V" word.

Nooooo, the scariest word is the "P" word. Politician.

When a male politician starts to make rules and laws about my lady parts, I want him to be banned from speaking in any house. Proper decorum demands it.

"Why Interacting with Women Can Leave Men Cognitively Impaired"

Hey, Men, don't get snippy with me. I didn't come up with the title of this blog all on my own.

Nope, it's the name of an article in Scientific American. You can read the article here.

No, I don't typically read Scientific American or anything scientific. I have a strict policy about that. Ironically, my husband forwarded me the article. I think he wanted to explain why he is cognitively impaired but was too cognitively impaired to articulate it.

Instead he sent me an email with the article attached.
Yes, we are married so we communicate more via email and text message than we do face to face.

As women have known for eons, it's a scientific fact that men go stupid when talking to an attractive woman. Now it's also a scientific fact that men go stupid even when ANTICIPATING talking with a woman.

I, for one, think this explains an awful lot.

Maybe politicians are not as stupid as I thought. They are just cognitively impaired as a result of speaking to women. Perhaps this is why they all seemingly hold a grudge against women and women's rights? The oppression of women is the only way of keeping us from taking over the planet.

Here are my favorite lines from the article:

"Although the studies on their own don’t offer any concrete explanations ... the reason may have something to do with men being more strongly attuned to potential mating opportunities."

Yep, men are that simple.
The mere thought of potential rolls in the hay "mating opportunities" is enough to leave men cognitively impaired. No doubt the impairment is the result of blood rapidly leaving their brains and traveling to their dominate organ.

My husband is interrupting this brilliant observation to point out that it is scientifically inaccurate ("Cerebral blood flow is well maintained during the act of...blah, blah blah").

He's talking to me, but I only listen to him when he communicates via text message.

Plus, he's cognitively impaired now anyway, right?

Rush Limbaugh: Portrait of a Man Baby

I am no more surprised that Rush Limbaugh said something offensive and rude to a woman as I am that Spring follows Winter.

I could spend the next several paragraphs outlining the offensiveness of his language and tone towards a particular woman. I could point out that by calling her a slut and a prostitute, he was showing disrespect for all women. I am resisting calling him names like bully and foul-mouthed, narcissistic, Viagra-loving ass. I could rant about his behavior for hours. I could go on and on and on. Behind closed doors I already have. Just ask my husband.

Rush regularly appears to be an insensitive, hypocritical man who lacks any moral compass. I suppose his choice of words and his erroneous analogies shouldn't surprise any of us. His verbal dung flinging attacks are nothing new except he targeted a private citizen. Someone like you and someone like me.

As difficult as it may be to imagine, once upon a time Rush was a baby who needed his mother's milk to survive. Now he's a man baby who needs the milk of advertisers.

Just the thought of Rush as an infant, created a perverse need to know more about his family. So like every other American, I turned to Wikipedia for my facts.

I half expected to learn that he was raised by a pack of wolves as this would be one explanation for his love of carnage. Turns out he comes from a long line of lawyers and judges. That's pretty close to being raised by wolves, right?

He dropped out of college. According to Wikipedia, his mother reported, "he flunked everything." You've got to appreciate a woman who doesn't sugar coat her son's failures.

His father passed away in 1990 and his mother passed away in 2000.
Rush is parentless.

With no mommy to guide him, he has become a rather pathetic Man Baby.
Look at how we have had to parent him this past week:

He says something outrageously offensive. We point it out to him.
"Rush, honey, you can't call a perfect stranger a slut and a prostitute. That's rude."

He seems unfazed by the rebuke so we start taking loads of cash things away.
No more play dates for Rush. Quicken Loans doesn't want to play. Sears and AOL decide to go play in another sandbox.

This seems to get his attention so he sort of apologizes.
Moms know this type of apology well. It lacks appropriate eye contact and is said to the ground with a tone that translates to, "Fine, I said I'm sorry. Can I have my toys back now?"

"No, Rush. You need to apologize and actually mean it."
Rush tries again. He tries three times in a row in one day alone. Only this makes Rush seem desperate, defensive, and no more sincere. Moms know that no one wants to play with a desperate, insincere child.

How all of this will play out remains to be seen. Will the pathetic Man Baby find anyone who accepts his apology? Will his friends return to play with him? Will he ever morph from a Man Baby to an actual man?

I don't know. What I do know is this:

What the sad, little Man Baby really needs right now is a time-out.

Rush, go sit quietly in the corner. We don't want to hear another peep out of you.

Leave My Ovaries Alone

If you are sensitive to the foul language of sailors, you may want to stop reading. Although I don't come from a long line of sailors, I'm about to rant vulgarly.

First, I should say that my ovaries and I have not always been on speaking terms. Those two can be scheming, conniving ladies who have caused me my fair share of pain and suffering.

As a woman who has struggled with infertility, I realize the irony of me standing up and telling politicians to back away from the birth control issue. While they're at it, they can leave Planned Parenthood the hell alone, too!

I mean really, should the Duggers be the family we all aspire to be? Really?

I have the right to do whatever I want to do with my ovaries and reproductive tract because they are MINE!! Mine! Mine! Mine! (I learned this kind of language from my children).

I suppose next you're going to tell me how many children I can have? That's really worked well for CHINA!

After that, I suppose you'll tell me with whom I can procreate. I'm totally against that. (Unless of course you think George Clooney and I should...you know...)

Listen up, politicians!

You are not the sharpest tools in the shed.
I understand that so I'm going to talk veeeery slooooowly.

If we didn't provide you with your daily dose of Viagra, how would that make you feel?
Fine? Really?
Well, how about if blood poured from your penis every 28 freaking days?
How would you feel about that, Hot Shot?

Aren't there more important issues you could address?
Given the current economic climate, for example, perhaps you could focus on the "E" word.
I'll give you a clue. It rhymes with autonomy.
Yes, the ECONOMY deserves your attention and thoughtful consideration - not my reproductive tract!
Incidentally, autonomy is what I have with my ovaries and uterus. You can leave those gals alone.

I CANNOT BELIEVE A BUNCH OF OLD, WHITE, MALE POLITICIANS THINK THEY KNOW WHAT WOMEN SHOULD DO WITH THEIR REPRODUCTIVE SYSTEMS!!

Anyone else have the urge to burn your bra in the middle of the street or do I just need to take another Midol tablet?

I suppose if we were talking about the politicians' testicles, they would feel differently.

Never mind. I'm totally wrong about that. You know why?

These politicians don't have any balls.

'Tis the Season for Politicians to Sell Their Souls

I'm making a HUGE assumption here.

Yes, I'm assuming politicians have souls to sell.
If they do, I cannot imagine they would net much, but power is everything to some.

So I thought we could have a little fun and play a game of "Which Politician Said It?"

I'm going to offer the quote and you can guess which inarticulate politician uttered it. In the spirit of bi-partisanship, both parties are represented.

Before we begin, let me just say how remarkably easy it is to find stupid politician quotes. These people are amazing. If they could produce solutions to our economic woes with the same ease as they produce moronic quotes, this nation would be flourishing!

Ok. Are you ready?

"If combat means living in a ditch, females have biological problems staying in a ditch for 30 days because they get infections."

I love this one! It's an oldie but a goody. Clearly it was uttered by a male politician and clearly he failed health education in high school. Any woman will tell you that those monthly infections can ruin a good time, but the reason I don't serve in the military is because I'm a sissy not because of my bloody infection! Thanks, Mr. Gingrich, for being so absolutely clueless.

"Today is a big day in America. Only 36,000 people lost their jobs today."

Only 36,000 and I bet not one single politician in the bunch. That's a shame. Mr. Harry Reid, you really have your finger on the pulse of this country.

"Don't blame Wall Street, don't blame the big banks, if you don't have a job and you're not rich, blame yourself."

In all fairness, I would rather blame the philandering pizza guy. Mr. Cain, do you blame yourself for your fall from grace or all those "lying" women who told those "ridiculous" tales about your infidelity and sexual advances?

As long as we are busy blaming ourselves for our lack of wealth, let's take it one step further:

"Our nation needs to stop doing for people what they can and should do for themselves. Self-reliance means, if you will not work, neither should you eat."

Hmmm? Starvation for those who are unemployed? That's remarkably sympathetic of the politician. Guess we won't ever run into Ms. Bachmann volunteering at a local food pantry.

"We have a lot of kids who don't know what work means. They think work is a four letter word."

I'd like to point out that food is also a four-letter word. No work. No food. Simple! Perhaps Ms. Clinton should brush up on her elementary spelling skills.

"I should tell my story. I'm also unemployed."

An unemployed politician? Scandalous! Well, if he's unemployed perhaps he should stop eating. Poor Mr. Romney! He's unemployed. How will he ever be able to pay his taxes?

"I've now been in 57 states - I think one left to go."

Oh, goodie! The USA is growing! If we could nominate places we want added to the US, I would like to nominate Bahamas, Belize and Bermuda. Pretty much any tropical location even if it doesn't start with a "B." I'm willing to consider selling Texas to Mexico if we need collateral. Mr. President, are you hoping to add a few more states? Was your last campaign trail so long that you actually thought additional states were added while you were busy campaigning?

"I love the smell of emissions."

And I just love politicians who support pollution. Pollution has really taken a bad rap over the past few years. I'm glad pollution has a supporter in Ms. Palin. Take a deep breath and smell the crap coming out of politicians' mouths. MmmmMmmm.

Now here is a another rather shocking quote:

"I mean, you got the first mainstream African-American who is articulate and bright and clean and nice-looking guy. I mean, that's a storybook, man."

Are you kidding me? Mr. Vice President, unfreakingbelievable!

"Isn't that the ultimate homeland security, standing up and defending marriage?"

Marriage is under attack by terrorists? Who is attacking marriage?
Oh, wait.
Is this politician actually trying to say homosexuals are terrorists? Really?!
As defined by Webster's dictionary, terrorism is "the systematic use of terror especially as a means of coercion." Coercion? Hmmmm. Mr. Santorum, are you a terrorist?

All of these ridiculous quotes led me on a mission to find one reasonable one.
The following quote from President Abraham Lincoln rings so true its frightening:

"America will never be destroyed from the outside. If we falter and lose our freedoms, it will be because we destroyed ourselves."

Enjoy Presidents' Day before we destroy ourselves.

The Sanctity of Marriage

Can we talk about sex? Wait..wrong blog. This one is about marriage so no need to talk about sex.

I hate to be the one to break the news to all of you lovely gay people. Awkward!

I just think someone needs to clarify all the outrage around the idea of gay people getting married and tying the knot.  

(Tying the knot! That expression is so apropos. Why am I only now seeing the reference to bondage and suffrage? Or is it a knot as in a noose? Hmmm...) 


Sorry...internal dialogue derailed me for a moment...back to the sanctity of marriage.

Historically, us heterosexuals have been...well...inconsistent with our marital bliss. Something like half of us say "I do!" only to later say "I did, but now I'd like a do-over!" If you're famous, the "do-over" request can come within hours of the reception.
Kim Kardashian, if your reading this please send back the lovely cutlery set.

Some of us are so supportive of marriage we do it 2, 3, or even 4 or more times in our life. Yes, marriage is that great! Our failure at marriage doesn't deter us from trying again, and again, and again. We are a determined bunch of marriage-loving losers!  If gay people were to marry successfully how would that make us heterosexuals feel?

Others of us suffer from gay envy. Yeah, I said it. Gay envy.

You already own the market on cuteness. Hello, Nate Berkus!
Everything he touches is cute, cute, cute! (I'm talking about his decorating skills here.) Once gay people start to marry, do you know what that will lead to?
Cute marriages! It's totally outrageous because us heterosexuals know there is nothing cute about marriage. Weddings can be lovely, honeymoons can be fun, children can be cute, but marriages? No way! Those suckers are nothing but hard work and miscommunication!

Then there are those who are just plain ignorant and confuse homosexuality with predatory behavior, unlawfulness and downright criminal behavior. I suppose it's analogous with the way I confuse politicians with predatory behavior, unlawfulness and downright criminal behavior.

I mean it's one thing for a man to have a wife, a mistress, and support a prostitution business on the side, but it is totally inappropriate for two people of the same gender to express their love for one another, right?

Some people just don't like the idea of individuals of the same gender having sex.
Any happily married couple can tell you there is hardly enough hours in the day to get anything done given how much sex we are all having.

Clearly marriage is the only avenue for two people to engage in intercourse, love making, the nasty, the hanky panky, a friendly game of hide the salami, pickle tickle, the dirty deed, a home run, a roll in the hay, a roll in the sack, bumping uglies, boinking, banging, bumping and grinding, and the wild thing (I could continue, but I know my mom is reading this, and I'm fairly certain she passed out 2 sentences ago).

On this Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, I dream of a society where all of us can target our hatred on things that truly deserve it such as poverty, violence, war, and discrimination.

I do.