This can still be my year.

OK, I've managed to swear each day, accidently mind you, since Wednesday. But I'm not giving up. I spelled b-a-s-t-a-r-d in the car on Wednesday instead of saying it, but my husband said it didn't count because the only reason I spelled it was because our daughter was in the car. I said a couple of bad words yesterday. I just do it automatically, but I can beat this thing. I am not a slave to my vulgar language.

Can I tell you what a bunch of losers go to my church? They're the most inactive parishioners on the planet. We couldn't plan our normal Valentine's dance this year because Lent started so early and we're not allowed to plan "festive" events at church during Lent. Anyway, one of the other members on the social committee made all these arrangements for us to basically get a group rate at a really nice restaurant in town so that we could still give people the opportunity to do something nice for Valentine's, just not at church. There was space for 26 couples. Anyway, the only people going are social life people. That's six couples. Nobody responded. This is a problem we face with any event we try to put together. Can you tell me why people don't want to have fun? Quite frankly, I think our pastor does a lot to not foster a sense of community at our church and this is how it manifests. People don't feel connected to anything, so they don't participate. For instance, I've mentioned how our deacon is undergoing treatment for brain cancer in Texas. Well, I wanted to put up a money jar in the front office of the school so that we could try to get together money to buy him a portable DVD player that he could take with him while he was gettiing chemo. You know, something to just help him pass the time. Anyway, you have to ask our pastor permission to do anything because he's some kind of control freak and obviously thinks if we do things on our own, we'll end up conducting pagan sacrifice rituals at the church altar. So, I called to make sure there were no problems with us putting out the money jar and he calls me back to tell me that he called Deacon Andy (which made me mad because it's not as if we weren't trying to make the gift a surprise or anything) and said that Deacon Andy told him he didn't need anything like that because there are TV's at the hospital, blah, blah, blah. And the pastor just didn't think this was a good time to do something like that. And I explained, well, he means a lot to the school kids and it might be good for them to feel like they can make him a little more comfortable by just donating a dollar or whatever and he said, "Oh no. We've been asking for quite a bit of donations lately and the classes have projects and I don't want to pressure them into feeling like they need to donate anything else." This guy is constantly asking us for money at the drop of a hat. I don't know what he's going to split hairs now that we want to do something like this. Anyway, you get what I'm trying to say. I don't think he much cares if the parish feels connected. He just wants the money. So, we end up with low participation at church-sponsored events.

I'm tired of complaining.

Sidenote

Today is Ash Wendesday and, thus, the beginning of Lent. I'm giving up swearing. I've tried giving up swearing for Lent for the past couple of years and I haven't been successful, but this is my year. I can just feel it.

Well, that's never happened.

Something odd happened as I was getting ready to leave work and pick up my daughter from school on Monday--I passed out. That's the first time in my life anything like that has happened and I have to say it's pretty embarrassing. When I woke up, everyone on my floor had their head poking in the door looking down at me. I'm glad I didn't have drool trailing down my chin. I don't know why I passed out and the doctor is waiting on some blood results to see if there is an explanation. I personally think it had something to do with Jupiter being in the house of Aquarius or something. What was weird is that my mind was all muddled for a couple of hours afterward. It was just odd feeling drunk when I wasn't drunk. Anyway, I feel perfectly normal and I'm not too worried about it.

It's about freaking time.

Well, I was somewhat productive over the weekend. I took care of something that has been years overdue. About six years ago, my husband gave me a pair of diamond stud earrings for Mother's Day. I've always wanted diamond stud earrings and I really like the pair he gave me; however, I almost never wear them because I am afraid I'll lose them. I don't wear much jewelry and the jewelry I do wear, I put on and leave on. I don't take off my earrings when I go to bed or take a shower or anything like that. The only time I really change jewelry is if I'm getting dressed up for something or if I figure it's time to change from the gold hoops I've been wearing for a year to a pair of gold studs. Anyway, I wear a pair of cubic zirconia studs because I don't worry about losing those, but I'd really rather wear the diamonds. Now, sitting in my mother's underwear drawer for the past fifteen years has been a diamond ring I received from an ex-boyfriend when I was in college. I haven't known what to do with it. I didn't want to trade it in for something else because, as I've mentioned, I don't really wear jewelry. I did try to hawk it to get money for spring break my senior year of college, but they weren't willing to give me nearly enough to make it worth my time. I offered it to my brother to take in and use as a trade-in for the ring he was planning on getting his fiancee, but he decided he didn't want to do that. While I was home over Christmas, all of a sudden, the idea struck me: I'd trade in the ring to have my diamond studs reset in a setting with a screw-back so I can put them in and not worry about them falling out. And that's what I did this past weekend. I took the ring and earrings into a local jewelry store and it ended up being a perfect trade--the ring for the work on the earrings. I feel very satisfied knowing that I will finally be able to wear my diamond studs all the time, and that the diamond ring has finally been liberated from my mom's panty drawer.

The other interesting thing about the weekend's errands is that it got me to thinking about ex-boyfriends in general, and there's one in particular I often wonder about just because it's like he dropped off the face of the planet. His name is Andy Dutson and I dated him for about a month the summer before my senior year of high school. He dumped me, quite unexpectedly. I know. The thought that a guy could have all this and a bag of chips and not hold on to it is mind-boggling, but he did dump me. However, I've never had a really good explanation for why. Of course, we were teenagers and that's probably all the answer there is, but everything seemed fine until this one day I dropped into the music store where he worked and he was there talking to some girl who'd I'd never seen before and they seemed very chummy. Anyway, he kind of blew me off and left for lunch with that girl and I was like, "What the fuck?" Anyway, I tried calling him later to find out what the deal was and he said we'd talk about it at this place in the canyon where kids would go to hang-out and drink, but when I got there, he wasn't there and we never had the talk and he never called back. And that was the end. There are several things I am grateful for, though, despite that my feelings were hurt. I am glad he ended it like the coward he obviously was because I was getting pretty close to having sex with him, which really means I was getting pretty close to losing my virginity to him. The only rule I ever had about sex for myself was that I wasn't going to do it until I was at least 18. I was 17 at the time I dated this boy, so I was pretty close to breaking my own rule and I am sooooooo happy I held out long enough for him to dump me because if I would have had sex with him, I would have been really, really pissed off. The kind of pissed off where I probably would have tracked him down and slashed his tires and kicked him so hard in the nads that he'd sing soprano for the rest of his life. Because he knew my rule, he knew I wasn't going to have sex until I turned 18, which was still approximately nine months away, but he kept trying and my resolve was weakening with each try. So really, he was trying to get me to throw my own convictions out the window for his own selfish pleasure. Oooh, thank you lord for small miracles. At least I got a Talk Talk tape out of it. He left it in my glovebox and I didn't find it until after he dumped me. I was going to return it, but my dad said, "Hell no. He broke up with you, you don't owe him anything." Anyway, I do wonder what happened to him.

Through bits of information here and there, I think what happened is that the girl he was talking to that day was a girl he'd gotten pregnant. I don't know if they ever got married or anything. I don't know if that was even the girl. All I know is that toward the end of senior year, someone told me he had just had a kid.

Mm, mm, mm.

I haven't read Postmodern Courtesan for a few days, but I went there today and she's apparently incited a heated debate over those damn Iraqis and us imperalistic Americans. Although I've mentioned this before, I'll state a few things up front: I am a conservative. I almost always vote Republican. I definitely have more liberal-leaning opinions on social concerns, but still consider them more conservative than the "typical" democrat. I believe in religion, even though I haven't completely come to a "perfect" understanding in my relationship with God. I believe clergy are subject to the same human imperfections that we all are, and when they make mistakes and do bad things, they--and not the Church--are responsible for their actions. I believe people who are in a position to help others should. I believe common sense is seriously lacking in most people today. I believe it's wrong to call someone stupid just because they disagree with you. You should only call them stupid when they are, in fact, stupid, and do something like drink bile on television for money. I absolutely resent anyone implying I am stupid because I voted for Bush. I would never tell someone they were stupid for voting for Kerry. It's childish behaviour, accomplishes absolutely nothing, and shouldn't be encouraged. I think blind devotion of any kind is dangerous.

With that said, I don't think there's anything even close to resembling an objective press in this county. My bachelor's is in journalism and, quite frankly, knowing what I do about the history of the press in this country, I don't think there's ever been such a thing as an objective press. If you think Ben Franklin didn't have an agenda and didn't get down and dirty with the best of the muckrakers, you don't know your history as well as you should. People who choose CNN or Fox News are just choosing the "news" they agree with. I don't think either one is more true than the other. Perhaps if you watch them both, you could put together an amalgamation of truth. So I think it's stupid when people walk around with puffed-up chests thinking they're in the know just because of the channel they've got their televisions set to. You're just in a different know-zone. I believe most Iraqis are happy that Saddam is out of power. I believe people who want to criticize current attempts to establish democracy in Iraq as pointless because it hasn't been accomplished in a few months are being unreasonable. Our country's been a democracy for over 200 hundred years and I still don't think we've got it down quite right. I don't know that we ever will. But it doesn't mean I want to live anywhere else. And I don't believe American attempts to help establish democracies in other countries are bad. I believe we have become so used to immediate gratification in this country that the thought of patience being a virtue is completely lost on most of us. I consider it one of the most fortunate accidents of fate that I was born American. However, in a lot of ways, I think Americans are the most ungrateful and ungracious people in the world because we seem so uninterested in the rest of the world. I don't like to talk politics, although I minored in political science, because I think most people just want to scream about politics and use it as an excuse to ridicule people who hold differing opinions. It's the same reason why I don't like to watch shows like People's Court. I have an opinion on EVERYTHING, but I am not threatened by other people's opinions and don't feel like I need to justify my own.

But everyone else is doing it.

OK, I'm jumping on the high-class, sex-monger bandwagon by presenting my elouai doll to you all.

The hair should be longer and darker, but for the most part, I think it gives a pretty good representation of my taste and style, or lack thereof depending on your opinion.

Of course, unlike said sex-mongers wishing to keep their identities anonymous, you can see what I actually do look like to determine how close I really got. Now I know why actors get psyched when toy companies make action figures bearing their likenesses. It's fun. Although, you know, some of those action figures come out looking pretty damn scary and you have to really wonder about the artistic abilities of the person who created the initial model. Some of them look nothing like the actor, and then others are surprisingly close. Remember that Lionel Richie video where the blind girl is making the clay bust of Lionel? Well, the final product was scary looking to me and that's kind of how some of those action figures come out. You know, like a blind person sculpted it. Not that I'm trying to discount the artistic abilities of our vision-impaired brothers and sisters, I'm just saying. Maybe what made it so weird was how they actually tried to recreate Lionel's gerry curl in clay. I'm going to have to say that hair style doesn't translate very well to that particular medium.

Can a sister make a buck?

I made these bracelets called salvation bracelets for female friends and family for Christmas gifts this year. My husband showed a bracelet to this lady who owns a boutique down the street from the bank where he works and she said she'd like to sell them. Anyway, I'm trying to find a wholesale bead supplier on the internet where I can get enough materials to make about five bracelets just to see how they sell. I've got a TIN and nowhere to use it. I can't really find a site where I can just type in the number. You'd think it wouldn't be that difficult. If I'm going to sell these things, I don't want to have to pay sales tax on the components. If anyone can point me in the right direction, I'd appreciate it.

We're discussing men in the office today. Nobody understands 'em. That seems to be the consensus. Guy problems abound. That's all I'm really going to say because all the stories are too long and drawn out and would take too much energy to type.

That's a spicy stuff.

I'm sitting here drinking spicy hot V8. I am finding this much easier to choke down than regular V8, so I will be making a permanent switch to spicy. I hate regular V8, but, you know, I'm getting to that age where I've got to be really aware of the food I eat or I will turn into one big momma, if you get my drift. What's funny, though, is that the spicy V8 has five more calories than regular V8. I wouldn't have thought tobasco or whatever they put in here would be five more calories. Doesn't that seem surprising? It does to me. Not that the calories are really an issue because it's all just vegetables. It's performance review time here at work. It's not really anything I sweat because I am sooooooo wonderful at what I do that the praise does get a bit embarrassing after awhile. Although, I'll probably get knocked down a few points in the "creates a pleasant environment" section because I yell at people a lot and demand stuff. But that's OK. Really, I think people like the yelling. They like being dominated by me. Heh, heh, heh. No, but seriously, they do. Oh, wait, I've got to mark a rejection down in my submission journal before I forget. OK, I'm back.

Yesterday was '50s dress-up day at my daughter's school and I forgot, so I sent her to school in her regular uniform and when I picked her up at the end of the day she told me that she felt really left out all day long. I told her to get used to that feeling. Naw, I'm joking. I really told her I was sorry for forgetting, so I made sure to dress her up for USA day today. She wanted to wear her "Proud to be a Republican" button. I told her go ahead, but take if off if someone tells her she can't wear it at school. It's Catholic Schools week, so they're having all these special days this week. Just in case you're wondering, I am still mad at corporate America.

Greedy Bastards.

I want to complain about corporate America today. If you want to know why we disintegrating as a nation and people, it's because there's no sense of community anymore. I firmly blame a lot of this on the American corporate culture that promotes dissent and betrayal. Somewhere along the line those fat cats in suits have forgotten that their company's most valuable asset is its people. In actuality, perhaps they never thought that in the first place. But it seems to me, there was a time when people thought highly of rewarding the deserving. Now, it's all about numbers that don't mean anything anyway. Are you meeting your numbers? What are these numbers? Figures pulled out of someone's ass who probably doesn't have the first idea of knowing which "numbers" are even logical. It's supposed to all be about stock holders and their desire to see increases every quarter or whatever. Well, let me tell you stock holders who believe only looking at today is going to get you anywhere, you are participating in your own downfall by thinking more about the money than the people. If people have to lie and fabricate figures to satisfy your greed, know that very soon it will all come crashing down around your head. Everything in life is cyclical. You can't always go up, there are times you're going to fall. This is just common sense, yet entire corporations base their action plans on the impossible. In the meantime, they drain their workforce of any desire to produce because they know it just doesn't matter what they do. I want to know why the CEO's and CFO's and all the rest of them aren't the ones really held accountable. If you shit on people, that's what you get back. It's really a no-brainer, but I guess once you start pulling in a multi-million dollar salary, common sense and decency don't have place in your life. Case in point, I called Dish Network to discontinue HBO service. I did this because Dish Network raised our monthly bill, again, and I don't think it's worth spending $70.00 a month on television. Anyway, they charged me five dollars to flip the switch that turns off the HBO. That's bad business and I'll tell you why. I don't feel very good feeling toward Dish Network right now, so already, they pissed off the customer. I have no desire to ever reestablish additional programming in the future if I know I'm going to be penalized if I don't want it anymore. Now, the only person I have access to is the guy who answers the phone when I call the 800-number. Who am I going to take my frustration out on? Of course it's him. Did he have anything to do with the five dollar increase which led me to discontinue my HBO? No, but I told him it was wrong to punish me for not getting programming. He said the logic is that they charge anytime someone discontinues service that results in the company receiving less money. It's only free if you actually end up paying more money. I told the customer service representative to take my five dollars and go buy an extra pack of Ding-Dongs out of the vending machine. Who made this decision? The yo-ho in the suit who could give two shits that they've now alienated a customer and created strees for the poor customer service representative who has to deal with the alienated customer. It does not cost five dollars to flip a switch, I don't care who you are. But this is just an example of a larger problem. Wake up, you over-bloated blood-suckers. If you dick over the people, you really dick over yourself. I watched Harold and Kumar Go to Whitecastles over the weekend and there was a line in there I liked a lot that went something like: "The universe tends to unfold exactly as it should." So what that means is all those greedy bastards are going to get sucked into black holes that will crush them into peanuts.

Oh, my sciatic!

I had the ergonomics guy in yesterday to evaluate my chair and computer set-up because my back and neck are always killing me. I've got a bad back anyway, ever since I injured my back in gymnastics as a girl, but I thought these guys have got to do something to help me out. Apparently my monitor was too low and my chair too far away from the keyboard and my posture sucks. I could have told them all that. What I was really hoping for was that they'd order me a Mac Daddy chair that would,you know, vibrate and stuff. But no, these cheap bastards set my monitor up on two reams of copier paper and tightened the bolt on the bottom of my chair so the back wouldn't rock back. I wanted a new chair. They have these massage chairs at Brookstones that are AWESOME. I know you all know what I'm talking about. The chairs that give you the deep muscle rub. We were testing some out over Christmas. You don't ever want to get out of those chairs because they just feel so good. There was this foot massage thing, too, that I really liked. If I had that foot thing, I'd bring that into work and use it all day long. It kind of hurts, you know, with those nubs pushing into the bottom of your feet, but it's good pain. Ooooh, yeah. Good pain. See, I'm typing right now with the wrist rest thing on my keyboard raised up and now it's making my shoulder hurt to have my arms in this position. Thanks ergonomics guy. Thanks for nuthin'. I have one friend who's a graphic designer and she told me when she worked at this one newspaper, they totally gave everyone their own personalized, ergonomically correct workspace so that everyone had their own comfort pod. That's what I wanted. I wanted the comfort pod. Oh well, guess I'll order some stuff out of the office supply catalog to ease the pain.

We've only just begun to live. Something, something and promises.

I forgot to mention yesterday that over the weekend, I was singing some mean karaoke with the awesome karaoke microphone my mother gave me for Christmas. I've mentioned the mic before, if you recall. Anyway, I'm singing some mean karaoke Saturday night and my daughter falls asleep on the couch because she's drugged up with Dimetapp. The really amazing thing, though, is that she stayed asleep while I continued singing. At the top of my lungs. So, very loudly. She slept through the entire thing. She slept through my renditions of Fly Me to the Moon and Dream On, which ended up causing me severe vocal cord injury. After singing Dream On and then Dude Looks Like a Lady, I have put to rest any misguided notion that there is another human being on this planet--other than Steve Tyler, of course--who can actually sing an Aerosmith song without having their head explode. So hat's off to the Dimetapp. That stuff's the Bomb, G.

Hey.

I'm tired and I really don't feel like talking but I didn't post anything on Friday because I was too busy, so I'm making myself type a few words today. Went to a reading Friday night with my husband. It was good. We only got about a foot of snow over the weekend, which has pretty much been shoveled out of the way. However, there was enough snow to cancel my daughter's cheerleader camp and she was pretty bummed about that. My husband took her sledding to the park across the street to help her get over her disappointment. Did the Boy Scout pancake breakfast at church yesterday, and, oh my God! When did I end up in an episode of the Twilight Zone where all of a sudden I'm in the middle of the Andy Griffith Show? Cheerleader camp? Sledding in the park? Pancake breakfast? I think I'm going to have to go vomit up all the saccharin I apparently consumed over the weekend.

You just never know.

When my husband came home last night he told me how he had basically been the first person on the scene right after the first of these two accidents.
Fatal accident
He'd been anywhere from thirty seconds to a minute behind the crash when he stopped; a person travelling the opposite direction stopped, too. The other person ran to the truck, where the driver was still alive, but basically trapped in the vehicle, and my husband ran to the minivan where he discovered the driver was dead. Needless to say, it shook him up pretty bad. He said he'd never seen a dead person before and it was a shock to him to realize that the man was not alive.
"He looked like he was just sleeping," my husband told me.

He said it wasn't particularly gory or anything and, if he had to guess, he'd say the driver was killed by a broken neck beacause his head lolled off to the side in a weird way. Anyway, once the rescue crews arrived and assessed the situation and asked my husband if he'd witnessed the accident, he left to come home. He told me he felt very sobered by the whole experience and it made him realize how frail life is. My husband explained that he said a prayer for the dead man's soul, but what else can you do?

Once when my family was driving to visit my aunt for the day, we drove by a bad accident that was still being sorted out by the authorities. As we drove by, I say a sheet-covered body on the side of the road pulled some distance away from the accident scene. I was still in college at the time, I think. Anyway, that shook me up, as well. I didn't see the man's face or anything, but you could see his boots sticking out from under the sheet. At any rate, it just makes you think that you just never know when your time is up and these sorts of encounters should remind us to live every day without regrets.

I have nothing to say today.

I have nothing to say today, but I already told you that. There's some interesting family drama going on right now. As I've mentioned, my brother got engaged over the holidays and I really think my mom is freaking out. He's the baby and the only boy, so in some ways, this is really the last chick leaving the nest. Because of this, my mom is really looking for reasons to be disappointed in my brother's choice. She's got to look for reasons because there are no glaringly obvious reasons to think my brother's fiancee is unacceptable. And deep down, I think my mother realizes this. She knows deep down that his fiancee is a smart girl with a good head on her shoulders and that she's exactly the kind of girl my brother needs to keep him in line. Anyway, she complained to me that "this American girl" doesn't know she's not supposed to call me by my first name. In Korean culture, you would never address your elders by their first name. Everyone refers to everyone else in regards to their relationship to that person. If you are younger, you call people by a certain name. If you are older, you call people by a certain name. If you are only acquaintances and older, you call people by a certain name. If you are family and younger and are from the father's side of the family, you call people by a certain name. You get what I'm talking about here, right? But what you almost never do is actually call a person by their name. Now, in American culture, it is perfectly fine to call people, whether they're older or younger or family or not, by their first name. So, my mother is upset that my brother's fiancee calls her by her first name. I told my mother she cannot be upset about this because my brother's fiancee cannot possibly know any of this unless my brother tells her. I explained she's not being insulting in American culture and why would my mom expect her to know that it's any different in Korean culture. I told my mother if she's going to be upset with anyone (which she shouldn't be anyway), my brother should bear most of the responsibility in this situation. But like I said, I think most of this is fueled by a sadness in my mother that her baby is starting his own family.

So I told my brother all of this yesterday and now he's sad because he thinks if he tries to tell his fiancee about these things that it's all just going to alienate her from the family. I don't necessarily agree with this. In some ways, I don't think my brother is giving his fiancee enough credit for being the rational person she is and realize that she can probably process this information in a thoughtful manner. I told him he has to at least let her know this sort of stuff is happening so she can understand the situation better. I'm sure it's all really none of my business in the long run, but I am tired of always being caught in the middle of stuff. My mom freaked out a bit when I got married, too. We ended up having a fight the night before my wedding and my father laughed at us and said he knew it was coming and then my mom got mad at him for laughing at us and trying make it seem like we were trivial. It's the nature of weddings, I think. Everyone loses their mind. However, I am concerned in a general way that my brother seems to think he cannot share everything with his fiancee because as far as I'm concerned that is one of the most important elements of having a successful marriage. In this case, success being defined as continuing to stay married while still respecting and loving your spouse and not wanting to punch them in the face everytime you look at them. (Although, I must confess that there will always be occasional times when you feel like you can't keep yourself from punching your spouse in the face beacause, dammit, what rational person looks at the crumbs they've left on the counter and just leaves them there?) You cannot keep secrets from each other. You have got to be as forthcoming with the information as possible. If you don't, that indicates at some level to me that you are not completely comfortable with yourself when you are with this person and you are not confident enough in that person's acceptance of you.

Korean mothers

I've been reading Angela's book manuscript and it's funny to read about the way she portrays Koreans mothers because it's such a familiar picture to me. I think there's something to be said for mothers who lived during the Korean war, as mine and Angela's did. In some ways, my mother will always be the little girl who had to struggle to get food and help her family survive because there was nothing. People in this country don't really understand the hardship of war and how that affects one's outlook on life.

My mother and father have a pretty comfortable life, but my mother is always a little bit scared that it's never enough. This part is obviously more about having lived during wartime than being Korean, but I still view it as being a Korean thing. Anyway, some of the things that happen in Angela's book between the protagonist and her mother are like scenes ripped right out of my memory. You just don't realize when you're living your life that it might parallel someone else's so closely.

Anyway, I always had a sort of a buffer zone between me and the rest of American society because my father is American. I didn't come from a purely Korean outlook the way my full Korean cousins did. In a lot of ways I defintiely see the world in terms of what's American and what's Korean, but I didn't have to readjust my thinking in too many ways to realize how I was supposed to be in either world.

I told you, you have to glide.

It's funny to watch children behaving like old people. My daughter had one of her school friends over for a playdate yesterday. This particular friend is a boy and my daughter basically considers him her best friend at school. I think I've mentioned him in the past. Anyway, so he was over for a playdate, my daughter's first, in her mind. She apparently doesn't count the numerous times she's been over to friends' houses in the neighborhood or they to ours because "that's just playing." For most of the afternoon, they played Gamecube and gameboy. There have been times in the past when I'm in the que waiting to pick up my daughter that I watch the way she intereacts with her friend, and I've seen her fix his collar and things like that. It's all very cute and they look like an old married couple. However, I've never heard them have a conversation until yesterday and it went something like this:

(Discussion while playing Spyro on Gamecube.)
Ma: I told you, you have to glide.

Pa: I know what I'm doing wrong. You don't have to tell me.

Ma: Go that way, Pa. Go that way. Do you want me to do it for you?

Pa: I know what I'm doing wrong. You don't have to tell me.

Ma: I'm just trying to help you.

Pa: I know what I have to do. A-ha, see there? I told you I knew what I had to do. I wasn't pressing the Y button.

Ma: I could have told you that.

Pa: Just let me do it.

Listening to this conversation scared me a little bit because it sounded eerily like conversations my husband and I have. This is making me think that perhaps we are hardwired to have these conversations with members of the opposite sex. We obviously pop out of the womb thinking the opposite sex is moronic.

Friday, once again.

So here we are at another Friday. I'm cold, so cold. Vital signs shutting down. Did I mention I hate winter? My sister's Christmas gifts to us arrived last night and my daughter nearly had a coronary when she opened her gift: a gameboy. She's wanted one for awhile, so she was pretty psyched, to put it mildly. She nearly peed her pants when she first opened the game and then realized the other package had to be the unit. She screeched and lovingly fingered the gameboy with the adoration of a priest to the host. She said, "This is one of the happiest days of my life." Why can't adults be so easily pleased? Although, I suppose if someone where to give me a mini Ipod, I'd be pretty ecstatic myself. Who could imagine that we'd get so much pleasure from a battery-operated device? Uh, hmm.

Renee, one of the grad students working with me this year, left a little surpise for me on my desk. She made me a a placard with the title, "Supreme Ruler," burned into it. It's AWESOME. I'm going to put it over my desk so all may remember the glory of me. :-) It's actually an inside joke of sorts. When I was hired as executive editor to NDR, they wondered what my title should be and I told them, "I want to be called Supreme Ruler." They laughed because they thought I was joking and then I assured them, "I'm serious." Then they stopped laughing and coughed uncomfortably and said, "Hmm, executive editor, that sounds good." So there you have it. But now with my true title restored, I can conquer the planet and have my way with all of humanity. Ha, ha, ha. (this is evil, maniacal laughing, by the way.)

Women don't perspire, they glow.

But I straight out SWEAT. In an attempt to squeeze in even the most miniscule amount of exercise into my busy, busy day, I walk up the stairs to my office every morning. I'm on the top floor of my building (eleven stories), so I use footpower. I started doing it after I noticed how slim a woman who works on my floor was getting and she said she just started walking up and down the stairs twice a day. I said, "That's all?" She said she's also watching what she eats, but that the stairs was it for exercise. I don't do it twice because I figure my jogging makes up for it. Anyway, by the time I get up here, I'm sweating pretty good. It's not even because I'm that exhausted or anything, I just start to sweat quite profusely when I do anything physical. I also get really red in the face so people sometimes think I'm ready to pass out, which I'm not. I don't know why it happens, but it just does. Anyway, sweating when you're exercising and you don't have anywhere to go afterward is one thing, but sweating at the beginning of your work day is kind of gross. I have to strip down to the least level of deceny and sit here for about ten minutes drinking water and waiting for the sweat to evaporate. I will say this much, though, I've definitely noticed that jogging is much easier since I've been taking the stairs. I don't know if it's improved my cardiovascular health or what, but muscle fatigue stops me before breathlessness does these days.

On different topic entirely, I don't often worry too much about celebrity lives, but what's the deal with Jennifer Aniston divorcing Brad Pitt? She's obviously on crack cocaine. I mean, damn girl, that's Brad Pitt. You crazy? What makes me sad about it is that it seems the only reason they're getting divorced is because she doesn't want to have children. Now, not that I think a woman should ever be pressured into having children when she doesn't want them, but if her reason for not having children is because she thinks it's going to ruin her movie career, I've got to question her maturity. Actually, if that is her reason for not having children, it's better she doesn't have them because she doesn't have the emotional maturity to be a good parent. Children don't have to ruin your career; although, they definitely do change it. Also, isn't this one of the most basic things men and women are supposed to figure out before they get married? I feel especially sorry for Brad Pitt, he just wants a family. Is that so wrong? If only I wasn't already taken, Brad. I could make your dreams come true. Come to me, Brad. Let me calm your troubled heart. I don't care about my movie career.

It's too girlish for me.

"I felt disgusted today because I had to wear a ballerina outfit." This is what my daughter told me when I picked her up from school yesterday.

"Why did you feel disgusted?" I asked.

"Because it's too girlish for me," she replied.

I said, "You know, you can take this not wanting to be girlish thing too far."

"I can?"

"Yes, you can."

Somehow she's gotten it in her mind all things girl are bad. I don't mind that she's interested in things that are stereotypically perceived as being enjoyed by boys, but I am concerned that she might be equating girlishness with undesireable. That's not good. What's really interesting about all of it is that even though she thinks she just likes "boy" things, she tweaks them in a decidely feminine manner. For instance, the whole dragon obsession. She wants to play with the dragons, but she wants to play with them in a way where there's a mother and a father and a baby dragon, and the mother dragon and father dragon take care of the baby dragon. So really, she's just substituting the dragons for baby dolls, which is fine. No worries there. We got her these Fire & Ice dragons figures that come in eggs, so they hatch. She likes to take one of the empty eggs and put her stuffed Norbert (of Harry Potter fame) doll into it and then pretend it's hatching and that she's its mommy. So, I'll be watching the situation to see how it develops.

In other news, my sister called me last night because she just put our Christmas presents in the mail and she wanted to vent a bit about how our parents keep making her feel guilty about the fact that she doesn't often visit them. I love my parents, but they play the guilt card with the skill of a sharpshooter. Not that they'd ever fess up to it. Of course, I think a little bit of the guilt is warranted on my sister's side because she doesn't get to see them often. But for all the complaining they do, my parents could just as easily go out to see my sister if they really wanted. So what we've got here is a battle of wills between them and I think they're all just trying to see who cracks first. Personally, I'm getting tired of the pettiness coming from both sides. Life is too short to try and "win out" in a battle like this because, in the end, nobody wins. The end result is that no one gets to see anyone and that's that.

You could be a farmer in those clothes.

Hey everyone. I was out sick yesterday, so no post. However, as you see, I am back to work and well--relatively speaking. I've been struggling with where to put all my daughter's toys from Christmas. She has an obscene amount of stuff for a seven-year-old. This year we went to my parents' house (as I've mentioned) and my mom and dad gave her presents out the ying-yang. So, I have nowhere to put them. She's got dragons and wildlife animals all over the floor of her room. It was interesting doing the Santa shopping this year because she wanted dragon and pokemon stuff. When we checked out at Toys-r-Us, all we had was stuff you'd think was for a boy. However, we try to tell her there is no such thing as boy's toys and girl's toys and that they're all just toys. She gave all her Barbies away to her school last year. She kept all the playsets, though, because she likes to use them for her pokemon figures and animal figures and whatever else she has. When she asked for the dragons this year I told her it would be really funny if she had the dragons attack all her My Little Pony ponies. She got the My Little Pong castle and several ponies for Christmas last year. Anyway, she thought it was a pretty good idea, too. I think she's planning the battle as I write this. I'm sure in the end, the carnage will be unspeakable.

Do you want to know what sucks? Delivering girl scout cookies in bad weather. That's what I've got to do now. All the orders came in and we've got to schlep around in the muck and slush to deliver them to everyone. Really, it sucks major donkey dicks. I wish I could just have everyone come to my house and pick them up. That would be cool.

I hate winter.

There was a time when I enjoyed winter, but that time's gone. Maybe it's just Indiana, but winter just sucks now. I looking at the snow. I feel like I'm looking out upon a desert. Actually, I can pinpoint exactly when I started hating winter. It was the winter of 2000. It was the suckiest winter of human history. It was so cold for so long, and it took forever for the snow to melt. Everyday you woke up and there was more snow. It was a pretty bad winter all the way around because everyone ended up with these wicked ice dams on their roofs and caused a lot of water damage when it did finally warm up and things started to melt. That happened to be the winter we bought our house and got to experience such joys of home owernship. We hadn't even moved into the house yet and we ended up with all this water damage that had to be repaired before we moved in. And, of course, insurance never covers all of it, so right up front we had to shell out some bucks we hadn't been anticipating. That was a very traumatic winter for me. I've lived through three major blizzards in my life, and none of those winters was as bad as that winter here. I wish I could find a place where it's like autumn all year long. That's the season I like best. It's just cold enough to put on a sweater, but everything is still pretty mild. So you're not too hot and you're not too cold. It's perfect. Where in the world is a place like that? I want to know. BTW, for any of you wondering, New York escort decided to pass on the interspecies copulating, much to everyone's relief.

Now that's what I call a rack.

My husband and I were watching this plastic surgery show on Discovery Health Channel last night that showcased a 50-something woman with size 38 double I breasts who was getting a breast reduction. You read that right--38 double I. I as in igloo or Istanbul or isthmus. Do you know how large a pair of size 38 double I breasts are? They're HUGE! Mutantly huge. Her bras had to be specially made and were 72 inches around. They had to install teflon shoulder pads in the straps so they couldn't cut into her shoulders. These things hung down around her stomach, they were so large. Of course, she suffered from back pain, headaches and chronic rashes because of carrying around such a load everyday. Anyway, after the surgery, during which the doctor removed over 11 lbs of tissue, she was still left with E-cup breasts. I don't know, if you're going to get them fixed, get them fixed. I would have had the doctors cut them down to at least a C-cup. I mean, they were still pretty large afterwards. Apparently, this went over well with her husband who dubbed himself a "boob man." No shit, Sherlock.

What's really amazing is that she lived with these monstrous things for soooooo long. She said part of the reason was that she was afraid of surgery. I can appreciate that because the thought of people cutting off parts of your body is scary. But for the ever-living love of God, I can't imagine carrying around so much weight on my chest. The thing is that all the weight of her breasts were really stretching out her skin, the part of her skin right at chest level. The skin hung down a good six inches before you even began to hit the bulk of her breasts. It wasn't a pretty sight.

I was reading a little of New York escort's most recent post in which a regular client offered her at least $10,000 to have sex with his dog while he watched. She doesn't really want to do it because, appropriately, the idea of having carnal knowledge of a dog sickens her. However, she is so tempted by the idea of a large payoff that she's got 1% of hesitancy over the whole deal. She's asked her readers for advice. Most of them have come in on the side of BAD IDEA. But it raises some interesting questions about the power of money. She says the idea disgusts her, yet she's willing to entertain it because of the money. Personally, I don't think one should ever compromise their values for money because that's more akin to selling your soul than selling your body. This flesh and blood case is finite, but the soul--depending on your belief system--is infinite. To think you can exchange it for the corporeal is unfortunate, to say the least. But even if none of that matters to you, I am going to go out on a limb and suggest that as a general rule of thumb, screwing a dog (literal and figurative) will never make your life better.

The next generation of karaoke.

I almost forgot to mention the best present I got over the holiday--a Leadsinger karaoke microphone from my dear, dear mother. I've never talked about my love of karaoke before, but trust me when I say it's real, it's deep, and it's eternal, just like a mormon binding ceremony. Anyway, if you're unfamiliar with Leadsinger, which bills itself as the next generation of karaoke, you're truly missing out on one of the more magical modern inventions out there. It's endorsed by the lovely and multi-talented Debbie Gibson of '80s pop music fame. So how could you go wrong?

Bascially, everything you need is in the mic. You just plug the microphone into your television and the words appear on screen and the music plays. As simple as that you're dancing on the ceiling with Lionel or giving Celine a run for her money. I don't want to go so far as to say it's a religious experience, but it comes awfully close, I must say. My husband, daughter and I spent the evening singing, and I really think we've got a shot at being a real-life Partridge Family. No joke. We're that good.

There's no such thing as too much power.

Ya know, my brother seems to think I can't handle my power tools. One of the things on my wish list is the Paslode 900600 Impulse Angle Finish Nailer. He said he briefly thought about getting that for me for my Christmas gift but changed his mind because he thought it was "too much tool" for me. I'm like, what? There's no such thing, Jack. The manufacturer's description is below:

Get powerful fastening with the convenience of a hammer when you use this cordless finish nailer from Paslode. It drives 1-1/4- to 2-1/2-inch nails into the hardest woods allowing you to complete a variety of finish applications with one tool. Only 4.9 pounds with battery, this nailer features a depth-of-drive wheel with probe position indicator that provides precise control of nail depth in hard or soft wood, an angled magazine for easy access to corners and tight spots, and a lockout features that locks the tool at 10 nails to prevent blank firing and damage to wood surfaces. NOT recommended to be used above 5000 feet or below 20 degrees F.

I don't understand what comes across as being too powerful. I need this nailer so I can put up some crown moulding and other things I've been wanting to do around the house. I am strong, like horse. I need tools just as strong. So he got me a shirt instead. Also something from my wish list so just as appreciated, but I am not a delicate flower who can't keep up with the big boys. I want to be able to hold up the moulding and, BAM, nail that sucker in place. I believe I am justified in my choice of equipment.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

K, so I'm back and work. And, of course, to make me super happy to be back, it's wet and grey and gloomy outside. Yay, I'm back in South Bend. Yay. We got back to town on Saturday and learned some shocking news yesterday. The deacon at our church has brain cancer. Everything happened while we were on vacation so we didn't get the details, but basically, they've flown him back home to Texas where oncologists there will treat him. Needless to say, everyone is praying hard for him. He is such a swell guy. He's only a couple of years younger than I am, which makes it even more distressing because he's so young. He's the pastorial council member on the Social Life Committe with me, so I've gotten to know him pretty well. Just to let you know how cool a guy he is, he makes jokes about Viagra. Anyway, they found the tumor because he was experiencing some numbness in his hand and they did an MRI just to see what was going on. That's when they found the growth; however, they didn't expect it to be cancerous because he's so young. But the biopsy showed that it was, indeed, malignant. As if it couldn't get any worse for him, it's a fast-growing tumor. It's just really shocking to find out something so terrible about someone so good. Anyway, if you feel so moved, spend a couple of seconds sending some good thoughts up to the big guy for Deacon Andy in Texas. I'm sure God will know who you're talking about. Plus, it's good karma. One day you might need a stranger to pray for you. And, seriously, he's one of the good guys and we still need him here.

We also had some tense days over the break because my brother's fiancee's housemate was on vacation in Sri Lanka when the tsunami hit. It took a couple of days before Christina (my brother's fiancee) could get in touch with her housemate's parents to find out that she was OK and trying to get back home. But still, it's overwhelming to think about the level of devastation. Some of the stories coming out of that whole thing. You know, it's like a nuclear bomb went off for those people. One second everything's fine and the next, everything's just gone. We humans think we are in so much control of our lives, and really we're not. It's sobering to say the least.

My New Year's resolution is always the same: get current passports for the three of us. This has been my New Year's resolution for about the last five years. You never know when you might want to just take off. Anyway, it's something I've got to do. This year will be it. I feel it in my bones. Happy New Year everyone.

I'm still in DC.

Hello, kiddies.
Still here at my parents' house in DC. I'm waiting for people to finish showering so I can get in the shower myself. Yeah, that's right, I'm stinking right now. It's been a good trip so far. We were lucky because my husband didn't have to work half a day before we left, so we were able to get on the road at an early hour. We're actually heading to Baltimore today to visit with my aunt. I don't get to see her too often, so this will be a way to get some quality time in. I wish I had something really exciting to talk about, but I don't. I've been sleeping a lot, which for me is exciting. My daughter has just walked into the room. I'll ask her a question.

KC: How are you enjoying vacation?

Little KC: Happily. You could kill an ox with this (she says about the pencil she has just sharpened.)

The child has left the building. So, really, I'm just wasting some time right now. We'll probably have our New Year's dinner on Friday because we want to hit the road on Saturday so we can rest a day before it's back to the daily grind. My brother and his new fiancee are here, as well. Everyone is excited about the engagement and the wedding next year. They haven't set a date yet, but they know it'll be next year sometime. I got my hair cut the other day, that's pretty exciting too. Well, I guess that's about it for now. I really wish I had something witty to say.

Last day.

So here I am sitting in my office with nothing to do. Magazine's out the door. Checks have been deposited. So, I'm just sitting here. Doing nothing but sitting. Did I mention I'm just sitting here? The good thing is I only have to stick around until noon or so. Then I can go home and clean the house before we take off for DC. There's a major storm heading through our part of the country and it's heading east. I hope most of it is cleaned-up by the time we have to hit the roads. One year, when my sister still lived in Madison, WI, which is only about four hours from South Bend, we were driving up for Christmas. There was a bad snow storm that day and, in the end, it took us twelve hours to get to her house. My daughter was only a couple of months old and if you wanna talk about a sucky-ass road trip, that was it. We actually ended up passing my parents on the road, who had driven from DC. That ended up being a good thing because my father got a flat tire in the last stretch of the trip when we were on the back roads to my sister's house. If we hadn't been with them, who knows how long it would've taken them to finally get to my sister's house. So you see, God's always looking out for you. Anyway, I am hoping that tomorrow doesn't prove a reprise of that fateful night. We have to swing past Cleveland to pick up my brother from his girlfriend's parents' house. If we get to my parents' house by midnight, we're going to feel fortunate. The reason we'll be hitting the road so late is because my husband still has to work half a day at the bank.

I was wathcing a little of Chris Rock on HBO as I was getting ready this morning. He's so funny, but so nasty. Why does every other word out of his mouth have to be fuck or mother-fucker or whatever? You should be sparse with the fucks. You know, you just sprinkle them in for flavor, like salt. Too much ruins the meal. I'm not a prude or anything when it comes to swearing, but, damn, it is possible to go overboard. Anywho, it's probably going to be awhile before I make another post, so Merry Christmas everyone. Drive safe and don't drink too much eggnog. Peace.

G.I. Christmas greeting.

My friend Kristen sent this to me and it was much too good to keep to myself. I LOVE military folk because they are in a class all their own. And this time, I'm not being sarcastic. Enjoy.

Time to kick back.

I finished packaging my other magazine yesterday, so it sits in a tidy bundle on my desk awaiting the printer for pick-up. If you've been keeping count, that means both my journals are out the door and ready to roll. The university doesn't close down until Friday, so I've got to still come in and sit at my desk for appearances. Not that I'm complaining too much about it. It's kind of like being on break already because no one's going to bother me because no one is here. Just us poor working stiffs.

While our daughter is gone, my husband and I have taken the opportunity to rent movies we can't normally rent while she's home. And, no, I'm not talking about Debbie Does Dallas, you pervs. I'm talking about R-rated movies for the most part. Things like horror or action or the really boring adult films where most of the movie relies on you paying attention to the dialogue to know what's going on. I will confess that I also rented Princess Diaries 2, which is something I could have rented anyway, but that was the only one. I swear it. All the rest are completely inappropriate for small children. Although, this does bring to mind the time my brother, husband and I went to watch Blade 2 in the theaters and while we were sitting there, we happened to notice a father walking his six- or seven-year-old daughter up the aisle to go to the bathroom or whatever. I don't know if you've all seen Blade 2, but it's incredibly violent and incredibly gory. So it goes without saying that we were all pretty disgusted by the idea that there was a father who thought this was a good movie to bring his very young kid. You know how they say you need to pass a test to be able to drive but any idiot can be a parent? Well, this was an instance of someone needing to have taken a test before having a child. I have to imagine she was terrified watching this movie. Actually, it made me really angry and I wanted to go up to him and ask him what the hell he could have possibly been thinking to bring his daughter to that movie.

What's funny about our daughter, though, is that she's very good at policing herself. If one of us is watching television and she comes into the room she'll immediately ask, "Is this an appropriate show for me?" And, yes, she does use the word appropriate. Usually it's not and we have to change the channel to Nickelodeon or something. Damn kids always ruining our fun. I think it's funny.

We're so gauche.

Did something totally rude last night, but I'm really not feeling too bad about it. We stopped by my friend Elena's parents' house to drop off a panettone my husband made for Elena's sister, Ana. Now the reason we stopped at their parents' house is because we knew the whole family would be there for a birthday dinner that they were having for Ana. We'd already given a panettone to Elena and her parents, we were just dropping off the one for her sister. Now, I knew they were having a nice, home-cooked Italian meal and I knew they'd probably invite us to eat. My husband said that we should just leave, but I wanted to eat some of that good Italian food, so when they asked, I said, "Sure." So rude and tactless, I know. But there's something about home-made Italian food that makes me not care about manners. It ended up being a really nice evening, for me and my husband, anyway. I'm feeling a little guilty this morning about barging in on a family night, but the food was so good. And if you could eat Elena's mom's cooking, you'd understand. Of course, I won't ever tell my mom about this because she'd be angry that I did something so uncouth as to conveniently show up at dinnertime to someone's house and then stay to eat.

Exciting News.

My brother finally proposed to his girlfriend over the weekend. Yesterday, to be exact. Yesterday evening, to be even more exact. I knew it was coming because he told me his plan, but it's still exciting now that he's asked and she's accepted. So soon I'll have a new sister-in-law. But first, I will be taking her out for "the talk" when we get back home. The talk I am speaking about is not a sex talk or anything because, ewww, why would I want to talk to someone about sex with my brother? No, this will be the talk about how to function as an American in a Korean, or at least partly, Korean family. More importantly, what it means to be a daughter-in-law with a Korean mother-in-law. Sons are very, very special to Korean mothers and my mother's son happens to also be the baby of the family. A lot of baggage with that one. I'm not criticizing or anything, my brother's girlfriend will just have to be able to handle certain things in a way that she probably hasn't expected. I don't want to say Korean mothers-in-law are pushy or bossy or intrusive or anything like that because that seems harsh (even if it's a little true), but they definitely expect a certain level of respect and a certain level of being listened to. In the old days, daughters-in-law usually became a sort of slave to their mothers-in-law. I'm not saying that's good or anything, in fact, I think it sucks, but this is the tradition that we're operating with--that the husband's mother will have supreme say. My mother grew up in a culture where this was the expectation in the mother-in-law/daughter-in-law relationship. My mother doesn't really expect to exert this much control over my brother and his girlfriend after they get married, but you know, there's a cultural identity that's buried deep beneath the surface of each of us that can never be erased no matter where we end up as adults and how we're expected to act by society at large. So, I'll have to take my future sister-in-law out to lunch and basically explain to her that she can't take any of it personally and she's just going to have to let most of it roll off her back. But let me reiterate, it's not because my mother will be a monster to her, but I think she'll expect to be able to say what she wants without too much dissent. I know, I know, doesn't sound fair that my brother's girlfriend has to be the one to bend. But in the end, it will make life soooooooooooo much easier. Really, trust me on this one.

The vacation before vacation.

It's 4:20 am. What the hell am I doing on the computer? I don't normally get on so early, but I woke up at 3:30 am because I went to bed at 8:00 pm, and my body obviously thinks it's had enough sleep. I woke up and then couldn't go back to sleep because I started thinking about the stuff I have to do today: wrap my mom's birthday present, write a letter to the mailman telling him when to stop our mail, get the Christmas package for my sister's family together. You know how it goes. Anyway, we're taking our daughter up to Chicago today because my mom is flying in to take her back to DC. That's where we'll be this Christmas, but my daughter's school ended yesterday and my husband and I don't start our vacation for another week, so my mom's going to get the kid a week early. Good for us because it means life will be a little less hectic as we finish up this last week of work before the holidays. I'm also grateful for my mother getting the child because it will save me a week's worth of child care money. Woo hoo. I can, of course, then spend money saved on presents, which is good for the kid. She's starting to want high-ticket items now and it definitley changes the way you look at shopping. She wants things like video games, dragon playsets and whatnot, so the number of items under the tree will probably be less. That's not a bad thing as far as I'm concerned.

When I was a kid, I remember my parents would tell us we could ask Santa for two things and that was it. So the one year I asked for a bionic woman doll, her inflatible dome house and her control panel, and that was ONE gift and for the second I wanted some board game. I don't remember the name but it was the one with a little dome in the middle with a die in it and you had to push down on the dome to get your dice roll. I mainly wanted it because you had to push that thing down and that seemed really cool to me in the commercials. Anyway, my parents gave it all to me, which is cool because they could have definitely said the bionic woman doll was just one thing. I remember the Christmas in third grade was kind of a bummer because my dad was stationed in Germanyy and we were still in Georgia waiting until we could go over, too, and we each only got one gift that year. It didn't seem like Christmas anyway without my father there. I don't know if the reason we only could get one gift was because we didn't have as much money as usual with my dad out of the country, but it was a sparse year all the way around, that's for sure. Not that it bothers me now or anything, but I remember being disappointed then. But that's life. The next year was a more normal Christmas because we were in Germany with our dad by then.

Eight shopping days left.

Are you done with your Christmas shopping? I'm not. I'm planning on finishing up this weekend. When did Christmas shopping become such a drag? I used to really enjoy it. In general, I used to enjoy shopping a lot more than I do now, but something about Christmas shopping has become particularly gruesome to me. It's not that I don't like getting things for people I love. In fact, that's the only part of Christmas shopping that I enjoy anymore. I really love doing something that I'm hoping will bring a little bit of joy into the lives of my friends and family. I just hate the crowds because they add more time to whole process. I hate being crammed in with so many other people. Crazy people, as it were. Christmas shopping makes people crazy. The same kind of crazy you always find in Price Club shoppers. That frantic I've-got-to-get-this-before-you-do kind of shopper. Shopping in Price Club can be a contact sport if you keep an eye out for the people around you because if you see something you like, you better grab it because it probably won't be there the next time you go. So, everyone goes crazy thinking they've got to get that thing, whatever it is. When it comes to getting the gifts for my daughter, we've told her she writes her letter to Santa and then he decides which of the items on her list he'll give her. I wrote that into the contract as my get out of jail for free clause because I DO NOT want to be in the situation where I'm schleping from place to place trying to find the only remaining Cabbage Patch doll in town. I refuse to do that. The parents who do that sort of thing think they'll be destryong their children's belief in Santa Claus if they don't get every freaking thing on their lists, but what they don't realize is that they created that unreasonable expectation in their kids by letting them think that's the way Santa operates. We made it clear from the get-go that Santa never brings everything on the list, and that, really, the letter is just a list of suggestions for Santa so that he knows he's on the right page. It's worked pretty well so far. I have to say, as a sidenote, that I really appreciated the North Pole scenes in the movie Elf where all the Christmas elves are making things like Barbie, Etch-a-Sketch and Monopoly. That was a brilliant way to explain to kids why Santa brings toys like the ones in the stores.

Yes, I have an awful lot of time today.

This one's here for my daughter.

Harry Potter!!!
Created by KrYpToNiTe64 and taken 537 times on bzoink!
Do you know who Harry Potter is?	yes
What are the first and last names of Harry's two best friends?	Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger
Do you know what the name of Harry's godfather is?	Sirius Black
Do you think the aforementioned godfather is hot?	Are you talking about Gary Oldman, then yes.
How many brothers and sisters does Ron have?	five brothers and one sister
Who is Percy Weasley's boss?	Corneilius Fudge
Who is Dolores Umbridge?	Evil defense against the dark arts teacher at Hogwarts
Who does Harry have a crush on until the fifth book?	Cho Chang
How many movies have been made based on the Harry Potter series so far?	three
What is the incantation for the levitation spell?	wengardium levioso (I'm guessing majorly on the spelling.)
What feature does Harry have that is a mark of the curse he repelled?	lightning bolt scar
What is a bowtruckle?	a tree-dwelling, pixish sort of creature
Which three people can see thestrals?	Harry, Luna Lovegood and Hagrid
Who wrote the Harry Potter books?	JK Rowling
Create a Survey | Search Surveys | Go to bzoink!

What do you think?

I just sent one of my magazines to the printer, so I obviously have a lot of time on my hands right now. Anyway, it's Christmas. Cut me some slack.

What is your stand on.....
Created by spyndakitrose and taken 16975 times on bzoink!
Abortion?	Don't advocate abortion but believe every woman should make that decision for herself.
Death Penalty?	I'm for it, for the most part.
Prostitution?	I don't really think about it. Obviously it's a career choice that involves a lot of potential danger. I think most people involved don't want to be.
Alcohol?	I don't have a problem with alcohol.
Marijuana?	I don't think it's a good thing and people should abstain.
Other drugs?	Same as with mariijuana
Gay marriage?	I don't have a problem with it/
Illegal immigrants?	They shouldn't be allowed to stay. They're too much of a drain on our system.
Smoking?	Don't do it and don't like it when people do.
Drunk driving?	Sure everyone should drive drunk. Psych!
Cloning?	I think it's pretty dangerous territory and humans are too stupid and too greedy and too blind to ever make it a good idea.
Racism?	Don't believe in it. I've been on the receiving end too many times.
Premarital sex?	Well, I'd be a hypocrite if I said it was wrong.
Religion?	I think religion is important.
The war in Iraq?	I don't think it's a bad thing that Sadam is out of power.
Bush?	I think he's doing the best he can. It's easy to criticize when you're not the person having to make the decsions.
Downloading music?	I don't have a problem with it personally, but I understand musicians are getting under compensated for their work and that sucks.
The legal drinking age?	I think it should be 18 because everything else that legally constitutes "adulthood" is doable at 18.
Porn?	There's obviously a lot of hurtfull porn (child porn, snuff films, etc.), but generally I think adults should be able to watch what they want (as long as it's not illegal, such as with child porn and snuff films. I'm talking about the mainstream type of porn that involves consenting adults. )
Suicide?	It's wrong and people who commit suicide are carrying out a very selfish act.
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I'd say that's average.

How many people hate you?
Created by KerianaWilliams and taken 14955 times on bzoink!
Name?
Age?
Favourite colour?
People that hate you:	370
You willl be murdered because people hate you.	False
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Considering how many billions of people there are on the planet, I don't think 370 is sooooo bad.

The horror, the horror.

What can I say about the Christmas concert? This is where I'll direct you to the title of today's post. The little kids (which consisted of grades K-5) were fine because they just sounded like a bunch of little kids singing. You know what that sounds like. However, it was an entirely different thing altogether for the sixth- through eighth-graders. The music teacher obviously thought that she could make the higher grades sound like actual choirs. You know, where they're split into parts--alto, soprano, tenor, baritone, etc. Wrong, so wrong. I sang in choirs pretty much my entire way through school, and I now know with complete understanding why you must actually try out for choir. I've never truly understood until now that sharps and flats and everything else thrown in together actually produces noise, not music. Not only that, it's painful noise. It hurts your ears. I don't want to put these kids down because I don't think it's their fault they didn't sound good. They looked miserable up there and it was really interesting listening to cheerful music sung with all the enthusiasm of a funeral dirge. That music teacher obviously has watched Sister Act too many times and thought, hey, if Whoopie can do it... Ok, that's why it's a movie. That can't really happen in real life. You can't actually take a group of kids who can't sing and make them sound good. I'll be curious to see if next year's concert follows in a similar vein.

O Tanenbaum, O Tanenbaum...

Well tonight is the night that we live through that most joyous of joyous holiday events--the school Christmas concert. This is actually our first Christmas concert as parents and it should be really interesting. All the kids are just singing, it's not a play or anything, but it should still be interesting. This is the first year the school has done this because they have a new music teacher this year. She's a little Nazi-like in her determination to pull off this little shindig, but what the hey? Let's see what Frau Musiklehrerin can do. She's certainly been cracking the whip at practice from what my daughter tells, so I hope she's satisfied with the results of her hard work. Although, I'm a little worried that she hasn't truly taken into consideration that kids on stage always result in some tragic or embarrassing mishap. For sure, someone's going to fall off the risers. But only after someone else makes the rest of the carolers on stage laugh by farting in tune with Silent Night. I really have high hopes for this evening. Of course, this all assumes she actually gets as far as starting the performace. She wants all the parents to drop the kids off at the auditorium two hours before the concert so she can have a dress rehearsal. She doesn't want the parents to stay or anything. She just wants us to drop the kids off and then come back when it's time for the concert to start. Apparently some of the teachers will be there for crowd control, but something deep inside of me tells me this woman has no idea what she's getting herself into by having all those kids (who will be bouncing off the walls with excitement over their upcoming performance) in a confined space for two hours. If the curtains are still hanging when the show finally begins, I'll be really surprised.

Don't go chasing waterfalls.

I don't buy the shy part. So unique that I am completely beyond your understanding? Oh yeah, that's totally on.


?? Which Natural Wonder Or Disaster Are You ??
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Boiling Point.

I was flipping through the channels the other day when I happened upon a show on MTV called Boiling Point. The entire conceit of this show seems to be how quickly one can piss off a stranger for no apparent good reason. Sure, it's an interesting sociological study on human reaction, but, really, it's just televising how to be an ass. I only watched it long enough to see what was going on and I have to say I found it somewhat disturbing that this is what passes for entertainment nowadays. Now, I like to push buttons. I'm a big one for saying random shit just to see how people will react, but I try to come clean pretty quickly if I see that someone is confused or totally put off by whatever it is I'm saying or doing. It's really a sort of litmus test so I can determine if the person I am engaging is worth my time. The ones who can sense right away that I'm full of crap are the ones who pass the test. The ones who take me seriously and don't get that I'm joking are the uptight wads I don't really care to get to know any better. But, I would never, never continue to play with a person to the point where they are genuinely upset. That's just wrong. Why do you want to put that kind of energy into the world? So, I do find it disturbing that there are shows that make a point of getting people so agitated. I think they're trying to play off the tradition of Candid Camera, but it just doesn't work for me.

You're a blockhead, Charlie Brown.

I was in bed reading to my daughter last night when my husband called up saying that A Charlie Brown Christmas was on and would it be alright to let her miss her bedtime to watch it. I said OK and we went down to all watch it. It's probably the only Christmas special I'd let her miss bedtime to watch just because it very directly presents what Christmas is really about. My husband says it was his favorite Christmas special when he was a kid. Personally, I liked all the Rankin-Bass stop-action shows. Charlie Brown was OK, but I'd get bored when Linus did his little schpeal about the meaning of Christmas, mainly because I didn't really understand what he was talking about. So while we're all sitting there watching it, I wondered what sort of perceptions my daughter would have about it. My husband asked afterward what the show had been about and she said that it was saying Christmas was about Jesus' birthday. Now, it's been a long time since I've actually seen the Charlie Brown Christmas show and I have to say it's amazing watching it as an adult because you don't realize how much of it is over your head when you're a kid. All the psychiatric help stuff that Lucy was offering Charlie Brown was something I NEVER got as a kid. But, of course, how could I? It also made me realize how low our expectations have dropped over the years, as far as what we try to tell our children. Obviously, the people making the Charlie Brown Christmas show didn't think there was anything odd about writing the things they wrote. They expected children to get it. Today, we've dumbed down everything and we wonder why Johnny can't read. I'm not trying to get on my high-horse or anything (but of course I will) but we really just don't get anything anymore. I'm sure most kids watching that show today don't really get how harsh a criticism it presents against commercialism and I'm kind of shocked by how relevant the message still is. I'm shocked because we're the generation that lost that message in the first place and created what we've got today.

Hi, we're here in...Tuesday.

The child is at work with me again today. They closed her school because our priest's mother died and they're having her funeral today. They figured many staff and faculty member would want to attend the services, so they closed school. Good for the kid, but only so-so for me. My daughter is taking the opportunity of this day off to make new Pokemon cards for herself. She is currently drawing the picture of one of her original Pokemon, which she will name Pup. It does look doglike as a see it now. She says it's a puppy with a saddle because one often wants to ride a puppy. And it's likes those kind of dogs that have the long, long fur that drags behind them, she says. She forgets what its name is. And he has his tongue sticking out because he always has it sticking out. We'll put a picture up here as soon as she finished drawing it, and then you can be amazed by her awesome talent at creating Pokemon. Don't cry, only a special few are granted this ability. It's just not you. Here's her Pokemon card.

Really, I don't care about ND football, but...

So, the mighty Urban Meyer is going to Florida and I say, "BRRWWPT (sound of a rasberry)," to Notre Dame. Serves you right and I am laughing the deep, satisfied laugh of the smug and vindicated. Not going to find a bit of sympathy from me. I've been doing a little reading of viewer comments posted on a local news station's website and it would seem most people don't approve of ND's firing of Ty Willingham. Most of the people who commented seemed to echo similar sentiments to those I've already expressed here. Willingham wasn't given enough time to prove what he could really do and the University only cares about the almighty dollar. Despite how it might appear from the outside, this is "supposed" to still be a Catholic institution. It's "supposed" to be concerned with something higher than money and its ill-gotten gains. Whatever. Now I understand in this country and in this culture, higher education is big business. I've got to wonder about football, though, in terms of its place in higher education. Do you have football programs to try and support the educational goals and desires of a university or do you have a football program to support the football program? Maybe I'm just really clueless on this because I really, really, really don't know why football is soooooooooo important to this country in general. Just like I don't understand why soccer is sooooooooo important to the rest of the world. I mean, if anything, all it displays is the primal human urge to claim territory. Just something to thump our chests about. This might all sound strange coming from a person who has degrees from two schools with very large football traditions, traditions I've enjoyed participating in to a certain extent. But, you know, it is just a game. Deal with it. There are more important things in life.

Another word on Ty Willingham.

I like this editorial. Willingham It sums up pretty nicely why the decision to let him go leaves a bad taste in my mouth. As I mentioned in my last post on the subject, I think it was a decision motivated entirely by money. So read the editorial and make up your own minds.

Kids! Can't kill 'em and beating 'em doesn't work.

I've been exchanging e-mails over the past couple of days with my friend who told me that her 7-year-old son invited some friends to come over for Thanksgiving dinner, only to be told they'd only come if it was going to be a party with naked girls or nearly-naked girls. It seems they wanted some boobage to cast their eyes upon. Then these boys wanted to later take these topless beauties in the bedroom to enthrall them with their 7-year-old sex skills. Needless to say, my friend was somewhat disgusted and dumbfounded that boys that young would even know about stuff like that. Of course, I'm using the word "know" very, very loosely. She complained that it seems like just yesterday that she held her little baby boy and fed him and changed his diaper and now, all of a sudden, he's a pig just like the rest of them. I told her I think the whole tit fascination MUST stem from some fond infantile breastfeeding memory. I mean, really, what else can it be? We women, we don't get why men think boobs are such a big deal. We compare it to looking at your scrotum and can't understand what's so great. Anyway, I told her while her sweet little boy is dreaming of sexing up the ladies, my sweet little girl is practicing unmanning them. If you ask her what to do if a boy bothers her, she says, "Kick them in the wiener." And she says it with a lot of passion and gusto and a real bloodlust that, I must confess, scares even me a little. I really think she's just waiting for the opportunity to have a legitimate reason to knock a couple of balls into the top of some poor boy's mouth. I think the main reason for this is that I've told her this is a last-resort, self-defense technique. This is to be used in the event that she is in real physical danger and not to be done if the boy does something stupid like pull a ponytail. So she understands that slamming the nuts hurts, and that it hurts badly. I think she wants to see just how badly it hurts. You know, she wants to know if it will really make a boy puke his guts out from pain. It's really just scientific curiosity, but I'm a little frightened for the boy who does her wrong.

You're gonna go and fire the man at CHRISTMAS TIME?!?!

So they fired Ty Willingham. At the risk of coming across as actually caring about Notre Dame football, I'm going to say a few things about this anyway. First of all, I am really disappointed by the news of Willingham's dismissal, primarily because it says something about the state of the current American university system that I don't like: It's all about the money, baby. Now, what I find particularly irritating about this situation is that we lowly employees have only been getting 1.5% salary increase over the last few years because "there's not enough money" to give higher increases. But there doesn't seem to be any financial repercussions involved with coughing up the few million dollars the university will have to give Willingham for firing him before his contract was up. I don't begrudge Willingham a cent of that money, I do resent being told that the university with the country's largest endowment doesn't have the cash to pay its employees a decent rate. That burns my butt.

Secondly, I don't think Willingham got a fair shake. Whether or not the board of trustees wants to believe it, it does take longer than three seasons to build a strong football program. Let's see, three years was just enough time for Willingham to get through the last of Davie's recruits and to just start developing his own recruits. I don't know about the average observer, but I'm saying that doesn't seem like enough time to show what you can really do. And I am the average obverser. Actually, I'm probably the sub-average observer because I don't really care about football in the whole scheme of things.

Third, Willingham seemed like a real decent guy to me. Someone who realized football is just a game, but leaving with a good education is something that lasts a lifetime. Maybe I have that wrong, but I dont' think so. He seemed like a real guy to me. I'd see him biking up campus to practice with his clipboard in hand. I liked that because it showed that he considered himself just an ordinary guy. I like ordinary people. I think the powers that be should have at least given him the length of his contract.

I'm also a little sensitive to this because there are similar sorts of concerns whirling around Joe Pa at Penn State. I like Joe Pa. I met him when I was in college and I know he's a decent guy. Joe Pa IS Penn State football and people who are saying he should be booted out because we're not winning as much as we should are jerks. Joe Pa has earned the right to walk away when he chooses. I don't care how many games we lose from now until then. He's done right by the football players he's guided over the years and he's done right by the university, as far as I'm concerned. You don't turn your back on loyalty like that. But, of course, money means too much for some people to worry about common decency. Well, you can suck my ass, you greedy bastards.