I love socially awkward kids

That is why I love watching Scribb's National Spelling Bee. In honor of today's event, I give you the Bee's best winner: Rebecca Sealfon. You know what else is great about this competition? Fainting kids.

The benefits of being a pack rat

I have a problem with not being able to throw things away. Stupid
little rewards, notes, gag gifts...I keep them all. This even started
at a young age, around 10-11 years old. Just recently I picked up a
scrapbook, and other boxes I kept in my mother's apartment, and started
to look through them. What I found were pages and pages of
certifications of achievement, notes I passed around with my best
friend Jamie (who is still very much close to me), birthday cards,
report cards and papers I wrote in high school. I am glad I kept those
papers, it is fun to see how I wrote at the age. Sometimes I look at
those papers and wonder how I was an "A"ish student. One paper I kept, and the comment a teacher made on it, seemed to stand out for me.

It was a paper on Love that I wrote for my Honors Psychology class. I had
to observe a couple, and talk about their interactions and then do an assessment
on how relationships work. Here was my concluding sentence, "Those who
do break up don't do so because there is something wrong with the
relationship, it's because they weren't meant to be together." My
teacher commented afterward, "How Fatalistic." I don't remember being
amused by it then, but I giggled when I re-read it as an adult.

Tales of a Gym Class Loser

I have never been good at athletics. Well except for maybe when I was a young child but aren't all young children athletic in some way or form. I can tell you one thing that I was never: graceful. There are pictures of a 5ish old me at my gymnastics class to prove that. It was around middle school that I lost an resemblance of that child "athlete" in me. So what did people like me hate in high school? Gym.

We had to take gym, it was mandatory (not all 4 years, thank god). My freshman year the gym class was divided into boys and girls. The vaginas would do synchronized swimming, archery, scooter games, field hockey etc. The penises (what is the plural form of penis anyway?) would play flag football, basketball, weight trainings. Any undetermined genital did not exist in my school, as far as I knew.

My sophomore year, that is when the gym classes were integrated, and instead separated into Gym "A" (the old "boys" curriculum) and Gym "B" (the old "girls" curriculum). It might be surprising to find out that I went ahead and enrolled myself in Gym A. I don't really know why. Maybe I felt like I had something to prove.

It was horrendous. The girls that were in the class with me were the athletic popular girls, that for the most part hated or ignored me and the guys just hated me for sucking at every activity we participated in. I take that back, the guys did not hate me if I was not "forced" to be their partner or on their team (which by the way, the teacher was decent enough not to have people pick teams, which I am sure I would be next to last chosen). You know the teacher did do once? He once made a list of the best bad mitten players to the worst. Then he made double teams. The bestest player went with the worstest player. My partner, who was good, always stole the birdie from me and would yell at me for missing shots. Good times.

I did have one shining moments. It was during our flag football section. We were split into two teams, everyone was on the field playing, my team was offense. I was just told to run ahead, try not to attempt to block/run after anyone...just stay out of the way. Then one play, the quarterback (who was actual a star varsity basketball player) was looking around for an open player, the only one being me. We looked at each other and a nonverbal understanding was made...I had to catch it. I outstretched my hands and closed my eyes as I saw him release the ball. Next thing I knew I was cradling the ball the same was Baby was cradling the watermelon on Dirty Dancing. I took a split second to smile at my accomplishment, before jetting it towards the endzone. I only got about 10-15 yards, but still...I totally caught it! As I headed back to the huddle, I was greeted by high fives. I know this goes against my "I hate everyone attitude" but I enjoyed the moment of acceptance.

Ok, so I take it back, I didn't have just one shining moment. I had that moment, and a entire shining section. That section, being swimming. I was the only swimmer in the entire class (built mostly of athletes...basketball, football, cross country etc). So basically, I kicked everyone's ass. The first string quarterback was stuck in the shallow end learning how to float, because he didn't know how to swim. When we had races, the best of the girls vs. the best of the guys, the guy I swam against, wouldn't even swim the front crawl against me, because he didn't want to get embarrassed. Wussy.

In reality, I was an average swimmer. Well, I didn't really apply myself. Maybe this is why I was not athletic, I didn't have the drive. What I did have was endurance, so I was placed in the distance competitions. A friend of mine has this theory, most people that did distance competitions (running/swimming) in high school were the kids that were slackers, but had good endurance. Personally, I do think this applies to me. After the race had finished, I was never red faced or gasping for breath and while racing I was usually singing a song in my head or thinking of something else that would amuse me for 20 laps of the pool. I think that if I actually drove myself harder, and trained off season, I would have been really really good. As it was already, I as lower rung varsity.

One true thing about swimmers, at least from my point of view, is that they are not runners. I think the best time I ran a mile was 8 minutes and that is when I was at my fittest. Many of my friends, that were also swimmers, agree with me.

Going back to the Gym A experience...I think this led me to have an automatic hate for preppy athletic guys. Subconsciously, I think they will always belittle my lack of athletic abilities. That is why I like to surround myself with nerds and hippies. They don't like sports, at least for the most part they don't.

I even carry this athletic insecurity with me as an adult. One summer when I was a camp ground leader, I was playing kick ball with a bunch of 10 year olds. I was in the outfield, as it was easier for me to get the ball when it rolls away(faster because of my longer legs). One kid kicked a high pop up. I got nervous about catching it but went after it anyway. Luckily I did catch it, and ran up to another kid running to second for a double play. (Yeah, in those 10 year old faces!). My teammates later told me, "Holland! You are REALLY good at kickball." This made me smile, because once again I was accepted as a legit athlete....errr, by little kids.

Way to ruin my entire day, Jerk...

So, I am driving to the gym when I hear a guy on a motorcycle shouting from behind me. He totally looked like the typical middle aged white suburban guy trying to relive his golden days by riding around on his 'hog.'

I can't hear him, so I ignore him (pretty sure if I did hear him, I would still ignore him regardless of what he was saying). When I pulled to the stop sign, guy pulls up next to me. Here is the conversation...

Guy: You cut me off back there
Me: (Confused because I dorkingly check my blindspots all the time) Sorry.
Guy: You CUT ME OFF!!! (He must of thought I didn't 'get it' the first time)
Me: Listen, have you heard of road rage? I'm not having a good day and I don't feel like dealing with an asshole. (I was serious too, the id in me wanted to back my car up and ram right into him)
Guy: (as I drive off) UGLY CUNT!

[Start of sarcastic statement] Hmmm. Ugly cunt. Original. You know, as a woman, I have never been called that before. [end of sarcastic statement]

This guy seemed like one of those people that thought because he was a man (not just any man...but a man on a motorcycle) he could scare a young girl like me by yelling at me and throwing me stern looks. Not that I am all bite, but I most certainly do not take shit from anyone. However, I do regret calling him an asshole. I should have been the bigger person, and left that one apology as is, and ignored him.

Also, as much as I like to think and say that words don't hurt me, being called a cunt kills me.

Two words to describe watching childbirth: Grotesquely Beautiful

My niece, Elaine Elizabeth, was born on May 12th and I was there to watch every gruesome moment. It really was beautiful.

It all started one week ago on Friday May 11th. I was on the phone with a friend making plans to go out that night. I wasn't planning on drinking, as I knew that any minute I would get a call from my sister telling me that she was in labor. My friend asked me if I was sure the baby wasn't coming and I said no, not yet. However while I was on the phone, I heard a beep indicating that someone was on the other line. I finished up my call with my friend quickly and checked to see who it was on the other line. It was my sister and her contractions were 30 minutes apart. I called back my friend to cancel plans, ate my dinner, packed my bags and headed up north to Sheboygan.

I met my sister and the family at her house around 9pm. We all went to sleep that night and waited for her contractions to get 5 minutes apart before heading to the hospital. That didn't happen until around 3am on Saturday. Rianna didn't get any sleep because she was busy keeping track (and being distracted by) the contractions. I got about 3 hours of sleep, as did my brother-in-law.



When we got to the hospital, the doctor broke her water right away so that her contractions would come faster and harder. Not to long after that she was put on pitocin to augment the labor (her contractions were not that painful). That is when she really started to feel the labor pains.

At first she stayed with IV medications but soon those were not working out at all, and only took the pain away for about 15 minutes. Around 4pm (being in the hospital for over 12 hours and not getting any sleep for well over 24 hours)Rianna made the decision to get an epidural. At this point she was 4cm dilated and around 80-90% effaced. That decision was hard for her but after the epidural was administered she felt she made the right one, as she was able to nap until she started to push at 6pm.



While she was pushing, the doctor noticed that the baby was coming out face up. So while Rianna was pushing the doctor was also turning the baby around so that she would face downward. It was also around this point that the doctor performed and episiotomy, which was THE GROSSEST part of it all. (All of my hippie, natural birth friends would be shaking their heads right now).

Then the head came out, my brother-in-law was already crying from joy at this point, the rest of us were holding our breath in anticipation on the first cries and finding out the sex. It was a little scary because the umbilical cord was wrapped around the baby's head twice, but I could see her mouth moving. Rianna let out one more good push and the whole baby came out. Daddy was the first one to say, "It's a girl!" Everyone was crying, even me with my cold black heart. Then my little niece started to cry and people ran out to tell everyone waiting in hall the good news.



The nurses cleaned her up, as everyone remarked that she had a good head of hair, and took her measurements (7lbs 9oz and 21 inches long). When her temperature was taken, it was kind of high, but the doctors didn't make a big deal out of it. The rest of the day went as usual, pictures, phone calls and first time to hold the baby.

The next day my family came to the hospital to find that the baby was hooked up to an iv and that they were for sure staying the three days so that Elaine could get a daily dose of antibiotics for her fever (which at that point had reduced to a normal temperature) and high white blood cells. The doctors told everyone that they were just being careful.



The following day, when we came to visit, we found that they had been to moved to a smaller room (called the "almost home" room) compared to the huge-ass birthing room they had before. Also the baby was jaundice, so she had to be put on this blue lighted bed (or pad when she was being breastfed). I know that there is a name for the light but I forget what it was called. The light made her look like a glo-worm. While breastfeeding, Rianna noticed that Elaine felt warm again, so the nurse came in to take the temperature and lo-and-behold another hike in temperature.

That same day, after my mom and I grabbed dinner in the cafeteria, we returned to the hospital room to find my sister in tears and informing us that they were told Elaine had to stay for 7 days. The doctors were concerned that she may (or may not) have a bacterial infection and felt more secure with a 7 day daily dose of antibiotics. The only good thing in the situation, was that because my sister was breastfeeding, she and my brother-in-law were able to stay in the hospital room even though she was no longer officially a patient.



Soon after being told that Elaine would remain in the hospital, my sister was having difficulties getting the baby to latch on to her to feed. This my sister started a mild panic attack. She was having a difficult time breathing and got nauseous. My mom also looked overwhelmed, that is when I told her that I would ask for the rest of the week off of work, so that I could stay with her (to drive her to and from the hospital and help out my sister and brother-in-law as much as I could).

Since then, my sister has been more confident about breastfeeding and kicking visitors out (because with my family, we have oh-so-many) and just the general well-being of Elaine. She got taken off her glo-worm bed, no signs of fevers, white blood cell count are normal and she is a VERY good eater. Best of all, she is being released a day earlier than expected, so she should be home tomorrow, one week after she was born.

Bessie

When I was young, my family lived in this brown house, that was across the street from two bars, there was a big tree (with swings) in a big backyard, with a poppy tree and chives that grew in around the house. I really liked living in that house, mostly because of the neighbors. There were a lot of kids that my siblings and I would play with and then there was our next door neighbor Bessie.

She was an elderly Jewish woman, who also happened to be our landlord. She was your typical grandmother figure, except older and crankier. My mom would help her run errands and do chores (my family above anything else respects elderly people). I would occassionally go over to Bessie's apartment, she would watch me while my mom was gone or I would just visit, and she would give me and my siblings candy. It wasn't the best candy, kind of like that stale candy that would stick together but hey, I was kid and it was candy. I still remember that her pantry was stocked with sweets. Later in my life, when I would tell my mom about this, she would always shake her head and say, "She wasn't even suppose to have that stuff, she was diabetic."

Other things I remember about her is that her apartment smelled musky and she had "old" furniture and pillows that would vibrate (don't even begin to ask me the purpose of those). She would call me and my siblings over when were playing in the yard, and then she gave us bread crumbs to feed the birds. She called my cousin Joey, "Howie." She would yell at us kids for lying in the grass, warning us that we would get polio. Basically, she was the awesomest old lady ever.

Eventually, she had to be moved to a retirement home, because she could no longer take care of herself, and she had no family to move in with (she never married or had children). I never saw her again, she passed a few years later. I just hope that while we were in her life we made her days a little brighter.

Splurging

I have recently decided to splurge on some presents for myself at Amazon. Now I am super pumped about their arrival, which should be in the next week. Lets take a look at my purchases:

Flight: A Novel by Sherman Alexie

It's about a time traveling murderer. It sounds very Alexie-esque. If you have never read an Alexie novel before, I recommend reading Indian Killer first, then Reservation Blues and he also has great collections of short stories such as 10 Little Indians and Lone Ranger and Tonto Fist Fight in Heaven. I'm not a reader, so you just have to imagine HOW excited I am to read it.

Wet Hot American Summer

I love Stella and Michael Showalter (lately it seems like 'sense of humor' is climbing up my list of 'Reasons why I would do you'). This is one of my favoritest movies, and yet I had not owned it before I purchased it. I am cheap and lazy. I like goofy/silly humor that is a little absurd. How can you go wrong with a line like, "You taste like burger, I don't like you anymore."

Bring it Back by Mates of State

Finally buying it more than a year after it has been released. I was hesitant in the purchase, because it always seem to me that my favorite bands/artists always seem to crash and burn with every subsequent release. However, from what I have heard, this album is on par with the other albums (which means if you are a MoS hater, you will still hate them). Since I love all MoS releases, I am sure I will like this one. Plus, I like the two videos they have out for the albums.

Slightly off topic: While looking through Amazon, I wanted to see how much they were asking for Sandlot (you play ball like a girl!). Its 10 dollars by the way, but that's not my point. My point is that there seems to be two sequels to it. Both, obviously had to be direct to video. I think it is damn close to blasphemy. Don't ruin a masterpiece!

I don't know what made me love the Sandlot so. Was it the plot? Was it the dialogue? Was it Benny "the Jet" Rodriguez? Yes to all of them, but mostly the last one. I (and my sister) totally hearted Mike Vitar. I will illustrate with an already made graphic.

Creepy? Yes.

Back on topic: Still excited about the arrival.

OMG Guys!

Remember how I was talking about the Monster Squad, and I almost forgot how awesome it was. Guess what. It is totally coming out on DVD. Awesomeness.

Moon Pie

My brother's favorite book as a child was Just Only John. It was a story about a little boy who turned into whatever the people around called him. His mother called him "Little Lamb," and his father called him "Little Man," and he turned into those things. Of course by the end he became himself, of rather "Just Only John." It's a good story about not being ashamed about being yourself.

This made me think of what my dad calls my cousin. He calls her Moon Pie. I never got the reference. I have never seen them sold anywhere in Wisconsin. Apparently the are round pastry treats. Dad called Emily, Moon Pie, because her face is very round...and edible. This is what Emily would look like if she were in a book called Just Only Emily.

We all have standards

While looking through Found Magazine I found this little gem. It looks to me, like it is a list of "marriageable qualities" that some girl made. I like how her list becomes more superficial as it goes on. At least she seems to start off with "good/moral" qualities. It seems like the good girl version of "Mary Van Note's Rules on Dating Mary Van Note by Mary Van Note." Note: If you decided to Google her be warned that her stuff is not safe for work and not safe for anyone that is shy about sex humor. I think she is funny.

You know...I have standards too. I never actually wrote them down on paper (or on the Internet) but I keep a running list in my head, and yes, it is mostly superficial. Here it is, not listed in order of importance.

1. I will not date anyone that wears white shoes or white hats. People that do this are douche bags. This statement is a little extreme. 60% of white shoes/hat wearers are douches and that douchiest are the ones that are really concerned with the brightness of the whiteness.

2. No hunters. (No, I do not belong to PETA). I live in Wisconsin, so this is hard to find.

3. No Nascar fans. Especially the ones that wear these jackets. Ew.

4. No Toby Keith/Kenny Chesney fans. Well the music thing can keep on going. No Nickeback, Seether, Daughtery and anything like this. I also hate music snobs.

5. Do not come at me with flowers and/or candy and even a song/poem written for me. This is corny. Corniness makes me uncomfortable and not in a blushing/giddy way. More like a "get me out of here" type of way.

6. Must be funny. All the time.

7. Don't be prettier than me. Oh, you can be better looking than me, that's no problem, just don't be prettier. What does this mean? If it takes longer to get ready than me, if your wardrobe costs more than mine, if there is product in your hair, if you smell better than me (high possibility) you might be prettier than me.

8. I don't really have a problem with facial hair. It can be funny, it can be hot. But you know what is not hot and not funny? Soul patches.

9. Sensitive guys need not apply. I will make you cry...a lot. And when you cry, I will point and laugh.

10. Must be tolerable to my religious views (or lack there of), moments of airheadedness, and my constant jokes that I will be making about you.

11. Must hate Styrofoam as much as I do.

That is all I can think of right at this moment. I swear that I am not picky.

Negative Kudos: Michael Vick

Let's take a look at the controversies thus far:

-Ron Mexico, as an alias while visiting clinics to treat STDs of which sex partners do not know about.
-Flipping off fans while leaving a game.
-Water bottle compartment with questionable substance.

All of these are understandable and/or explainable (I like his explanations to some of these stories, they are hilarious) but this next one just irks me.

-Vick's property is found to house abused dogs.

Even if he doesn't live there he should have known what was going on at a place that he owns. I mean...60 dogs? That's pretty hard not to know about.



Brodie, from Daily Puppy, is not pleased. He hates athletes like I do.

Everyday I become more and more like my...

People usually end that sentence with saying they become their mom or their dad and normally I would. I do find traits in myself that mirror my mom and my dad. For example, I am like my dad in that I trust other people. WellOK, not so much trust, but more I am willing to help out other people without any expectations of getting paid back (an example of this is whenever our car broke down, my dad never asked or expected a ride from his coworkers but whenever anyone else needed a ride, even to the next city/town/village over, my dad would be the first to volunteer). Of course, the downside to this, is you obviously people can walk all over you. I am like my mom, in that I am a realist and levelheaded. My mom, being the oldest of her siblings, had to play the diplomat in many situations. She taught me to not judge a book by its cover and not draw such quick conclusions on subjects.

Yes, I am like my parents and as I age, I continue to grow more and more like them. However, in reality I think more of my personality actually comes from my Uncle Peter. To this day I still have this weird fear of him. Not like he is going to hit me or anything bad like that, but more of a fear of what he may say to me. No, not even my aunt, who used to stand over my crib and say in a deep voice, "WHAT'S MY AME!," (she was 14 and I was an annoying colicky baby, but still) makes me nervous.

Here are example of situations that cause me to fear him:

-When I was about 5, I along with my brother and sister, asked him to take a picture of us. He said he would, but only if we picked our nose. We did.
-When I would ask for a ride to my middle school mixers (you know the ones where they played jock jams and you would stand around awkwardly during the slow songs---oh wait that was just me)he said he would if I would pay him back...with interest (his nickname was The Operator).
-He gave me a nickname which was originated from a mean nanny character, or was it a mean witch? Well, I know it was a mean old lady.

Basically, its the snarky attitude that make me nervous. However, I find that I am very much like him as an adult. Things I do that remind me of what my uncle would do:

-I use the same type of sarcasm with people of all ages, even children. Its fun to see how long you can tell a kid something that is obviously not true, and see how long they believe you.
-I joke around with my cousins about only showing up at family functions for food.
Whenever I give rides to my brothers or cousins and they go in the backseat and no one sits in the passenger seat, I look back at them and say, "What do I look like, a taxi-cab?"
-My uncle married in his early thirties (which for my family is really really old) and everyone assumed he was going to be a bachelor all his life (he is married with three kids now). I'm on the road to this, except I have the pleasure of being a girl, so its called being an old maid. Oh Joy!
-In general, people being afraid to ask me to do favors for them, in fear of my snarky reactions (which are sarcastic but I do the favors anyway because like I said, I am my father).
-I'm already planning out some mean nicknames to give to my future nieces and nephews. OK I am kind of kidding about that last one.

In all seriousness, I hope to keep my uncles coolness (because he was cool) but I hope I don't instill fear in my sibling's offspring. Or at least those kids better not fear me.***shakes fist***

Here is a picture taken around the time Uncle Peter came back from basic training. I am with my sister, brother and cousin on his lap.



Look at how happy we were to see him. We were so naive.

The wisdom of children

While reading Post Secret today, I came across this quote:

"Grown-ups never understand anything by themselves, and it is tiresome for children to be always and forever explaining things to them." - Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

Kids amaze me. Not so much for their knowledge, but for their questions. These questions are the ones that adults never really think about or questions that they don't ponder and just accept some answer that they were fed to them as children. In reality, children are probably they best socratic philosophers (with their endless "why"s). I think a brilliant example is from my childhood, the genius is my sister.

We were getting tucked into bed by my father when my sister asked him, how he knows that God exists. No one can really quite remember what my dad's answer was, but we think he probably gave some speech about not having physical evidence that God exists, but one must have faith in something that they cannot see, or you can see God exists in miracles, blah blah. After he was done, he said his good nights and my sister turned to me and said, "That means he doesn't know."

The next time a kid asks you a question, really think about the appropriate answer to give them, because they listen and remember everything you say.

Certain songs make me happy

So, I am feeling better today, compared to yesterday. It is bright, shiny and warmish outside. Also, on my way to work, I heard Walking on Sunshine on the radio. It just put me in a good mood.

On a email listserve that a group of us in Public Allies made, we would come up with 'Top 5' lists we would email back and forth to each other, to pass time if we were bored. One list was a 'Top 5 Happy Songs.' One of the members named Walking on Sunshine on his list (which was actually over 5, because he was having a good day).

It is true, that song does make me happy as well. As I was listening to it, I thought to myself, "How exactly does one walk on sunshine?" Immediately I thought of the Peanuts characters dancing in that Christmas special. Specifically, I thought of the guy with the green shirt, that does a kind of zombie-walk-in-place dance. That is how one walks on sunshine.

I love the Charlie Brown/Peanuts dance. Even though, I am not a dancer, I still try to incorporate these moves when I do bust a groove. It just seems joyful. (Just a quick note here, I googled the term 'Charlie Brown Dance' to find this video and thought the combination and editing of the video and song was brilliant even if I am not a fan of Outkast or this song in particular. Also, in my google search, I found the Urban Dictionary defintion of 'Charlie Brown' which states in so many words that it is 'the part of the cha-cha slide when everyone stands around awkwardly'..heh).

In case you were wondering, here is a list of other songs (top 5 off the top of my head) that make me happy:

Love Shack - The B-52s
Shake it Up - The Cars
Groove is in the Heart - Deelite
Goods (in your head) - Mates of State
Shake Your Pants - The Meligrove Band

Today feels like suck 'aka' Emo is the new goth

I hate rainy, dreary weather. I especially hate it when I am already in a bad mood. I blame the 24 hour coverage of the VA Tech massacre, and my willing viewing of said coverage. Whenever something this sad happens on a national or world scale, I always seem to be drawn in to the stories of the victims and the perpetrator (I go and read the Crime Library website for fun). The human psyche fascinates me. I think I missed my calling as a criminologist. However, if I did decide to go into the field of studying crime, I would probably be in a constant mood that I am experiencing now, the mood of 'blah.' The fact that there are people out there that do things like this makes me depressed. What makes me even more depressed, is that the situation even occurring doesn't shock me.

Perhaps my mood also has to do with now not having anything to occupy my spare time. Before I was constantly worry and/or planning my sister's baby shower, which just occurred this past weekend, sans any great disaster (woohoo). This may sound weird, but I am one of those people that needs something to worry about, in order to function properly. I am like my cousin's baby, who constantly walks around looking busy, busy, busy but really has nowhere important to go or see. When I don't have anything to do, I realize my life is boring. However, in light of recent events, boring feels fine.

I once read somewhere that Sagittarians (my sign) are energetic and optimistic people. However they get bored easily, and when they do get bored they also get pessimistic and moody. At the time I was reading that I didn't believe it (mostly because I never see myself as energetic or optimistic), but I kind of do now.

Yes, today is a day that I sadly stare out of my rain-streamed window with my chin in hands. Ho-hum. Hopefully my America's Next Top Model date with my friends will make me feel better.

Jordy Lemoine - Alison

Same creepiness. This is going to be the soundtrack to my nightmare tonight.

Jordy Its So Tough to be A Baby

This is creepy, weird and kind of cute.

RIP Kurt Vonnegut

I remember being in around the ninth grade and asking my parents what their favorite books were. My mother told me To Kill a Mockingbird and my father said Slaughterhouse-five. I was looking to try and expand my mind, and actually read books for my own pleasure, and not because teachers made me (at that time the last time I read a book on my own, the authors included Ann Martin, Beverly Cleary, RL Stein or any American Girl author). So, I decided to tackle my dad's favorite book first.

This was my first Kurt Vonnegut novel, and probably the best way to get introduced. Reading Slaughterhouse-five for the first time can be described in three sequential thought processes:

1. WTF!?!
2. Indifference - long intake process
3. Awe.

Such an important literary figure will be missed.

Negative Kudos the not-Thursday Version: Don Imus

I know it is late, but never too late to comment on this: "Nappy headed hoes," Really? This comment is suppose to be taken as an joke? Hmm. Don't see the funny. Maybe he and I have a different sense of humor. Perhaps he would think it would be hilarious if I called him a cracker-ass shitslice?

Maybe I've been to one-too-many sensitivity trainings but I don't find any racial humor (especially when it resorts to name calling) funny.

Come on Imus! The least you can do is make fun of the team for being from the Armpit of America.

Reasons why I will be an awesome aunt

A) I like to give children candy and I'm not talking about the creepy man in a van way. I'm talking about getting the kid nice and riled up so the parents have to deal with it later in the night. Yes, I'm evil. Here is photographic evidence. That is my cousin's baby Alana at my sister's Superbowl party. I was feeding her Nerds and Pixies Sticks. That is my hand with the Nerds and that is her face in sugar-high glee:
I like her dress in the picture. I wish they made it in big girl sizes so I could look just as cute.

B) I'm one of the kids. At family functions, you can usually find me playing some type of game with my little cousins or joining them on the playground equipment. We have discussions about That's So Raven and Hannah Montana. One time I was trying to explain to my 7-year-old cousin that I was an adult and her response was, "Nuh-uh."

C) I tend to talk to kids like adults. I speak in complete sentences. I ask them about their day/school/family like I really care (and guess what...I do). Maybe this is why kids like me. I don't treat them like pets or little babies with the "baby" talk. All kids like to feel like they are bigger than they really are.

D) Recently my sister told me that while her and her husband were discussing possible guardians if *knock on wood* anything were to happen to them and they told me that I was one of them. She explained that she would want someone that would be open minded like me. I like to think it has to do with my general approach to life, where I don't take things too seriously but at the same time I am very realistic, stable and responsible.

E) Lets just be honest here. I will not, or rather never, be the aunt with the money/material things. Any future offspring of my siblings should not be expecting extravagant presents from me. What they should be expecting is a sarcastic sense of humor, frank discussions on taboo topics like politics/sex/religion/money etc., moments of embarrassment from anything I may say or do, unwelcome opinions on the way that they live their lives, and insults/fists to be thrown at anyone that crosses them. Most importantly, I will be the aunt that the kids want to live with when they are ready to runaway from home and my rickety futon will be waiting for them.

This isn't a reason, but I thought I would share a photo of my cousin's second baby, Isabella:

Who Knew? Alanis Morissette is funny

Here she is doing a cover of Black Eyed Peas's "My Humps." If there is anything I love more in the world, it is radically different covers of ridiculous pop songs.

This is how much I love my family

My teenage cousin just had her second child this weekend. Another girl that was named Isabella Marie. She decided to come into the world hip first, so the doctors insisted that my cousin get a c-section. By the time I got to the hospital, all my family was already there and my cousin was out of surgery, nice and doped up.

The asshole of a "baby daddy" was there. It took all the courage in the world for me not to even mouth the words "I will kill you" to him. Maybe it was the fact that his mother was there that made me be civil to him. He is also more than a head shorter than me, so the fight would not be fair. When I jokingly told my cousin that the next time I saw her I was giving her Sex Ed 101, the dipshit laughed and I stared daggers at him.

My sister was present during the labor and was even recording the happenings before it was discovered that Isabella was coming out breech. The video, was sadly hilarious. The doctors were telling my cousin to not push, and she was telling them to shut up, she was going to push anyway. The phrase, "Where is the doctor, that little bastard," could be heard (even though my cousin insists that she said, 'can he come a little faster'). Also, as she was starting to push the doctor said, "Oh wait...it looks like..."
My cousin: "It looks like what?"
Doctor: "She's coming out breech."
Cousin: "What's breech?"
Doctor: "Butt first"
Cousin: "Does that mean I need a c-section?"
Doctor: "Yes."
Cousin: *starts crying in disappointment* "Oh no....Get it out now!"
It was funny how quickly her mood changed.
Later, the doctors were showing the baby in the nursery. My mom was looking through the glass holding my cousin's other baby saying, "Oh she's so cute! She's going to be prettier than you." This is my family's sense of humor...and it was recorded. Any child born into our family needs to learn how to read sarcasm and/or get our twisted sense of humor or at least take it with a grain of salt.

The second night she was in the hospital, the baby's fuckhead father decided that he needed to rest and refused to stay in the hospital with my cousin (even though he ended up partying that night--I wonder why I hate him). My aunt had to go home to take care of her other baby and my uncle had to sleep in order to go to work the next day. I was the only one that could stay the night with her ( in reality she didn't need anyone because the nurses could take the baby in the nursery and bring her back when it was time for her to feed). My cousin just didn't want to stay by herself and she was scared of the baby being in the nursery while she slept. I'm glad I as there because when it was time for my cousin to breastfeed, she would always fall asleep with the baby in her arms. So I would burp, change and swaddle the baby (and put my cousin's boob back away) when necessary. I couldn't get any sleep (I know..I should try going through labor myself and then complain). Anytime I was dozing off, the baby would make a small noise and I would jump up and see what was wrong.

See, I told you I love my family.

Also during the weekend I met a few of my also-knocked-up-friends-of-my-cousin and felt close to tears looking at them. They just think motherhood is SOOOOO cool. I feel bad for them, but most importantly I feel bad for their children. What was weird though is one of my cousin's friends (one that was not pregnant)had a ton of questions for me, about my job. My cousin's friends never have questions for me. I am a non-Sheboyganite, childless college grad with a job therefore I am boring. Kids these days!

The things I do when I am semi-awake (or should I say semi-sleeping)

Second post in a row where the topic is sleep-related. Lately I have been obsessed with dreams and sleep. Probably because I don't think I have been getting enough of it lately. I've also been made aware of things I do in my sleep, or in a semi-sleep state.

I remember once during the summer after high school. I worked at Kohl's Department Store and had to work the "early bird special" day. I had to get up at 4am to be at work by 5am. That night I couldn't get to sleep and didn't fall asleep until probably 2 (it was most likely later). When the alarm clock went off, I turned it off and jumped out of bed. I sort of forgot that I was in the upper part of a bunk bed and went crashing straight into the ground. My sister, who was asleep in the lower bunk told me that I got up like nothing was wrong, and went walking out of the room. She asked me if I was OK as I was heading toward the bathroom. She said I mumbled something incoherent and walked off. When she told me about it later I told her (and meant it) that I didn't remember.

Later in college something similar happened. I was getting out of my lofted bed, to help a friend search for another friend that had just earlier sleptwalked (is that a word?) out of my room. I once again forgot about being higher off the ground that I remembered and went crashing down into the ground, this time a bucket of cleaning supplies broke my fall. My friend said I once again got up like nothing was wrong and walked out of my dorm room. We found our friend brought her back. I woke up the next morning and found my elbow had ballooned to twice its size and that there was a big hole punctured in my bucket of cleaning supplies. My friend told me what happened that next day.

Then there was last night. I woke up thinking I had a dream about my mom calling me and letting me know that my teenage cousin was in labor and setting up plans to go home and spend time with the family. Taking a shower this morning, I was trying to remember if that was a real experience, or just a dream. I checked my phone, and realized that it actually happened. I am capable of entire conversations while in a semi-awake state.

Maybe its genetic. Recently, while on the phone with my sister, I found out that my dad sleep eats. Something that none of his kids knew about, until one late night my brother and his friends were playing poker and my dad got out of his bedroom, went to the fridge and starting eating left overs. Apparently my brother tried to talk to him, but he was not responding. Creepy.

So basically what I really want to say if that my cousin is ruining my weekend by having her baby during a time when I had plans on hanging out with friends (or in this case see my friend's band who I haven't seen in a long time). She's lucky I love her and her offspring.

Sharon

It has been about 3 years and 5 months since my grandmother passed away, and I still find that I think about her daily. Sometimes I still have to catch myself when I think about her being alive, and when I will see her next, what I will tell her about my life that is new and ask her about her latest ailment (because she had oh-so-many)that is bothering her. Lately I have been doing pretty good in not "forgetting" that she is no longer alive. Then last night I dreamt about her. Here is how the dream went.

I was walking towards her house, on one of my usual visits. On my way there I ran into a box of abandoned kittens. They all looked malformed and undernourished. They weren't the cutest things I have ever seen, but I felt a bond with them. I brought the box into my grandmothers house and told my grandma about them. Here's the thing, when I looked at my grandma, she didn't have a face and she didn't speak to me, but I saw her outline, which is so distinct to me. Maybe this is my fear of forgetting what she looks like. Almost as if I need a picture to recall her face, as I can't automatically do it one my own.

Anyway the dream continued with me being in a complete different room from her, watching the kittens. I was talking to her through the walls, but she wouldn't respond to anything to I said. I looked down at a white blanket that was laying on the couch and realized that there were a bunch of fleas laying on it that were brought in by the kittens. For some reason I thought that this was something I shouldn't tell my grandmother about. Like I was ashamed of what I brought into her house and I didn't want her to be angry at me.

It was at this point that I startled myself awake. The actual panic, fear of what my grandmother would think of me, woke me up. My first initial thought was, "Oh, I need to tell grandma about this one. I wonder what she will say about it." My second thought was, "Oh yeah."

I miss her.

Otters holding hands

This is possibly the cutest thing I have ever seen, but it gets so much cuter when there is about 20 seconds left.

I had a good weekend...

On Friday night I went to the Public Allies Artful Living Auction. I was a little hesistant to go at first. It would cost me $20 to mingle among a crowd that consisted of individuals who were not my number one fan. On the plus side, I would have an entire night of complementary beer and wine and my friends outnumbered my non-fans. Oh yeah, and there's that whole thing about giving money to a good cause, blah blah blah. It wasn't as awkward as I thought it would be, and I actually looked halfway decent. I would like to thank H&M for providing a skirt that provided shape.

After the auction we went to a bar. I had one whole beer and sat down the whole time, minus a few time I hit up the bathroom, where my friend Mario, while freshing up his makeup, informed me that I would be carrying his child sometime in the future. Afterwards my friends tried to convince me to travel to an entire new neighborhood to hang out. I said I would. I even followed them outside the bar, where I proceeded to hail my own cab and drive to my own apartment. Even the cab drive was awesome. I provided some counseling to the him about his girlfriend problems. There must be something about me, that makes people be so open and honest with me, even though they first met me.

There was even more good times on Saturday. I drove myself to Madison, to attend the Wunk Sheek annual spring pow wow. First I met up with my sister and her husband at the Nitty Gritty. They really wanted to eat there beforehand. They seem to miss Madison bar/late night food. You know what? So do I. (Tuesday Nights 2-for-1 deal and Pokey sticks? I don't know why we thought three girls could finish off 2 XL of those beasts).

The pow wow itself was great. I love pow wows. I love just closing my eyes and listening to the drums. I love looking at all the dancing and mentally drowning out the music. It is almost as if I looked and listened at the same time, I would be put on sensory overload or my heart would explode from the joy of it all. Ew, I just got corny there for a second. What is the best part of pow wows? Reunions.

There were so many people I met up with that I haven't seen in years. While we were talking and catching up with our lives (meeting children that were birthed or in my sisters situation saying hello to bumps that will eventually become children) we would always stop and remark at how grown up we have all become. Weird, I don't feel much like a grown up.

I stayed in Madison that night to go out for a couple of drinks with my friend Lina. She had her daughter about four monthes ago, so I was more than happy to hang out with her (and she was thrilled to get a night off). We each had two drinks, which means we partied it up hard, heh.

About 30 minutes before we left, I went to the bathroon and took a look in the mirror. I decided I was of the "looks like she hasn't taken a shower in a few days" variety of fug. When I came back, about 5 minutes later Lina and I had two guys approach us, asking us the normal, "So you two from around here," type stuff. Lina had mentioned something about graduating with a BA in history. One guy shot over quickly and spoke with her individually, as he was also in the history deparment. I had a hunch before hand (what with the early revelation in the bathroom) that I had the wingman (I know there is a name for the girl/guy that the wingman is stuck with but I forget). I learned that he did kung fu, and grew up in the hanging around in the neighborhood that I know live in, he hoped someday to visit Haiwaii.

A short while later it was bar close, we said our goodbyes. Kung Fu guy said that he hoped to see me around sometime. Yeah, I will totally randomly run into you the next time I randomly visit Madison. I'll put in my calender. Stupidhead. As we were walking to the car, Lina said something about how she was the one talking with the wingman. My response was, "Are you kidding me? I had the wingman." Friends always think alike.

Famous People I kind of look like

My cool celebrity look-alike collage from MyHeritage.com. Get one for yourself.



That is the second time I was told by that site I looked like Lucille Ball.

Negative Kudos: A glimpse into the near future?

When the news first broke that John Edwards and his wife were going to have a news conference concerning her health, I think many people knew what was to come. Her cancer had returned, but would this affect his campaign for presidency in 2008. As it turns out, it is not. He is still planning on running.

This story makes me sad for two reasons: First, because it is sad to hear that anyone is sick, especially if they are going through their second bout of cancer (this time an 'incurable' case). Second, I am just imaging what the O'Reiley's of the world will say. "Don't let Edwards use this as a way to gain not only your sympathy, but your vote as well." Because assholes do tend to say this type of crap. So, I am giving my negative kudos to the people I know will "Go There."

I am not naive. I know that people, especially politians, have a way of using media and publicity to sway the opinion of the people. But this seems to tragically genunie. I wish the best for the Edwards family. Cancer sucks.

4 years plus one day

I try not to put up posts that are political, because in reality I don't think I have anything different or intelligent to say on the subject. Mostly, these types of subjects mean I have to be serious, which I hate to do. However, I would like to say something that I don't really think is political, but is human. I hope this ends soon. I don't have any loved ones overseas, but I do know people that live in fear that their loved ones might get deployed sometime soon, and I feel for them. I also feel for the Iraqis that live in fear everyday.

The main thing that moved me to say something was something that I saw this morning on Good Morning America. They showed an update on a story they did a year ago about a ballet class in Iraq. Now, they dance without music, because their piano accompanist fled the country in fear, and yet they keep on going. I don't follow this type of art form, but watching those children dance in complete silence had me in tears.

When the interviewer asked the young teens how many of them have seen dead bodies, all of them raised their hands. One girl nervously giggled that she saw someone getting beheaded. What world do we have to live in that people must build a defense mechanism to "laugh off" such horrendous acts happening around them.

How am I suppose to feel living in a place where I don't deal with that type of environment: grateful? guilty? can you feel both at the same time?

So 4 years and one day later, lets all hope that this ends soon, and it does so peacefully.

Creepy Stalkers

I've never had my own stalker, and am kind of grateful for that. I don't think I could be anyone's stalker (and haven't been one up to this point in my life). However, looking at these two websites make me feel like a stalker to people I don't even know:

Found Magazine - I linked to one entry I found particularly amusing. I also hope that when I find the love of my life, they won't get on my nerves.

PostSecret - Sometimes, and this is embarrassing to admit, there are entries that make me teary eyed. Watch out for that one because sometimes they have stuff not safe for work.

You know what I miss???

I miss the days of Jock Jams. The days of making up dance routines to songs like, BelBivDevoe (or whatever they are called)'s Poison. The days of dancing up a storm in my friend's kitchen to K7's Come Baby Come and doing the Toostie Roll at middle school dances. Those songs remind me of a more innocent time. A time where I was so super excited about having "cool" friends. You know, the friends that would go to the park so they could smoke behind the park shed while I watched (or in some situations played look out) because I was too much of a good girl in participating.

If anything, these songs most remind me of a friend, who I no longer talk to, named Josh. I knew him as a younger child. His cousins used to live in the flat above mine, and my family and his family didn't get along. It wasn't until I met him again about 5 years later, both of us in our early teens, that we became friends. He was one of those "cool" people that stayed out waaaaay past the city curfew and he smoked and drank. Outwardly he had a very tough exterior, but when he was with me he was much more sensitive.

Mostly, when we were together, we talked about his undying love for my sister. I tried to support him, never really telling him that my sister was aware, and not interested, in his affections (Oddly enough, last news I did hear about him was that he was living in another city...with his boyfriend, go figure). After awhile, we just naturally drifted apart, but whenever they play those old Jock Jams-type songs on the radio, I think of our good times together.

So...do you like...stuff?

Today I went to a Teen Services Workshop. It was 99% about teen pregnancy. It kind of made me depressed. I don't know what I was expecting going into the workshop. Maybe some after school programs that were available, or college prep courses, or anything really. How could I, cousin to a 16 year old girl who is pregnant with baby #2, not know the reality of today's situation. Fooey to kids today for not knowing/caring about safe sex. If I every have kids (that is a strong IF) I am encasing their entire bodies in latex, or lamb's skin if they are allergic to latex. OK, maybe I won't really do that but I will make sure that get proper sex education (along with knowing the physical, mental and emotial ramifications). Screw abstinence only education.

Today I heard the phrase, "He made the entire office smell like Olde English," come out of my supervisor's mouth and it made me smile for the rest of the afternoon. Nothing like mentioning a 40 oz to amuse me so. I think a lot of my friends who think I am a lush will be surprised to know that I never drank from a 40 oz before. See, I am a good girl.

I also feel the need to share this, since I love blogs about cute animals and wacky tags/commentary.

Negative Kudos: Credit Card Companies

Dear American Express and Citibank,

I AM NOT A BOY. So please stop addressing mail to me as Mr. Holland MyLastName. Don't even make me buy one of these in an adult size. Thank you for your time and consideration.

Hugs and Kisses,

Holland, the woman.

I watch too much TV

Television sometimes makes me so angry. I wish I was one of those people that could say, "I don't watch TV. It is for the uncreative and lazy," or some other kind of pompous ass thing to say. However, television was sunk it's firm grasp into me at a young age, ever since those Sesame Street/Mr. Rogers Neighborhood/Zoobilee Zoo days. But what exactly about TV gets me so angry? I am angry at television programs for allowing me to be angry and disappointed with it. I should not be allowed to have any emotion when it comes to this subject matter. Instead I should be allowed to mindless drone in front of it without having to invest myself into it too much.

I guess what I am most upset about with TV is how unrealistic it can be. Maybe this is why I like shows like Heroes. It doesn't even try to portray "real" life (oh no, did I just kill the hopes of all people out there that hope they can someday possesses superhuman powers?). In the world of television, the average woman is 5'7", 100 lbs, and gets sex regularly with a different man each time. I don't know what kind of reality that is, but it is not a reality I live in. I live in a reality where woman are a variety of heights, and weights (even the skinny ones may have a little cushioning in the mid-section) and can go ***GASP*** months and even more without sex (of any kind with any gender). But instead on television, I am told that this is the standard of beauty:



Don't get me wrong. I am kind of hippie at heart, that believes everybody possesses some kind of beauty, but this just makes me think, "Is it human? Is it... ***pokes with toe*** ...alive?" Or maybe its just my disdain for her character on Grey's Anatomy (how is one, that hasn't been breathing on their own for an hour, still alive and not brain dead?), which gets me to my next thing I hate about TV: title characters.

They always suck the life out of a show. Grey's Anatomy, Ally McBeal, What about Brian (oh god, I can't believe I admitted to even watching one episode of that), and much more. The title character is always the least interesting person on the show but you know they won't get killed off, because what will the show be called then? I would like to know a show that had a title character that didn't suck (and don't tell me Buffy or Gilmore Girls because those shows just sucked in general and yes I am being immature and uncreative by reusing the word "suck" but can you blame me, I am a TV viewer).

I will say there is one exception to the rule, Ugly Betty. I like the title character, but I wouldn't say she is my favorite character on the show. So perhaps it isn't an entire exception to the rule.

Trachtenburg Family Slideshow Players - Eggs

I tried posting this before, but lets try it again.

Here's the rundown. They are a family that would go to estate sales, collect slideshows and decided to write songs about them. Dad keyboards and guitars, daughter drums, mom slideshow projects. I think everyone sings. They are political at times. Almost always awesome.

My family: a constant source of embarassment...for other people

Last night, I went back to my hometown to have dinner with my family to celebrate my dad's birthday. We chose to go to this nice-ish place that seems to be a family restaurant, with a nice fireplace in a small village. It seems like one of those places you go to after church. My family decides that this is a place to loudly discuss sex shops. Particularly, what was the difference between your standard adult porn shop and your standard woman's pleasure shop and how one is gross, creepy and old man filled and the other is more hippie filled, not so gross but a little awkward.

After our mother got over the initial shock that her children went to such places, both her and my father participated in said discussion. No one in my family hesitated or was embarrassed, but their were some red faces, particularly in my brother-in-law and my brother's girlfriend. Perhaps it was because the table next to us just so happened to leave right when the discussion started (or was it when I was discussing nipple clamps???). I just now realized I might be getting some weird website visitors with a few simple search terms.

Some other random stuff I learned about my mom this weekend, that I didn't know before:

-when my mom was younger she used to call into the local radio station and dedicated songs to boys she liked in school (she was totally THAT girl)
-she (like me) thinks that it is not right to steal from the plastic candy/nut bins at the grocery stores or for that matter steal a grape from the produce department
-when my sister was about 1, my mom and dad took her to see Elvis Costello play at Summerfest (a Milwaukee music festival)...isn't that kind of awesome?

And now back to your regularly scheduled Negative Kudos: Jackass Impersonators

So I missed last week, due to a) sleeping in from my late flight from San Antonio and b) forgeting what day it was because I was too busy that night dancing with my cousin's one year old daughter. Who knew that spinning around while holding a kid and listening to Spoon's "The Way We Get By" could cause that same kid to go into what can be only described as violent giggles.

Well here is my Negative Kudos for this week. Stupid people that mimic stupid movies like Jackass, and this time its not even teenagers.

A 43 year old man (yep, 43, I didn't accidently hit the 4 and mean to hit the 1) sprayed lighter fluid on a 20 year old willing participant's hands and gentals and then lit it. The 20 year old is now dealing with second degree burns. Not a surpise that alcohol was involved. This same stunt was shown on the Jackass movie.

Why one would even think to do those stunts is beyond me. At least the idiots making the movie are getting paid for it.

Adventures of the girl who knows jackshit

So I forgot to write about my conference experience last week in San Antonio. Here it goes. It will probably be disjointed because I am writing as the memories are coming to me.

I left two Sundays ago. I was lucky enough to be lifting off between the second and third waves of snow storms that Wisconsin (and most of theMidwest ) was experiencing. I really hate flying, but this wasn't that bad. Which was surprising because the weather would have made the ride bumpy, but it turned out to be fine (cannot be said for the ride home...more of that later).

Texas, itself, is not too pretty (Sorry Texans, I like the greenery of Wisconsin, when its not winter, and Texas is kind of sort of brown). However the weather was pleasant. It was in the high 70's the whole time, with a nice cool gentle breeze.

I felt totally out of place while at the conference. Service coordinators made up less than 10% of the people. Of the SCs, two were men, six were people of color, and only one other girl besides me was under the age of 30'sish. Most of them were old enough to have grandkids, as I could tell from their conversations.

There was one woman who looked like the oldest she could be was mid-30's. Then she started talking about herself, and her kids. She said her oldest was 29. I said, "Wait...how old is your oldest? 29?!?" In reality I was thinking, "Who in the huh in the what now???"Puerto Rico (where she is from) must have magic water.

The first training we had was called "How to help you, help others." When I first read that, I rolled my eyes. But as it turned out the training was actually interesting, and even inspiring. Just enough to get me out of my work funk....oh wait...just lost it. Never mind. (I should also not here she used the term "trust the process" which nearly made me go into compulsions from past experiences with that term. She also told us that in order to successfully work with and for people one cannot be sarcastic. Damn, there goes my whole strategy).

I want to quickly note that while in Texas, I thought every other man was in the military, but as it turns out there was a military-type conference going on. I'm very good at noting my surroundings.

Overall the conference made me feel really inferior because apparently I don't know proper procedure and standards. I basially had a meltdown when confronted about my inconsistencies in documentation and contacts. Luckily all the other SCs were very sympathetic and willing to help me out to get on the proper track. (However as it turns out, I found out that I am doing fine and what I do is vastly different than the otherSCs due to the population I work for. No meltdown was needed).

I only really left the hotel and went downtown one night. All the other nights I was attending receptions, too exhausted or puffy-faced from the crying meltdown (sometimes I can be really really emotional). That night I went out was a night a large group of us went out (a bus was provided). We had dinner at some Mexican restaurant where a Mariachi band played right next to us. Outside they had a concert going on, Taking Back Sunday was playing.

After dinner we went to the River Walk area. TO get there you walk down the stairs from the downtown streets, and it feels like you walk into a different area. It was beautiful (not that San Antonio itself is, but River Walk is gorgeous). They had lights dangling from the branches of trees. The shops/restaurants/hotels and sidewalks were literally right next to the river. It was more narrow than I expected. Tour boats (some were even dinner boats) were constantly going up and down the river. I liked the crowd also. Over great ambiance...ick I sound like a brochure. The Alamo was...surprisingly disappointing but then again, I don't know what I was expecting.

The flight home went to fine, to slightly scary. We had a layover in Minneapolis. Up until then flight...fine. Then from there to Milwaukee...scary and annoying. We were flying with a storm, turbulence the whole way back, lots of rocking making me nauseous and the girl barfing next to me didn't help. Oh and that kid crying THE WHOLE TIME didn't help either.

Winter in Wisconsin. I LOVE IT.

Some more good stuff I almost forgot about

Remember Shelley Duvall's Faerie Tale Theatre? That crap was awesome.

I still remember, as a youngin', my mom would take me and my sibling on outings to the local public library. We would sit around, read books, sign-up for some computer game time (Oregon Trail baby!!!!~~~~I always seemed to die of dysentery or cholera). Before we left we almost always checked to see if there were any Faerie Tale Theatre videos available to check out. They had to be ones we didn't already see of course but we almost always left with one we never saw before.

Because all things seem to be exaggerated as children, I thought there were millions and millions of "episodes" but as it turned out there were only 26. Some of them, I don't even remember, such as The Boy Who Left Home to Find Out About the Shivers and the Snow Queen.

I almost forgot how awesome they were. Fairy Tales, or Faerie Tales-whatever, are almost always super cool to kids. Since I was the girliest girly girl as a kid, I loved them because I always imagined myself as the princesses and getting rescued by the handsome prince (now I imagine myself as being the kick ass princess rescuing the hot prince).

As an adult now, I can appreciate that some very awesome actors and directors worked in the productions. And also there is the nostalgia factor. Who doesn't like nostalgia?

The installments that I remember and love are:

The Tale of the Frog Prince (Teri Garr and Robin Williams)
Sleeping Beauty (Christopher Reeve)
Goldilocks and the Three Bears (Tatum O'Neil)
Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs
Cinderella (Jennifer Beals, Matthew Brodrick)
The Princess Who Never Laughed (Ellen Barkin and Howie Mandel)

Mick Jagger even stared in one!

One downside was that Shelley Duvall creeped me out, and kind of still does.

Negative Kudos: Entertainment News

A) If I hear another story about Anna Nicole Smith or Britney Spears I may scream, throw myself to the floor, and kick at random people.

B) At the same time...I am 100% enthralled. Its like a quasi-real soap opera. I may as well throw in the towel, buy a trashy tabloid, and admit to myself I have an additive guilty pleasure. *Shakes fists towards sky* DAMN YOU MARY HART!

Why YouTube is cool sometimes...

It introduces you to cool artists, such as this guy- Phil Hansen. It makes me wish I was artistically talented.

The Heroes Cast is Pretty

This is really just a way for me to talk about the prettiness.

Nathan Petrelli played by Adrian Pasdar: I will describe the character as upper crusty hot. The kind that is so high strung and uptight, you can't but help to find it endearing. I ask the writers of Heroes to implement more shirtless flying scenes. Stat.


Peter Petrelli (oooo alliteration) played by Milo Ventimiglia: His milkshake brings all the 12-25 year old fangirls (and some fanboys) to the yard. I would describe his appeal as soft and sensitive hot. He is just so deep.


Gabriel Gray AKA Sylar played by Zachary Quinto: Scary hot. Its hard to admit you find him attractive, what with the head slicing and maybe-brain eating.


Isaac Mendez played by Santiago Cabrera: He's an ex-heroin addict. So that means girls automatically have to be attracted to that character. Its the bad-boy-most-be-me-to-be-the-one-to-reform kind of hot.


Mohinder Suresh played by Sendhil Ramaurthy: He has a bunch of semi-to-very annoying voice overs. He's Professor Sex.

More to be continued later.

Swords are for heroes...or samurais and dragon slayers

I can't even begin to talk about the ridiculousness of this story:

A man, believing to hear a woman crying for help during rape, enters the neighbor's apartment. The man had no telephone so he could not call for police, so he decided to take matters into his own hands. He kicked down the door, only to find that the cries for help were actually coming from a pornographic movie.

Weirdest thing of all...the almost hero, entered the apartment with a sword. A SWORD.

Kind of weirder, when the police came to arrest the would be hero (criminal trespass while using a dangerous weapon, criminal damage to property while using a dangerous weapon and disorderly conduct while using a dangerous weapon) the porn watching man showed the police the spot in the movie he believed caused the misunderstanding. Boy, I hope he made some popcorn for his guests.

At least, from what I've read, that neighbors (even the one that got, um, interrupted) are glad that someone in the area cares enough to take action when they believe someone is in trouble. True but...a sword?

Negative Kudos: Tim Hardaway

Former Miami Heat basketball player, Tim Hardaway joins the long line of homophobic assholes by making some harsh statements about homosexuals shortly after former Utah Jazz player John Amaechi came out of the closet. Here is what he had to say:

First of all, I wouldn't want him on my team. And second of all, if he was on my team, I would, you know, really distance myself from him because, uh, I don't think that is right. I don't think he should be in the locker room while we are in the locker room.

Yeah, because he would totally molest all his teammates one by one because as a gay man he is attracted to every single man in the world. Oh and also this:

You know I hate gay people, so I let it be known. I don't like gay people and I don't like to be around gay people. I am homophobic. I don't like it. It shouldn't be in the world or in the United States. So yeah, I don't like it.

And:

If you have 12 other ballplayers in your locker room that's upset and can't concentrate and always worried about him in the locker room or on the court or whatever, it's going to be hard for your teammates to win and accept him as a teammate.

I sincerely hope that not all players are as hateful as you, asshat.

Oh, and what a surprise, he feed the media a nicely prepared kiss ass apology not that much later:

"Yes, I regret it. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said I hate gay people, or anything like that. That was my mistake."

Really sincere!

How to get a free cup-o-joe from the corner coffee shop

1. Go to your car in the morning and turn on.

2. While car is running, "unlock" doors and go outside to get snow off windows. Purposely hit the lock in stead of unlock button, while making sure your purse, cell phone, AAA card, money etc is inside the car.

3. When done cleaning the car, attempt to open door and looked shocked when you realize that the door is locked, with the car running. You were so sure that you hit that damn unlock button.

4. Enter corner coffee shop, where you know police officers are every morning, with car brush in hand and ask for help to get into your car.

5. You totally already have prior knowledge that Milwaukee Police no longer help in these situation (because of some BS about liability on "breaking" the car's power windows by accidentally messing with wires). So they tell you to call AAA.

6. Give the near tears look in your face when you tell them your AAA card, cell phone and house keys are locked in your car. Police officer will then lend you cell phone and get the AAA number for you.

7. Owner of coffee shop will see you sniffling (in case you can't cry for real, get a cold real quick like me) and said owner will demand that you take a free cup of coffee for all your troubles.

All this will cost you is:

• 20 minutes waiting on hold for a representative.
• Another 10 minutes while representative tries to find your 16 digit membership number, which you for some reason just can't memorize.
• Then another 60 minutes while you wait for the damn tow truck which takes about one minute to unlock your damn door.
• Oh, and lets not forget the gas from the still running car.
• Being late for work.
  

I hate my luck.

Snow, Snow, Soft White Snow

Now to break the cold snap, the weather decides to turn to...Snowy. Yayyyyyyyyy. Actually I have no problem with snow, or even snow storms. There is actually something very peaceful about snowfalls. Of course, I am only referring to the times that you are staring outside the window from the safety of your own home. If you are staring out the window at a snowstorm from anywhere else, you are not feeling anything other than anxiety about the car ride home. Or maybe that's just me, and how I am feeling right now. Except its not really snow-storming outside, more like just snowing. I'm just a really excitable person.

The title of this blog comes from a play I was in when I was about 6 years old. It was the called the Selfish Giant, I believe. I was...wait for it...a snow flake. It was my job to come in, do a choreographed dance and "wilt" the flowers (one of which was my sister). All while I, along with the other 4-5 snowflakes, sang the following song:

Snow, snow, soft white snow
Snow, snow, gentle snow
Cover the earth with your blanket white
And softly say goodnight, goodnight

Yes, I remember the song, but only because my mother has me recorded practicing the song and dance. She likes to torture me with the video.

It was to be my acting debut, but alas, it was not meant to be. I was only able to do a few shows before I was infected with the dreaded chicken pox.

I probably consoled myself by putting on the Captain and Tennille record and lip syncing Muskrat Love to myself in the mirror. I may or may not have actually done that as a child.

Negative Kudos: Arctic Blast, Beater Cars and Colds

Not my drawing, or actually me

It has been almost a week now that each day started off with (and pretty much remained for the rest of the day) at negative degrees Fahrenheit. Just imagine what the windchill contributed to that cold.

Not my actual car

I thank the heavens, that my agnostic soul questions exists, that my car was able to start and run. Now if only that beater could actually dispense heat. Yeah, that would be nice but at least the car is running.

Not actually me

Also, as I write this, I am sweating my balls off in my over heated office. Well, I don't have balls, but if I did, they would be gone due to this sweat box. The fact that I am wearing layered clothes (for the cold car rides to and from home) and have a cold AGAIN do not help my rising body temperature. Yes, that's right. I am trying to obtain the goal of getting a cold every month for one year straight. So far, I have October-February. Wish me luck for my continued success.

Negative Kudos: Senator Biden

Senator Joe Biden (D-Delaware) has been in the news for making the following statement regarding Senator Barack Obama (D-Illinois)***its a supposed compliment***:

"first mainstream African-American who is articulate and bright and clean and a nice-looking guy."

Mmmmm. Smells like ignorance.

Anytime that any black person is describes as "articulate" I wince. Aren't all politicans, regardless of race, supposed to be articulate and bright? But to give the guy some credit, even our own President of the United States of America has described Obama as "articulate."

And CLEAN? What the fuck is up with that? In this story, he later explained that by clean, he meant "fresh/new."

The statement comes off as saying, all African Americans that are in the mainstream, are not intelligent, don't speak well, DIRTY!!!, and ugly. Sorry Condi Rice, Oprah, Al Sharpton, Jesse Jackson, Colin Powell, Louis Farrakhan etc etc.

I am hoping that Biden learns how to filter the words coming from his head to his mouth.

Oh, and a Happy Black History Month to all.