I'm no Rocket Scientist

but why in the hell hasn't anyone in the vending machine business figured out that it would be NICE to have a cushion at the bottom of the fricking machine so that when my delicate snackwells tumble from the THIRD ROW UP, they don't get injured beyond recognition???

Broken cookies are depressing.

Tom Cruise

Is a real prick.

Secrets

If you got ‘em, keep ‘em. I’m not down with them. I firmly believe that they are not good for my psyche. It matters not what *kind* of secret it is. It only matters if you expect me to keep it from someone.

Not only am I a HORRIBLE secret keeper, but I am also a horrible secret teller. I never get the facts right because I’m too freaked out that I’m telling. And I don’t even keep my own. Ask me how much I make, and I’ll spill. Ask me how much I owe on credit cards, here you go. Ask me about the last time I got in a fight with SK, and I’ll describe it in detail.

I can understand how disconcerting this must be to people that trust me to keep their secrets, but consider this as full warning; I do not want to know nor keep your secrets. It might be safe for you to preface a secret-telling with, “Don’t tell anybody but…,” I’ll be sure to interrupt you right there and tell you that I don’t want to know.

The tough thing is that even people that know this about me and choose not to overtly share secrets with me, end up falling victim to it. Apparently there are many anecdotes that are shared between friends that aren’t expressly stated to be secrets but would be embarrassing if shared with the wrong crowd.

Here’s my quick and dirty analysis; secrets are such because of shame most often.* And I have very little shame. I guess I chalk up most of my mistakes to moments in time where I had a little learnin’ to do. I like to be generous with others in the same way, that’s why I think I’m pretty good at forgiveness. Anyway, because I’m mostly not ashamed and don’t really relate to that sentiment (much like guilt, but that’s another story), I don’t really honor other’s shame as much as I should. For that reason, as *punishment” for my inability to empathize, I will reveal some items that should be secrets about me, if I considered them such.

1. There are cheerios and raisins all over my living room floor right now.
2. I have $28 in my personal savings account.
3. I am at the “danger zone” in regards to my weight.
4. I didn’t bathe today.
5. I hate republicans, regardless of their person.
6. I’m not nearly as smart as my mother believes.
7. I sneak cigarettes every now and again.
8. I’d rather philosophize about the state of the state, than do something about it.
9. I could give more money to charity if I budgeted. I do not budget.
10. I am not a member of NPR but listen to it daily.

Long story short, please trust me when I say, I will not keep your secrets.



**The surprise party secret is an exception to this rule, and I am a bit better at keeping these sorts of secrets, but still not great.

No Centralized Topic

Gouda got a short walk this morning because I had to be in on a 9 a.m. call and had to prepare first. He respectfully requested to move to Uncle Kevin’s house, which I firmly refused. I tried to explain the Uncle Kevin is a lot like grandparents and that, if he lived with him, it wouldn’t be all treats and balls. He was not convinced.

Riding in today I read two stories in the Metro worth comment. First, a story about a local police officer that had a heart attack and died while on duty. Apparently, some protestors of the Biotechnology Conference had a scuffle with police and the officer had a heart attack directly following the scuffle.

“The excitement of the scuffle created a cardiac situation where he had a heart attack,” Attorney Lynne Abraham said. She has decided to charge those that participated in the scuffle with two counts of aggravated assault, resisting arrest, conspiracy and disorderly conduct.

“These are the correct charges under all circumstances.”

Okey doke then. Seems fine enough to me.

But wait!

“…police and witnesses said that Williams (the officer) was kicked and punched.” So the guy was beaten?? Well, maybe the charges should be homicide.

But wait!

Autopsy reports “showed that Williams had an enlarged heart” and that “there was no physical evidence, such as bruises, that he was beaten.”

Okey doke then. Cops are lying about what happened to trump up charges to feel better about a tragedy. Hmmmm, but there’s no mention of calling these cops on their lies. Huh. Guess it’s okay to lie about witnessing stuff if you’re a cop.

Good to know. Everyone, please make a note of that.

The second story’s headline says it all: Flag-burning amendment in Congress once again

Helllooooo? Shouldn’t these people be focusing on other issues? Just a thought.

Another tid bit: This worries me.

Finally, I’m on vacation in two weeks and am counting the moments. I’m a very lucky girl.

Idiots

My intention is not to be negative. In fact, I'm feeling rather playful and happy today. Even so, I felt the need to briefly mention the following.

The Nazi talk is RIDICULOUS. For Pete's sake, let's get a grip on drawing comparisons between political opponents and genocide. In my opinion, this is right up there with talking about "the rape of the land."

Idiocy.

For My Father On Father's Day

To you, my smart and funny, sweet and kind, father, I give...

...Dubya's speech writer .

You, of all people, will enjoy it. Hugs and Kisses Pops. You're the best.



*thanks to BA.

A Delightful Weekend

Friday afternoon we went to see Bubber’s End of Year Show at daycare where we were sure he was going to dazzle ‘em. Alas, not so much. He was The Crier, needing to be held while the rest of the children were happy and they knew it so they clapped their hands. Ubs, clearly, was not informed of his happiness ratio, pre-stage. Hurumpf.

Mim and her beau visited from PDX (the most green of all places) this weekend as well. It was delightful to meet her sweetie as they shared their plans for the fall. All very wonderful and pleasing. We brunched with Mim’s family at the Double Tree here in Philly. It was nice to catch up with her mum and brothers. All good stuff.

Sunday the five us went to the aquarium where we saw sea horses and sea dragons (thanks A), and seals, all of which are my favorite. Then to the Oregon Diner followed by napping.

The weekend rounded out with a great theatrical experience. The Zellnik’s extraordinary gifts took center stage at the Arden in Olde City. Yank was a beautiful love story, a moment in time, a sweet remembrance of growing up and figuring it out. And the music! Don’t even get me started.

During the performance, Bubber got to hang with the Adams', which always tires him out and makes for a quiet, cuddly baby.

Speaking of tired and cuddly, Gouda returned home from his weekend with KW, instantly demanding kisses and pets. Sweet boy. He's a lucky puppy.

Needless to say, a fabulous weekend was had by all, furry and non-furry alike.

Our next house guests will arrive the last weekend of June and hail from the lovely West Coast as well. I'll never know how we meet so many great people in our thus-far short lives (hey! we're not that old!), but I'm feeling mighty happy about it. Now if only Ubs would clap his hands.

Updates:

Bubber’s Linguistic Progress:
It turns out that Bubber says mommy even less than I had thought. “Mimi” is actually, “Me Me.” Huh. Live and learn. The kid clearly conceives of me as the absolute, always persisting entity in his life. The One need not called, if you will. Either that or he better start saying “mommy” asap.

Michael Jackson:

I know. I must comment briefly. I promise, briefly. MJ guilty or not? I don’t know. No one does but the kid(s) and him. What I can say is that there is a tragedy here. The tragedy that is indisputable is that we helped make MJ who he is, a childish, undeveloped caricature. A toy for our amusement. A person-bot. A gadget. A pet.

Shame on us.

My Pissy Attitude:

Yep, I got one. I have no clue what my freak’n damage is, but I’m feeling angry, tired and annoyed. Just FYI.

The Downing Street Memo:

Shhhhhhhhh, mums the word apparently.

Missy Elliot:

Tis da bomb.

Libs Out.

That's Our Guy!

THE PRESIDENT 'SPLAINS
SOCIAL SECURITY
Tampa, FL, Feb. 4, 2005

WOMAN IN AUDIENCE: "I don't really understand. How is the new [Social Security] plan going to fix that problem?"

Verbatim response

PRESIDENT BUSH: "Because the -- all which is on the table, begins to address the big cost drivers. For example, how benefits are calculated, for example, is on the table. Whether or not benefits rise based upon wage increases or price increases. There's a series of parts of the formula that are being considered. And when you couple that, those different cost drivers, affecting those -- changing those with personal accounts, the idea is to get what has been promised more likely to be -- or closer delivered to that has been promised. Does that make any sense to you? It's kind of muddled."

"Look, there's a series of things that cause the -- like, for example, benefits are calculated based upon the increase of wages, as opposed to the increase of prices. Some have suggested that we calculate -- the benefits will rise based upon inflation, as opposed to wage increases. There is a reform that would help solve the red if that were put into effect. In other words, how fast benefits grow, how fast the promised benefits grow, if those -- if that growth is affected, will help on the red."

--thanks to tmwmsu

A Nice Lil Site

This looks like a nice lil site to see photos of Americana, train style. Me likes. Then this. Holy crap! These are the images we're using to motivate us to become citizen police?

How you say, whack? Yeah, that's whack!

*Thanks to kds for the tip-off.

I Only Have Time For This Today...

...but thank god I did!

You're sweet, but not naive -- though you like to be babied like a child at times. You prefer to have a bad boy by your side, but sometimes have problems understanding why he has to run off to take care of business. You want to settle down, yet deep down inside, you are excited by the surprises life throws your way. Take the What Pulp Fiction Character Are You? quiz.

TGIF

Some bits and pieces of my week.

I came upon this site and, well, there’s something to it, you know. There’s something to men crying that is, I don’t know, poetic and heart-wrenching and horrible. I guess it’s because they do so little of it and that, in itself, is poetic and heart-wrenching and horrible. To be socially forbidden from feeling, that seems monumentally sad to me. These pictures are too.

Neutral question: Are Vans the white kid’s Air Jordan’s, or are both shoes cross-cultural? Please weigh in on this important topic.

Chase Bank can bite me. Just because I’m a little guy, it is not right to treat me like one.

Is anyone else concerned that Lindsay Lohan is looking bird-like? I’m losing sleep people!

Book Club this weekend. Thank GAWD we can move on to another book. (Shhhhhh, I’ve secretly been reading Orhan Pamuk’s Snow, when I was supposed to be finishing the book club book of whose title I will not speak. Snow is rockin’. –Under your hats folks.)

Nothing New

Still and yet, my life seems incredibly busy. Uncontrollably so. Weird.

First issue on the agenda: Lil’ story

When walking up to my door last night, Darryl yoinked it open, and gruffly barked at the neighbor kids, “Hey! What are you doing with my chair?? Bring that back!” There was no confusion, to be honest, about what the kid was doing with the chair. He was moving it into a parking spot to play cards with his friends where the dining room table of my delightful neighbor had also been moved and eight kids already sat. The kid sheepishly replied, “Sorry…” and put it back.

What an OLD MAN my sweetie has become! Not to mention that he ranted about “the disrespect of that generation” and that he “wouldn’t mind them borrowing the chair, but they should know to ask for Christ’s Sake!” and it’s “the principle of the thing!” and on and on and on and on. Hours later, “I can’t believe those kids! Mutter… mutter… mutter…” head rub, head rub, head rub.

The guy kills me.

Next issue on the agenda: I think we should all gather our pennies to send Sarcasmo here.

Dad Update: Cancer Free!!! AWESOME!

Bubber Update: He still refuses to say momma, but says daddy ad nauseum. Also “Gouda” clear as day. Even so, I can make him laugh the quickest of any human being in this world. The way I calculate it, I win!

Stolen Dog Update: My mother is in LOVE with her. So worth it!! If you are not aware of the stolen dog story and wish to hear about it, feel free to ask in person. I don’t want to incriminate myself on my blog.

Name of the Rose Update: Yeah, that book can bite me.

That’s all I got.

Weird Day Today

Today I testified in the case made by the city against the young man that the police identified as one of my attackers. It was a strange experience for a couple of reasons.

First, (and everyone that has seen a single, lonely episode of Law and Order should have been prepared for this, although I inexplicably was not) the whole deal was very hostile. The DA was very hostile toward the defendant and the defense attorney was very hostile toward me. For example the attorney for the defense, in her closing said, “I even got the victim to admit that she didn’t even see the defendant!!” Touché and point! Except that I was not keeping the fact that I could identify NO ONE in the robbery a secret. In fact, the defendant was paraded in front of me on a street corner in is own neighborhood--schlepped out of the back of police paddy wagon in the pouring rain, held in hand-cuffs while I sat in the police car, “Is that him?? That’s who we saw running from you!” And, nope, I got nothing. So, the defense attorney was not, how shall I say?, the victorious stealthy word jouster she wished to think herself. And I, not the hostile victim trying to nail the bastard to the wall.

After the child was found guilty (he is 16 I think), the DA demanded that the there be a protective order, so that the kid, nor any of his family, could come near me or my home. I didn't request that and, to be honest, I thought it unnecessary—salt in the wound, I mean they got him and if he planned on coming after me, he already would have. He had my address for Christ’s sake. When the judge granted it, the DA turned and pointed to me sitting in the audience and said "Call 911 if he comes anywhere near you!"...oh the dramatics. Why act like the kid is a monster? A crazy experience.

The second reason the whole thing was weird…well, let me first say this, I wanna be a judge! So much fun! I get to decide, I get to pronounce, I get to be the final arbiter…weeee! Okay, that’s out there, now I can move on. The judge, in his infinite wisdom decided to give the kid a firm talking to about how “I grew up in the city. I know what it’s like. If you need money, steal a bike, sell some drugs…I can get that, I can understand that, but grabbing a woman, throwing her to the ground and stealing her purse??? What is wrong with you? What if she was your mother or sister and someone did that???” My mind is squirming in my head trying to make sense of this diatribe but I can’t make any sense out of it. I guess I’m supposed to feel good about it, right? I mean, take care of the ladies, treat us kindly-I’m down with that. Or maybe I’m being appreciated for the symbolic role I play in each and every family. Or maybe this guy was just telling this kid to sell drugs to the other kids in his community rather than bothering a nice lady like me?? He couldn’t have been. To be honest, I’d rather this kid steal my pocketbook than sell drugs to his friends, even if they do 'live on the other side of Broad Street.'

Okay, clearly bleeding-heart liberal. All I could think through the whole thing is, “Here’s our chance to save this kid, to steal him away and give him books and a yoohoo. Why is no one giving this kid a nice chocolate drink???”

The court case ended with a pronouncement of guilt and everyone dispersed. The police stopped me on my way out and asked me if they were going to see me on Friday, for the case of one of the two “adults” that jumped me and I said they would. They said it was important because these guys, after jumping me, in the same month, jumped two pizza guys and then shot and killed someone, the “trigger man” was already in jail. While walking out of the courthouse I thought how sad it was that the world is so hard and that a yoohoo really couldn’t have fixed everything for this kid.

I Think There's a Conspiracy Afoot

So, I wake to SK blathering on about exercise and how I'm allowing the Evil One, aka "Stairmaster" or "Solution To All Of My Problems" (depending on the day), to get dusty. "Blather, blather, blather." So, by the time I'm fully awake, I'm hyper-aware of my life.

I leash Goo up, grab my keys, walk out the door and lock up. Unlock the car, jump in and move it so as to not get a ticket, lock it back up, walk the Goo-bear, unlock the house, gather Bubber and SK up, get them out of the house, lock the door, walk to daycare, use the combination keypad to enter, kiss the kid, get on the train, kiss the big oaf that is my husband, get off the train, walk to work, use the combination keypad to enter the building, use another combination keypad to enter my floor, and sit down at my desk.

In case you weren't counting, that's two keys and three combination keypads used before 8:30 a.m.

Clearly I must live in an extremely dangerous world making necessary lock, after lock, after lock. But wait a minute...could it be that someone wants me to feel fearful and insecure? ...I wonder...