I bought a fancy-pants camera that arrived today. Battery is charging as we speak. Thanks, Lisa and Joanne, for the advice. I ended up going with a Nikon D40. I would've liked to spend more, but I just couldn't afford it. Heck, I couldn't afford what I did shell out. Christmas and birthday money made it all possible. :)
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At my grandparents' house on Christmas Eve, we used to put hay under the tablecloth. It's a Polish tradition to symbolize the hay in the manger. We don't do it anymore, and that makes me a little sad. I suppose that since I never had to clean up the mess, I never saw the downside.
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Woman accused of groping Santa
DANBURY, Conn. -- A Danbury woman is facing charges that she groped Santa Claus at the Danbury Fair mall.Pardon me for saying so, but isn't this supposed to be one of the perks of being Santa? There have be lots of Santas out there just waiting for some lonely MILFy goodness -- or maybe some almost-eighteen jailbait -- to jump up on his lap. Mrs. Claus must've been standing nearby.
...
Police are not releasing the name of the man playing Santa, but they said he is 65 and felt badly because children were waiting to see him.
"He was apparently shocked and embarrassed by the whole incident," Myles said.
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I love spam. Sure, it's annoying most of the time, but every once in awhile I get a gem, like this festive acrostic for Mega Dick that passed through my inbox:
MWhat's more fun than an acrostic where they couldn't come up with a line for every letter?
Eager to feel the taste of a holiday?
Get ready for more excitement and delight on New Year!
A
Don't be scared to make changes in your life-style!
I
Celebrate the New Year's day with a new bigger dic'k!
Keep in view all our special offers! Learn about this wonder-medicine now!
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Let me set the scene. It won't help because, as I said, you had to be there.
A coworker was logging into a slow web site. "Faster than a continental glacier," he quipped, to which I replied, "You're too generous. Faster than a tectonic plate, maybe, but not a continental glacier." We both laughed because we work for a software company; therefore, we are geeks.
Another coworker then chimed in with, "What does a tectonic plate say while riding on the back of a continental glacier?"
Give up?
Answer: Wheeeeeeeee!
Hey, I already warned you that you had to be there.
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Darn funny,
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A few days ago Seth and I were driving down the road when he spotted a pickup truck.
SETH: Caaaaarrrrr.
ME: Very good. It looks like a car. That's a truck. Can you say truck?
SETH: Yeah! [Implied: Ha! Not the response you were looking for, is it?]
ME: Say truck.
SETH: [Silence]
Now, I know the kid can say "truck" because he says it whenever he sees Baby Daddy's truck. He just likes to toy with me.
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I'm totally buried in my offline life. I can't even keep up with reading other people's blogs, let alone writing in my own. I currently have 131 unread blog entries in my Bloglines account.
Whine, whine, whine. Piss, moan. Boo hoo.
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My friend Karen died on Wednesday. I haven't seen her in a long time -- over a year and a half -- but I've been meaning to ask her to lunch so we could catch up. She never even met Seth.
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It's a tie between those of you who know the ghosts' names and those who didn't know the ghosts have names.
Do you know the names of the Pac-Man ghosts?
44% Yes, of course.
44% The ghosts have names?
13% No, I'd have to look it up.
0% What's Pac-Man?
Pretty bar chart
Technically, Inky, Blinky, Pinky, and Clyde are nicknames. The ghosts' real names are:
Shadow (Blinky)
Speedy (Pinky)
Bashful (Inky)
Pokey (Clyde)
(source: Wikipedia)
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CNN has a headline right now that says: "Toy contaminated with 'date rape' drug pulled."
Uh, no. The headline is incorrect. Here's the truth, which you find in the article's second paragraph:
Scientists have found the popular toy's coating contains a chemical that, once metabolized, converts into the toxic "date rape" drug GHB, or gamma-hydroxy butyrate.So first the child has to ingest is. Then the body converts into GHB (adrug often used in date rapes).
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Seth's latest thing is that everything has to be put in its proper place. The phone has to sit in its cradle. The gate has to be across the top of the stairs. The door to the basement has to be closed.
If I weren't such a slob, he'd know that his toys go in his toybox, which means he'd be insisting that we put them away. Oh, well.
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MORNING:
Seth is tall enough now to reach the toilet paper holder.
Here you can see the trail of destruction. (Notice also the disaster area that is my home.)
AFTERNOON:
Later on he got ahold of my knitting. Nice.
[Blogger is being stupid about uploading this photo, and I'm too tired to mess with it. Try to picture an utterly destroyed skein of yarn.]
LATE NIGHT:
I was in bed and Baby's Daddy was in charge of the sleepless toddler. Yes, that's permanent marker on our vinyl flooring. I should've taken a photo to show you how the child's artwork is situated directly in front of the front door for all to see.
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"It's really important to me not to be known as Ross when I'm 60."
--David Schwimmer
Good luck with that one.
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"I have not survived against all odds. I have not lived to tell. I have not witnessed the extraordinary. This is my story."
--Amy Krouse Rosenthal
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Darn funny,
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This is just too funny. I'm thinking of converting to a new religion!! :)
http://www.thechurchofgoogle.org/
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Sorry to address such a weighty subject on my normally fluffy blog, but I saw this article about Dr. James Watson, who is among three people credited with the discovery of the double helix. He's made questionable statements about race and gender in the past, and now he's at it again. Choice quotations:
The eminent biologist told the [Sunday Times] he was "inherently gloomy about the prospect of Africa" because "all our social policies are based on the fact that their intelligence is the same as ours -- whereas all the testing says not really."While I'm perfectly aware that some people hold such views, I was surprised to hear it from someone of his education and stature. Maybe I shouldn't be surprised. Racism is everywhere. You can probably even find it in the deepest recesses of my own mind.
...
In the newspaper interview, he said there was no reason to think that races which had grown up in separate geographical locations should have evolved identically. He went on to say that although he hoped everyone was equal, "people who have to deal with black employees find this not true".
To all those who have drawn the inference from my words that Africa, as a continent, is somehow genetically inferior, I can only apologize unreservedly. That is not what I meant. More importantly from my point of view, there is no scientific basis for such a belief.Well, as continents don't have genes, I never once drew the inference that Africa is somehow genetically inferior. I drew the inference that people who live in Africa or have descended from Africans are intellectually inferior.
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We have a tie:
25% Through a mutual friend, but we weren't fixed up.
25% We were friends first. It developed into something more.
17% Online - other (chat room, blog, forum, etc.)
8% At a bar/club
8% Online - dating/match service
8% Blind date. We were fixed up!
8% Other.
0% Single, thank god.
Click here for a chart.
I'm surprised to learn that I have no single readers. None who participated in this poll, that is.
I originally wondered about the "Other" response, but then I remembered how my sister met her boyfriend. She was a young, innocent little thing working at a gun shop, when a really old customer came in and asked her out. :) None of the available responses matched such a scenario. Who knows how many other scenarios I overlooked.
Baby's Daddy and I were fixed up on a blind date, although technically we'd met once before. I just didn't remember him. :) Hmmmm, you'd think that would've been a sign that it wouldn't work out, but whattaya know. We're happily married now, and for eleven years at that!
How about you? What's your story? (Lisa, feel free to link us to your blog entry, since I know you've recently covered the subject.)
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I want to get a nice DSLR camera. I'm sick of missing shots due to shutter delay, and I'm really sick of listening to Baby's Daddy bitch whenever he has to use it.
It occurs to me that I ought to make a nice camera my reward for losing weight (the diet is not going well). That bites. I want a camera now. Actually, it's practically a moot point because Baby's Daddy is not working and we can't afford to spend $700 on a new camera. We can't even afford the bills we have.
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"Let others praise ancient times; I am glad I was born in these."
-- Ovid
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Let's say you've gone on two or three dates with someone and you like him/her. Then s/he tells you s/he's still a virgin. How would you feel about that?
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Got this off my sister's blog:
Your Anticlimactic Fortune |
 Deep into your future, I forsee: Athlete's foot The Anticlimactic Fortune Teller |
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Frequently used words are less likely to evolve or mutate over time.
...The entire family of 87 Indo-European languages spoken today are thought to share a common origin reaching back some 10,000 years.
Very commonly used words — two or water, for example — remain recognizably related across this vast linguistic spectrum, they found. But others words that occur less frequently in daily speech, even if they are hardly obscure, have changed profoundly over centuries and millennia.
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Most of you like your steak overcooked. :) A whopping 80% of respondents preferred their steak cooked to at least medium doneness.
Well done - 30%
Medium well - 10%
Medium - 40%
Medium rare - 10%
Rare - 10%
Blue - 0%
I don't like steak - 0%
I'm vegetarian /vegan - 0%
Click here to see the handy graph.
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These are some photos from August. As we rarely feed the child, he has developed remarkable survival skills. Here is a yogurt container he fished from the trash. Yum. I resisted the urge to overreact (it was a container I'd thrown away a couple of hours earlier) and took some photos instead.
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The family pumpkin crop failed this year, so we had to go someplace else to get pumpkins -- Just a Plain Farm fit the bill. (Click here for a bigger slide show.)
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The state legislature has passed an increase in income tax, from 3.9% to 4.35%. Necessary, I suppose, given the state's $1 billion budget deficit. They've also been kicking around the idea of taxing services, but I never believed they'd actually do it. I was wrong. Effective December 1, there will be a 6% tax on services.
I'm so ticked off. I'm concerned that I'm going to have to start charging a service tax for anything I do in connection with my web design business. I don't even know how to properly collect and submit such taxes. This is a PITA.
Here is a partial list of some of the more interesting services being taxed (click here for a full list):
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A news anchor at one of the local news stations has a last name that rhymes with diarrhea. Unfortunate, don't you think? I guess we can all imagine what the mean kids called her at recess.
When I was in elementary school, I had two nicknames. One was Jessica McCarrots. My last name was Makarewicz (muh-CARE-wits), and I guess some kids thought it sounded a little like carrots. That one didn't bother me much. The other one was Uncle Jesse. In retrospect, it wasn't such a terrible nickname, but at the time, I didn't much care for being likened to the old man in The Dukes of Hazzard. (This was a pre-Full House era, so no, they weren't referring to John Stamos.)
I certainly gave this subject some though when we were naming Seth. I realize that kids are endlessly creative, so no matter what we chose, it would be something that would eventually be used against him at recess. I just didn't want make it embarrassingly easy for the perpetrators. My biggest concern right now is that Seth will have a lisp and will have trouble saying his own name.
What mean names did the kids call you in school? Have you thought of what mean names the other kids might call your kids?
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The public has voted to brand it with a big fat asterisk and send it off to the Hall of Fame:
34% Bestow it (intact) to Cooperstown
47% Brand it and send it to Cooperstown
19% Banish it (i.e., launch into space)
Don't forget to check out the new poll!
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For a change of pace, I'm displaying someone else's poll -- what to do with Barry Bonds's home run ball.
Voting ends September 25.
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"In real life, I assure you, there is no such thing as algebra."
- Fran Lebowitz
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Boxers or briefs? Here's what you thought:
Boxers - 40%
Boxer briefs - 40%
Briefs, brightly colored - 10%
Commando, baby! - 10%
Tighty whities - zilch
See the chart here.
Any ideas for the next poll topic?
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A Canadian dollar and a US dollar now have equal value. When I was a kid, I think a Canadian dollar was worth about 65 US cents.
You know what really sucks about it? My parent company is located in Canada, so all our company stock used to be in Canadian dollars. However, because so many of the subsidiaries were located in the US, my parent company converted to US dollars a couple of years ago. My company stock would be worth way more if we'd stuck with Canadian dollars.
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The Detroit Free Press noted that it is Talk Like a Pirate Day.
And That Blue Girl has posted her pirate name.
Fate was telling me I needed a pirate name, too.
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Stole this from That Blue Girl (The Name Game).
1. YOUR ROCK STAR NAME: (first pet's name, current car)
Never Had a Pet Buick
2.YOUR GANGSTA NAME: (fav ice cream flavor, favorite cookie)
Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Chocolate Chip
3. YOUR "FLY GIRL" NAME: (first initial of first name, first three letters of your last name)
J.Mak (I never use my married name for these things because it just doesn't feel like my name.)
4. YOUR DETECTIVE NAME: (favorite color, favorite animal)
Navy Baby (Animals are cute when they're still babies.)
5a. YOUR SOAP OPERA NAME: (middle name, city where you were born)
Anne _________ (Sorry, not gonna post it. Not only is your birth city a frequently used security question, identity thieves can use the info to find the county where you were born. With the right info, it's sooooooo easy to obtain a birth certificate; and when an identity thief has your birth certificate, you might has well kiss your normal life goodbye.)
How about this?
5b. YOUR SOAP OPERA NAME: (middle name, city where you went to school/college)
Anne Marquette
6. YOUR STAR WARS NAME: (the first 3 letters of your last name, first 2 letters of your first)
Mak-Je (or Seaje, if you want to be technical)
7. SUPERHERO NAME: (2nd favorite color, favorite drink, put "The")
The Red Root Beer (almost never drink alcohol)
8. NASCAR NAME: (the first names of your grandfathers)
Leo Stephen
9. STRIPPER NAME: (the name of your favorite perfume/cologne, favorite candy)
Never Wear Perfume Heath
10. WITNESS PROTECTION NAME: (mother's & father's middle names )
Mary Leo
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Just got a call from my OB. The biopsy is negative for cancer. Nothing to worry about.
The progesterone has kicked in, so my period is finally over. It lasted a mere 31 days. After the progesterone is finished, my period is supposed to start up again and after that, things should get back to normal.
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So either my poll is highly uncompelling and no one wishes to participate, or no one has noticed it. I prefer the latter explanation, because what could be more compelling than the age-old question of boxers or briefs?
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A few weeks ago, I met Baby's Daddy and Seth for lunch at Wendy's. I had to laugh when Baby's Daddy pulled Seth out of the vehicle. As my mother would say, he looked like an orphan child. Filthy face, messy hair, no shoes or socks, dirty white onesie -- not at onesie outfit, either. Just the plain, old tighty-whitey variety.
I'm sure the people who saw them thought they were cute. After all, as a daddy, Baby's Daddy was doing the best he could. But then he handed the child to me and ran off to the restrooms.
A woman in line actually stared at us, which is nothing unusual in itself. People always look at us and then smile because who can resist smiling at a cute baby? But instead of smiling back, this woman looked away when I smiled. That's when I realized what was going on. Instead of being a hapless daddy doing the best he could, I was clearly an unfit mother who can't take care of her child's basic needs. We weren't cute. We were disgraceful.
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Setting up Quicken now to prevent this from happening again. Fortunately, they give you a month to get your act together before they cancel your policy.
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If you're a mom, you probably remember that first moment when it hits your that you're really a mommy. (I stole this idea from That Blue Girl. You can read her Mommy Moment here.)
For me, it was the first night we had Seth. He spent the first two nights in the NICU, which was almost surreal, especially the first night, when I could hear other babies crying in their parents' rooms, but I hadn't even held my baby yet.
The third night in the hospital, he was finally with us. He kept waking up, and when a nurse finally came in and swaddled him for us, his blanket was sticking out a half-inch from his nose -- plenty of room to breathe, I know, but I still checked him make sure he was breathing. That was my mommy moment.
P.S. I checked him a dozen more times that night. Wanted to be sure he could still breathe.
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Note to my male readership (i.e., Alex): You might want to skip right past this entry and just pretend it doesn't exist.
Okay, I have question for everyone. Just how long does a period have to last before I should become worried? Because this one's been going for 26 days. (Cue the Energizer Bunny bass drum.)
The weirdness is probably related to the fact that this is my first period since the baby. In fact, I hadn't had one for five months before the baby, so that means that, until now, I've been period-free for 27 months.
Maybe my body has forgotten how to menstruate efficiently. :)
Has anyone ever heard of never-ending periods? All my web searches seem to return results for long cycles, not long periods.
UPDATE: My OB would like me to come in for an ultrasound to "check [my] uterine lining." That'll be at 3:00 today. I'll let you know how it goes. Twenty-eight days and counting...
UPDATE 2: The vaginal ultrasound was predictably uncomfortable. The uterine lining was thick, so the doc wanted to do a biopsy. That totally freaked me out. I had a friend years ago who had a biopsy and she said it hurt like a mother. So there I am, two seconds from a meltdown, thinking it's going hurt like hell, when... nothing. I wasn't any less comfortable than a standard pap. Nothing to it.
The biopsy is to check for cancer (yikes!) but he really sounded like he just wanted to rule it out. I guess I don't really have a lot of warning signs, so at this point, I'm not too scared. I'll keep you posted.
Oh, he also gave me a script for 10 days of progesterone to stop the bleeding, but he says I'll start up again as soon as it's done and hopefully have a normal period. He referred to it as a chemical D&C.
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My post about the no-sleep pill got me thinking about drug side effects. Have you heard the list of side effects associated with erectile dysfunction drugs? After news broke a couple of years ago that blindness was a side effect of Viagra and similar drugs, the commercials started adding, "Contact your doctor immediately if you experience a sudden decrease in vision."
Sudden decrease in vision? (Shall I avoid any jokes related to the idea that perhaps blood is simply rushing to someplace other than the eyes, resulting in an inability to see correctly?)
Eventually some brilliant spin doctor came up with the idea of simply listing "abnormal vision" as a side effect. Abnormal vision? To me, that sounds like, "Well, you might have some blurred vision for awhile, but it's nothing to worry about." It certainly doesn't sound like blindness is a possibility.
It makes you wonder what other horrific side effects are being covered up by relatively innocuous-sounding descriptions.
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Years ago, I had a book of questions (in fact, I think that was its name, The Book of Questions) and one of the questions it asked was, "If you could take a pill that would allow you to sleep for only one hour each night and wake up refreshed, would you?"
Hell yeah! Never in my life have I wished I didn't have to waste so much time sleeping. (Yeah, yeah. I know. It's not wasted time. My body is recuperating and reenergizing. Whatever.)
Now that I think about it, the question might have even included, "Assume there are no side effects." Even if there were side effects, I think I'd take the pill. Actually, I suppose it depends on the side effect. Some medications actually list death as a possible side effect. Now there's a deterrent. On the other hand, maybe the side effect is "merely" embarrassing (e.g., anal leakage) or irritating (mildly itchy rash).
So would you take such a pill?
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"It's weird the way 'finger puppet' sounds okay as a noun..."
--Comedian Demetri Martin
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When I saw the above headline, I thought, "Oooh, that sucks. I wonder what happened. I hope it's not something dumb like, 'Judge says woman must forfeit winnings because she let her minor son scratch off the ticket. State law says only adults can participate in the lottery by scratching off tickets.'" Here's what really happened:
A local woman must turn over her lottery winnings after a judge said she won them illegally.Thought process continues, "Ah, illegal winnings. That explains it. I still feel a little sorry for her, though."
Prosecutors said Christina Goodenow, of White City, used a credit card that belonged to her then-boyfriend's dead mother to buy a winning $1 million Scratch-It ticket in Oct. 2005."Ohhhhh, now THAT'S a bummer. How unlucky can someone get? You finally buy a winning lotter ticket, but you do it with a credit card you're using illegally."
Goodenow asked lottery officials to keep her win quiet, claiming to be a victim of domestic violence. But police learned of the crime about two weeks later, as Goodenow continued to use the stolen credit card (my emphasis).This idiot wins a million bucks but continues to use the credit card illegally. A million dollars isn't enough money for her to feel like she can cut and run?
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How dumb can you get?
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I just learned about Sharing Point through Blue Girl and decided to join. If you're interested in trying new products and getting free stuff, you should join, too. Don't forget to mention me when you do. Yes, I get points if you join. :)
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Becoming Jane is not being shown in any of the local theaters. The nearest location is 220 miles away. This is hardly a surprise. None of the local theaters showed P&P on opening weekend, either. It finally showed up weeks later, after I'd already trekked to a far-off theater to see it. I can only hope Becoming Jane will also show up eventually. (Unlike P&P, I will not under any circumstances abbreviate Becoming Jane.)
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It's his third haircut in six months!
Here we are this morning with a mop:
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I'm signed up to receive breaking news e-mail announcements from CNN. This morning at 12:05, I received word that Barry Bonds had broken the all-time home-run record.
This wouldn't have bothered me except for the fact that I did not receive breaking news announcements after the recent Minneapolis bridge collapse and Utah mine cave-in. CNN's priorities are out of order.
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I'm completely intrigued by this video game, Pride and Xtreme Prejudice. I think it must be a joke -- a parody that someone made and posted on their site. There's no telling how it made Google. Nothing links to it (until now). But if it were real, I'd totally buy it. A Jane Austen video game! How cool would that be?
By the way, if you have Bloglines or another RSS aggregator, you might notice some really old entries popping up on my blogs. That's only because I added labels to a couple of really old posts. As a result, they might show up as new in your aggregator.
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I've entered to win this sweet TV from www.5minutesformom.com and Best Buy. You should enter, too!
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So on August 10th, I will trek to the theater see a fictionalized account of Jane Austen's life. I'm sure I'll be dismayed by the liberties the movie takes with known facts about her life, but it's Jane, so I'm compelled to go.
Anne Hathaway says the pressure of playing Jane almost made her quit the part:
"A lot of people put pressure on me. I put a lot of pressure on myself," Hathaway said in an interview. "There was a time when I considered stepping away from the project because I really didn't want to fail."It's rated PG for brief nudity. Hmmmm.
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He's thirteen months old, but I did finally take his one-year photos. Sears portrait studio is waaaaaaaaaaaay better than Wal-Mart.
His Grandma and Grandpa made that rocking horse. His Nana and Papa got him that John Deere tractor for his birthday, which was a John Deere themed party.
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I saw this article and thought of Calories (a.k.a. ....a little of this and that...) -- whose blog is now password protected, by the way. What's going on, Calories? You tryin to keep me and the other riffraff out? :)
Anyhoo, Calories was bummed out one day about cranky old people. This article claims they can't help it.
Grumpy old men may not be able to help it, as age could affect their sense of humour, scientists have found.Yet another argument for sudoku to keep your mind sharp. (I'm in trouble. All those numbers in sudoku make me cringe.)
A study by Washington University in St Louis found older people find it harder to understand jokes than students.
The authors say the finding should be taken seriously as laughing has been linked to health benefits such as boosting circulation.
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You may have noticed all the hubbub surrounding my post related to CNN's article about Hindu widows. For awhile, I as baffled as to how all these people found me. When I looked into it, I discovered Sphere.
Basically, if you scrolled down to the bottom of the CNN article, there was a section that said, "From the Blogs: Controversy, commentary, and debate." If you clicked on it, you found me. Sphere dynamically generates links to blogs related to the article.
I'm not there any more, but here's a screen shot of Sphere's link to that fateful post. (Scroll down to Blogs talking about this topic.)
All the discussion seemed out of place on a blog normally devoted to fluff, but there you have it. It's over now, unless someone else has decided to link to my post.
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When a Hindu woman is widowed, it's a sign of bad luck, so her family ostracizes her.
http://www.cnn.com/2007/WORLD/asiapcf/07/05/damon.india.widows/index.html
Hindu widows are shunned from society when their husbands die, not for religious reasons, but because of tradition -- and because they're seen as a financial drain on their families.These women are reduced to begging in the streets for food. I think I will never cease to wonder in awe at the potential for cruelty, indifference, and cold-heartedness in humanity.
They cannot remarry. They must not wear jewelry. They are forced to shave their heads and typically wear white. Even their shadows are considered bad luck.
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No earwigs. For the moment, I'm safe.
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Last night, I was working on my computer when an earwig materialized on my keyboard. It fell from the ceiling. Do I really need to point out how close it came to falling into my hair? (Yes, I feel the need to point it out.)
When I think of what would've happened next... Earwigs instinctively burrow.
I've been killing a lot of earwigs lately. One was in my purse a couple of weeks ago. But I digress.
So there was the earwig perched on my keyboard, which was actually a good thing. Better on the keyboard than in my hair. I couldn't kill it before it crawled down among the keys and out of reach. I'm half expecting it to crawl out while I'm typing. Heck, there's enough food down in there for it to survive until this fall when it's time to hibernate. Then it can lay eggs and I can look forward to baby earwigs boiling out of the keyboard next spring.
Maybe I'll buy a new keyboard.
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Seth had an allergic reaction to amoxicillin and was covered in hives. Fortunately, he wasn't as miserable as he looks. (The scab under his nose is actually from being dropped on his face a couple of days earlier and has nothing to do with the hives. Poor baby. As parents, Baby's Daddy and I are unfit.)
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I found this on Lisa's chaotic site. Turns about I'm quite family friendly.
This rating was determined based on the presence of the following words:
* pain (1x)
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Happy first birthday, Seth.
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Exhausted. Details to come.
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I have a walker on my hands! Yesterday is the date that will officially go in his baby book as the day he started walking. He's taken a few steps in the past, but yesterday he started walking all around the room. He was so excited! Baby's Daddy and I were excited, too.
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My grandma thought she had the wrong cell phone number because she thought I sounded like a man.
As Sherri pointed out, I should look at the bright side: at least people don't mistake my voice for a child's. Plus, no one ever mistakes me for a man in person. That would be infinitely worse.
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I don't like my voice. It has always been low -- often described as "sultry" -- but during pregnancy, my voice deepened further.
While pregnant, I attributed my lowered voice to pregnancy rhinitis -- a perpetual stuffy nose that lasts way longer than described in the article. I knew the rhinitis would eventually go away, and I expected that my voice would return to normal also.
I was wrong. I sound like a man. When people call the house, they mistake me for Baby's Daddy. A few of months ago I ordered a pizza, and the order taker asked, "And what's your name, sir?" I gave him my husband's name. I had no desire to explain, "Actually, I'm a ma'am."
Just now, I got off the phone with a client who said I sound like a man on the phone. He couldn't leave it at that, either. He had to repeat by adding, "On your cell phone you sound like an adult male."
I didn't mind it while I was pregnant because I expected the condition to go away. But now I know it'll never go away. My voice is permanently deeper than it used to be, and I permanently sound like a man.
"Lady sounds like a dude" doesn't have the same ring to it as, "Dude looks like a lady." I'm becoming really sensitive about the subject, too. Whenever someone mistakes me for a man, it's deflating. It ruins my day.
I've thought about doing audioblog posts, but I don't want anyone to hear my voice. I'm not sure why it bothers me so much, but it does. Once upon a time, I wouldn't have cared at all.
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Today I'm wearing a belt that didn't fit six weeks ago. Yay me.
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Losing weight
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Today is my eleventh wedding anniversary. I'd marry him again and again and again.
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I've been a bad blogger lately. Who has time to post blog entries?? Not I. I think I might try to set up some sort of audioblog so that I can talk while I drive. Not that anyone would want to listen to me talk.
Quickie update:
Weight is loss going well. Eighteen pounds went bye bye. I'm liking how the ol' trousers feel.
Seth is getting big! He's taking one or two independent steps between furniture objects and occasionally standing unassisted.
I received clearance to start working two days a week from home. The gas money I save will be a boost for the ol' pocketbook.
I desperately need a new computer but can't afford one now that I've spent $3500 this year on DENTAL WORK (two crowns, root canal, various fillings replaced)! My sister is getting her wisdom teeth removed, so I guess it's in the water.
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For Mother's Day, Seth and Baby's Daddy gave me a tree. Crimson King Maple. I love making Baby's Daddy come up with his own gift ideas because his desperation always sparks real creativity.
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Yes, it's true. This photo and others have been languishing in my camera for over a month.
I've mentioned before how much I like country music, especially because of all its redneck quirkiness. Even so, nothing could prepare me for Brad Paisley's latest.
Now, Brad has brought us funny greats like, "I'm Gonna Miss Her" (a song about an avid angler whose wife's ultimatum -- "it's either me or the fish" -- backfires on her) and, "Alcohol." I love Brad!
But this time, even I'm horrified:
You know every guy in here tonightDear god, what's country music coming to? Brad Paisley's latest song is, "I'd Like to Check You for Ticks." The worst part is, I know that there are Paisley fans everywhere who are saying, "Brad, you can check me for ticks anytime!"
Would like to take you home,
But I've got way more class than them.
Babe, that ain't what I want.
'Cause I'd like to see you out in the moonlight.
I'd like to kiss you way back in the sticks.
I'd like to walk you through a field of wildflowers.
And I'd like to check you for ticks.
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More results from my most recent Downright Newsworthy Poll.
Are you trying to lose weight?Pretty bar chart:
10% No, but I should. (Give it a try!)
20% Yes, and it's going swimmingly. (Good for you!)
40% Yes, but it's not going so well. (Aww, don't give up!)
30% No. I'm at a good weight. (Good for you, too!)
0% No. I'm trying to gain weight.
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"America believes in education: the average professor earns more money in a year than a professional athlete earns in a whole week."
- Evan Esar
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My sister is coming for a visit in November. I hope she remembers me long enough to say hi.
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I called my dentist on Friday and made an appointment because of a sore tooth. By the time today rolled around, a different tooth hurt much worse.
The verdict: The original sort tooth is cracked. I need a crown. The even sorer tooth has an abscess. I need a root canal.
So now the good doctor knows where his next boat payment is coming from.
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Seth has been sleeping in our bed because we (still) don't have a crib for him. We just put a pillow against his back, and even though it was near the edge, he's been fine.
I think you know where this story is leading.
We haven't slept with him because I toss and turn too much and Baby's Daddy is afraid of rolling over him. So if you can believe it, we've been sleeping in the guest bedroom.
I know you're wondering why we didn't put Seth in the guest room. First, the mattress in our room is softer than the guest room mattress, so Seth couldn't sit up. This kept him fairly immobile. Second, the our bed is lower. If he fell, he wouldn't fall as far as in the guest room.
Saturday morning he woke up and made a few noises to say, "Come get me, Mommy." When I went in, he was sitting up. Did I think, "Oh my. I'd better be careful or he'll crawl out of bed"? Of course not. I thought, "Oh, my sweet baby boy is so smart." That night he fell out of bed.
Okay, brace yourself for where the bad mommyness gets even worse. We procured a crib Sunday but it's still in 20 pieces, so we put him in our bed on Sunday night, right in the middle instead of so close to the edge. How come Baby's Daddy and I were the only ones without brains enough to guess that he's crawl right out of bed again?
Poor baby. Seth, I'm sorry you have stupid parents.
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Well, I've lost a total of ten pounds, so I'm happy with my progress. I'm 10% of the way there! (I want to lose roughly a hundred pounds.)
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Losing weight
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I'm in a terrible mood today. In a weak moment, I ate some cookies. Four Thin Mints, to be exact. I suppose it was a bit of a victory because I ate only four -- one serving -- and not the entire sleeve.
It totally backfired, though. Now I want cookies more than ever. This always happens. I knew it would happen, but I ate the cookies anyway. How dumb is that?
Whine, whine, whine. I'll be in a better mood tomorrow. I promise.
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Someone has brought in cookies. And someone else -- I don't know who or I would kill them -- has left a snack-sized Baby Ruth candy bar in the fridge. It's been there for days. Why won't they eat their candy bar??
Have I mentioned that dieting bites?
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The cookies arrived today -- the ones I ordered before I knew I was going on a diet. Two boxes of minty chocolaty goodness are calling out to me.
Maybe in a few weeks I'll be able to eat cookies again, but not yet. Any sugar I have now will just trigger stronger cravings. I refuse to jeopardize my success thus far.
In better news, survived the first week of my diet and lost six pounds. It'd be nice if my weight loss could continue at that pace, but it doesn't work that way.
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Last night I could see that Seth was chewing. Uh, oh. I hadn't fed him anything in awhile. I thrust my fingers into his mouth and retrieved a tiny piece of... something. On closer inspection, I saw that it was a piece of a ladybug. Yum.
Baby's Daddy says Seth's first bug was actually a couple of weeks ago. He snatched one up before Baby's Daddy had a chance to stop him. No surprise when you consider how adept this boy is with Cheerios.
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My sweet baby boy
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My mother-in-law gets a Good-Housekeeping type magazine called First. I had to laugh when I read one of its recent tips:
You're about to cozy up to your husband in front of the fire when it hits: a painful bout of heartburn. And there aren't any antacids in sight! Simply combine 1 cup of boiling water and 1 tsp. freshly grated gingerroot, then savor with small sips.Uh, reality check, people. If I don't have something basic like antacids in my home, what on Earth makes you think I have some fresh gingerroot lying around? I'm so domestically impaired that I doubt I have a cheese grater to grate that gingerroot with.
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I updated the DivaCup post with a link to this testimonial, but I've decided it deserved its own post. After all, DivaCup might decide to remove it from its site and then it would be lost forever.
One woman loves her Diva so much she wrote her testimonial in the form of a poem. You heard me -- a poem.
Diva, this is for you:Wow.
Because of this Diva I don,
I am no longer a slave to the 'pon
It fills me with glee,
To know that I'm free,
And saving this world we live on.
I go through my day with ease,
There is no string there to tease,
It catches it all,
Before it does fall,
I now live without boundaries.
So now when I go to the John,
There's nothing for me to check on!
And it is so great,
To know that my fate,
Is not in a Kotex nap'kon.
Diva must have come from the gods,
I think they have the best odds,
To have made something great,
That seems so innate,
And all who know share applause!
Clare from Alaska
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Defy comprehension
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Well, I don't know what to make of this. He stopped nursing Sunday afternoon. He would start to nurse as if he wanted to, but after five seconds or less, he would break latch and start to cry. He wouldn't take a bottle either. I assumed it was his top teeth, which were cutting through.
He's been crying a lot lately, particularly when he wakes up (middle of the night and in the morning) and before he goes to bed. He just doesn't want to nurse. He takes a bottle only once or twice a day, about three ounces at a time.
This morning I asked my in-laws to start giving him breastmilk in a cup with his meals. We got him up to ten ounces of milk today as opposed to just six yesterday. Can you believe it? The kid is drinking breastmilk with a straw.
Just a couple of weeks ago I was worrying about how he would only fall asleep while being nursed or while getting a bottle. Suddenly he's falling asleep without even a pacifier. When I try to nurse him, he cries, but I can't tell if it's because nursing is somehow painful or if it's because he's mad at me for trying to make him nurse.
It doesn't seem possible that he could be weaning so early. Plus, weaning is suppose to be gradual, not sudden -- yet his teeth don't appear to be bothering him anymore, and teething is a common reason for nursing strikes at this age. He's not tugging at his ears, either.
I hope this will pass. I'm not ready for him to wean. No baby is supposed to wean at ten months.
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DivaCup
Are they serious?
The DivaCup... not a tampon... not a pad. Finally a better way! The DivaCup is a leading edge redesign of a proven concept first introduced in the 1930's. Used by women worldwide for decades, it is now available nationwide. The DivaCup offer ultimate freedom enjoy your daily activities including sports such as swimming, as well as traveling with no messy "leaks" or the expense and inconvenience of buying and carrying supplies in all shapes, sizes and absorbencies.UPDATE: You have to read the testimonials. Someone even wrote a poem!
The DivaCup will accommodate your individual and changing flow, neatly collected in the cup. Remove 2-3 times a day, empty and reinsert. The DivaCup can be worn overnight and it will not affect important vaginal moisture, making a perfect alternative or supplement to tampons or pads. The environment and overburdened landfills will benefit from your use of The DivaCup.
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Defy comprehension
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No Cookie Crisp in my system. No custard long johns, either.
Seth is going to visit me at work today. Grandma and Grandpa are dropping him off at 5:30. Most people are going to be gone, which limits the amount of showing him off I can do. :)
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I could probably kill for one of those long johns I mentioned earlier. Heck, the Cookie Crisp in the cupboard is calling my name. Check here tomorrow to see if I gave in:
http://www.fitday.com/WebFit/PublicJournals.html?Owner=hunsford
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Losing weight
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I've decided to commit to losing some weight. Here's my online diet and fitness journal:
http://www.fitday.com/WebFit/PublicJournals.html?Owner=hunsford
Now everyone can see how many vegetables I'm not eating.
If you look closely enough, you'll see that I weigh ... wait for it ... try not to gasp ... 240 pounds. I can't believe I weigh that much. My highest nonpregnant weight ever. Wow. I won't even tell you what size pants I wear. Some people won't give out their weight, but I draw the line at pant size. Okay, 22. I'm wearing a size 22. I don't know how that happened. When I graduated from high school, I weighed 129 pounds and ate junk every single day.
Craving report:
I have a sweet tooth. The cravings aren't too bad yet. Although I'd love to have a custard long john donut and a quart of chocolate milk right now and I'm having trouble concentrating on work.
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Losing weight
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Received in an e-mail from my cousin Aileen:
A Russian woman married an English gentleman and they lived happily ever after in London. However, the poor lady was not very proficient in English (though she did manage to communicate with her husband).
The real problem arose whenever she had to shop for groceries. One day, she went to the butcher and wanted to buy chicken legs. She didn't know how to put forward her request, so in desperation she clucked like a chicken and lifted up her skirt to show her thighs.
The butcher got the message and gave her the chicken legs. The next day she needed to get chicken breasts. Again, she didn't know how to say it, so she clucked like a chicken and unbuttoned her blouse to show the butcher her breasts! The butcher understood again and gave her some chicken breasts.
The third day, the poor lady needed to buy sausages. Unable to find a way to communicate this, she brought her husband to the store...
(Please scroll down)
What were you thinking?
Hellooooooo, her husband speaks English! Now get back to work.
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I meant to post this last week but accidentally saved it as a draft instead of publishing it. It's old news now. I should've just deleted it, I guess.
Authorities: Fifth-graders posted lookout, had sex in class - CNN.com
Five fifth-grade students face criminal charges after authorities said four of them had sex in front of other students in an unsupervised classroom and kept a classmate posted as a lookout for teachers.
The students were arrested Tuesday at the Spearsville school in rural north Louisiana, authorities said. Two 11-year-old girls, a 12-year-old boy and a 13-year old boy were charged with obscenity, a felony. An 11-year-old boy, the alleged lookout, was charged with being an accessory.
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The FBI had an opening for an assassin. After all the background checks, interviews, and testing were done, three finalists remained. Two men and a woman.
For the final test, the FBI agents took one of the men to a large metal door and handed him a gun.
"We must know that you will follow your instructions no matter what the circumstances. Inside the room you will find your wife sitting in a chair. Kill her."
The man said, "You can't be serious. I could never shoot my wife."
The agent replied, "Then you're not the right man for this job. Take your wife and go home."
The second man was given the same instructions. He took the gun and went into the room. All was quiet for about five minutes. He came out with tears in his eyes. "I tried, but I can't kill my wife."
The agent said, "You don't have what it takes. Take your wife and go home."
Finally, it was the woman's turn. She was given instructions to kill her husband. She took the gun and went into the room.
Shots were heard, one after another. Then they heard screaming, crashing, and banging on the walls. After a few minutes, all was quiet. The door opened slowly and there stood the woman. She wiped the sweat from her brow.
"This gun is loaded with blanks," she said. "I had to beat him to death with the chair."
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We're under a blizzard warning today. No sissy "winter storm warnings" for us.
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This is going to be one of those had-to-be-there things, but you'll be able to appreciate some of the humor, I'm sure.
I received this in my e-mail today, a letter to Procter and Gamble:
Dear Mr. Thatcher,
I have been a loyal user of your Always maxi pads for over 20 years, and I appreciate many of their features. Why, without the LeakGuard Core(tm) or Dri-Weave(tm) absorbency, I'd probably never go horseback riding or salsa dancing, and I'd certainly steer clear of running up and down the beach in tight, white shorts. But my favorite feature has to be your revolutionary Flexi-Wings. Kudos on being the only company smart enough to realize how crucial it is that maxi pads be aerodynamic. I can't tell you how safe and secure I feel each month knowing there's a little F-16 in my pants.
Have you ever had a menstrual period, Mr. Thatcher? Ever suffered from "the curse"? I'm guessing you haven't. Well, my "time of the month" is starting right now. As I type, I can already feel hormonal forces violently surging through my body. Just a few minutes from now, my body will adjust and I'll be transformed into what my husband likes to call "an inbred hillbilly with knife skills." Isn't the human body amazing?
As brand manager in the feminine-hygiene division, you've no doubt seen quite a bit of research on what exactly happens during your customers' monthly visits from Aunt Flo. Therefore, you must know about the bloating, puffiness, and cramping we endure, and about our intense mood swings, crying jags, and out-of-control behavior. You surely realize it's a tough time for most women. In fact, only last week, my friend Jennifer fought the violent urge to shove her boyfriend's testicles into a George Foreman Grill just because he told her he thought Grey's Anatomy was written by drunken chimps. Crazy! The point is, sir, you of all people must realize that America is just crawling with homicidal maniacs in capri pants. Which brings me to the reason for my letter.
Last month, while in the throes of cramping so painful I wanted to reach inside my body and yank out my uterus, I opened an Always maxi pad, and there, printed on the adhesive backing, were these words: "Have a Happy Period."
Are you f***ing kidding me?
What I mean is, does any part of your tiny middle-manager brain really think happiness -- actual smiling, laughing happiness -- is possible during a menstrual period? Did anything mentioned above sound the least bit pleasurable? Well, did it, James? FYI, unless you're some kind of sick S&M freak girl, there will never be anything "happy" about a day in which you have to jack yourself up on Motrin and Kahlúa and lock yourself in your house just so you don't march down to the local Walgreens armed with a hunting rifle and a sketchy plan to end your life in a blaze of glory. For the love of God, pull your head out, man. If you just have to slap a moronic message on a maxi pad, wouldn't it make more sense to say something that's actually pertinent, like "Put Down the Hammer" or "Vehicular Manslaughter Is Wrong"? Or are you just picking on us?
Sir, please inform your accounting department that, effective immediately, there will be an $8 drop in monthly profits, for I have chosen to take my maxi-pad business elsewhere. And though I will certainly miss your Flexi-Wings, I will not for one minute miss your brand of condescending bullsh*t. And that's a promise I will keep. Always.
Best,
Wendi Aarons
Austin, TX
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DNA test ordered for Anna Nicole Smith's baby - CNN.com
Thank god. I'm glad this long ordeal is finally over. These DNA tests will finally prove what I've known all along but haven't said publicly -- until now: I am Dannielynn's father.
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Spam
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Hey, Trump, you're fired. You, too, Cramer.
We have a tie for the most annoying television personality. Donald Trump and Jim Cramer took nearly a third of votes cast -- each.
4% Carrot Top
8% Dick Vitale
8% Dog the Bounty Hunter
32% Donald Trump
4% Emeril Lagasse
32% Jim Cramer
4% John Madden
0% Richard Simmons
0% Ron Popeil
4% Tony Little
See the pretty bar chart here.
Now's your chance. Who did I miss? What superannoying television personality was not on the list? I can't believe I didn't include Billy Mays, that annoying guy in OxiClean commercials.
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Spam
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You may recall that I recently put my car into a snowbank and damaged it. The event has put me to mind of a trip with Grandma down to Aunt Cindy's house a couple of years ago.
We were tooling along the highway at a comfortable speed, but to my great annoyance, a semi truck was spitting slush all over our windshield. I wanted so very much to get around that semi, but I didn't want to drive any faster than we already were. Nonetheless, when the road widened to accommodate a passing lane, I took advantage and white-knuckled my way through the slush and past the truck. Disaster struck as I eased back into the lane.
The rear tires lost their grip, and we found ourself careening across four lanes of traffic. I shouted, "Oh, shit!" and Grandma cried, "Jesus save us!"
You heard me: Jesus save us.
I don't know how we didn't get hit. Maybe Jesus heard Grandma's plea for divine intervention. If so, it would seem that he also (kindly) ignored my vulgar interjection.
In any case, we were safe. We were on the other side of the road facing in the opposite direction, but we were safe. No damage to the car, either, which was a tremendous relief. How in the world could I tell Grandpa that I wrecked his car? Thankfully, I wouldn't have to figure that one out.
The remainder of the trip was uneventful, but Grandma was skittish, glancing often at the speedometer and offering helpful comments such as, "It's a 60-mph zone up ahead," "It's getting a little snowy," and, "The roads aren't so great right here." Eventually, she wondered what we'd tell Aunt Cindy, to which I replied, "I'm not gonna tell her a thing. I'm not going to broadcasting to everyone that I put the car into the ditch. You can tell her if you want, but I'm not saying a word."
"Me, neither," she responded. "What does she need to know for?" After a few moments she added quietly, "No one needs to know."
The next morning Aunt Cindy asked, "So what's this I hear you went into the ditch?"
I knew Grandma wouldn't be able to contain such a tale.
Aunt Cindy elaborated, "Last night, after midnight, when I was nearly asleep, I heard this teeny, tiny little whisper: 'We almost didn't make it. We almost died!'"
Now, you might think the story ends here, but certainly not----because even though we barely survived the trip down to Aunt Cindy's, when the weekend was over we still had to drive three hours home again, and a three hour drive is even longer when you have to drive the speed limit.
Grandma remained skittish. She continued to glance at the speedometer every moment or two, wondering just how fast I was going. Obviously too fast, what with the buildings sailing by at a blinding pace. Never mind that other vehicles were whizzing by like we were standing still. Before long, I heard a clicking noise.
Click, click. Clickity click click.
What in the world?
Click clicky click.
It continued for several minutes. I had no idea what it was. Click click. Certainly not the car. Clickity click. It was coming from inside the car. Click click.
Suddenly, with a quiet "Amen" from Grandma, its origin became clear: She was praying on the rosary. My driving terrified her, and to ensure safe delivery home, she resorted to praying to the mother of God. I saw her place the beads back in the center console.
I thought about all the times I've sat in the passenger seat, scared to death because Baby's Daddy was driving like a maniac, trying not to stomp on the imaginary brake in the passenger seat. And while I might dispute such a characterization of my driving, Grandma probably wouldn't. So I slowed down to five under, and we made it home without further incident.
Maybe someday she'll consent to ride with me again, but surely not without her trusty rosary and perhaps a shiny new guardian angel pin.
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Autumn: What? It's 45 degrees out?? Aw, man, I'm going to have to find my coat.
Spring: It's 45 degrees? Woo hoo! I don't have to wear a coat today!
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Today's special is artificial sustenance with a side a failure and dollop of disappointment. For our drink special we have guilt on tap, enough to swim in.
Formula has found its way onto the menu today. Freezer stores are gone, production hasn't increased. So formula it is.
On a rational level, I realize that formula isn't the end of the world, but that didn't keep me from crying yesterday when it became clear that I wouldn't make enough milk for today.
I might as well tell everyone the truth. I'm pretty insecure about being a mom (who isn't?), and breastfeeding was one thing I could point to as having done right. I might've had drugs during delivery, but by god, I breastfed. I might do a million things to cause irreversible emotional damage as he grows up, but at least I breastfed.
All the obstacles, pain, and difficulty -- well, they served to increase my pride for sticking with it. And now it's slipping away. I didn't make the year mark. Is my milk going to continue to dwindle to nothing?
I'm not giving up, not yet. I have More Milk Plus on order. I might even try Lactuca Virosa.
This post is such a downer I'm going to have a make a point of posting something a little happier.
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I hate daylight saving time (DST). Springing forward is just wrong. I gotta say, though, that I love it with DST ends. That falling back business is awesome. I loves me an extra hour of sleep. We should always fall back. It's nicer (so says my sister).
Of course, I already know that it'll be years before I can enjoy falling back again. What is it with babies? Don't they know that falling back means an extra hour of sleep??
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Each day, I'm not pumping enough milk to cover the next day. My freezer stores are nearly exhausted. Over the last few days, I've been taking herbs, drinking more water, eating oatmeal, pumping more often and engaging in extra long nursing sessions to no avail.
In the past, herbs have resulted in a nearly instant boost. I don't know why they're not working as well now. I'm really worried. In the past, even when I had trouble keeping up via pumping, I still had enough milk for nursing. But lately he's been nursing for loooooong stretches and fussing as if he's not happy with the amount of milk he's getting. I've never encountered this before, even during growth spurts.
If something doesn't change soon, Seth will be drinking formula the day after tomorrow. I know, I know. Big deal, right? But it's my goal is to keep him formula free, and I'm about to fail. It's a lousy feeling.
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I don't know how this happened. Until very recently, he would fall asleep and we would put him in his crib. And he would stay asleep. Over the past couple of weeks, he has suddenly started waking up the moment we try to put him down.
I know some people will say we've spoiled him. That we should've started sleep training at four months (i.e., one of many variations of "cry it out"), but we decided that wasn't for us. We wanted him to know that we'd always be there for him and he could depend on us. We didn't want him to have to learn to soothe himself to sleep.
So the question is, am I now paying the price for bad parenting? Did I make the wrong choice? Should I have taught him to be able to sleep independently?
Or maybe this is just a phase. He was sick a couple of weeks ago when this all started, and I know that some babies' sleep patterns get messed up after being sick. In fact, many parents who opted for sleep training have to retrain after an illness.
I hate this -- being wracked with indecision. The sleep trainers say, "You have to teach him good sleep habits now. If you don't, he'll never learn how to fall asleep by himself. A little crying is better for him in the long run. It helps him grow into a healthy, independent adult." The attachment-parenting types say, "Babies have been rocked to sleep by their parents for millennia. If you let them cry, you teach them that they can't count on you. You negatively affect the parent-child bond. And don't worry about all those dire predictions from the sleep trainers. Your child will learn to sleep just fine, and without requiring harsh cry-it-out methods."
Posted in
Motherhood
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Nope. I'm having supply issues, mostly because I'm not diligent about pumping while I'm at work. I should pump three times during the nine hours I spend here each day, but I usually pump only twice, and sometimes only once. The tedium of it is terrible.
Boo hoo. Poor pitiful me. I'll take some cheese with my whine, thank you, but no wine with my cheese -- I'm nursing.
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Breastfeeding
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If you can believe it, some people actually dislike the word "shish kabob." What do you think?
14% Love it! It's even better than "sycophant," "sundry," and "ducky."
29% Hate it! It's even worse than "snot," "blubber," and "gut."
14% Isn't is spelled "shish kebab?"
43% Who cares? They're yummy!
See the pretty bar graph
Posted in
Poll results
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The guy in this article, Suspect arrested in wife's dismemberment - CNN.com, is allegedly crazy for allegedly cutting up his wife. Well, I have lots of proof that he is in fact crazy.
First of all, he allegedly cuts up his wife in Detroit and then flees north. (North to practically my backyard, by the way. The article names my county, Emmet. I live only two miles from Bliss township. The alleged crazy dude is recovering from hypothermia at the local hospital, which is only three miles from where I'm where I'm sitting now. Gee, we're famous. It was CNN's top story yesterday, so the locals are all aflutter.)
But I digress. I'm supposed to be proving he's nuts. Who flees north to a barren, peopleless wilderness? Go south where there are people and you can blend in! Go south where it's warm (especially if you plan to huddle under a tree in just your shirt, pants and socks -- no wonder he's hypothermic and frostbitten). Go south where you're not trapped by water on three sides! He must've forgotten that Michigan is peninsula.
Okay, okay. You're right. I haven't proven he's crazy. All I've proven is that he's stupid. However, take a look at this photo and tell me he's not a psychopath:
UPDATE: CNN has changed the article. Sigh. I always forget that they change articles related to developing stories. It no longer mentions Bliss township. The local sheriff is no longer quoted as extensively. I guess his fifteen minutes of fame is about up. I wish I would've thought to quote some of the info. At least then it wouldn't sound like I was making stuff up. :)
Posted in
Miscellany
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You've just taken the last bit of coffee from the office kitchen. You're all alone. Do you make a new pot?
50% Yes, of course. (Because Jesus and Santa are watching.)
30% Sionara, suckers! Make your own coffee.
20% It depends on how late I am for my meeting.
See the lovely bar chart here.
My sister tells me that she accidentally voted for the wrong answer. In her mind, the question, "Do you make a new pot?" can only be answered, "Yes, of course I don't."
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Poll results
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Remember these babies?
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Darn funny
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...to participate in my Downright Newsworthy Poll (to the right, below my profile). Of course, before I threaten to tally the results, maybe I should line up something at least mildly interesting for the next poll. Any suggestions?
Posted in
Miscellany
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From Blue Monday:
1. What curse word do you use most often?
Bugger. Not sure if it really counts as a curse, which is why I say it.
2. What profession other than yours would you like to do?
Editor or novelist.
3. What is your favorite word?
Sundry.
4. What is your least favorite word?
Snot.
5. What would you like God to say to you when you enter the Pearly Gates?
Don't believe in Pearly Gates.
Posted in
Memes
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