Medium...

Mike and I discovered a show that has been on the air for a little while, now. Medium. We thought, what an interesting idea for a show. A psychic that dreams of criminals and helps the police solve the mysteries. Awesome.

Then we started to watch it.

We were hooked from the word go. But not because it was so good. Because it was so bad. We cannot stop watching it. Can't look away. It's like a horrific plane crash that you know is awful to see, but you keep peaking to see if someone is going to come out screaming with their hair on fire. Yeah, it's like that.

Here's how crappy the writing and directing are. A little sample of what the dialog is usually like:

Alison: I had a dream last night about the serial killer and he lives in Arizona and drives a white Cadillac. Here's his address and license plate number

Police Chief: I don't know Alison. This seems far fetched. How am I supposed to believe what you're telling me. This is silly. Come to me when you have something I can work off of.
...

Okay, so this is what it is like every show. And the "Alison" character has helped solve over 150 crimes. How? By dreaming up a person's address and license plate number every time and giving it to the Police Chief. Why doesn't he ever trust her? After all she's done for him?!!

Then the "favor" casting. Oh, love this and can't get enough. There's a little boy on the show that plays Alison's daughter. I know, weird. But seriously, that boy is a bad actor and is supposed to be portraying the middle child who is a sister to two other bad acting children (who are girls). Bizarre. I call the boy a "favor" because there's no way this he/she was casted because he/she is talented. He puckers up his lips like he's kissing while he's talking and his voice is deep. He delivers his line like a 3rd grader reads a book out loud in class. This boy/girl's mother must have done some freaky shit with the casting director to keep that kid on the show.



You can see him/her, right? He's the blond in the pretty shirt and the receding hairline.

Another thing we noticed was the couple in the show. He's not too bad of an actor and she's alright. They have decent enough chemistry between the two of them, but it's brother and sister-like. Mike said last night, "They never f*ck!" It's so true! She's always wearing baggy-ass pajamas, and not cute ones. Something someone very old would wear. And when they go to bed together, they sleep with their backs turned to one another. (I think he's upset that he had a son that she keeps putting in girl clothes and he's just a little bit bitter.) She wears different pajamas every night. Not every show; every night she goes to sleep. Since she has to sleep a lot to find the criminals, she has to wear a lot of pajamas. They're usually floral print, a funky design, and sometimes just a solid color. They're the button up type. He on the other hand always wears the same nasty ass greenish brown t-shirt. No wonder they never get it on...they're not appealing.

Also, they constantly argue about how silly it is that perhaps one or two of their daughters have psychic abilities. The parent who actually has the abilities is the one who argues how ridiculous it is to think that they could possibly be able to see things. What?!!

Watch the show if you want to be entertained by picking it apart to death as I have, otherwise, save your time and trust that it isn't worth getting sucked into as Mike and I have. We know it's awful, and yet, we have it recorded on our TV in the living room and our bedroom. We're hooked.

Bater

I'll keep it simple and to the point...

We have a "bater" at our gym. By "bater", I mean she's a Mastur of the Bating. Get it? Soooo grossss! Why do we get the weirdos?

We might have to follow her around with the disinfectent spray all the way out the door. Bye Bye, sicko.

Loves

"I love you, Farrah."

"I lah loo mama. I lah loo daddy."

And then she takes my face and her daddy's face and gently pushes us together so we kiss. Then she puckers up and kisses us while we're kissing. The three of us kiss together at the same time.

And later she sings a song titled "My mommy, my daddy". Those are also the lyrics.

Iss Fweddy!

Farrah has several new words she uses that she has made her own. She used to call diapers "Ds" and her blanket "ditty". Mind you, she has not stopped calling them that. She's just not using diapers anymore and therefore doesn't have to call them anything at all. Now she uses "Doras".

If the timer goes off on the oven or microwave, she says, "Iss fweddy!"

When she says she wants a snack, she says the "s" portion of the word "snack" through her nose as if she's blowing it, followed by the word "nack". Try saying it that way. It's funny. Or the way she says, "That's fwonny!"

Thomas the Train is "Choo Choo"

"Meow" is "eee ow". "Icky" is "gicky". "Nikki" (one of our daycare workers) is "Kiki". "Lauren" is "LorLor".

Hungry is no longer "Huh ree". It has upgraded to "Hunger"

"What are you doing" is "Are doing?"

When she sees letters, she calls them "A's"

"I don't want it" is "I oh waa ihh!"

"I don't want to go to bed" is "I no waa go bed"

"There you go" is "Gay ko".

I could go on forever and fill this blog up with the different ways she puts her words and sentences together as a means to document her progress, but it could take me all day. So, I will wrap it up with a little story to explain how far along our little girl's language has come...

A couple weeks ago, Farrah was at Grandma's and Grandpa's. When we arrived to pick her up, she was cuddled up with Grandma with a bloody lip after she took a spill. No big deal. Accidents happen, and especially with a 2 year old. We were told that she had slipped off one of the foot rests and hit her lip on the side of an old table. "Owie!" Our poor Farrah looked awful. Her lip was so swollen and I wasn't sure if she needed a stitch or not. She looked like Keiffer Sutherland in the movie "Freeway" after he got shot in the face by Reese Witherspoon. Well, after about half an hour of us pouring our love over her and she started to calm herself from the pain and she had received a little bit of Motrin for the swelling, she said something to me that was kinda funny. She said, "Goggy hit," as she pointed to her lip. Then I looked closer at her face. There were 4 long scratch marks running down her face down to her lip. She just tattled on Grandma and Grandpa's dog. "Goggy hit" meant "Doggy hit". Of course, we couldn't get too mad, because again, it was an accident. However, Grandma and Grandpa will have to start paying a little bit better attention to the granddaughter and the fact that she TALKS. She will talk. Farrah is a tattle tale and will tell on everyone. That's what she does.

Her vocabulary and sentence formation is getting better and better. It has seemed like it has happened over night, too. She will tell you anything and everything that she can. Even if she has to rat out the dog and throw Grandma and Grandpa under the bus.

Funny Story

Today was a busy day at the gym. I had to leave to run some errands that included making deposits all over town and paying bills. One of my last stops was at my local bank. I drove up to the "drive-thru teller" window and handed over Mike's check to be deposited. I was tired and very irritable. After a good 5 minutes had gone by after the teller had taken the check, I waved at her to get her attention. What the hell was taking so freakin' long??? She informed me that they needed to verify funds. What? This is a bank we've banked with for years and we've been receiving checks from the gym for over a year. I was being treated like I was new. This irritated me even more. I looked inside and saw at least 6-7 people in line that stood there and stared at me while I waited for the gal to come back and give me my deposit slip and send me on my way. They were all watching me and it was awkward.

Then it happened...

I saw it coming.

It was the biggest one I've ever seen.

It was huge and heading straight for me.

"Please god, don't come this way, please, please please."

And it did.
(All of the above, "that's what she said")

Continuing...


It was a giant bastard of a bumble bee.

It flew right into my face. So, of course, what was the reasonable thing to do? Wave my hands around like a crazy person, scream, and swear a lot. Remember, those people were watching me. Also, the microphone was turned on:

"F**K!!!!"
"F**K OFF BEE!!!"
"OH MY GOD!!!"
"GET THE F**CK OUT!!!"
" F********CK!!!!!!"
"AAAAGGHHHH!!!"

The bee taunted me like a son of a bitch. It flew into my face, then out of my window, and decided just to linger right between me and the teller. Of course, when I want my window to go up in a hurry, it didn't. It's electric. It takes its sweet ass time. Then I had to roll it back down so that I could finally get the deposit slip. There it was, floating between me and the teller. Still swearing and freaking out and waving my hands around, I managed to get my hands near the drawer and grab the slip. My eyes slowly came up and I saw people looking at me with great concern. My window went up and I took off.

I had to turn on the A/C because I was sweating so badly from my horrific experience.

F**k bees.

Remembering the 80s

I have been noticing a change in our cities, towns, communities, neighborhoods. Litter. And a lot of it. Remember, "Give a hoot, don't pollute"? Yeah, it's time for another one of those public service announcements. There is trash EVERYWHERE!!! It's so gross. I remember growing up in the 80s and seeing trash on the sides of the roads everywhere you went. Then they started the "don't pollute" message followed with "Litter and it will hurt" campaign. At that time, it seemed like overnight, the grass was grass again on the sides of the roads rather than plastic cups, McDonalds bags, diapers, beer cans and bottles, etc. Take a look out there and consider rounding up a group of people to clean it up. It's gross and embarrassing. Our area has always been nice and now it looks like we're in a 3rd world country. The area behind our business that meets with the freeway, seems to now be owned by Waste Management.

I'm hoping to get a group together myself, and clean up our town. You should consider doing the same.

Talking Toys

Some of Farrah's toys talk. Sometimes they talk when you push a button...sometimes they just talk on their own. It's the ones that talk on their own that I am not a fan of. Honestly, I'm not a fan of any toys that make unnecessary noise as there is plenty of noise being made by my daughter dragging her toys across the hardwood floor, throwing them on the hardwood floor, and her insessive demanding of whatever it is that she feels she needs in that exact moment. But the toys that want to communicate when no one is playing with them, bother me just a tad. Or the toys that sound like the evil dead are talking through them; those ones get the batteries removed from their souls.

Farrah's first, and favorite I might add, toy, is her "baby". It is a puffy little doll with a cute plastic face. We purchased the doll for Farrah over a year ago. At the time, we had no idea that the baby came with a little voice box. When we did, we were quite disturbed by what it said. It wasn't that it was a night time prayer, but the voice that was used to record the prayer. You would expect the voice to be that of a child as it is a child's toy. No. It sounded like a woman pretending to be a child. At the end, the woman-child says, "Amen" in a seductive, almost evil and taunting way. It was horrific! We immediately removed it from the doll, but saved the voice box to frighten our friends and family whenever they came over. We'd make them listen to it and everyone agreed that it was a little scary.

Next, Farrah was given a puzzle from Nanna and Poppy (Lund). It is an animal puzzle that makes the animal's noise when the correct puzzle piece is put in its place. Well, it's light activated. So, anytime a light is turned off when we're heading to bed, a cat would meow, or a horse would neh, a cow would moo, whatever animal decided to speak up. It's always unexpected and therefore always scares the shit out of us.

There is a pig that you squeeze it's "hand" and it recites the Little Piggies. It's sweet and cuddly. Tonight, Farrah went to hug the pink pig when it was sad about not getting any roast beef. When she did that, she squeezed the voice box. The voice box has a woman telling the story and a child's laughter at the end. At that moment, Farrah's hug squeezed the box making the women's voice get deep and slow and the child's laughter deep and slow and therefore, evil. It was gawd awful. It even made me shout at it. I now hate that toy.

Of course, I saved the best for last. Farrah picked out a cute little African American baby for her birthday that giggles, coos, babbles, and moves its head and arms. She loves it. It, too, is light and motion activated. If all the lights are out and Mike and I are cuddling on the couch watching a movie, the change in the lighting can set that doll off. The doll starts to move and laugh and it freaks me the eff out. The worst part??? Oh, that's when Farrah has taken that creepy doll to bed with her. One night I was unable to prevent her from bringing badness into bed with her because I was out with Mike and the babysitter sent her to bed with it. When we got home around 1 in the morning, I of course decided to check on my daughter before going to bed. She was passed out, but there was a weird noise coming from her bed. The doll's voice had been turned off, but not the ability to move. The power hadn't been completely turned off. So, there was my little girl sleeping with a doll that was moving its arms and head around. I pretty much wanted to open her window and throw it out in the woods. Fuggin' scary! Why does she love the toys that scare the bajeezus out of me???

So, from now on, all of Farrah's toys will be voice box and movement free so that I can sleep at night.

This is real

No, I haven't forgotten to update somethings that have gone on lately (ie. Farrah's birthday, Christmas, etc), I'm still working on it. But, I felt I needed to get this one out before I spaced it. It's that important.

The following is a conversation that took place between me and a potential new member:

Tina: Hi, I noticed that you have a whole bunch of signs around town that says your memberships are $19 a month. Can you tell me more?

Me: Sure. Are you familiar with our gyms?

Tina: Yes. I have to work out because I have depression and I take medication.

Me: Okay. Ya know, tanning is a great thing to treat depression. Maybe I can set you up with some tanning and after you go tanning you can get on the treadmill for 10 minutes to get your blood flowing and your endorphins kicking in. That's always good for depression.

Tina: I can't walk on a treadmill or ride the bike because I've had several DUIs.

Me: Oh. Well you don't have to do the bikes or treadmill if you don't want to. Would you be interested in tanning?

Tina: Yes. But I already have tanning.

Me: Somewhere else?

Tina: No at your gym.

Me: Oh. Okay, well if you're already set up with tanning, maybe another thing that might interest you would be some of our aerobics classes.

Tina: Oh! I can't do any aerobics because I'm schizophrenic. I have schizophrenia. He he. I couldn't do that, because it would be too much for me.

Me: Alrighty. Well, our plan is $19 a month for the first three months paid up front and then you don't have to worry about payments again for the next 3 months which will then be at $34 a month. At that time, you can simply get on any machine that suits you and that you'll be comfortable with.

Tina: $19 a month? I'm sorry, that's just too much of a financial committment for me right now. Thanks.

Me: Okay, then. Buh bye.


Yes, very detailed. But Holy Christ, what a weirdo!!! That was by far the best phone call to date. I wish it was recorded. However, I supposed me writing it down line for line, is good enough.

I love the crazies.

Technology Today

Texting, emailing, cell phones, MySpace, Facebook, heck, even Blog pages. What has happened to us? Our world of convenience has started to become quite inconvenient, hasn't it? For the last several months (if not couple of years), I have had to reflect on certain things in my life and what has changed for the better and what has changed for the worse. It all started with the pager. Someone would call your pager number, it would vibrate or make a beeping noise to indicate a call had come through, you would see the number, if you recognized it...you called, if you didn't...you called. You even responded faster if 911 followed the phone number. Then we got the internet with email. Great for business, not so great for personal relationships. It would not matter what the email said, but it could have been taken out of context simply because of too many exclamation points or too many capitals (because we all know that means yelling, right?) The convenience of the email is nice in the sense that it eliminates too much talk if you are trying to avoid that. But again, where is the person's voice behind that message?

Cell phones. What can I say? Convenient? Yes. Handy? Yes. Odd? Yes. There have been many a times that I have needed to contact my husband with an urgent message when I have been away from a telephone, but my cell phone happened to be in my purse. When I was in my car accident, I was able to call 911 within seconds of it happening to insure a quick response to my and my daughter's safety and well being. However, when we all talk on our cell phones throughout the day, aren't we missing out on opportunities when the day comes to an end and you are at home with your spouse that we can sit and have a conversation? What's left to talk about? I have accidently left my phone in my car and Mike has gotten very angry about it because it causes him to worry. He has done the same, and I've wanted to have a heart attack after the fourth call and no answer. It never used to be like that. It used to be (and mind you, I'm talking about ALL of us {I didn't just yell when I wrote "all" in capitals}), that we'd all go off to work, have our lunch break, if we were lucky enough, get a phone call from our spouse/boyfriend/girlfriend, we'd get butterflies in our stomachs, and at the end of the day meet up with that loved one and share what the rest of the day held. By the time we get home now, that loved one has already heard about your day.

Now let's add text messaging. Same rules apply with the email. No emotion behind the message because you were short with your answers, or too much emotion because you used all caps. Worse? You can say whatever you want in a text message and it makes it so you don't actually have to say it to the person, but in your mind, you did. Does that make sense? I'm starting to hate text messaging. Really hated it months ago, but now that I go out with friends and family and out to dinner...out comes the cell phone. Everyone's cell phone. Last night, I was out with friends and we all sat at a table for 10 of us and within minutes, everyone pulled out their cell phones to text message people. Um, what is wrong with simply enjoying the company you are with? Why can't the damn thing be put away? For me, in my life, I've experienced far more harm than good with the cell phone and its malicious text messaging features. There have been more arguments over the use or lack there of, of our cell phones. I'm about ready to go retro and get rid of mine. When life was less convenient, we were forced to have conversations, real conversations, with human beings, not their machines. We all get a little braver, too, don't we? We can say all the wonderful things to each other or even awful things to each other and just hit "send." I really wish some of the things that I have texted Mike, I would have told him in person so that he could see the love in my eyes when I told him how much he meant to me. I wish other people who I told to go fuck themselves would have heard the strength and anger in my voice and saw my knuckles go white. I wish that some of the late night conversations Mike and I have had via texting could have been lying next to each other, face to face, in awe of what we were feeling at that moment. It's too bad that texting can be erased, too. On the other hand, it's good because some texts are not worth seeing ever again.

Finally, MySpace and Facebook. They're gonna get it too. While I, like several others, have a small addiction to going to my MySpace page to update my mood and look at friends' moods and pictures, it has again, become a form of technology to remove the person from the relationship. Again, does that make sense? Instead of calling a friend and ask them how they're doing, we simply look on MySpace and see that they just got out of church and can't wait to see their boyfriend. Sounds like a good day. We also get to see how awful people's lives are on their moods. What do a lot of us do? We either send a comment on their page, email them a message, or we might go as far as sending a text message to see what's up. Can you see why this has all started to bug me? Hasn't it been brought to your own attention how weird we all interact now? We're not as nice to one another. Why? Because technology has taught us to communicate without some of our most vital ways of communicating. Voice inflection, hand gestures, facial expressions. They are so important and yet, seemingly so inconvenient.

While I clearly am complaining in the moment now, do I necessarily see myself getting rid of these devices? Honestly, I don't know. I do use them regularly and am as much to blame as the rest of society, but I'm a person, not a machine, and those I communicate are the same. I want to have the human element back in my life one way or another. If that means getting rid of my MySpace and Facebook, I will. If you want to see pictures of me and my daughter, perhaps I'll mail some off or you can stop by. I don't know. If you want to know how I'm doing, give me a call. Or, sit down with me over coffee or dinner and ask.

Next time you go to the mall, check out all the teens who are texting or are on their cell phones. Do they walk by people and smile at them? Do they ignore one another while sitting together so they can be on their phone? And need I say anything about how certain generations communicate with those that are older. Quite a bit different than what we all grew up with, huh? (But I've already blogged about that)

I won't get rid of my blog, as the purpose it served and serves are to share life experiences and lessons learned. The blog is used on the information highway and that is what I provide. The internet I'm fine with, because it's just a tool that is meant to provide info.

Okay, I sound like an old lady now...but eh, whatever.

Infected in Nasal Canal

About a week ago, Farrah and Mike came down with the flu/cold. I was lucky enough to only catch the cold, though. Lucky. It seemed like everyday at work, people had been asking me if I was still sick. Everyone would comment on how I sounded stuffed up or had a lovely raspy voice. I was constantly asked, "Are you still sick?" Of course, my answer was always no and that my cold was just trying to drain out of my face.

It was, it really was. Unfortunately, I went to bed a couple nights ago and began to wake up every hour in a lot of pain. It felt like I had been punched three times. Once in the right jaw, once in the right cheek bone, and once in the right eye. Sinus infection! I woke up and (here it comes...grossness) blew my nose. Infection confirmed. Green. Reeeeeally green. Not only that, but sooooo much snot. I couldn't stop blowing my nose. There's a lil' added bad news to my lil' infection. I forgot to pay my insurance bill and therefore, do not have insurance. Good news? Found some cephlexin from a past surgery. Self diagnoses + self medication = smart Kathy.

Actually, I will only continue with this for a little bit longer. The pain on the right side creeped its way to the other side of my face. Effin hurts. I might have to buckle down and do the whole walk-in clinic thing. Hopefully, I will just 'will' it away.

Is it good if my teeth hurt?

Sickly

Farrah is sick. It started with a nasty cough and waking up in the morning sounding like she had a big wad of pudding stuck in the back of her throat. It has since progressed. Now she has a little fever and is incredibly fussy. BUT, there is a fun side to this! About 15 minutes ago, she farted. She farted really, really loud. And more than once. She could have easily have been confused with her dad, who too, has amazingly loud farts. She farted about 10 times in a row; long and loud. The funny part following the echoing noise from her butt, was that she looked down at her feet and would take a few steps back to see if she had just shit the floor. Every time she farted, she did this. I, too, expected there to be a massive mess to mop up on the floor, but luckily for both of us, no poop escaped her awesome diapers. When I changed her diaper, there was barely anything in there. I hope I have the camera ready for the next fart session so I can record it and embarrass her later in her life (more than I probably am right now). It may not embarrass her though, she could end up being proud.

History in the Making

I donated money. I stood in line for over 2 hours in the cold, wind, and rain to caucus. I educated friends and family on what I have learned about the current politics. I have sent out emails and I have posted bulletins on MySpace. I have called a complete stranger on the phone and discussed what we can do as democrats to get the word out. I have done my part as an American citizen to help put the man that I wanted into office. Today, November 4th, 2008, I was alive to witness the first African American man in our Nation's history win the 2008 Presidential election. I watched a GREAT man, an inspiring man, a true leader WIN the 2008 Presidential election. I feel nothing but pride for our Country. My daughter is around to see something that is so important, and I love that.

While it has felt like our country has gotten cynical and more and more divided over time in the past 8 years, I truly feel this is a man who can get us on the right track. I feel that this man is going to help all of us become the next "Greatest Generation!" I believe it and I know it. I mailed in my ballot over the weekend and got butterflies when I dropped it off at the post office. I knew what I had done felt important and that maybe, this time, my voice would be heard. Mine was, along with millions of others. I watched the TV show people from all over the US cheering, crying, laughing, hugging, and expressing pure joy over this important victory. I watched people from other countries jump around and shouting with excitement of what our country just achieved. I heard a commentator on CNN say, "With all of our Country's downfalls, we have still been able to show the world how great our nation truly is tonight." Out of ALL the European based countries, ours is the first to elect a black man. THAT is American. This man has blood of a white mother and a Kenyan father running through his veins. THAT is American. This man has lived abroad and experienced different cultures and even diversities in our country. THAT is American. His name is not John, Robert, George, Ronald, or Jimmy...It's Barack Obama. It doesn't get any more American than that!

Never in my life, have I ever felt so passionate about who was to become our next president. Never. I will sleep well tonight knowing that the right man is heading for the White House and he is ready to lead our nation back into greatness where we all want to be and know we can get back to. I am overjoyed that my next president is Barack Obama.

Yes...we...can...

Crash!!!

Tuesday was a decent enough day. I was productive at work and enjoyed a good hard workout with Mike. Mike had to head over to a friends house to check on it while he's out of town and Farrah and I decided to go home. I was just driving down the main road of Smokey Point and was slowly inching up on the railroad tracks to turn left to get home, then CRASH!!! I was hit from behind, and hard. My head had hit my headrest very hard and I hung onto my horn to get anyone's attention as I was unsure of what had just happened. The worst part? Farrah was in the car with me and was whimpering and looked scared to death. I had to of asked her 10 times if she was okay, and I always got a nervous, "uh huh." I immediately called 911 and watched as the person who hit me coasted up the hill and ultimately went into the ditch. I was very confused by this. The dispatcher asked if everyone was okay, I said that I was but was unsure of my little girl since she really couldn't tell me. I called Mike and scared the bejesus out of him, but assured him we were fine. He turned around and headed for us. I then got out of my car to check on Farrah and then looked at the damage. Holy shit. It's pretty bad. I yelled, "Are you f**king kidding me?!!!" The girl who hit me just watched from clear on the other end of the road. Good thing she was far. I was livid.

The police and fire trucks arrived, only they were only attending to the girl who hit me. I was pissed, again. I had called. I had requested the fire trucks and medics to take a look at my kid. I sat there bewildered. Finally, after gesturing my disapproval, a police officer was on his way over. He got my statement, took my driver's license and insurance info, and ultimately called over a fireman to take a look at Farrah. I was told she might end up with some bruising, but she would be okay. Within 20 minutes of the collision, my neck and traps started to tighten up. I asked the officer if that was normal and he said I probably have whiplash. Yay. As I continued to stand there, it continued to get more uncomfortable, and then Farrah started to scream that she needed a diaper and that she was hungry. I was there for a good 45 minutes. Mike finally showed up and the officer told me to go ahead and go home. He had all the info he needed and she had insurance.

The rest of the night I was real spacey and continued to take care of Farrah as usual. Didn't think that I should just not do anything at all. When I finally was ready to go to bed, I was real sore. I iced my back and took 4 ibuprofen. It was hard to sleep, but it was to be expected.

I went to our friend who is a chiropractor for xrays and adjustments. Farrah got checked to. My xrays showed that I was a mess. My neck is straight up and down rather than a nice little curve. All my muscles are inflamed. Ultimately, the fireman was wrong. Farrah did not simply end up getting bruises from her straps. Her whole demeanor changed. She would not leave my side and wouldn't let go of me. Not only that, she has had persistent diarrhea. She is scared and stressed. She has been able to get back into the car without issues, but I believe we both looked scared to death when we looked at each other after the crash that it worried her. It has been sad for me, but she is doing better.

Lastly, the condition of my car. Not pretty. I was driving between 5-10 mph and the gal didn't slow up at all in an area that changed from 50 to 35 mph. Part of the back end of my car has been pushed to the right. I lost a light and part of my bumper is gone. The cop said that she told him she had "a medical emergency". I, on the other had, told the officer that she probably wasn't paying attention, hit me, then passed out when she saw what she hit. My dad and I have a bet going. He said it will probably cost $2500. I laughed at this silly guess. I know it will be no less than $5000. This, hopefully, is easy with the insurance companies.

All in all, Tuesday ended up actually being pretty shitty.

Time For Another Gross One

I have a nose ring. It is new and I love it. However, it is difficult at times to get used to it especially after getting over a nasty little cold. The worst thing that I have discovered with having my nose ring, other than the occasional pushing it into my septum and making my eyes water, is knowing that I have a giant booger up there just dying to get out. It is, of course, my job to remove the booger. I'll blow my nose and nothing happens. I gently move the ring around on the outside to see if maybe it will loosen it up and ultimately jar it loose, but it does not. What other option do I have? The finger. I HAVE to!!! This is a somewhat impossible task. Why, you ask? Because, when you have a cold and you're blowing your nose, or spraying nasal spray up your nose, or taking sudephed to dry out your nose, it makes a type of glue up your nose. Eventually, your snot begins to wrap its way around the nose ring and ultimately dries there. I believe I spent a good 15 minutes with my finger up my nose trying to untangle the mess around the inside of my nose and glued to the ring. I did this while driving, of course, because everyone knows you're invisible in your car. It took a lot of hard work, but there was success at the end of those 15 minutes.

I'm sure, what's left of my cold will be wrapped around and dried out inside my nose in the morning. My finger can hardly wait.


P.S.

Watched the VP debates. I wonder if the Republican party gets embarrassment chills when Palin speaks, or do they plug their ears when she does so it's not so awful. God, I wish I had plugged my ears. Honestly, didn't understand much that came out of her mouth. But, she's pretty. So that's okay.

OMG, What Have I Done

So, I was watching CNN and the Rachel Maddow show was on. During her show, a guy was on talking about a website that tracks who has been Googling your name. Cool, right? Mike and I immediately jumped online on our own computers, curious about any people out there that might be remotely interested in us. When I went to the site, it said there had been 6 women and 4 men who recently had looked me up. One of which was a male, 33. Have no clue. Mike looked up his stalkers and found 12 women and 6 men (if I remember correctly). We were shouting back and forth about our fans and chose to type in our personal info. By doing this, we were hoping that the website would discontinue waving the carrot out in front of our noses and let us know who was searching for us. Nope. $5 a month for a year. What then? Are we sure they are going to share REAL names? Anyway, it also offered a site (reunion.com) to also see if anyone has searched for us. Mind you, this was purely out of curiosity, not personal obsession. Well, this time no one was looking for me. My feelings were hurt. Mike had quite a few from his high school. Lucky. Well, I figured it was a little like MySpace, so I decided to post a photo (a flattering photo, especially if it was going to be high school people looking). Big mistake. Within minutes, some dude commented on my photo, "Yummy." I felt violated. Delete. Delete. Delete. A couple of minutes later, it said 2 other men were checking out my profile (which only said home town and high school). Holy crap, no thanks psychos. Delete!

I am no longer a member of reunion.com. My membership lasted a whole 10 minutes.

I know you want to look to see who is Googling your name, but consider this your warning.


You'll do it anyway.

Dummies.

Being Political is Politically Incorrect. Weird, Huh?

This letter was read on the Air America radio station today. I listen to the station religiously, because I always find the content interesting and quite amusing. Well, this letter, while incredibly long, basically sums up my feelings about McCain-Palin. Again, if you aren't on the same side of the fence as I am, oops. Doesn't mean we can't be friends, right? We can as long as you don't tell me you disagree. ; )

Enjoy the letter:

September 25, 2008

An Open Letter to the Honorable John McCain

By Brian Normoyle

Dear Senator McCain:

As an average, middle-class American, I write with concern because I'm starting to wonder whether or not the McCain-Palin campaign is just a colossal farce that the voters are forced to sit through.

I overlooked the exaggerations, as politicians are prone to, but took issue with the outright lies about Obama's economic plan and Palin's alleged opposition to earmarks and the bridge to nowhere. Then, your lies became evasion: refusing to meet with reporters on your plane or take their questions after rallies, Palin's two softball interviews with the national media and still no press conferences, and the campaign's patent refusal to allow media access to her. Shortly thereafter, you again tried to pull the wool over our eyes contending you've been a pro-regulation populist all along who takes on Big Business maverick-style.

My final indignation was in the third act of this horrible farce I can't bring myself to laugh at: you're "suspending" the campaign to go to Washington and fix this bailout problem. This political gimmick is even more brazen than the rush-to-judgment choice of Sarah Palin--and that's saying a lot. The really juicy part of the joke? You want to postpone the debate scheduled for Friday and even the Vice-Presidential debate next week.

I've had it. Enough! Let's call this exactly what it is: moose-shit.

No, Senator McCain, you do not get an extension on your homework assignment. You can show up to the University of Mississippi, like the all the other kids, and give the presentation you were assigned months ago. I don't care that you're grossly unprepared and I have little sympathy for your apparent inability to defend 25 years of pro-business, anti-regulation policies leading us to where we are today. Like any other person who wants to be President of the United States, you need to be able to handle more than one assignment concurrently and you need to do your homework on time.

Senator, you sold me and America a first-class ticket on your Straight-Talk Express, and I've come to learn that I actually hold a coach-class seat on the No-Talk Express, or as I've named it: Sham-trak. I want off this train and I want answers. I'll even give you the questions in advance so you can study your scripted responses:

1. With Republicans in control of congress for 12 years and Bush at the helm for the last eight, the SEC Chairman and all its commissioners appointed by a Republican, the FRB Chairman appointed by a Republican, and a Republican Treasury Secretary, why do you think we should trust you, a Republican, with our vote?

2. When your economic advisor, Phil Gramm, said our failing economy was all in our head and called struggling Americans "a nation of whiners," what exactly did he mean by that? And since he wrote a law in 1999 repealing restrictions and regulations on the financial sector, how can we be sure you're not beholden to his "expert" economic policy advice?

3. In 2005 you stated "I'm going to be honest, I know a lot less about economics than I do about military and foreign policy issues, I still need to be educated" and said last December that "the issue of economics is not something I've understood as well as I should [but] I've got Greenspan's book." Do you think that instills confidence and hope in the American people about your economic stewardship? Why do you feel uniquely more qualified to handle something you've admitted you know little about?

4. Why do you continue to deny media access to Sarah Palin? Why don't you talk to reporters anymore? Why are you avoiding the debate? Why won't you give us the answers we deserve about the issues facing our nation and our everyday lives?

Here's some advice from an average, middle-class American. Think of it as Straight-Talk 101: when you own 13 cars and can't remember that you also have seven homes; when you want to inflict damage on the few of us who are provided employer-sponsored health insurance by taxing that benefit; when you and your party make it harder for struggling Americans to access bankruptcy courts but you and said party offer to bailout Wall Street with our money; when you want to continue the failed Bush-Republican policies of giving tax breaks to the wealthiest 1% while short-shifting the middle class; when you have all these factors about you pitted against a voter's reason, logic and rational thought-and the emotional response to losing a home, job, and/or life savings--you shouldn't be running from the media and debates, you should hop in the engineer's compartment of your BS-Express and slam full-throttle towards them so that you can explain yourself and give us one, just one reason, why any sentient human being should vote for you.

See you in class on Friday.

Good luck because I think you're gonna need it.

Kind regards,
Brian Normoyle

It's Potty Time, Y'all!!!

Farrah has been wanting to start using the potty. She does not like sitting in a soggy diaper. She does not like sitting in a smelly crappy diaper. She has been giving us signs left and right and has from time to time taken a seat on the toilet and read the book, "Mrs. Wishy-Washy". I feel very guilty because, there were two times where Farrah forewarned me that she was about to blow (poop). Once yesterday and once the day before, she ran up to me and pointed at her rear and said, "Dee!" I felt her diaper and it was perfectly dry. "Oh, you're such a liar! You silly girl. You just want to be with mama." Nope. Not so much. 3-5 minutes later, I was being handed my smelly daughter. She had been telling me that she was about to fill her diaper, and was giving me an opportunity to sit her on the pot and save the land fills. Oops. Don't I feel like an ass.

Well, today, I was told that our daycare friend had space and was inviting Farrah over for nap, lunch, and playtime. Couldn't pass it up. She loves it over there and Jen, the "daycare lady" is a rock star with our girl. Plus, her daughter, Brenna, and Farrah are very good friends. They have fun together, and I love that. I took Farrah over around lunch time. Farrah went right into playing while Jen and I chatted it up. Suddenly, we both looked over and saw that Farrah had her hands down the front of her pants and was pushing down her diaper. I asked her if she needed to go potty. She said, "Noooooooooooo" very sweetly, while shaking her head up and down. Jen and I were on our feet! We grabbed her, Jen got her pants and diaper off, and we got her on the lil' potty. She sat there and lifted one leg, put it down, lifted the other, put it down, sang a bit, danced a bit, and simply hung out on the pot. Jen and I just stood there talking to one another, then suddenly, my head shot in Farrah's direction and I said, "I think I heard something!" "Oh, I keep a little water in there so they can hear if they did something, but it may have just been the water sloshing around."

When Farrah decided she was done playing on the toilet, she was handed the tp, did what she had to do with it, and placed it in the big potty. Jen's way of emptying the lil' potty is to place a paper towel sheet in it and then dump it in the big one. If the paper towel is yellow, that's how you know if your little one did the deed. Our little one did! Farrah went pee in the potty!!! We were so excited and Farrah got all the praise we could throw at her. She washed her hands and got her new DEE put on. I shared the news with Daddy and everyone at work. Had to. Even called Grandma and Poppy to let them know the good news. They were thrilled, considering they had been placing her on that toilet as often as they could, trying to get her to do her thing.

Finally, tonight, we tried using the little kid toilet rather than the one we placed on the big toilet. It's not as intimidating. We let her play with it for a while, and finally decided to walk away and let her do what she wanted to do and try it for herself (no diaper, of course). Well, I was cooking dinner and out came my half naked child making an announcement to us. She was pointing in the direction of the bathroom. So Mommy and Daddy followed Farrah to the bathroom. There we saw the triumphant finale of Farrah's potty time. Her toilet, unfortunately, was empty. However, the carpet around the toilet was not. Neither was the flooring on the way out of the bathroom. While the pee didn't make it where we wanted it to, she still was praised huge. She tried hard and she was wonderful enough to share it with us. She's on her way. What a good girl.

We're so proud of her and can't wait for the next try.

Naughty

My sweet, innocent, bright, loving little girl has recently become...um...horrible. She is as wonderful as she always has been, until you let her know that she is not allowed to do whatever it is she's doing. Like standing on a chair for fear she will inevitably fall off. Or, like reaching up to grab your chocolate milk that you thought was completely out of reach, but you were wrong. She is not a fan when we correct her when she claims that every little thing in the house is hers (like make up, sunglasses, keys, etc) when they are not. Her way of expressing her disapproval is to, of course, voice it...VERY LOUDLY. Not only is she loud, she is super duper whiny. Her whine is awful. It is high pitched and drawn out for a long time. When she is hungry, she says, "I'm Huuuuuuweeee." but she says it as if you told her she needs to clean her bedroom. Picture it in your head as if she is saying, "I don't waaaaaannnt to." You can hear it. Can't you.

She has also become incredibly bossy and demanding. For instance, her favorite thing to shout at us is, "BAH BAH!!! BAH BAH!!! BAH BAH!!! BAH BAH!!!" Not only is she yelling at us that she wants her bottle, she does it with a horrible scowl on her face. What happened to our precious little girl while we were gone? Can we get her back please? When she makes her scowl, I am quick to run up and spread it out on her face so that she doesn't grow up with frown lines (like what I have). Not attractive. Other than that, she gets a nice raised voice from either or both of her parents to be nice or she will get nothing, while explaining how to ask in a more respectful manner. She knows what to say when I ask, "What do you say?"..."Peeeze." I always let her know how good she is when she asks for things in a nice way, but I also let her know what I will not put up with.

I REFUSE to raise an asshole. There are so many out there, I'd rather my daughter have a few bad feelings about me from time to time, but will walk around being a kind human being to others and respectful to those that are older than her (if they deserve it...I'm not raising an idiot either). We've been dealing with Farrah's terrible twos since she was a little over 1. We have a lot of work on our hands, but that is because little girls are sassy. I also believe them to be a bit more defiant than boys. At least, that has been my experience.

Mind you, she still wants to play with us, hug us, love us, be with us always. She is a great kid and very smart. She loves to be sent to Time Out. She's so weird. But, I think it is because she knows at the end of her time out, she gets to walk up to both of us, say sorry, and get a big loving hug from her mommy and daddy. She always knows at the end of her discipline there is an awesome reward. Loves from us.

Well, I have to go and spank my child, now.

Just kidding.

Pass the Collard Greens, Please.

Mike and I just returned from a trip to see extended family out in Kentucky. We had a wonderful time. Who knew you could do that in Kentucky??? I was going to start this blog with a description of our trip, but decided instead, just to share my experience at the family pot luck...I'll follow up with our actual trip in a later entry.

On Saturday, we had the big family reunion. I had been forewarned by Mike about Southern edicate when eating. You are to only take what you have every intention to eat. Do NOT leave ANYTHING behind on your plate unless you would like to receive a ration of shit from the older people around you. I had been warned because of my tendency to pile food high on my plate, sit down, then suddenly realize that I am not an obese person, but a small woman with a stomach the size of a walnut. So, the family reunion was a potluck, meaning that everyone brought something that THEY like to make. Their favorite southern dish. When Mike and I got in line to fill our plates, I remembered what he told me. I was excited to try different things, because that is just what I do when it comes to food. I grabbed some mashed potatoes, corn, ham, a corn bread roll, and of course, collard greens. The last time I had collard greens, they were cooked in a style that my parents prepared green beans and spinach: with vinegar, bacon, a little sugar, salt, and pepper. Yummy (to me, anyway). Um, that's not how these were prepared. And the corn? It was not your typical sweet corn with just butter. Nope. And what two items did I grab the most of? The corn and the collard greens, of course! I had dug into my ham, and as I ate, I swore I was smelling some sort of rancid fish or garbage. I was horrified that the smell was coming off of my plate. I took a bite of the corn. Ugh. It had been cooked with country ham and country bacon and back fat. Sick. Not a mixture of flavors that agreed with me, so I took big bites of potatoes with every bite of corn. To my horror, yet again, I had realized that when the corn was gone, the potatoes were gone, and the ham was gone, I still was able to smell the garbage-esque fishy smell. Whatever it was, it was still on my plate. I had to go get more potatoes (thank God there were more left). With every bite of collard greens, I took a huge bite of potatoes. I chewed my food like a kid who was given sushi for the first time. You know, real fast chewing while stomping your feet quietly under the table real fast as if you were trying to run away, only you're stuck sitting in your chair while your family eagerly watches with joy that you're eating their food not realizing that at any moment you might just gag and allow your food to come right back up. You know what I'm talking about. We've all been there. Only we were there when we were children, not grown adults. I ate as fast as I could and got those collard greens down so quick. I couldn't wait for them to digest so I could get them out of my body. And then of course, when I finally finished, I was asked by Dan, "What did you think of those collard greens? Pretty good, huh?" Thank god I answered with a polite answer of, "Oh, yes!" because Aunt Thelma who was sitting right next to him was the one who made them. She, eagerly, proceeded to explain how they were made. Wish I didn't know. No worries, I will not be sharing the recipe on this blog. Following that experience, I had one last thing on my plate. The corn bread muffin. I broke it open and took a small bite. That was enough for me. I had already completely tortured myself and took one (or two) for the team by not being wasteful or a complainer. To the trash the hockey puck muffin went. When I went to the trash and looked at everyone else's plate, Mike was right. Mine ended up being the only one with something left on the plate. At that moment, I honestly didn't give a shit.

Later that night, while Mike and I lay in bed, several hours after I had had my meal, I just moaned, "Collard Greens." It's all I could think to say, because that's what my breath smelt like and my mouth tasted like. I suppose I could've simply had said, "Ass." It, too, would've easily had described what was in my body.

Collard Greens + week old saved up country ham juice = disgusting torture.

Ha ha, there's the recipe.

You're welcome.

I Just Have To Speak Up

I apologize in advance (kinda) to any who might disagree with what I'm about to write, but if you read my disclaimer, then it really doesn't matter, does it? So here it is...

Republicans. Sarah Palin. John McCain. Oh my effin' God.

I am an Obama fan. A huge fan, as a matter of fact. I participated in the Caucuses and stood in the wind and rain to do my part and get him to be the Democratic nominee. He is brilliant, he is honest, he is powerful, he is presidential. I have never been so passionate about politics my entire life until now. When I hear him speak, it makes me wonder how anyone, even republicans, can not be moved by his words and the sincerity behind them. And then I watch the GOP convention. Holy Hell, it is so freaking embarrassing to watch, I can barely even look.

I honestly think the republican party must think that our nation is full of a bunch of retards. They nominate a women with little to no experience as the republican nominated VP. Are you kidding me? Is that how they think they're going to pull in the women voters or the people that were devastated that Hillary Clinton didn't get in? I can't have been the only one able to see right through the hypocrisy and the desperation in that choice.

When Palin speaks, I can't help but laugh. Why? Because...who the hell is she? I've NEVER heard of her. Ever. Has anyone? Has anyone even from Alaska heard of her? What an odd choice. The fact that the republican party's biggest gripe about Obama was his "lack of experience" completely is trumped now. Yay for us, but wtf to them? Not that I care, but it kinda makes you feel sorry for some of those people.

There's something that the republican party is now saying: "The Democratic Party is lying to the country about the state of our economy." WH WH WH WHAT?!!! You're kidding me!!! I have never seen such an out of touch group of people my whole life. Do they live in a little tiny box full of cash and constant security while the rest of the country loses their homes, loses their jobs, file for bankruptcy, and sit back frightened about what the future holds for them and their family? Unbelievable. Again, do they think we are a bunch of idiots? So, if the republican party says everything is fine, we should just take their word for it rather than looking at our bank accounts. Okay.

My final rant is this. At the end of the GOP convention, they called for a closing prayer. What? What happened to separation of church and state? It just bothers me. Everyone has the right to have their faith and I think it is important. But does it belong there? Ugh. Whatever. I just really wanted to puke when I watched the GOP convention and was in complete bliss and in awe of the Democratic Convention.

Go Team Dems!!!