I've mad a startling discovery!!

I hate my life. And I don't mean my husband; I love him. I love my cats, my family, and I love BEING alive. What I hate, I guess, is my career.

I think that's why this country is in debt. I hate my job SO FUCKING MUCH, that the only real high I get is when something arrives that I ordered off the interwebs. And that need for a high is SO BAD, that people are willing to go into debt for it. You see it with horders all the time; they REALIZE that all that crap may not be good for them, but it's the wonderful feeling of bringing something home. I think that goes all the way back to instinct, and the feeling of elation of being able to provide for your family (even if it was some antelope or whatever that you shot down with a spear).

I hate my job. No one talks to me, really. There's a few people who will take a minute to say hi, but nobody really hangs out, or is overly friendly. You come in, you do your work, you sit in your cube, and you go home.

I hate my job SO MUCH, that if I could get another job, or if I knew I could get by without one, I would literally walk out the door right now. I would pick up my purse behind me, and leave.

It's not like there's drama here. There's NOTHING. I hate this. And what's worse, this is the best thing I can get right now. I'm trapped... and I hate that even more.

Hannah-Homemaker

Friday night was shabbat. So, we invited over this couple we met at our schul, because we are THAT JEWISH. OMG. Anyway, they're lovely, and the husband asked my guy if he wanted to come over and help out with the home-brewing of his beer.

I take that as male code to mean: "Wanna hang out? We can totally watch Gossip Girl and braid each other's hair!!" So I was all, "Cool. Hit that shit, baby!" So he did.

So, whilest the men-folk were off creating a substance my husband doesn't actually like to drink (it's not an uppity-thing... beer hurts his tummy), the wife asked me if I wanted to come to her knitting event.

String? Knots? Small, sharp sticks? POSSIBLY food?!?! DOES THIS SOUND LIKE AN EVENT I WOULD PASS UP?!?!

The answer, my friends, is no.

I went.

And now, I have to make a hat.

I don't know how I got myself into this. One minute I was in the middle of  room with women and lots of balls of yarn, and the next minute i was buying a pattern with awesome yarn and some knitting needles with a string between them.

Yeah, I don't know. But here's what I DO know:

Since I have moved out to the 'burbs, I have:

1. Started thinking about kids

2. Planted corn

3. Joined a "community center/ gym"

4. Joined a schul (synagogue)

5. Learned that our Rabbi is retiring, and have actually attempted to give a shit. I don't... but I DID try.

And now, I knit. Like, I knit actual things, and not just give it a shot for a few weeks and then put it aside when NBC's new lineup comes on.

WHAT AM I TURNING IN TO?!?!?!

You don't get it: I'm not that important

I HAD to write about this, because it was JUST. TOO. FUNNY. This past weekend, the husbinator and I went to South Carolina to visit his cousins, their kids, and his uncle.

In many ways, my guy is special, but in his family he is particularly unique. You see, while he has a good work ethic, the rest of his cousins (3) just sort of assume they'll succeed because... well, because they deserve it. I absolutely cannot stand that attitude. To believe for even a MOMENT that you DESERVE something you haven't worked for? Craziness!!! Now, sometimes things happen, LUCKY things, that you DIDN'T work for, but you still get. You don't DESERVE them, it's called LUCK.

Anyway, whatevs. The thing is, this attitude comes from their father, which is odd considering that he worked for everything he has. You see, he's a Jewish doctor down there, and he's built up quite a name for himself.

So, 25 years ago he decided to move to a posh little neighborhood.

Ok, whatever.

And he decided to design himself a posh little mansion.

Ok, do you buddy.

And when I went to stay at this quaint little 6 or 7 bedroom place, he gave me the grand tour, and was SURE to include the room he designed after....

THE PALACE AT VERSAILLES.

I fucking kid you not.

Now, here's what I've learned about rich people from observing them with my face pressed rudely against the glass ceiling that is the middle class:

Rich people, REALLY rich people, never tell you how rich they are. They don't normally flaunt it, and they don't discuss it with random folks. For example, the Queen of England would NEVER say, "And this is the shitter I had designed after that Wendy's I had the runs in when I was in Colorado."

They don't DO that. You know what? Because they don't give a shit if you know how wealthy they are! THEY know how wealthy they are, and they're comfortable with themselves.

And it goes beyond that too! I have never been to a house where people SHOW IT OFF. Sure, there are parts you're proud of; for example, I like the nautical theme I have (sorta) going on in my living room. I have fluffy couch pillows.

FUCK YEAH FLUFFY COUCH PILLOWS!!

But to have this man tour me around and point out this room was like him saying, "PLEASE APPROVE OF ME!!"

But the thing is, the more you WANT approval, the less you get it. I totally learned this in therapy when I was in high school. The more you are confidant enough to be yourself, the cooler you are. Anyone can be SOMEONE ELSE, but the more you're uncompromisingly you, the more bad-ass you are.

So when you BEG me to approve of you, it's you saying, "I HAVE NO SELF ESTEEM, AND I TRY TO FILL THAT EMPTY VOID WITH THINGS!! AREN'T YOU IMPRESSED?!?!"

Well, no, not really. But ironically, that shouldn't matter anyway.

Fantasy speeches

FYI: this is a TOTALLY self-serving post. I'm HELLA-BORED.

Do you ever give fantasy speeches in your head? I TOTALLY do. And mine are super weird. I think I'm obsessed with non-Jews, because for about six or seven years of my life, I never knew they existed. Seriously. My whole neighborhood was Jewish, so I just assumed EVERYONE was. It wasn't until we kept passing this large stone house with the lowercase letter "t" on it, and I asked my mom, did I learn that there was anything OTHER than Jewish.

And so, I'm fascinated by our differences and our similarities. When I moved down to DC, I met my first Baptist, and we grew to be very close friends. Once, she said to me, "I have never met a non-Christian who lives so in The Spirit like you do."

That freaked me out, cuz I was all, "GHOSTS?!?!" and then she called me an idiot, and we finished lunch. But it made me think, if I was ever going to speak at her church, what would I say to a group of people who have probably NEVER met a Jew? How would I describe who I am, what Judaism is, and how would I leave a long-lasting positive impression?

Since she would be MENTAL to invite me to speak at her church, and since this is MY BLOG and I can write whatever I damn well choose, I'm going to write it here.

So, for your general boredom, here is what I would say if I ever were to speak at a Church....

"Good morning. Dee has been kind enough to invite me to your Church today to share in your worship, and to talk to you briefly about who I am.

My name is Hannah, and I'm Jewish. Maybe some of you have met a Jewish person before, and maybe you haven't. While this certainly isn't my first time in a Church, I have to wonder how many of you have ever been to a Synagogue. I don't mean that as an accusation, simply as the reality that Jews are not as prevalent across the country as Christians, which is why I feel it is important to be here today. For some of us, this may be the one time we ever get a chance to meet, and that's important, because after I leave, and probably even before I came, you had an idea of who I was.

So, I wanted to meet you, too, because I believe that there are people out there who profit from the ignorance we may have about one another. I believe there are people who encourage this, and bigotry, for their own purpose, and that it profits the rest of us not at all. But I also believe that it's a lot harder to fear what you know. I deeply feel that by getting to know each other, that it gives us ALL pause when faced with ANY potential opportunity for prejudice. Not just against Jews or Christians, but against anyone. So, in that spirit, I wanted to spend a day with you, on YOUR day, and tell you a little bit about me.

I can't imagine anyone here would have an easy time summing up Christianity in it's entirety in a few minutes, but just like Jesus, I feel that a few stories might present a clearer picture. These are two stories that will give you the essence of my people, and, I hope, will illustrate just how much you and I share in common:

"The Boy in the Schul"

Once upon a time, there was an old man in a Synagogue, praying. He came in to the Synagogue at all the appropriate times. He sang extra loud so he could be heard above all the others there, and was the last one to leave. He took pride in always being seen in Synagogue wearing the right clothes and knowing all the words to the prayers.

One day, a little boy came in and stood in the back. Throughout all the prayers, he stood there and sang the only words he knew; the words to the Hebrew alphabet. Over and over he sang them. This irritated the old man, but he figured, the boy would leave soon. The next day, the boy returned. And the next. And the next.

Finally, the old man went to the Rabbi and said to him, 'Rabbi! This boy comes in and sings ALL the wrong words! Not only that, but his clothes are shabby, and his shoes are scuffed! Why do you let him in? And WHY do you let him sing the wrong words?!'

The Rabbi looked at the old man and said, "G-D hears the words of our heart louder than anything we can sing. The boy is here because he wants to be, and he sings to G-D what he knows, and so he is more righteous than all of us, and we should be honored to be in his presence."

To me, that story says a lot. It says what I think your Preacher likely says to you: G-D knows your heart. It doesn't matter what you wear, or who you know; G-D is what you feel.

And I think this is something we all share in common. We believe that G-D is in our essential being. Does it matter if we worship Him in a Church or a Synagogue, if our hearts are saying the same words? I don't have that answer, but I think it's important that we ask the question.

My last story is one that Jewish families tell to our children when they ask, "What is Judaism?"

"What is Judaism?"

'Long ago, in Rome, Ceaser declaired it illegal to teach Judaism. Christianity would later feel this same burdon, but at the time, it was the Jewish people in Roman occupied Israel who were being crushed under this weight.

Still, some brave Rabbis continued to teach. One such Rabbi was on a hill one day teaching his students, when two Roman soldiers came upon them. One soldier said, 'Though it's illegal to teach, I'll spare your life... IF you can sum up the ENTIRE Jewish religion, all its teachings and writings, while standing on one foot!' Thinking himself very clever, he looked at the Rabbi, who promptly lifted one foot and said,

'Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.'"

So, why do I tell you these two stories? The first about faith that needs no words, and the second about a Rabbi who believed that you should treat others with all the respect you could want.

Because these are the basics of both our faiths, and these are HUGE similarities between my faith and yours. These are the precepts that bind us and make us who we are. Ignorant as I am of Christianity, from what I have seen, Jesus believed NOTHING if not that we are all equals before G-D.

So I challenge everyone out there to look to find the similarities between themselves and others. Instead of finding reasons why to hate or exclude, find reasons why you should love and INclude. These last two are always going to be harder, but it is to these lofty goals that we should aspire.

Because as often as you may come here, or to any other Church, the words of your heart matter more than words printed in any book, yours or mine. And it is by living the words on our hearts that we make our world that much of a better place.

Thank you."

Long huh? Would you let me speak at YOUR church?  :)

Anti-Columbus Day: SHUT THE FUCK UP!!

Saying, "history isn't nice" is like saying, "the sky is blue;" it's an accurate statement that means NOTHING.

Today, on FB, a friend of mine posted a video of people saying, basically, "Columbus was a big ol' meanie and we TOTES shouldn't be celebrating this day! So THERE!"

OMFG, really? REALLY? Look, were a native people found, and their culture beaten and abused, and (in some cases) totally lost? Yes. Absolutely. What happened to the Native Americans when Europe finally found them was HORRIBLE. But to ignore the facts that A) Some of the native Americans used the Europeans to conquor OTHER native tribes (e.g. Hawaiian King Kamehameha the First), and B) It's not like Columbus had much of a FUCKING CHOICE, is to be astoundingly ignorant of your history. And it means I get to slap you in your fucking face. Dumbass.

Columbus didn't come to the Americas because he had nothing better to do. You have to think of the times: The Inquisition.

In an age where there was a very real possibility (or at least the belief) that he might be sailing off the end of the world, WHY would he do that? That's the last act of a needy man!

We can debate WHY he sailed, but we'll never know. I STRONGLY doubt it was for spice. I wouldn't sail off into outter space and die for spice, oil, gold, or anything else. Fuck that shit, man. So, he was clearly running away from something, and I think the fact that he had more than a few Jews as a part of his crew might say a little something about what he was hoping to accomplish.

As for the Native Americans; nothing explains away the fact that they were abused... BUT THAT'S WHAT CONQUORING NATIONS DO!! Europe came in, and it FUCKING DOMINATED THE SCENE. The various tribes sold each other out, and Europe came in and TOOK what it wanted. Rome did the same thing, so did the Greeks, the Mongols, and pretty much everyone who has ever had a chance!!

THE DAMN NAVAJO NATION USED TO DO THE SAME THING ALL THE TIME!!!!

So, fuck you anti-columbus day people. History is not "bad" nor "good," it's not Politically Correct, and it isn't nice. Columbus chose to take a trip that very nearly could have killed him and his crew. He died poor and in prison for it, and had very little, if anything, to do with any policies that followed.

Shut the hell up and stop being so damn stupid.

My new political party is now available on Facebook...

...Which is where most things are anyway. You can join, and I'll think you're awesome, or you can NOT join, and I'll still think you're pretty rad.

That's my post for today. Now, go about your lives. I have to look busy and intent while reading The Bloggess now.

I'm making a new party: It's called "The Side."

I had hoped when the Tea Party emerged that HERE was a party that might represent me: fiscally conservative, and socally liberal.

I think it's absurd that gay folks can't marry; they pay taxes don't they? As long as everyone is a consenting adult, what do I care?

And I think it's crazy that people want to regulate the housing market, or any market for that matter, to the point where there's no risk. There is ALWAYS risk. If you want to buy a house, either do your own research, or find someone who knows what they're talking about, but you TAKE A RISK. Yes, you COULD get screwed... and yes, it could be unfair... that's life.

But what do I see? The Tea party is calling the Department of Education a waste of money. They see Social Security as a drain on our economy. They want tighter social laws and more open gun laws.

So, NOBODY represents me. No one. Not republicans, not democrats, and NOW, not even the FUCKING TEA PARTY.

So fuck this shit. I want to start my own party. I think they're ALL idiots and no one has any idea what the fuck they're doing and they're FUCKING MY COUNTRY THE HELL UP!! STOP TOUCHING SHIT IF YOU'RE JUST GOING TO BREAK IT!!!!!

My party is going to be called the Side Party. We're not left, we're not right, we're not up for tea, but we do love a good cocktail. We think if you pay your taxes, then you should be able to marry whomever you like. We think Polygamy and Polyandry are fine, so long as everyone is an adult, in the relationship willingly, and also willing to pay more for their insurance. You're an adult; as long as you're responsible and don't burden MY government with your financial needs, do whatever you want and don't bother me.

I think we have to pull back on government dipping its greedy little fingers into everything. Get the hell out of my health care. If you REALLY want to do something, fix medicare and medicaid. If you can do that without FUCKING IT UP, then MAAAAAAAAAAYBE I'll consider letting you PROPOSE some new ideas. You have not yet earned that right, assholes.

I think education is a fundamental right, and not only that, but educators themselves are DAMN HEROES. Have YOU spent day after day with screaming, snot-nosed children? No? Me neither. I wouldn't want to. If YOU do, then you should get paid VERY well, and receive CONSTANT training and mentorship. We should be emphasizing the sciences and math, as well as music, English, History and....

FUCKING CIVIL SERVICE.

You owe something to your community. If you want to live in America, great!! But you gotta give back for all your taking. It should be compulsory in schools, and it should be considered socially UNACCEPTABLE to not donate your time in SOME WAY.

If you drink and drive, even once, you lose your driving rights for a year. I don't give a shit about your whining. Don't drink and drive. The end.

If you're caught twice, you have to be a janator at a prison. That's the worst job I can think of, so it wins.

These are the basic rules of my party. We serve wine and cheese, but have designated drivers. We accept all, and if you disagree with us, we reserve the right to be ok with that, and to not attack someone because they have a different opinion. Because, after all, they're just opinions.

Except for mine, which are right.

I smell like roadkill

Well, after five weeks of being unemployed, I have learned several things:

1) Supernatural is my new favorite show and should be continued for the next 20 years. I may also want to have sex with the entire staff, but I'm still working on that revelation.

2) Despite having MORE time, I am actually, now, lazier than I was when I was employed.

3) I FUCKING HATE TO WASH DISHES. OMG. I DON'T CARE IF I *AM* HOME ALL DAY.... I WOULD RATHER TAKE NUTRIENTS VIA IV, THAN USE ANY MORE FUCKING PLATES.

4) After working out all of my frustrations on the elliptical, I smell like roadkill. Sexy, no?

I miss PNN, but what do I have to write about? Nothing is happening in my life. I wake up, drive the hubs to the metro station, come back, watch Charmed and Supernatural, eat lunch, go to the gym. Shower. Snuggle my cats. Send out resumes. Snuggle some more (they're seriously killing me with how freaking cute they are) and then wait for my guy to get back.

If I had kids, this might actually be ok.

I don't.

This sucks big, floppy donkey dick.

Yesterday, I had to really stop and consider whether or not I could afford to go to Starbucks. The answer was no, so of course I went anyway. As one does.

On the bright side, I now drink wine coolers... which in my family is considered "alcoholism." I have one pretty much every other day, so my mom is starting to get worried.

"DRINKING SOLVES NOTHING!!! YOU'RE RUNNING AWAY FROM YOUR PROBLEMS!!" She yells through the phone. Like I need AA. Because Mike's Hard Lemonade is known for ruining families and lives.

BRING IT, MIKE'S! You and your bastardly Pink Lemonade!!

On the bright side, I had a phone interview yesterday, and they want to bring me in for an in-person interview on Tuesday, so yay!

Because I have NO CLUE how house wives do this. Much respect ladies, because I am about to kill someone... and I hear that's illegal.

...So what's new with y'all??

...me too

Carm wrote on my FB page that she misses my crazy... I do too. I've thought about coming on here for a while now and posting something, but what do I post? What do I say? I don't feel like there's anything going on...

After our famous Jessica Lee came to visit, it seems like the hubs and I have just sorta passed this summer along. I mean, we were lucky enough to go to Hawaii, and it was amazing, and wonderful, and beautiful, and we TOTALLY COULD NOT AFFORD IT, but he had a conference there, and when else are we going to get an opportunity?

So we went, and we loved it, and we came back, and the entire time there was this nagging sensation. Something pulling at the corner of my mind like a tug on a fishing line. Something half forgotten, but not forgotten enough...

... I'm unemployed.

Well, sorta. My company doesn't have a spot for me, so they're keeping me on as a Subject Matter Expert for this proposal they're working on. I'm Googling things like, "Risk expert from Honolulu," or the contact info for some Captain from Delta Airlines.

I don't want to sound ungrateful.  A job is a job. But WTF am i doing here?!?!

I've applied to other places. Things are in motion. "Are you considering getting your Project Management Cert?"

"Yes."

No.

I want to be like my friends on PNN. I want to start a budding writing career and be awesome, and follow my dreams to New York like my friend H* did!

But I probably won't. I start stories, and then never find time to finish them, and it makes me sad. Stephen King used to wake up an hour early every morning, but I can barely make it out of bed in the morning, let alone write. I write best in the evening.

Maybe 1 month without tv? Maybe...?

And so, I have to wonder about dreams deferred, and paths more often travelled. I think about mortgages, and responsibilities.

... and I go back to work.

Not much crazy right now... maybe tomorrow.

Kitty Repost

To the Division of Animal Control & Humane Treatment:

I have recently received a notice from your department stating that my animal, a domestic shorthair cat named “Mr. Slinky,” requires a renewal of his rabies vaccine in order that I remain in compliance with the county and state regulations. I have also been notified that renewal of his license with the county will cost me $12.

While I wish to abide by the law and certainly am happy to pay the required $12 for licensing fees, I am going to have to formally request that Montgomery County be held financially responsible for any medical bills incurred as a result of over-vaccination of my pet.
I ask this in light of the fact that many physiological and emotional reactions to revaccination to rabies have occurred with domesticated animals, specifically cats and dogs. Dr. Don Hamilton, DVM, has published the following on revaccination:

Simply put, there is almost never a need for booster immunization. Once immunized, an animal, as with humans, is protected for life. Further vaccinations do not improve the immunity. The following quote, from Ron Schultz, Ph.D., and Tom Phillips, DVM, appeared in Current Veterinary Therapy XI in 1992 (Drs. Schultz and Phillips are respected veterinary immunologists in the academic community):

A practice that was started many years ago and that lacks scientific
validity or verification is annual revaccinations. Almost without
exception there is no immunologic requirement for annual
revaccination. Immunity to viruses persists for years or for the life
of the animal. Successful vaccination to most bacterial pathogens
produces an immunologic memory that remains for years, allowing an
animal to develop a protective anamnestic (secondary) response when
exposed to virulent organisms.

These findings are further supported by several published articles, one study sponsored by Pfizer, in peer-reviewed scientific journals, which relay the following conclusions:

On the basis of our data (Twark and Dodds, 2000), we concluded that
annual revaccination is unnecessary. Similar findings and conclusions have been published recently for… cats (Scott and Geissinger, 1999;
Lappin et al, 2002). Comprehensive studies of the duration of serologic
response to five viral vaccine antigens in dogs and three viral vaccine
antigens in cats were recently published by researchers at Pfizer Animal
Health ( Mouzin et al, 2004). When an adequate immune memory has
already been established, there is little reason to introduce unnecessary
antigen, adjuvant, and preservatives by administering booster vaccines.

Given these scientific findings, revaccination is scientifically unnecessary, and medically unsound. Thus, should my cat experience any known physical side effects of unnecessary vaccine, such as: seizures, fibrosarcoma, immune mediated hemolytic anemia, lameness,
excessive bleeding at the injection site, progressive flaccid paralysis in any part of his body, including progression to the brain (dementia), or marked behavioral changes, I will ensure that Montgomery County bears full financial responsibility for any and all medical attempts to counter the vaccine effects, even unto his death. I will also ensure
that the public becomes aware of the fact that Montgomery County presses medically unsound practices on pet owners with disregard to their pets’ continued well-being.

I believe my cat has already had a reaction to his first inoculation. When I initially brought my cat home, he was moody, edgy, and distrustful. He would have bouts of rage and terror, whereas prior to his initial rabies vaccine by his previous owner, he was known to be loyal, social, and affectionate. Having done my research on vaccines, I now
believe these symptoms to be the result of his first rabies shot. Dr. Don Hamilton, DVM, also cited studies supporting a vaccine-induced neural damage, mirroring the behaviors displayed by my cat;

Another vaccine that induces great anguish for guardian and companion is the rabies vaccine. I see many cases of fear and aggression that stem from rabies vaccination. If you consider the nature of rabies, this might not surprise you.

It has taken me a year, and many veterinary visits, to move him past these behaviors, and I do not wish to endanger his emotional or physical health again yet again. I have had him tested, and Mr. Slinky is already immune against the rabies virus. When I received the county’s letter, I took my animal to our veterinarian at Veterinary Holistic Care in Bethesda, MD. There, I had Mr. Slinky’s blood analyzed to ensure he had acceptable Titer levels. An antibody Titer is a laboratory test that measures the presence and amount of antibodies in blood, as defined by the National Institute of Health. A Titer of 0.5 I.U./mL is required for animals who are frequently exposed to the elements and other wildlife to be considered “immune,” and to ensure that if exposure does occur that the virus cannot be transmitted again via the pet. This level is the international standard, as has been determined by the Kansas State Veterinary Diagnostic Laboratory of the Kansas State University College of Veterinary Medicine, a known leader in the field of animal health. Mr. Slinky’s Titer levels were 0.6 I.U./mL. As he is strictly an indoor cat, his immunity levels are more than sufficient to ensure his ability to fight any potential exposure.

I have met with Dr. Monique Maniet, DVM, who is willing to support the scientific validity of the Titer tests, as well as Mr. Slinky’s results and immunity levels. It is her opinion that Mr. Slinky does not medically require a renewal of his vaccine at this time. I believe that to revaccinate, given the potential side effects and his previous poor reaction, is extremely dangerous to my animal, and provides no additional support against the rabies virus to myself, my household, or to my community.

Again, I am happy to pay the $12 licensing fee, and if I am told that my animal requires revaccination, I will of course comply with the law. However, this letter is to notify Montgomery County Department of Police and the Animal Services Division that if my cat, Mr. Slinky, has any adverse reaction to the vaccine as stated in the above letter, I will
publically hold this office responsible and seek reimbursement for any damages done to
my pet.

Please advise,

Ms. Hannah

I want to masturbate. Please leave.

OMG, is this what it's like to have children? I'm horney as hell, and my Brother in Law won't leave the room. Listen, I get it, I am FUCKING AWESOME to talk to, but I really wanna touch myself inappropriately now, and I can't do that with you here. No, seriously, there's like this cultural taboo against me playing with myself while a man who is not my huband watches on. Frankly, if I'm getting some "personal love" time, I don't even always want my HUSBAND to watch, so you should definately leave.

No, really. Go.

WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE?!?!?!

Ok, let me try again: It's that time of the month. I am like, OPTIMUS PRIME level horney, and I just wanna watch a little DAMN PORN AND YOU WON'T LEAVE THE ROOM!!!!!!

Yes, I could do it on my laptop, and YES my laptop can come upstairs with me, but won't it be awkward if I'm suddenly taking my computer into the bedroom, when I never have before?

Hullo? Are you going to get off that couch?!

Ugh. Fine.

I guess all I need are three batteries and a dream.

See you when I wake up tomorrow.

With an "s" bitches!!

When it rains, it pours, right folks?

Believe me, if you're day is boring and you need a good bit of gossip, you've come to the right place. Let me give you the back story:

My mom (Janice) is an idential twin. She and her sister (Lorraine) have an older brother, Bobby.

My mom has me (obviously), my aunt has two other daughters, and my uncle has SIX daughters, the oldest of whom is named Janet.

Now, my uncle Bobby was stationed in Korea a while ago, and that's where he met his wife, my aunt Penny. She converted to Judaism, they got married, and the rest is history.

Well, history until recently. You see, Janet, the oldest, is a wackjob. Born in korea, I suppose the people there were very opposed to "mixed race" children. MY family couldn't give less of a shit, but I guess I can see how that sort of thing could still give you some issues. But anyway, that was literally DECADES ago, and she left Korea when she was very young. Maybe 5 years old.

Well, now it's time for HER daughter's bat mitzvah. Since they live out near Carm in Washington, my mom and aunt Lorraine were planning the trip. Not to Carm's, although my mom thinks she's super cute because I always send her snippets. Well, she thinks all of you are cute, but that's getting off topic.

Anyway, they want to go out to Washington. However, and this is a big however, Janet and my aunt Lorraine don't get along. As in, Janet once called the cops on my aunt Lorraine for "assault" (aunt Lorraine had to move Janet aside because Janet was in her face and wouldn't move), and wouldn't drop charges until aunt Lorraine apologized.

Because that really wins you over in the eyes of your family.

Anyway, my mom was making plans to go out to Washington, but in the mean time, she's been working on things in a house we have in upstate New York. She doesn't get a lot of cell phone service there, and she missed some calls.

And that's where the drama begins.

Oh yes my friends. Have you ever wondered what breeds crazy, blogging Bananas? Well, you're about to find out.

Oh, and Janet is "psychic." Fuck yeah. Below is an email from my mom this morning.

*********************

Please stop talking

I need someone to come by and help fix my HVAC unit. Let me re-emphasize this: I need someone WHO IS NOT ME to come by and fix my shit.

I have called four different places, and each of them has had varying types of advice and suggestions for me. One guy literally just tried to walk me though how to close my dampeners. "Dampener"?! What the fuck is that?! They have that shit on Star Trek!

Look, I realize I seem exceedingly intelligent on the phone. And hey, I know I rock your stripey socks, but I don't actually want to do this myself. You know IKEA? I make my husband build that shiz! Why doesn everyone think I want to do this myself?! If I wanted that, I wouldn't be calling you!!

As a woman, I reserve the right to engage in gender-stereotyped behavior: I don't have to kill bugs, my husband takes out the trash, and I DON'T FUCKING FIX MY OWN HVAC UNIT!!!

20 minutes! I was on the phone for 20 minutes with one dude, wondering if I would be a bitch to just come out and say, "look, this is all very nice, but I called YOU because *I* don't want to do it! So.... let's make it happen!"

OMG. What is America coming to when people want to do shit themselves?! THAT'S WHAT HANDYMEN ARE FOR!!

And I swear, if one person writes "handyperson" I will find you. I will find you, and I will pay someone else to slap you around.

Oh no she di'int! Oh yes... she did.

This is long, I know. But it gets good. It possibly involves me beating the shit out of someone tonight. Metaphorically.... although, we'll see.

The hubs has a friend. A friend who happens to be a girl. I've tried to like this friend, since he and she have a lot in common. I've tried. She's GENERALLY pretty nice, but very... well, kind of like how a fluffy puppy just doesn't get when it's crossed boundaries. You know, you're like, "Oh, that's a boundary, but how can I be mad when you didn't know what you were doing?!"

Oh, bitch knows.

For a while now, I've suspected that Friend had feelings for Hubby. At first, I thought I was imagining things. You know, being paranoid about nothing. Then, I realized that she liked him, but I figured "harmless crush." After all, *I* like him, so I can see why SHE would as well.

Then Memorial Day weekend rolls around. This weekend was supposed to be family in a house in upstate New York, with some very close friends staying nearby. The Hubs was telling Friend how excited he was to go, and she says something along the lines of, "OH WOW! That sounds awesome! Can I go?! We'll have a BLAST!" Now, Hubs hates awkward moments and letting people down, so my understanding is that his response was something along the lines of, "Ummmm.....k...." So, she pretty much just invited herself up. He told me later that night, and I wasn't pleased, but I wasn't going to recind the offer. I figured, whatever, I'll just deal. LITTLE DID I KNOW!!!!

She arrives at our house, and we pack everything into the car and head from Maryland to Philadelphia to pick up my Sister in Law (who is wonderful and I ADORE, and she's 19 years old). On the way up, Friend is talking politics and whatever, and starts voicing her opinions on Israel.

Now, maybe YOU and I differ on our opinions. Maybe we agree. But, let's just agree to the fact that you would never pick up such a SENSITIVE topic and discuss it for hours knowing that the person driving probably REALLY FUCKING disagrees. You would stick to the weather. Maybe laugh over some sleezy tv shows. You would keep it nice.I guess she thought she would wow him with her political savvy?

FAIL.

We pick up the SIL and continue on to Brooklyn where we spend the night. Friday morning, we get up and keep trekking up to Ancramdale, New York. Now, mind you, she's from Wyoming or some batcrazy shit like that, so she was all about being Sporty motherfucking Spice this weekend. "Let's go HIKING!" "Let's go RUNNING!" "Let's go FISHING!" Blah blah blah. Bitch, this is my VACATION!!! I want to REST!! She kept bouncing around the whole day saying, "Oh! I have so much energy! But then, I'm used to outdoor activities!" Whatever. After getting settled in and going for some nice strolls, we tuck in.

Saturday was a banner day for Friend, and here's where it starts to get good if you're still reading. She starts off by saying, "Oh wow, Hannah. You have a lot of grey hairs coming in, don't you?" Get it? Because she's 24.

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.....

We all decide to go on a bike ride. Which works so well for her. Cuz, you know, she's a fucking sports star or some stupid shit. Anyway, as someone with asthma, I know how to pace myself. I don't rush up hills; I take them at my pace and know my limits.

Friend, still trying to show off how sporty she is (she had spent pretty much the bulk of this cycling trip talking to Hubby about eeeeeeeeeeeeverything... because she has a comment or a story for eeeeeeeeeeeeverything... good luck getting a lull in the conversation out of HER!) she tries to book it up that hill like a mad woman. And fails.

Slow but steady, my husband rolls up next to me and says, "how are you doing baby? ok?" Oh, I'm fine... but your girl back there is having issues.

"K-" I say to her, "it's not a race, take it easy and pace yourself."

"OH NO! IT'S NOT ME! THIS BIKE JUST ISN'T GOING UP THE HILL! I'M GOING TO HAVE TO RUN IT UP!!" Why run it? Get off and walk to be more comfortable. And... HOW does a BIKE not go up a hill? Whatever. I don't even bother.

That night gets even better. Sitting in my friend's living room, Friend says to Hubs, "Oh, my shoulders are so tight, you should give me a massage," looking pointedly at hubs. I was involved in another conversation, so I didn't hear this exchange, but it's been related to me by SEVERAL friends and family members, INCLUDING the hubs who totally freaked out and was like, "NO!!"

She hung on him the whole night, flirting and talking to him. Following him EVERYWHERE. At one point, she kept saying his name to get his attention, and even a person, who I thought was totally oblivious to life, the universe, and everything, NOTICED and made fun of her for it!!

The final blow, if you will, of the night, was when we were all sitting around a bonfire. Friend had eaten half the chocolate for the s'mores (3 bars) which had pissed my friends off, but out of respect for me, they ignored it. As we're sitting around, joking and relaxing, just generally talking bullshit, she launches in to this DEEPLY personal story that Hubs had told her in confidence. She's laughing about it, and everyone else is totally silent.

Hubs. Was. MORTIFIED. Not only had she spent most of the trip in crop tops and muffin-top shorts with her belly hanging out over her pants (because that's sexy? DRESS YOUR SIZE!!), but now she's telling HIS secrets in an effort to make herself look cool to everyone else.

He was so upset with her, we literally had to leave so that he wouldn't lose his cool. His point: "I have never hit a woman in my life, and I would hate to break that record tonight."

This ALL combined with the time that we went to see a movie, and she wore a short red dress ("please don't bend over ma'am, I don't need the visual") and a pair of fuck-me pumps, and I am:

DONE WITH THE BITCH. IF YOU THINK YOU HAVE WHAT IT TAKES TO GET MY MAN, THEN BRING IT. I WILL PUT YOU DOWN LIKE A RABBID DOG. 

Hold your breath and plug your nose...

... look out Hannah, here we go.

Two stories started, and I have one (I think) strong one. I like them, but of course finding time to write is tough.

Here's what I know: I can't do this work any more. It's not that I'm not good at it. It's not like I can't handle it. It's just every day I hate it a little more. It takes everything out of me, and never gives back. I'm constantly subjected to customers' drama, and issues of absurd workplace----- ABSURDITY.

So, we'll see. Does anyone know of magazines that accept short stories; kinda fantasy-style?

Suggestions? At this point, I will do almost anything to get out of this career into something that will help me, AND pay my mortgage.

TOUCH MY BOOBIES!!!

Thursday -

Me: "Honey, I need to tell you something. I've been having pains in my breast."

Hubs: "WHAT?!"

Me: "Baby, I'm telling you because I want you to know that it's NOT a big deal. I already have an appointment with my OBGYN, and I'm going to go in on Monday."

Hubs: "GAAAAHHHHH!!!"

Me: "Baby, calm your shit."

So, that's where we are now. I have an appointment with my OBGYN, and after that, I'm taking myself directly to have a thermography exam. What's that, you may ask?

Well, it seems that cancer cells run hotter than your average healthy cells. They're hot because they grow and reproduce faster than regular cells, so by runing a very calibrated heat sensor over your breasts, they can see any trouble spots starting form...... 10 years before a mammogram sees anything.

Am I paranoid? Meh, maybe. But I feel like I want an answer. Ever since my mom has cancer, I have been sitting around, wondering if or when something is going to happen to me. With the sudden pain in my breasts, I felt now was the time.

The next question could be, am I scared? Not really. I've had several doctors tell me that pain is actually good. It means your body is aware of something weird or funky... it's when there's NO pain and a lump that you have to worry... that means whatever it is is bypassing your body's natural defenses.

So, I'm off today to get my business poked and prodded and then put through a heat sensor... then, I'm going to come home, and nap with my kitty. Why? Because my little boys are the best medicine there is!!

Wish me luck!

Bitch Brigade

OMG. They fucking EXIST!!!

Last night, H (one of the women who works for me, who is quickly becoming one of my best friends here in DC) and I attend a customer-sponsored happy hour. Thirsty Thursdays. Now, folks who know me know that I'm not much of a drinker. Frankly, before last night, I think the last time I had a drink was, well, aside from Passover which REQUIRES you to drink... nope, I can't remember. And I'm fine with that. I'm not opposed to drinking, and I'll do it with friends, but I just don't LOVE it.

Anyway, the point being, I rarely go to Thirsty Thursdays. Rarely. Last night however, H and I head over. Why not? It's been a long week and we could both use a few laughs.

An hour and a half in, we've enjoyed ourselves and are ready to pack on up and go home.

...And then....

Have you ever been sitting in a casual situation, minding your own business, and suddenly something happens and you look around and go, "Is this real life? Am I in a movie? Did this just SERIOUSLY happen to me?"

Three women walk into the party. These bitches are HEAD TO TOE Chanel and Burberry and every other name you know, and a few we probably ALL don't. They are PERFCETLY dressed. Their hair is perfect. Their makeup is perfect. Their nails are perfect, and you can tell from the minute they walk in, that they RULE. THE. ROOM.

It was like fucking Ann Wintour just walked into my happy hour, grabbed it by the balls, and told it to roll over.

H and I were captivated. Who were these elegant woman who walked into a government Thirsty Thursday dressed like they had the budgets of the federal government?!

Of COURSE they are sweet and wonderful conversationalists, and one of them has just started her own telecom firm, and they have ALL been divorced at least once (because what man could keep up with THAT?!) and they are sporting HUGE rocks on their fingers that they bought themselves.

One of them, who we shall call Skeletor, not because she wasn't super sweet, but because the bitch was SO skinny, you could see the veins in her legs, and the striations in the muscles of her arms, had a cute little spunky haircut, and gave me her card.

H looks at me. "If we work for them, maybe we can BECOME them!!" It sounded AWESOME!!!

And then I looked at them again. Divorced. 2 or 3 times. They looked great, but they were probably working that room well after H and I checked in our chips for the night. Maybe they went home to loving families, but I know the kind of hours you have to put in to get that kind of cash.

I went home to my husband who, no matter how much weight he loses, still has these warm, scratchy chipmunk cheeks. I went home to a husband who knew I had had a long day, so he took me to get Peruvian chicken. When I walked in my door, I saw my two little kitties who had waited for me to get home ALL DAY so I could throw their mousies and they could run after them and attack them.

Not that I really have a choice, not that they offered me a job. I mean, those bitches were FIERCE... but my chipmunk husband and my pseudo-vicious kitties? Better than Chanel any day of the week!

77 cents

WMH, being the awesome-sauce that she is, posted this little piece, that turned into a conversation about how men and women view life. Which, coupled with Annie's post on a certain friend's comments on women and sex, AND themes going on in my own life, made me want to post this. 

When I first moved here, my (male) manager told me that I would never make it in this industry, because I was not demure enough as a woman. There was ABSOLUTE preference of my male coworker over me. No question.

So, I get it when I read that statistic that women still make 77cents to every dollar a man makes, but here's the thing: WHY?

We're all assuming that it's sexism that holds women back, but just recently I had an incident with a friend. She's a professional dancer in the area, and this dude from Baltimore has taken a liking to her. They've been on and off for a few months, and a few nights ago he mentioned that he wanted to see her after her show. She said that would be fine, except she was already going out with a friend that night, and THEY were going to a club. "Oh," he says, "That sounds like fun. Where are we meeting up?"

What?

Yeah, he assumed, even AFTER she tried to gently explain to him that he wasn't invited, that he was, of course! Invited.

So, he shows up at her performance, and she turns to me and says, "What do I do? I don't want to hurt his feelings."

WHAT?!?!?

Look, I said, you don't have to be a bitch about it, but stand your ground and let him know that while it was flattering that he would drive all this way, you had made it clear on the phone that this was a girls' night, and that you need your space. Firm, but nice.

The rest of the conversation revolved around HIS feelings. Why? Because as women, we are socialized to not rock the boat, to not hurt anyone's feelings, to smooth the path.

Why? Why is it my job to make sure that his feelings aren't hurt, or that I don't send my food back if it wasn't what I asked for, or that I shouldn't demand a higher level of work product from my staff, because that might hurt someone's feelings? More and more, I watch "The Devil Wears Prada," and I TOTALLY sympathize with Miranda. Is she a bit nastier than she NEEDS to be? Sure. But the expectations and demands are still there. And Andy makes a good point: if Miranda were a man, how many people would be calling her a bitch? Or would she just be "demanding"?

So, is the 77cents/$1 because of sexism from men, or because we're too afraid to let loose our inner Mirandas? How many people here, when offered a job, actually NEGOTIATED their salaries, or just accepted the first offer? I negotiated the shit out of my job. I still took a pay cut, but not by much. And I'll negotiate even harder next time.

If it's not for your loved ones; your husbands, lovers, children, pets, or other family members, if it's JUST for you, how hard do you fight? Do you rock the boat for yourself?

Is the 77cents/$1 because of men, women, or both?

Once more, with feeling

NAJL totally sent me a text at work (which, by the way, makes my day!), and said that she wanted to support my boobs, which made them feel loved!

However, since I'm married, I said she could donate to my Avon Walk instead. To those who have, THANK YOU! To those who wanted to, but cash is tight now, I accept payment in the form of moral support.

If you want to donate, but forgot... THERE'S STILL TIME!!! SWEET BOUNCY TIME!

Donate HERE!!

THANKS GUYS!!!

FUCK YOU, SUN!!!

Being as pale as an Irish woman in winter has its drawbacks. A few weeks ago, at the FIRST sunny day, I got a sun burn on my shoulders. This past weekend, the hubs and I were in NYC to visit friends, so we did our typical New York route: dim sum in Chinatown, and then a walk over the Brooklyn Bridge and into Brooklyn.

Of course, silly me, I didn't think to put on sun screen. After all, why should I? It wasn't THAT hot.

Do you know what sunburned lips feel like? Let me explain it to you: it's like perpetually having chapped, red lips that nothing will fix. It's AWESOME.

You know who I blame? The damn ozone layer. WTF people?! PUT THAT SHIT BACK UP!!! I'M FUCKING BURSTING INTO FLAMES ON BEAUTIFUL SPRING DAYS!! Get some tarp and staples and shit, and HANDLE YOUR DAMN BUSINESS!!

And who do I marry? A fucking middle-easterner. He's all, "Let's go some place beautiful! Let's go relax on a beach!"

Are you insane? Look at me. I put PAPER to shame. I need a place where he can go be beachy, and I can NOT BE A FUCKING HUMAN TORCH. Any suggestions??

OMFG

Two days could not have been more different. Y'all need an update of EPIC FUCKING PROPORTIONS!!!

So, issue 1: Racism

Yesterday, the dude accusing me of racism walks into my boss's office shouting the "N" word to high heaven, like there's a sale down at "N" word central and they're 50% off. Oh he's being treated like an N, and I'm using him like an N, and my boss is all, "WTF?! Ok, we cant have this conversation here without HR."

So today, HR, my boss, and dude have a TWO HOUR long conversation. What happens? It turns out he's jealous that I spend more time with my assistant than him. Right. He wants me to pay more attention to him.

So, pretty much, we're all 5 years old, and he's pulling my hair to make me like him, only by "hair" we mean "ruining my reputation with false allegations."

So, he's all chipper now and doing his work and whatnot, and I'm cool with this, except that I am FUCKING LIVID that it took this accusation and me being stressed to hell and back for this to be resolved. Whatever. It's resolved, and that's all that matters.

Issue 2: My dumb-ass fucking Program Manager

This stupid bitch just fucking torpedoed her career. Over me. Am I flattered? Sure!

She sends out an email to my boss, CC's her boss, and tells him that she demands I be removed from the contract IMMEDIATELY, and have me replaced "NOW" or she will do it with someone from HER company.

Now, A) that's illegal, because the contrat is set up so that my role MUST be an individual from my company, and B) she doesn't have that power.

THEN, she sends an email to the government customer about how I'm being removed. HE WAS PISSED.

Bitch overstepped.

My boss sent me the email, so I stepped right the fuck back! I put that shit DOWN in an email:

1. You will stop sending this silly ass shit to clients without talking to me first, you dumb heffa, because now *I* have to clean up your mistakes

2. You will not make demands that my company fire me. You don't have the power, and also, you annoy me

3. Spell check your fucking emails. You humiliate us all when your spelling is shit, and YOU'RE supposed to be the boss.

4. If a person needs to leave to attend medical needs, GET YOUR FUCKING ASS OUT OF THEIR WAY, OR I SWEAR TO G-D I WILL BEAT THE FLUBBY SHIT OUT OF YOU.

(That last one was because last night, she made my assistant stay late for no good reason, even though she had to go fill prescriptions. Stupid bitch.)

Well, guess who calls me at 3:30. Oh yes. Well, I should just feel so sorry for her, because here she is in the middle of all this, because one of the customers told her one thing, and they're clearly telling me another, and so it's so hard on her.

....bitch, I don't give a shit about your world, or how hard things are on you. You put my livelihood in jeapardy. You didn't give a shit about how I was gonna make MY mortgage payments, so I should give a good damn about you?

Go fuck yourself.

Of course, what I really said was, "anything you need from me, send in an email and I'll get back to you."

Right. Yesterday, she told me *I* was the reason this contract was failing. Today, her boss called my boss and said I could have her fired if I wanted.

Right.

Suck it.

And to everyone who left comments of love and support, you have NO idea how much they meant to me, and how important they have been. When I say that this has been one of the most difficult weeks of my life, I'm not kidding. And I have no illusions about how wonderful my support system (both on-line, and in-flesh) have been. From sweet folks sending me their numbers to chat (sorry! Comic can tell you that I'm not much of a phone gal!), to comments left here, you all are wonderful! I am VERY, VERY luck!!!

I'm shaking...

Yeah, I know I'm a strong woman and blah blah blah, but I'm sitting here in my office, so stressed and angry that I absolutely can't keep it together.

I just want to yell at him every time I see him: "YOU PETTY BASTARD! YOU JUST WANT MONEY AND YOU DON'T CARE WHO YOU HURT ALONG THE WAY!!"

Because he doesn't. He doesn't care about anyone but himself. I just don't understand people like that.

My hands are shaking, and I couldn't sleep last night. I don't like feeling this way, but I don't know what else to do.

HR knows.

My boss knows.

The company knows.

It's frivolous. It's stupid. I'm so angry I could spit.

...and it isn't even lunch time yet.

How do I calm down?!?!

GUESS WHAT?!?!

Happy Friday everyone!! I'm being unjustly accused of being a racist and creating a hostile work environment, and being threatened with a law suit.

HOW WAS YOUR DAY?!?!?

Oh. Also, if you haven't already, donate money to my boobs here. Well, not just my boobs, I guess. You know. Boobs in general.

WHO LIKES BOOBS?!

You do! And not only do you like them, but you want them to be healthy and happy. Which is why you've always thought to yourself, "Self, I wish I knew someone who was doing the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer so that I can donate heaps of cash to them!"

Well friends and family, your day has arrived! I'll be walking in the DC Avon Walk for Breast Cancer (which is really a walk to raise money to STOP breast cancer, and not a walk FOR breast cancer, in case anyone here was confused), and I'm trying to raise $1,800.

Every dollar will help me raise awareness, and provide funds for research and early detection. So, go to my webpage and live your dream of helping to support healthy ta-tas, because every boob should be a happy boob.

Please donate to my boobs here: http://info.avonfoundation.org/site/TR?px=5461870&fr_id=1910&pg=personal

THANK YOU!!!

...and I promise that NONE of this cash will go toward shoes. No. Seriously. It's all boob-money.

Dear Cosi

An open letter to the Cosi that operates in my building downstairs:

Dear Cosi,

You and I have enjoyed a long and wonderful relationship. You "Signature Salad" is simply delish, and is my choice for something yummy AND healthy!

However, I believe our relationship has come to a cross-roads. Is it really so hard for you to understand that I want my salad SANS dressing?

At first, things were fine. One salad, no dressing. But now, now I have one salad, and EXTRA dressing. WTF, Cosi? I want us to be together, but you're going to have to learn to listen to my needs.

Hey, I get it, you're busy. You have a lot of things to do, and not a lot of time. But let's remember who got you where you are today! Who brought other folks by so they could taste of your deliciousnessocity?!

DAMMIT COSI! LOOK AT ME WHEN I'M TALKING TO YOU!! I'm sorry. I don't mean to yell. But, don't... don't you want me? You know I don't believe it when I hear that you won't see me...

...also, get your fucking act together and give me my damn salad right.

Happy fucking Friday.

Pass Me By!

Ugh. Normally, I LOVE the Jewish Holiday of Passover. It's like our Thanksgiving. It's a HUGE family holiday, and you eat until you want to pass out on the floor with your elastic pants reaching their limits.

LOVE. IT.

But this year, the Mother In Law came to visit. Now, granted, we all have our vices, but JESUS TITTY-FUCKING CHRIST woman!

I'm sitting on the couch, watching "What Not to Wear." Why? Because it's MY DAMN HOUSE, AND I PAY THE MORTGAGE, AND IF I WANT TO WATCH PORN WITH THE VOLUME ALL THE WAY UP, THEN DAMMIT- I WILL!

"Ugh, these shows are such trash." SHUT YOUR FACE, MIL!!!

The whole weekend she was just bitching about one thing after the other. I invited two of the women I work with to come for dinner, and what do they say to me later?:

"Wow, everyone was just SUPER nice... ummm... but your MIL was a little, er, cold." Like the artic tundra, bitches!

This woman. She is beyond me. If you can't say anything nice, then shut your damn pie-hole. Nobody even LIKES you. We like MY HUSBAND, and you HAPPEN to be the owner of the vagina from which he fell out.

You should have seen this woman with my 3 year old g-ddaughter. You have never seen someone who so DEEPLY wanted to be nowhere near the child.

And I know that some people aren't good with babies, but this kid will just walk around you and hang out. She doesn't even WHINE OR CRY. All you have to do is smile at her, and she smiles back.

This cold bitch looked like she thought my baby had the plague.

I hate this woman. She's getting thrown into a trunk and driven down to Mexico.

Word.

For Carmy

I read Carm's post on her dream, and it got me to thinking about the dream I used to have. I've probably written about it, but hell, it's my blog so I'm writing about it again!

I loved my step-father Mike so much. Aside from him being sweet and kind, he was my best friend at some of the most unexpected times. We fought, sure, but it's his kindness that will stay with me forever.

When he died, I couldn't let go. As a part of the Jewish ritual of preparing the dead, he was wrapped in white linen and placed in a plain box. Before the Rabbi spoke, before anyone else came in, my mom, the rabbi and I said our goodbyes. The rabbi opened the box, and Mike looked... if you haven't seen a dead body of someone you know, then you cannot imagine what someone who is truly lifeless looks like. They don't look asleep. And although I had been brave up until that point, I ran out of the room crying.

That night, I didn't dream. But the next night I did.

It was me and Mike. He walked into my bedroom and sat down on the bed. He was healthy, and we talked. It was warm, and being near him was like being near happiness. I woke up the next morning feeling... better.

The next night, I had the same dream. We talked about different things, but otherwise, the feelings were the same.

This went on for weeks. Not every night, but it was like whenever I really needed to see him, I could call him.

Finally, one night he says to me, "I have to go, you have to stop calling me. You have to let me go." But selfish me, I loved him, and so I said no. The next night was the same, "You have to let me go."I couldn't. How could you let someone go when they looked so happy and healthy, after a year of horrible Cancer? Impossible!

Finally, there came the last dream (this is pretty graphic, so don't read it if you don't want). I was in my bed again, and I'd called him. My door opens, but the room is dark, not lit like it usually was when he came. Behind the door and through the entrace came Mike... but not the Mike I knew. It was a horrible rotting corpse. It struggled through the doorway, and it's head flopped sickly onto its shoulder. And as HORRIBLE as all this was, as terrified as it made me... I wasn't scared of him. It wasn't like I was SCARED of Mike, it was like I was SUPPOSED to be scared. I didn't think he would hurt me, it was like when someone is *trying* to freak you out, even when you know it's fake. I screamed and woke myself up... and I never had that dream again.

...but it gets weirder.

I moved down to DC, and started working with my friend Dee Dee. She's a Southern Baptist woman, and about as spritual as you can get. Despite all of this, we're very close. So, one day I was sad thinking about Mike. I missed him, I told her. Then, knowing she wouldn't make fun of me, I told her my dream.

She looked shocked. It turns out that both she, and a friend of her, had both had similar dreams after very close family members had passed. She had seen her grandmother in the woman's old house, and had spoken with her before the grandmother told her that she had to let her go. Dee Dee, sad though she was, had let go without a fight. Her friend, however, had had an experience more like mine. A family member of hers had passed, but she couldn't let go. Night after night she had these dreams of that person, until finally another person entered the dream. This person was more aggressive. This person told her that she HAD to let the family member go, and physically pushed her aside and took the family member away.

To me, there's too much evidence that there are more things in Heaven and Earth. "Old wives tales"? Who says they aren't sometimes true? Shouldn't we all be eating more apples?

Alice in Wonderland

Last night, the hubs and I went to see "Alice in Wonderland." Let me address some of the issues people seem to have with it.

Complaint 1: "It's not the book!" Really?! NOT LIKE THE BOOK?! SHUT. UP. No, seriously, shut up. Of course it's not exactly like the book. The book was written by a dude who was tripping balls and just putting shit down. That's like me saying "The Ten Commandments are NOTHING like the original story." No. It isn't. Stop talking during the movie or I will kick you in the back of the head and throw my popcorn on you.

Complaint 2: "Why do films nowadays use so many 'Special Effects'?!" First, let me answer a question with a question: why are you using words like "nowadays?" You *do* know we don't call them "talkies" anymore, right? Ok, cool. And as to the FX, two words: tripping. balls. How do you make a disappearing cat out of paper and crayons, genious? Yeah. Shut the hell up; I'm watching the movie.

Complaint 3: "These 3D glasses hurt my eyes!" What the...? THEN WHY ARE YOU HERE?! Does reality hurt your eyes too? Cuz that shit is in 3D too, and if you can't handle reality in 3D, then why are you in my movie theater messin' up my weekend? I will beat you to death with your own glasses. No. Seriously.

Start running.

Complaint 4: "Why are there no Jews in this movie?" Oh shit, that was me. Yeah, well, nevermind on that one... Uhh...

Good film!

The light in your fridge is just like a clit...

You open things up, the button pops out, and things start to warm up!

Sorry... that came to me as I went to the fridge for a post-movie snack.

Also, I didn't realize there was a Golden Girls marathon on... now I have a whole NEW set of sex jokes. Granted, these are geriatric jokes!

The Lost Art

While my hubby loves to ride his bike, I love to walk. This works out well, considering I'm signed up for the Avon Breast Cancer Walk. Anyway, this morning we debated: walk or bike 5 miles into our local trendy area.

I won. Well, walking won.

And good thing. We had a great walk, but more than that, you don't realize how much cars and mass transit create a wall between you and other people! We met neighbors we didn't know we had! We met folks who like to garden, older people, young couples, people walking pets, people just walking... it was fantastic!!

It was long and my legs are hurting, but it was such a great day!! And you know me! I talk to EVERYONE. Random people on the street, kids, the two cute little gay guys who were watering their lawns. I think half the neighborhood knows me now!

It just really hit home how secluded I am from people living just across the street! But it also gives me hope that the American Ideal of cute little areas with tight-knit community spirit is still possible.

I love my neighborhood!

Not a funny post: Alright, I have to say it.

I swear, this story has a point! You may not like my point, but it's there!

You and your partner decide to go out for a lovely dinner. You both get dressed up, you pick the restaurant, and you even get the car washed. Nails are done and clothes are pressed.

You go out to dinner.

While out, you stop at a stop light in a less than savory neighborhood. Suddenly, you hear shots! There are people shooting around you! You're freaking out, but you can't drive anywhere, because your car is flanked by others. The cops arrive on the scene and arrest *everyone.* Everyone is brought in for questioning, and this turns into a major deal. You and your partner are held for questioning for 24 hours. You're exhausted, worn out, sad, and scared. Finally, you're released.

You both get in the car and head home.

But, when you get there, you find out that while you were gone, squatters have moved in, and one has had a baby in your living room. So, you call the cops and ask them to remove the people who have moved into your house while you were gone. 

The cops arrive, and while they have no real problem removing a few folks, the refuse to take most of the squatters away. Why? Well, one just had a baby in your living room! So, doesn't that baby have some right to your house? It's the place of his birth! And, for that matter, the child can't take care of himself, so his family should stay as well, right?

Look, it's not that I don't sympathize with the baby, and maybe you and the squatters can work something out where they rent an apartment from you, and don't break shit up in your living room, but at the end of the day, that baby has NO RIGHT to your house. Just because you were gone, doesn't mean that they get to have it.

To that same end, while I sympathize with the Palestinian plight, I feel like their REAL enemies are their leaders who keep them so busy fighting Israel (a nation where, at any time, any Palestinian can claim sanctuary simply based off of the fact that he or she is gay, and so a Muslim nation would kill them), that they don't see the real issues around them.

Is it a tough situation? Yes, of course! But why fight when everyone can just live? Hadassah hospital turns away NO ONE, regardless of race, creed, color, nationality, or religion. No one is denied care. But that's not really the point.

Here's the point: the baby doesn't have a right to legally purchased property, just because he was born there. It's sad, and hard, but it's true. Maybe you and the squatters can work out a compromise, but I really don't understand why the squatters get to dictate the rules or terrorize your family. Maybe I'm just short-sighted.

This "feeze" on building in Jerusalem is absurd. Do we stop building in Arizona because someone in another country doesn't like it?

What the fuck is up with this world?!

Mawwiage

"Mawwiage is what bwings us togethew today!"

So, as I was riding home on the metro listening to this random dude hit on this poor chick who probably only wanted to go home and put her feet up, and I thought about marriage. This guy was telling her the intricate details of how he would like to father her children.

It was delightful.

He was practically stalking her.

Which made me think; you know, marriage is pretty much just mutual stalking. Just two people who want to know WAY fucking more about each other than anyone else does.

"I know where you live."

"I know where you work."

"I know everything about you, your family, your favorite foods, etc."

"Sometimes, I watch you sleep."

"I've seen you naked at times where you didn't know I was looking."

You know, when you think about marriage in that light, it's a little creepy. For someone who's married, I scare myself a lot with how I view this stuff!

So, it's ok for someone to watch me sleep, all vulnerable and whatevs, as long as I sign a contract saying he's less dangerous than most men I may have dated in the past? And, I mean, I've dated some freaky dudes. There was the one Swedish guitarist.... although I don't think you can call what we did dating per se, but you get my drift.

My husband, the man who has the stinkiest feet I have ever smelled, the man who likes to pick our cats up, make them dance, and sing songs while he's doing it, THIS is the man I'm saying I want to stalk forever? This is the dude who gets the right to be all up in my business and keep photos of me around his office?

I need to stop over-thinking my life. It just freaks me out and I start eyeballing the Nyquil.

The Master Race

You know what's always confused me about Supremicists? And, OK, here I'm talking about White Supremicists, but really, it could be anyone. What confuses me is:

If the Jews are evil because we run the world, then that says two things. 1. We're either smarter than them, which is how we've been running it for so long without anyone but a few shmucks who live in trailors catching on, or 2. We ARE superior, and have managed to maintain that superiority through whatever means they think we have.

In both cases, I kinda feel like, "Well, if they're either not smart enough to run shit themselves, or if we ARE superior enough to have kept the power this long, then fuck! We should just STAY in power, rather than hand it over!"

No, not that I believe in the International Jewish Conspiracy, because if we ran the world, my bank account should be WAAAAAAAAAY bigger! But, if someone has a theory that a certain group of people run the world because they have managed, for hundreds if not thousands of years, to maintain a global secret government, then hell, they CLEARLY know what they're doing! I mean, HUNDREDS of years on your resume?! That's intense. You've been secretly ruling the world for a thousand years? Frankly, why mess with a good thing?

..... these types of posts are why my mom constantly threatens to kick my ass.

The Bloggess: The Jesus(ess) of Blogging

Carm flipped her shit today and sent me a text while I was on my way home from work.

"HOLY SHIT! THE BLOGGESS ANSWERED YOUR QUESTION!" If a person can hyperventilate via text, she totally did.

"OMFG!" I answered back, and immediately swtiched to my iPhone so I could load up PNN and get my fix. And there, on my shining screen, was The Bloggess.

Hilarity ensued, of course, and Carmtacular and I spent the next twenty minutes arguing back and forth about who The Bloggess liked better; Carm or me. My argument was that answering a question was all well and good, but Madame Bloggess has never come over to MY blog and commented (even though I once sent her this AWESOME game where hookers go out and kill zombies... or maybe you kill zombie hookers... I can't remember right now, but I think it included blow jobs). Yet, she has scampered (which makes me think of Scampi, which makes me think of shrimp, and now I'm hungry) over to CARM'S blog and commented.

And that brings us to where we are now.

Have we all stopped to consider several facts?:

1. The Bloggess is universally loved and adored, as long as the "universe" is a fairly large group of women (and men) who are slightly clinically insane.

2. She can pretty much do no wrong, and every person I introduce to the Word Of The Bloggess becomes instantly addicted like iCrack.

3. Well, she wasn't resurrected from the dead or anything, or healed any lepers lately, but she's super funny, so that's pretty much the same thing, right?

This clearly leads us to the conclusion that The Bloggess is kind of like the Jesus of the blogging world, except she has cuter outfits (Jesus didn't have Nordstrom's... it's a historical fact, not a judgment). As a Jew, I find her awesomeness mildly uncomfortable, but thankfully she has not yet asked for sacrifices of hobo fingers or kittens... so I'm just gonna run with it for now.

If she starts asking for a fattened calf, we may have issues.

The day that would not end.

Right, it's Wednesday now, at 2:03pm. Which is odd, because this DAMN DAY HAS LASTED FOREVER!!!!!!!

HOLY CRAP, Y'ALL!!!!

Not to mention the fact that we're supposed to get MORE SNOW TOMORROW!!!

No. Seriously. WTF is up with my world?

Also, my nutritionist wants me to get off of Birth ControL.

THIS SHIT AIN'T A CHOICE, MAN!!!!! MY OVARIES WILL EXPLODE!!!

OMG.

This day has to end!!!

Nap time

Today was exhausting. By noon, I was wiped out and still had yet another meeting lined up.

Suddenly, the meeting was cancelled and I found myself with an open afternoon. I decided to go home early and do my self evaluation.

Instead, I went home, saw my kitties napping in bed, and decided to join them. I took a TWO HOUR NAP.

You know what's great about that? I know that in a few years, I won't be able to do that. Tomorrow, even, I won't be able to do that. 

I snuggled up with my orange kitty by my head (Moe), and my tuxedo kitty by my feet (Stinky), and we all enjoyed a lovely afternoon.

Also, my bumpy face is getting better... I think the nap helped!!

My face just exploded!!

HOLY SHIT PEOPLE!!

(Ok, clearly I am now MAKING time to post while at work, because that's how much I missed PNN and your love)

So, my face just exploded. Well, it exploded yesterday.

One of the girls who works with me happens to be really funny and sweet and we really hit it off. So when the blizzard allowed people to get in to work last Friday, she and I both metroed in (I usually do, and her car was under 4 feet of snow). We found ourselves on the same platform waiting for the same train, and met up.

No, wait, this is a really funny story, and it leads to groping and my face exploding, so you can't leave yet, because there is some hot girl on girl action.

Anyway, we get on the train and it's standing room only. The train is lurch-y, and she reaches up to grab her glasses, and the train lurches, and she puts her hand out to steady herself and inadvertantly grabbed my boob.

WEEEEEEEEEEEE! Have you ever grabbed your manager's boob? Yeah, it was awkward and we laughed so hard, people were looking over to our side of the train. I was like, "Wow, you and I just got further than you and your boyfriend!!" And she was like, "We are never telling ANYONE about this. EVER."

So, of course I am telling you people.

Two short Jews, groping on the train.

Anyway, that afternoon we cut out early and went to the mall. Yeah, this all sounds great, but we cut out early because we heard more snow was a-comin, and she needed underwear.

That's how we prepare for storms down here, y'all. Underwear and Starbucks.

So, we go to the mall and while we're at Nordstrom's I see this lavender soap for your delicates and sheets. I was like, "WIN!!!!!!!!!!" because I get very stressed and have a hard time sleeping during the week.

So what do I do? I buy it.

And I wash our sheets in it.

And now?

NOW MY FACE FUCKING EXPLODED INTO A MILLION TINY BUMPS AND I LOOK LIKE I HAVE ELEPHANTITUS OF THE DAMN HEAD!!!!!!!!!

I rewashed our linens in regular detergent, but the bumps haven't gone away.

"Stress?" Said my husband.

"I HAVE NOTHING TO BE STRESSED ABOUT!!!! I AM A PERFECTLY CALM HUMAN BEING, DAMMIT!!"

Work has been a little rough lately. That might account for the caps-lock in my voice.

So, that's my story. I got groped by my friend, and my face looks like a map of the rocky mountains.

And my cat woke me up because he was carressing my hair last night. It was creepy/weird/sweet. Then he likes to turn around and stick his booty in my face.

My life is very weird right now.

I miss PNN

Between the rolling blackouts from the MASSIVE FUCKING SNOWSTORMS, work, my futile attempt at something resembling a social life, and trying to write articles that don't suck... I haven't been on in a while. Which is a pity, because of everything I do, I think I love PNN the most.

Of course, this doesn't even pay me.

But work has been crazy, and every day that I'm stressed and tired, I wake up and look at myself in the mirror and think: Why am I doing this? I don't love this job; just the people. I like it, it's ok. But I don't have the self discipline that some others do to sit down and write novels or short stories.

Maybe I should go back to writing class. There, at least, you HAVE to sit down and focus. Or maybe I should just pretend I'm signed up, and lock myself away in my office (which I never use).

But then I think about all the other things I could be doing during that time: laundry, dishes, getting the tax paperwork together, cleaning up...

Even now, I'm stealing time away. I should be getting dressed and ready to meet my new "boss"... it's complicated.

But I miss PNN. I miss getting on here and just writing stupid crazy shit that doesn't have a word count to it. I miss people who can disagree with you and just write, "Ehhh" on your post, rather than personal attacks.

Which, maybe that means I shouldn't write? If you can't stand criticism, how can you expect to do anything? I don't know.

Blargh.

My cats are gay!

Ok, so, two things. FIRST: My article on ToyWithMe is up, and I need peeps to go defend my gay cats. Kitties here.

Next, I FINALLY got electricity back after two and a half days without. The fridge is fucked, and I have LOADS of stories... but for now, I have to empty out my spoiled food.

Good thing I don't do anything crazy like buy EXPENSIVE ORGANICS!!

Oy...

How have you all been? I haven't had a chance to get my head above water lately. What's been going on?

It's because I'm selfish

There are a lot of things I don't talk about with regards to my marriage. Let's face it, even your girlfriends don't know EVERY detail of what you go through in a relationship. The ups, the downs, the really downs, and sometimes, the moments that make you question.

Last night, we were in therapy, and I brought up my need to feel loved and appreciated. Last year was my first Valentine's day as a married woman. I told my husband MONTHS in advance how much this meant to me, how important it was to me.

His response was that it wasn't a Jewish holiday, and it was over commercialized... but if I really needed it, then ok.

February 14th.

February 15th.

February 16th.... I spend the night at my girlfriends' house, and cry half the night alone on the couch.

February 17th... I come home and cry. I lay in bed for hours. I know that sounds overly dramatic, but... it just meant a lot to me to feel loved after all the work I had done for the wedding. Not just the wedding; after everything we had been through together.  

February 18th I wake up, and there are flowers on the couch.

What do I think? I think he bought them to get out of trouble. "No," he says. He bought them for me to make me happy.

I can't shake that he bought them for me to get out of trouble.

"Why are you not willing to go out on a limb just a little bit for her?" Our therapist looks at my guy and points out, "It's such an easy way to make her feel loved. She's giving you all this notice. She's telling you how little she needs. Why not make a tiny effort?"

And still, I can't shake the feeling that I will go another Valentine's day with other women talking about how their partner's made them feel loved and appreciated. I'll go one more year with the feeling that he'll love me, as long as it's not inconvenient for him. I'll go yet another year wondering if he loves me more than his PTSD.

But you know what? As trivial as it sounds: I will ONLY go one more year like this if he can't show me he cares. I'm serious about this: I have worked too hard at my life and who I am to go through a marriage and feel like I take back seat to him. Even our therapist brough up his "selfish" issues.

I love my husband, but you know what? I am too selfish FOR ME to let me feel unloved. Love is about doing everything you can to make another person happy, even if it is inconvenient for you. Even if it comes at a cost to you.

I'm 4.5 years into this relationship, and as much as I love him, I love me just as much. I'm selfish like that.

WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO QUALITY?!?!

SONOFABITCH!!!!!

After just reading MoM's article, I was sitting down to dinner. I grabbed a glass of milk and stirred in some Ovaltine. Ok? I FUCKING PUT THREE TEASPOONS OF OVALTINE IN A GLASS OF MILK AND STIRRED IT!!

The glass BURST like I was the damn GREEN HULK!!! Chocolate milk everywhere! On my cell phones, on my remote control (which doesn't work now), all over my wood furniture, the floor, and ME!

Now, granted, is this as bad as mold and kids + hubs + YOU without a washing machine? No. Of course not. But YOU try running around a house cleaning up a glass of milk while cats stare at you like you're a crazy person! Milk EVERYWHERE!!!

Oy! I need a vacation people. Vacation where my glass of Ovaltine comes pre-stirred!!

Oy.

At my friend's birthday party recently, a bunch of us sat sipping wine on her couch.

I have no idea how the conversation went this way, but somehow we got onto the topic of strange super heroes.

And now I have an idea for a kids book.

I sat in my office and told H, one of the women on my team. She and I have hit it off from day one, and we pretty much have exactly the same thoughts.

"OMG." She said, staring directly into my eyes, like, REALLY fucking intense, "I. LOVE. IT." I told her the premise, and she thought it was the funniest and cutest thing ever.

"AND!" She said, "I WILL TOTALLY ILLUSTRATE IT!"

Now, this could seem rude, because I didn't ask her to illustrate anything, but she went to art school and I have a feeling that the girl can draw, and frankly, she's so funny that even if she can't draw for shit, I would TOTALLY work with her just to hang out.

So, that's my story. Now that it's out there, I have to do it.

Any advice on writing a children's book? I think it should probably be 4th grade level. I'll post it as we go along. Maybe your kids will have ideas!!

No Surprise...

If I were Mormon, I would totally be the lazy wife. You'd be surprised how often I think about that possibility.

Welcome! To a protest in DC!!

I'm sure you can figure out where I stand on the abortion issue, but before you write me off, either way, can I just say this:

It won't stop.

This weekend is the anniversary of Roe v. Wade, and to celebrate/commemorate, there is a HUGE march on DC. Both sides will be pull out all the stops to let the country hear their voices, but at the heart of this issue, I think we're all missing the point.

The point is: whether or not America chose (and I hope it NEVER does) to once again make abortion illegal, it won't stop women from HAVING them.

Making drugs illegal doesn't stop drug use.

Making prostitution illegal doesn't stop women from winding up cut up, beat up, or jailed up... it just makes it one more rule to add to the things that law school students have to study.

Regardless of what you think of abortion; right or wrong, it won't change how people act. Women will still get them.

They'll die in dark streets with rusty coat hangers shoved up inside of them.

They'll break their necks when they throw themselves down stairs.

They'll hemorage out when they try to induce abortion with some black-market drug.

Or they'll get some kind of horrible infection from a dirty doctor, and lose ALL ability to get pregnant.

So, here's my question: if making something illegal doesn't stop people from doing it, then why are we still banging our heads against the same old wall?

You know what I think? I think if we took all the

money

time

effort

care

work

coordination

that people are putting into this protest, and used it to get this country to focus on EDUCATION, we would be a totally different society.

And I don't JUST mean sex ed.

I mean, if we know that unwed pregnancies and teen pregnancies occur most frequently in financially and educationally deprived communities, then wouldn't increasing EVERYONE'S education help? If a girl could get a good job and PAY for her child, might she think twice about having an abortion? If she knew she might be able to make it as a single mom... maybe that would make more of an impact than whether or not it's legal?

I don't have the answers to everything, but I do know this:

People run stop lights.

People cheat on taxes.

People take handicap parking spots.

And people take more than an hour for their lunches.

People lie. They cheat. They steal. And they break the law.

Laws are important, don't get me wrong. But when cornered, people will do what they think is in their immediate best interest. It's only education that gets them to look at the long-term situation.

Ultimately, I think it will be education that will make or break this issue... not protests.

Shrinking away

When I first met K, she was still married, although she was pretty well set on divorce. I don't judge; they had grown apart and it just wasn't working. She had married too young, and for the wrong reasons, and he... well, I think his church told him that that's what you do. You marry.

So they did.

It wasn't happy, and eventually she went through the divorce. Work was tough, and I tried to be there for her as much as I possibly could. We would take frequent breaks, and I would take her aside for a soda, or just a breather.

When we started working together, she was a size 12, like me. Of course, she was tall as an amazon, and so she carried it better, I think. Over the course of our time working together though, she became obsessed with losing weight. It was not uncommon to hear things from her like, "Don't let me eat today, ok?" She would talk about how she would run in the mornings. That's not terrible, except she would run something like 18 miles every morning, and then go to the gym or a yoga class at night.

Well, today was the last straw.

K, another friend "N" and I have been trying to get together for a while. Things come up, and it's been hard. Well, we finally found a day that we can all get together. So what's the problem, you ask?

K is starting the "Master Cleanse." If you don't know what this is, it's where you don't eat food, you just drink juices. For weeks. Sometimes, up to 90 days at a time.

The last time I saw K, she was already skin and bones. Her weight loss had gone from looking slender to looking like an out-patient at some rehab facility.

I've known women to get divorced before. I've known women who have had to move away from decisions they made earlier in their lives, so that they can grow as individuals in the later parts. What I have never seen is someone who is so hell-bent on punishing herself and depriving herself of anything.

Divorce, as painful as it is, can be a rebirth into a new life, or at least an interesting part of your life. But what can be said for a woman who thrusts herself into this new world, only to starve herself, literally, of all the joy and experiences it can bring? As someone who has studied psychology, it makes me wonder how her head works... and if she keeps this up, how much longer it CAN work!

Ew!

I just accidentally touched my cat's butt! Ew! I'm a little uncomfortable with the level our relationship has moved to.

Yeah, I'm kind of not ok with this.

CASTLE

When FIREFLY went off the air, omg, I cried so hard. That show was SO GOOD and so creative and so exciting, and you were just CONSTANTLY on the edge of your seat to see how the people grew! Not just the characters, but how the actors grew into their roles! It was just fantastic. And yet, one and a half seasons in, the network cancelled it.

UGH!!

Well, imagine my surprise to find out that one of the main stars of Firefly (Nathan Filian) landed a new gig on a show called "Castle"?!

I was SUPER excited! The hubs and I sat down (I pretty much stapled his butt to the couch) and we geared up for an episode. As the opening credits started to roll and I got an idea of the concept, you cannot imagine the shouts in my household.

"WHAT THE SHIT IS THIS?!?!"

Let me sum everything up for you:

Castle (Nathan) is some kind of a big shot crime writer. Because of his unquestionable level of awesomeness(?!), the NYPD have made an agreement to let him traipse through open crime scenes and just hang out in dangerous situations, like when his partner (a "real" cop) is going in to question a major crime boss. Cuz, like, that's ok!

WTF?!?!

Oh and his partner. She's my faaaaaaavorite. My 3 day old kosher pizza can emote better than this woman! And it wouldn't be so bad except she's acting with NATHAN FUCKING FILIAN. This dude is REALLY good! So she looks TWICE AS BAD!!

Ok, so HE'S here because he just.... generally likes to hang out at bloody crime scenes (creepy much?), and she "joined the force," why?

Because her mother was murdered.

Yes.

TRITE!!!

At LEAST on L&O:SVU, the female lead is a child of rape, and she has a lot of issues coping with that, and it's an interesting story line because sometimes her mom is in town, and her mother honestly isn't sure HOW she feels about her daughter, and whatnot. Wow. That really grabs you.

So, her mom was killed, and this chick swore vengance? Who the fuck is she? Batman??!!

It's like the writers aren't even TRYING.

And then, at some point, my husband ACTUALLY MADE IT WORSE!

"Johannah."

"What?" I say, looking over at him.

"Jo-HAH-Nah." He says, and looked pointedly at me.

Now, if you're not from New York, then you don't get this, but in New York, it wouldn't have been pronounced, "Jo-HAH-nah," it would be more like, "Jo-HAY-nah." Believe me, I KNOW.

So, in conclusion:

1. HALF the cast is filled with FANTASTIC actors, and HALF couldn't act their way out of a paper bag.

2. The plot makes NO sense. Can I just call up NYPD and be all, "Hey, I want to just chill with the NYPD as they run around on open cases!"? Cuz I think they would punch me in the neck. A lot.

3. It's like the writers don't even CARE.

What is happening to tv and movies? Are they just out of ideas?!?!

This blog entry has been brought to you, as inspired by Yanka17.

Ok......

My customer just called me:

Him: What the hell is going on between you an "L"? What's all this email traffic I see?

Me: Yeah, sorry, she's a fucking child and I have to run HER project as well as mine.

Him: WHAT HAPPENED?!?!

Me: She yelled at "O" (the pregnant employee) in front of the rest of the team.

Him: Ummmmm.... why?

Me: I don't know. Some document or something.

Him:  You know what you people (contractors) seem to forget? You forget that this is just a job. In a few hours, you're going to leave the office, and whether or not you get that one document out will not mean that someone will or WILL NOT die. It's an IT system. Get it together.

You know what? He's right. This isn't life or death. Ok, "L" is a fucking idiot vomited up from the depths of my personal hell... I think we can all agree on that point.

But when i go home tonight, she wont be there. I'm stressing myself out and causing potential damage to my heart by getting so worked up. She's not worth it.

Pluto, here she comes!!

Are you a fucking CHILD?!?!

OMG. Someone needs to tilt this bitch's head back and pour in some brains.

I get an email today from one of the other Project Managers on this contract. This woman is a HUGE FUCKING BITCH. Look, we all get stressed, this is a stressful job, but I dont need you making it harder by screaming at pregnant employees in front of other contractors.

So what happens? Now I have to go send an email and call my employee to find out what the fuck is going on.

I've been feeling tired and sick all week, but now I have to STAY IN THE FUCKING OFFICE, BECAUSE THIS BITCH CANT HANDLE LIFE.

You know, for some women, leaving the job market to just breed would improve conditions for ALL of us.

I'm going to leave you with this thought of the day...

There may never be a more perfect food than the chocolate covered double stuf oreo.

I have regular chocolate covered oreos at home. They're going to be my reward after couples therapy tonight. That way, no matter what happens, there's CHOCOLATE!

RACIST!

This is going to be a hard topic, and one that I actually would prefer to address on TWM (where I might actually have an editor to say, "NO, DUMBASS, DON'T SAY THAT!"), but that's not what their site is about.

Now that I've made manager, you'd think that I'd learn to appreciate everything MY managers had gone through in the past. In fact, no. What I do appreciate is how they could have handled situations differently. I see now how petty a lot of their actions were, and how much easier it is to treat people like human beings, then to be rude and mean and beat them down. I appreciate the fact that a lot of my experiences, though they made me stronger, were entirely unnecessary.

As a manager, I also see now how hard you can fight for a person. How you can go to bat for people, and really put your tail on the line. In some cases they appreciate it, and in some.... they don't.

One of the people I now manage, let's call him C, is an older gentleman. He's very sweet, he's nice, he's polite, but he's also told me, point blank, that he believes everyone is racist against Black people, and that he keeps tabs on folks he works with, doesn't trust any of us, and is the type who will sue when provoked.

First of all, I don't appreciate being called racist. As a White woman, I am not stupid: there is no such thing as "color blind," unless you ACTUALLY ARE BLIND. In which case, I have no idea how the hell you're reading this article, but mazal tov to you.

Moving on; there is no such thing as color blind. What you CAN be is someone who recognizes that differences exist, and choose to judge people based on personalities. You understand that cultural differences may occur, but what matters is the content of their character. And so, as someone who was raised in an extremely ethnically diverse area, I take offense.

Still, there's nothing I can do. If someone chooses to view me a certain way because of the color of MY skin, I can't change that.

What I have a problem with is when I go to bat for you 3+ times with the client, and you STILL think I judge you based on your skin color.

Where the fuck do you get off?

I have put my butt on the line several times for C, and he still believes I am out to get him, or will do him in at the slightest provocation.

Now, compare this to "O," a girl whom I manage who was pregnant. Someone wanted to get rid of her because she had a bun in the oven, and I TOOK. HIM. OUT. Because you don't fuck with my people like that.

She called me before Christmas to say that she understood and appreciated everything I had done. That it meant a lot to her to know she could trust her manager.

Because she can.

Because no matter the color of her skin, she is a good person, and she didn't deserve the way she was being treated.

It bothers me that C's skin color clouds his eyes. It bothers me that I won't be judged based on my actions, but on the way he sees my skin tone.

Then again... at least he's an honest racist.

I'm a hooker!!

So, I didn't have access to the interwebs for a while, and my article to ToyWithMe was late, but they've been kind enough to post it anyway... mostly because they're Canadian, and we all know Canadians are way nicer than I am.

YAY!!!!!!

Hookers are here.

I beat my meat.

You know what? I am sick to death of hearing about how "vegetarianism is just the bestest way to go!" And if you don't ABSOLUTELY agree 100%, you're some kind of an animal hater and you're just gonna burn in hell, yes you are.

You know, I realize that some people out there are narrow minded enough to believe that THEIR body chemistry is the exact same as everyone else's, so if THEY can go veggie, then so can the rest of us.

Wrong. Every body is different, and more and more studies are coming out proving that animal fats, in moderation, are not the disease-laden demons we once thought they were.

Should we all be eating more greens? Yes. Is it possible to eat meat in a respectful and conscious manner? Yes.

Do you have to agree with some politically correct opinion somebody else spouts without considering your own body and your own health first?

No.

Animals: They're made of meat.

This message has been brought to you by PETA - People for the Eating of Tasty Animals.

I almost forgot!

Guaranteed to make MoM blush!!!:

My New Hairstyle

...because making MoM blush has become my personal goal in life!

Is it all about the fight?

I know. I've written about this before.

I, personally, have always maintained that really living is about struggling with who you are. I struggle daily with being Jewish. Don't get me wrong, I love my religion; it's a huge part of my identity. But I don't necessarily agree with every aspect of it, nor do I agree with how it's practiced by some people. More to the point, I struggle with the fact that when people say, "Happy Holidays," they're probably more referring to Christmas and New Years than anything I have going on. I was the little Jewish kid who used to press her face up against the glass of the Macy's department store windows around Christmas time, and watch mechanical elves help a painted plastic Santa read through a list... a list that was never going to have my name on it.

And I struggle with that. With the wanting to be a part, but knowing that my identity, both chosen and hereditary, keeps me at a distance. And I think that's the only way to live; as struggling between who you are, and how the world wants to see you.

So goes marriage. My guy and I are having a fight. He's become more controlling lately, or so it seems to me. To him, I've become more controlling. It's a power-play, a struggle between getting our needs met, and meeting the needs of each other.

He asked me if I still want to stay married to him. For two children of divorce, the easy way out is always waiting in the wings, and perks his head up whenever he thinks he's being called. Of course, I say, I want to stay with you! And divorce lowers his head again and waits.

And it's true. I love him, even though I know love is sometimes not enough, because I struggle with that reality too. I think that if I can love him enough, and he can love me, that we can weather any storm. Maybe we can. But fights send both of our mood disorders into a tizzy, and he sits on his computer and plays games, and I sit here and vomit up emotions onto my blog. Things are confusing, I tell my cat. I don't understand why this is so hard.

But I guess if you believe that life is a struggle, then adding someone else to the mix doubles the issues. Or halves them, when you do it right. In the mean time, I sit here, wondering if my cousins have the right idea:

They're all on Zoloft... and their marriages are fine. But what kind of a marriage has only one person in it, and one doped up zombie?

How crazy is TOO crazy?

On September 10th 2001, if someone had said to you that there was a super-secret group of religious extremist terrorists hell-bent on taking down America, and that they were going to do it by flying commercial air liners into the World Trade Center and the Pentagon in DC, what would you have said?

*I* personally would have thought that person was FUCKING INSANE, and had seen one too many "Die Hard" films. I would have thought that that plan was so far fetched as to be LAUGHABLE. The PENTAGON?! The WTC?! How... what...? And for a long time people, at least New Yorkers, really felt that way AFTER the attacks; "who... wha..?" As though the rug had been pulled out from under them. NO ONE had seen it coming... well, unless you were a middle east expert, maybe.

Then there was Katrina. NO ONE saw that coming either. And you can debate as to whether it was the Federal Government's job to step in sooner, or at all really, but the fact is that WHEN it happened, people were in shock. The roads were choked with cars. Some people actually died of Carbon Monoxide poisoning from sitting in the middle of all that traffic.

It's just all been fucking crazy.

Now, being a "small-government" person myself, while I was in Borders last week, I came across a book that touted the benefits of self-reliance. I thought, "Oh! This is nice! It'll teach me how to rely on my self a bit more! Maybe some basic skills!"

What I got was about $7 worth of fucking nuts.

The book is written by this man who says he worked for the CIA and blah blah blah, and that he has basically stockpiled his house because, let's face it, terrorism isn't going to stop and so you may as well be ready for when the shit hits the fan.

And I WANT to be like, "damn, this dude is crazy," but he does make some good points. If there was a black out because a terrorist hijacks a plane, or blows it up over a power station, how long would you last without being able to get food, or without electricity?

Look, I'm not talking Mad Max Beyond the ThunderDome, but is it crazy to think, "Look, if it happened before, who's to say it won't happen again? And this time, what if they take out something STRATEGIC, rather than SYMBOLIC?"

I'm not trying to be a paranoid freak.... but how crazy is too crazy?

Baby Jesus hates my vagina

My new article is up! Start your week off with something funny!!:

Jesus

Less than...

I'm feeling a little down today. I really want to tell you why, but the thing is, I've grown so comfortable here on PNN that I worry that if I tell y'all what's going on, you'll think less of me. That doesn't make any sense, I guess, or maybe it does... but I guess it gives you an idea of the way I'm thinking right now.

So, if you don't want to learn more about my personal life than you've ever known before, then don't keep reading. If you're not bothered by it, then go right ahead.

My hubs has a very particular sexual desire, one that I can't fulfill. It's nothing super dirty mind-you, which is a little funny because something dirtier I might be able to do, but this, for me, is asking too much. Have I written about it before?

He wants me to sleep naked. No underwear, no PJ's. Naked.

Now, I don't know why, but I can't sleep like that. I actually sleep better in PJs, but since this means so much to him, I've gotten down as far as I can, but I can't go totally naked. I just can't sleep like that.

Last night, it came up again.

"I just wish you could feel totally vulnerable with me." He's whispering in my ear as he holds me in the dark.

"It's not about you, it's just about being able to sleep comfortably, and I can't do that naked."

"Do you think it's psychological?" He's wanted me to see a therapist about this for years now, but in the great scheme of things, I just don't think it's THAT important.

"Look, there's stuff I wish you would do too, but you don't, and I respect that, ok? Why can't you respect this?!"

Which, of course, takes us back about two and a half years ago when we had moved in together, and the whole sleeping naked thing really started to come to a head.

"I feel cheated." He'd said to me once, and then realizing how it sounded, he'd apologized... but it never quite left my head. It still rattles around in there now and again.

He feels cheated. Cheated because I'm the one he ended up loving, and I can't be everything he wants, because I have needs too.

After everything, after all the Cancers and late night hospital visits, after his PTSD, and my working with him to get through it, after his brother living with us and my willingness to take in his sister, and after his absolute resolution that we should buy a house and his subsequent freak out when he realized, once we were in it, just how much a house costs, he still feels cheated.

When I was a little girl, I just wanted someone to love, and who would love me back. I came to terms that my father wasn't going to be the man I needed at the time, so I thought I would find someone who could be the man I needed in the future. Someone who would love me, just as I am, and that I would be enough.

And at 30, I'm still less than.

How am I an adult?

For the past week, until Saturday night when he literally schlepped across DC to be home with me, the hubs was in California for a rock conference. This isn't like rock and roll, this is stuff having to do with rocks. And science-y type stuff. Yeah, I don't know.

What I DO know is that after being together for close to five years now (HOLY SHIT!!! FIVE YEARS!!), I now have a very hard time falling asleep alone. So, the last time he went away for a while I unplugged my laptop, pulled it upstairs with me, and watched standup comedy from Netflix, in bed.

IT. WAS. GLORIOUS.

So this time, I brought my computer upstairs, thinking I would just go with the old faithful of standup, when what to my wondering eyes did appear (there you go, that's your ONE Christmas reference from the Jew), but a suggested NEW instant-watch:

FRAGGLE ROCK.

HELLS YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

To those who are too old to remember watching, enjoying, and eventually obsessing over Fraggle Rock, I say to thee: my pities on you! I LOVED Fraggle Rock!! Why don't they have stuff like that on tv anymore?! Just really innocent Fraggles, hanging out, playing music, talking to a (very Jewish sounding) Mrs. Trash Heap who knows all!

And what's more? I don't even care: I ROCKED OUT to the songs in my bedroom with my cats watching me to make sure that if it WAS a seizure like they thought, that I had at least fed them first.

It's not a hyperbole to say that I WISH I could live my life to the ideals set forth by the Fraggles and (THE ORIGINAL!!) Muppet movie. How can you not love lines like:

"There's nothing out there you can't do, yeah even Santa Claus believes in YOU!"

OMG. Loves it.

Let's wipe off of the air all the crap that kids today watch, and let's bring back the Fraggles, and the Muppets, and maybe even the Electric Company. Why not? What is on tv today that even comes CLOSE to the Fraggles?! 

Nothing. That's what.

*sigh* I miss tv from the early 80's.

Thanks Hollywood, Now I'm a Pedophile!

My new article is up, peeps!! Go read about why I'm a Pedophile!!

My first hour with the Nutritionist

I'm having a baby. Well, not RIGHT now, like, in a couple of years. Anyway, as a part of that, I decided that it couldn't hurt to meet with a nutritionist for a little while to make sure I have the best possible environment for my child.

As a part of it, the woman suggested that I watch a YouTube video on Aspartame. Now, I knew it was BAD for you, but I had NO FUCKING CLUE how bad!

After the first five minutes, you'll throw out your sodas. After the first 10, you'll never want to see another "diet" anything ever again. Believe me.

Take an hour... or just 10 minutes. I promise you'll reconsider everything you eat!

DON'T DIE!!

It's CANNIBALISM TIME!!

Dear Jornal,

It's day 000001 of my snowed in life, and I and the kitties are now living entirely off of Milano cookies. Well, mostly just me, cuz chocolate isn't good for kitties, but I know they sympathize.

It feels like forever that we've been snowed in, even though I just woke up 20 minutes ago, and I think the cabin fever is starting to set in.

It may be time to resort to cannibalism. The kitties and I have discussed it. Nobody likes the prospect, journal, but that may be where we're headed. Sure, I still have chili and veggies and soup and cereal, and I just bough milk and juice last night which are still full, but let's be fair: you can't count on those forever, so why put off the inevitable?!

The one snag in our plan, Journal? There are no other humans around for me to cannibalize. Thankfully, I was smart enough to buy another bag if Milano cookies, so that may be able to delay me a while...

... but I believe that I'm staring straight into the eyes of the next great tragedy of our times: snowstorm without Milanos.

To whomever finds this, rememeber me well, my friends! And just know that I did what I had to do, once I have run out of Milanos and those chocolate covered Fiber1 bars I keep for chocolate emergencies (such as this)!

Goodbye, cruel world!!

I'll be home for Channukkah...

The hubs has been in California since Tuesday morning. He was supposed to fly back and arrive at midnight tonight, but due to bad weather his flight has been delayed INDEFINITELY.

Bad enough that I'm no longer used to sleeping alone... but now California is holding my husband hostage.

I WANT MY HUSBAND BACK, YOU BASTARDS!!

Blargh... am lonely...

HAPPY ZAMENHOF DAY!!

What's "Zamenhof Day" you ask? It's the birthday of LL Zamenhof, who created the international language "Esperanto."

Here's what I love most about this man: not that he created his own language, not that you can't find a single picture of him without a big smile on his face, not even that he was a Jew (although, that helps!), no, what I love most about this man is the fact that growing up in a very diverse part of Europe, it made him sad to see people argue and squabble. He felt that if people could just learn to communicate on common terms, we would all get along so much better.

... so he invented a language.

But it's so simple, isn't it? Fight made him sad, so he, in his way, sought to end fighting in the world the best way he knew how.

I just think that's awesome. Because people fighting makes me sad too. And I would hope that someday, people learn how to communicate in a way that gets us all what we need without violence.

Until then, happy birthday Leyzer. Rest in peace.

Bloody, bloody, sex!!

My article is up!! Go read it!

http://toywithme.com/sexuality/sex-on-your-period/

ENOUGH!!!!!

My friend, T, is easily one of the most giving and wonderful human beings you are ever likely to meet. Giving and caring to a fault. If there were more of her in the world, I firmly believe all of our lives would be much improved. That said, I am going to have to slap her silly.

We met when we were 5 or so. Maybe I was 6 and a half. We've grown up together, and I simply cannot imagine my life without her in it. I can't even fathom who I would be without her. She's like a sister. When we met, her mom spoiled her a bit (my mom did too), and for a while, during the onset of puberty, I think we got in each other's nerves a little.

By the time we both went to college, she was, well, somewhat overweight. She was still wonderful, intelligent, charming, sophistocated, and very, very beautiful, but she had all the psychological markers of "fat girl syndrome." She could stand up for herself to everyone but men whom she was dating. She felt she had to bend over backwards to please them. Nothing was ever enough. She was desperate to be loved.

I get it. I don't blame her for it. We all want to feel loved and cherished. Then she lost over 100 pounds, but didn't drop the psychological issues as quickly.

... and then her mother passed away from brain cancer. It was shocking. It was heart-breaking... worst of all, T had lost her closest friend and confidant. So many of us have that one female friend or companion who ALWAYS has our back. I like to think that since then, that person has, to some degree, been me, but nothing replaces the love of a mother.

And now her boyfriend has broken up with her. Why?! Well, you see, his parents didn't like T. Because no woman will EVER be good enough for that little prince. Not according to mommy-dearest. So the parents found reasons why BF should break up with her... and he did.

She was heart-broken. Here was the first REALLY functional relationship she'd ever had. He had been good to her. They had been like partners. They had been talking about the future together. But he was 24, and just finishing law school, and his parents, I suppose, felt he should sow his wild oats, or some other stupid farming reference. So, he broke up with her.

"Fine," she eventually thought to herself. "I don't need this. I can find other men who will date a Knicks cheerleader!" (oh yeah, did I not mention that? Yeah, she's a sexy cheerleader, AND an actress, AND she owns a multimillion dollar home with apartments that she rents out for extra income. AND!!! She went to an incredible acting school, and has won all sorts of REAL awards for her skills... so, we're not talking about some bimbo who just fluffs around through life.)

So, she started dating again, and chronicled it through her blog. Well, BF found and read her blog... and see, he was THINKING about getting back together with her, oh but NOOOOOOW that she's been with other men, yeah NOOOOOW it will never happen.

And she's crushed. Of course she is. "He doesn't want me now," she texts me. "We could have gotten back together, but I screwed it all up!"

I am trying my hardest to be the person she needs, but all I really want to say is:

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!?! HE'S USING THIS AS AN EXCUSE TO MAKE *YOU* FEEL GUILTY FOR HIS INSIGNIFICANT, TOTALLY LACK OF BALLS WHEN IT COMES TO MAKING HIS OWN DECISIONS!! HE DOESN'T SUPPORT YOUR CAREER CHOICE! HE DOESN'T *LOVE* YOU, BECAUSE HE DOESN'T EVEN KNOW WHO YOU REALLY ARE! WHY ARE YOU LETTING HIM MAKE YOU FEEL GUILTY ABOUT THIS?!?! WHY SHOULD YOU NOT DATE MEN WHEN HEEEEEE BROKE UP WITH YOUUUUU?!?!?!?!

But what I say is, "I love you. It will be ok. I love you."

Fucking asshole. If I ever see him again, I'm going to punch him in the neck.

Guess THIS, PNN!!!

You know what? I just got another mug from PNN. Only, I never got the FIRST one!

See, I comment my little head off, because I like talking to people. So I get the little comment thingies, and eventually, as you all know, when you get 10, you get a REAL mug.

But I never got mine. not my first one, not ANY of them. So, now I have my THIRD, NOT REAL MUG.

At first I was like, "No no, it's fine. I'm not bitter that other people get their mugs and take pictures with them, decorate them, and just generally enjoy the mugishness. No no. I'm fine."

By the second one, I was like, "HEY?!"

And now? Now I'm just like: "HECK WITH YOU, PNN!!! YOU MAY BE MY SICK, TWISTED ADDICTION, BUT I DON'T HAVE TO LIKE IT!! I don't need you, OR your mugs..... ok, but I do KINDA need you."

So, GUESS WHAT, PNN!!

:p

Yeah. Take THAT!!

Oui! J'adore Paris!

Well, I'm back. It was LOVELY.

The funny thing is, my hubs isn't the most romantic man in the world. So after my MAD DASH to the airport (they upped our flight to Newark by 2 hours), and after I schlepped our bag through the metro (my work is closer to the airport, so I got the honor of dragging the bag to and from work that day), I was a crazy woman.

I was SURE it was going to be London. I've lived there, I have friends there... I was SUUUUUURE!!!!!!!!!

And then they checked our bags, handed him the tickets, turned to me and said, "Have a wonderful birthday in Paris!"

I FREAKED OUT.

"OMG!!!!! PARIS?!?!?!?!"

"That's good right? You like that?! I was going to take us to London, but your friends said Paris was better."

I was a mess! I was hopping and jumping around him like a chihuahua on crystal meth. Was I happy?! OF COURSE I was happy! I would have been happy with a nice dinner and a card, but this was just craziness!!!

We sat down to wait for our plane. "Since you already know, I might as well give you this..." he said, but I barely heard him because I was already busy looking up things to do and places to go on my phone, and he lays a "Paris 2010" book in my lap. It had pre-planned itineraries!! He knows me too well.... I do love me some LISTS!!!

Our flight to Newark was fine. We got on the interwebs and I made him check out my facebook because CERTAIN CRAZY PEOPLE WERE POSTING THINGS ON MY PROFILE!!

"See? They all think you're as wonderful as I do!!" I gushed, as several people around me fell victim to the overdose of sweetness we were displaying, and had to be removed from the boarding gate due to diabetic shock. We boarded our flight, and I slept for probably 2 hours, while he watched "Dodgeball."

We landed, exhausted, Friday morning. Dropped our stuff off at the hotel, and I grabbed an adorable little hat I had been saving for this trip.

"What do you think?! Do I look like a Parisian lady?!?!"

"You look like an Orthodox Jew." he said. Ok, fair, but I wore it anyway because IT WAS FUCKING CUTE AS HELL, DAMMIT!!!

I'd like to say that we strolled the streets, but we were so exhausted that we pretty much stumbled around until 2pm, when our room was ready, and passed out on the bed for 4 hours.

Then, we got up, and figured we shouldn't waste the night! So, we headed to the Eiffel Tower, where I made many jokes about "French Erections." Why? Because THAT'S who I am, people. But it was beautiful (the tower, not my jokes), and they had it lit up and glittering like diamonds. We bought two tickets, and went all the way to the top.

"What's that?!" Asked the hubs, looking at me through his camera.

"What's what?!" I asked, grabbing at my face like the crazy person I am.

"Ooooooooh." He said. Oh no. I looked down. My beautiful white coat I had brought along had a long CHOCOLATE stain on it... DAMN YOU FRENCH CREPES!!! Ahh well... we'll see if the dry cleaners can get it out. No use crying over spilled Nutella.

We wandered around the top of the tower and saw Paris at night. I had no idea what the hell I was looking at, but it was beautiful. So we left, grabbed a bite to eat, and went back to the hotel.

@Kimber - I told the hubs what you said about "baby-makin." His response?: "That's why G-D made birth control." Ahhh, lovely.

The next day, we grabbed a late breakfast in a nearby restaurant. The food sucked, but sitting next to us, at 11am, was a grandmother and her sweet grandson. What made me laugh though, was how french this all was. He sat there with his orange juice, and she was working on her second glass of wine. At lunch. HECK YEAH!!!!

After breakfast, my hubs decided to woo me with...

A TRIP TO THE SEWER MUSEUM.

Don't hate, ladies!! Yeah, *I* thought it was going to be a museum ABOUT the french sewers, which would have kinda been cool, because they feature so prominantly in Les Miserables. Plus, I find that sort of engineering stuff kinda cool.

But no. The museum was IN A SEWER. Like, IN AN ACTIVE, WORKING, STINKING SEWER. With a grate. So you could see the slime running under your feet. My guy pointed out the pieces floating under us that he found the MOST interesting. Yes, my husband took me to a sewer on my birthday.

SCORE!!

After a while, I was so sick from the smell that I had to leave and wait outside. I actually LOST MY APPETITE, and I can eat any one of you women UNDER THE TABLE. I couldn't eat, but I got a bottle of water, and sat with my head between my legs like I was kissing my ass goodbye. The hubs came up from the museum, and we left to see Notre Dame.

This was actually the most difficult part for me. My grandfather had lived in Paris, and though I never knew him, I always felt a deep closeness to him. The church was beautiful, I mean stunning, but I thought about the fact that this was probably some place he had been. Jews are technically prohibited from entering any other religion's house of worship, and churches are RIGHT THE FUCK OUT. But, my mom and I always felt that a building is a building, and if one building has beautiful art and calls itself a church, while another calls itself a museum, what do I care? My grandfather was just as progressive for his time, from what I understand. He was almost certainly in Notre Dame. Had he looked at the same stained glass windows? Had he walked on these same stone floors? Did the walls remember him? That was hard for me. To be so close to him... but still so far from someone I've never known. From an image I've created in my mind.

Anyway, the church was beyond description... even more so when you remember that there were no cranes back then... so this was all more or less by hand.

That night, we walked along the Champs-Elysee. They were having a Christmas crafts fair, and the trees were lit up with beautiful sparkling lights. We found a hole-in-the-wall restaurant, and had a light meal, with a glass of wine (ok TWO glasses.... but this was FRANCE! It's like, MANDATORY!), and bought WAY too much chocolate. We talked about the trip, about life, about chocolate, about his ex-wife (he'd been in Paris with her too, but the fact that I wasn't a screaming, raving loon really made this trip SOOOOOOOO much better than his last). It was a beautiful, wonderful time.

I won't talk about the flight back, because frankly, that sucked. But Paris was wonderful! I went there a 29-year-old, and came back 30. I don't feel 30. But then, I don't know what that's supposed to feel like. What I DO feel like, is one lucky chick to have a man who can poll my friends and then make it happen. We probably won't be able to do this again until after our kids are conceived, gestate, birthed, go to school, go to college, graduate, and get jobs... so I really tried to appreciate every moment.

So that was my weekend. I was in Paris. I still can't believe it.

...I was in a Paris sewer... I still can't believe that, either!

@(&Q#*^#*%^#!!!!!!!

I just sat in a "meeting" with my FUCKHEAD of a new supervisor, "T"s replacement. FUCKHEAD was T's boss, before he fired T. Now I am stuck with FUCKHEAD. JESUS CHRIST!!!

You know, I really cant tell who was worse, T, or FUCKHEAD who HUNG UP THE PHONE AFTER CURSING ME OUT the other day, because he wasn't included on EVERY customer contact, and because I had to reschedule a meeting that HE ORGINIALLY SCHEDULED FOR A POOR TIME.

If you have nothing else as a person in this world you have your reputation. Your reputation for working well with the customer, for getting the job done, for doing what's right. Then this shit head comes along and implies to MY BOSS that I am a liar, and am sabotaging FUCKHEAD'S position on the contract. OH! I GOT A POSITION FOR YOU, ASS MUCH!!

My boss was all, "He's an idiot, don't even worry about it." But I just had to sit in a "meeting" for an hour to listen to him talk about everything that's wrong with me. Now he wants to get into a pissing contest between his company and mine. Jesus man.... is your life so boring that you need to bring the drama to the work place?! FOR FUCK'S SAKE!!!

I was SHAKING I was so mad. I literally couldn't control my right arm, and I had to hold it under the table because I was shaking so hard. I wanted to punch him in his big fat face.

Whatever. It is what it is, and it's a part of the job, and it's how I earn my salary. It is just very lucky for a lot of people that I don't have a gun.... that's all I'm going to say.

Depression, Meds, and Sex

All part of your Monday fun!

ToyWithMe

3.. 2.. 1..

Believe it or not, the count-down has begun. Not this summer, but next summer is when the hubs and I are gonna start trying to add to the human population. That being the case (and also off of the heels of my earlier post about vaccinations) I'm taking a closer look at my health.

My cousins have record-breaking labor time: my cousin Suzet was in labor for 47 hours. FOURTY SEVEN!!! My cousin Lara was in labor for 27, before the doctors realized that the baby's head would crown when my cousin pushed, but slide back in when she rested. In and out. In and out. Like sex, but less fun.

So, I spoke to my OBGYN a few years ago (whom I love and miss terribly, and my vagina still mourns his changing practices).

I had no idea the amount of chaos on the interwebs about what kind of diet/exercise situation you should get into in order to increase fertility. Seriously?

There's like, a bajillion webpages, just on WHAT you should eat. None of which is as specific as an article I read not too long ago which made total sense and I pretty much memorized every word... THAT'S how awesome it was. Everything is like, "Get dairy!" "Eat your veggies." "Exercise!"

Yeah, ok, great assholes, but WHAT EXACTLY DO I EAT?!?!

Well, in my opinion, one of the better diets looks pretty good -

The article I read a few years back said, "yeah, stick with dark, leafy greens, but also heap on top of that: lentils, beans, root veggies, colorful fruits, and heaps of water. When you take in dairy, make sure it's whole fat" and this is the part that no one else seems to mention (OMG, I'm turning into 'Health-Nut Banana!'), "and NOT HOMOGENIZED."

I guess new research has pointed out that the chemicals used to keep your milk consistant, also reduces fertility in women.

So.... basically: go back to eating exactly what you could get from nature, and not much more. Lose the carbs, up the exercise, and go organic/ non-interference.I'm not quite sure how women who can't afford all of this crap manage. Then again, just because you can manage something, doesn't make it easier on the body.

Damn. I thought baby-makin would be more fun, y'all!

STOP STABBING MY PUSS!

Well, it's that time of the year again. No, not Thanksgiving, although I hope yours was lovely. And no, not ChrismaHannaKwanzikka, though good luck with that.

No, it's time to renew the vaccines for my cats. Only, here's the thing: I don't wanna.

See, for me, I don't necessarily KNOW that all these shots are required. I lived with undiagnosed asthma for years, so I was on antibiotics for years. This was before they knew about "probiotics," and now my gastro-intenstinal system is so messed up, that if I get another UTI, it could kill me. Seriously. I freaked my OBGYN out with a culture once. Good times. Thankfully, I've only ever had one, and that one MADE me want to die... so maybe it'll work out.

But I digress.

My point is that my mom and my doctor loaded me full of all these pills, meaning well, and now I have issues. How do I know that we're not doing the same thing to our pets? Ok, my kitties had their shots, but they never go outside... prove to me that they HAVE to have these new boosters!

So, now the hubs and I are in a bit of a tiff. He doesn't understand why I want to take a second look at this, and I don't understand how he can just accept what he's told. Look, I'm not taking this at face value, and IMO neither should you. Not for your pets, not for your kids, not for anyone you love. I'm not anti-vaccine. I absolutely believe that many of them are necessary! But I've seen three people I love go through the medical system here in America, and I've learned that you MUST be your own advocate, and you MUST question.

So, I'm questioning. I don't believe that vaccines CAUSE Autism, but that said, when you get a vaccine, you don't just get the virus.. there's other crap in there too. Getting more than two at a time seems like asking for trouble to me, no?

I don't know. The hubs thinks I'm turning into a crazy hippy. I'm not saying that vaccines are BAD, just that there are more motivations from the medical community than "keeping people healthy." There are drug companies, there are over-zealous people.

I don't know. I'm ranting. I just think that people ought to really stop and consider what we put in our bodies, and in the bodies of those who love and trust us.

Your thought??

Rough stuff, man

As some of you sweet people know, it's been one hell of a week.

Professionally, now that ONE asshole has left my partner company, he's been replaced by ANOTHER one. This one is so much worse, in that he feels it's his right to be demeaning on the phone, scream insults at me, hang up on me, and then send a letter to my boss implying that I'm a liar and trying to keep Asshole #2 out of the loop. As if I was THAT insecure that he might be able to do my job better than me. And I'm not saying that to be egotistical; I've worked in my government division longer than he has, and I know the politics better. It's just that simple.

On top of that, we have the ToyWithMe blog, where I posted what I thought was a silly little fluff piece about nothing, and ended up with some crazy bitch tweeting shit about TWM. These types of girls drive me nuts, because she was also probably one of those passive-aggressive chicks who spread rumors about people in school and liked to intimidate others.

If you don't like what I write... then why are you reading it?

It is what it is, but I just wasn't prepared for all of that to come down on me all at once.

In the spirit of keeping things upbeat, though, MoM FINALLY got her prayers answered, and I will NOT be driving the 6+ hours to upstate New York. I mean, I'm sad about not seeing my family for Thanksgiving, but the drive would have been brain-numbing horror. As it turns out, the hub's work dropped a load of crap on him at the last minute, and so we can't leave town. It's cool though, because his brother is living with us now (don't ask me for how long, because I don't know...), so at least we'll have some family.Thanksgiving has just never been a big holiday for us, mainly I think because we have Passover, and that's a HUGE family holiday in Judaism... so it's kinda like, "Eh, we'll catch the next one."

It's been very stressful for me lately, but I keep in mind that those things are temporary, so I guess that's what *I'M* thankful for this year. I've grown a lot over these past 12 months, and maybe I have the pains to prove it, but I am so much better off for them, and for all of you.

So, to those road warrior braving the traffic, I say, "HUZZAH TO YOU!"... and I'm going to grab me a turkey sandwich and call it a night.

*MUAH!!* peeps!

WTF?

Hey, my article is up! Go say something so they keep paying me... cuz heaven knows I aint getting paid enough at my "job"!

Squirting. Honestly, I feel odd writing at that work...

...because you know it kinda freaks you out too!

YOU KNOW YOU WANT IN!!!

Alright people, your time has come.

Don't feel like you can do an entire NaNoWriMo?!?!

Wanna participate in something fun and silly with your friends?

HELL YES YOU DO!

Some of us have decided to create a PNN writers NaNoWriMo page, where we can work collaboratively to create and nurture anything silly, wonderful, heart-wrenching, or glorious that should leak out of our little brains.

Now, as much as I want (nay, DEMAND) all of you participate, there are, as ever, some ground rules:

1. NOTHING is off limits. You write whatever you want to write. Whether it's one word, paragraph, page, or whatever. This is a free space.

2. We don't criticize each other's work. EVER. If someone asks for feedback, that's what you give, but if I see someone making disparaging comments, I WILL boot you.

3. Yes. I have made myself moderator. If you don't like it, don't marry me.

4. If  you're writing, then you CONSIDER donating to NaNoWriMo. Not all of us can, and that's TOTALLY COOL, but just consider donating to the cause, man.

Now, I don't know if we can post work on NaNoWriMo so we can ALL see it... so if someone knows, give me a heads-up. Otherwise, we can post here, and I'll update the NaNoWriMo site.

That's it. Those are the Banana's rules of order. Post your work after the latest addition, and we'll see what evolves.

The login is "PNN," and the password is "PNNBook" if you want to mess around with the settings. 

Let's make something, people!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I just stabbed myself in my mouth with my sandwich

So, to ease my pain, I'd like all of you to take your cute little bottoms over to ToyWithMe and comment on my new article. It'll ease my pain, and enlarge my ego to the point where I will need a whole new house just for that.

kthanxloveu!

I am so bored

OMG, REALLY?! I am so bored right  now.

So, I'm going to tell you a story. It's a story about a girl who gets a job as a Project Manager at a new company a few weeks ago.

This girl, let's just call her "Banana" joined up all excited and wide-eyed! Ready for the test!

When she got there, however, she learned that the manager of one of the other contracting firms with whom she was working was a TOTAL FUCKING ASSHAT, and was trying to get her pregnant employee fired. We'll just call that asshat, "ASSHAT," and we'll call the employee, "Izzy."

Well, Asshat doesn't like Izzy, so he sent our Banana an email stating that she should review Izzy's work history, as it is deficient, and that she should consider the fact that Izzy is pregnant when evaluating Izzy's place on the contract.

Banana was shocked! "Why! That's a violation of Izzy's civil rights!" she thought, and sent back an email replying that Izzy's work, and ONLY Izzy's work, would constitute the basis for review.

This did not please Asshat, and he continued to approach, not just Banana, but Izzy, and intimidate her to leave.

Finally, it got to the point where Asshat started saying that the Customer wanted Izzy gone... not just because she was pregnant, but also possibly because of her race.

This blew Banana's mind.

Banana forwarded all of her emails, as well as Izzy's account of her interactions with Asshat, to Banana's boss. The customer got wind of being called racist and misogynistic, and was none too please with ol' Asshat.

Keep in mind that ALL Banana wanted to do was to make the harassment stop... but she overshot her mark.

"I WANT THE ENTIRE COMPANY *GONE*" thundered the customer, when referring to Asshat's company. "Not just Asshat, the whole shebang! I want Banana to take over!"

Banana dropped in her chair, and felt very much like the end of "The Chronicles of Riddick," where the main character has been fighting so hard just to have some peace, and suddenly turns around to find that he's running an entire kingdom. "You keep what you kill," is what his enemies say.

Banana didn't mean to kill the company... but I guess she gets to keep the promotion!

Nanowrimo question

Hey y'all... do we post our progress ON the site? Or do we write in our own computers, and then post the word count up there? I am super-fantastic confused!

I am way too needy for my own good

So, I finally joined a Scene social networking site, despite the fact that I can think of at least of 15 of my friends who are on there and have been after me to create a profile for over a year. Here's the sad thing: now that I'm on, I'm TOTALLY OBSESSED! I have my email up right now to see if people have accepted my friend requests.

This is my life people. I need one with more hobbies.

Wanna feel dirty?

YEAH YOU DO!!! So go read my new article on ToyWithMe about submission and sex. My exploration of the dark underbelly of the DC sex scene continues! Only, I find that it isn't so much "dark," as "lightly tanned."

http://toywithme.com/sexuality/the-psychology-of-submission

Time out

The hubs and I attend couple's counseling from time to time. Like maintaining a valuable car, even when it's running smoothly you still want to be sure that there are no break-downs on the horizon, if possible.

It was in couples' counseling last night that the hubs started talking about how upset he was with the fight I'm in with my dad. His concerns about how I have zero contact with my father's side of the family (even though he doesn't blame me), and his issues with me not speaking to my dad right now.

"He's a part of my life, for better or worse. You cant just cut him out!" the hubs said.

"Ok," I said, trying to think about how I was going to explain this, "Think about it like this: I have made a the promise that my dad is going to be in our lives, and our children's lives. Any kids we have, they will be his grandchildren, and I won't stand in the way of that relationship. HOWEVER, that does not then mean that I have to be his punching bag, and whenever he's upset, he gets to take it out on me.

Think of it this way," I continued, "when a little kid acts up, you give them a time out, and you say, 'you are welcome to come back to the table any time you like, but you have to change your behavior. So, whether or not you come back is really up to you.' That's what I'm doing here. I'm not cutting him out of my life, but I'm giving him a chance to cool off, and realize that a relationship doesn't mean he gets to act out."

"I like that," our therapist said. "You're demanding respect, without closing doors."

And it's true; for all that my father can be an ass sometimes, he's a well-meaning ass. It's an issue of communication, not of lack of love.

I, personally, tend to connect very well with other women who have had issues with their fathers. We just "get" each other, and there's this under-current of a bond. It took me a long time to learn how to deal with him, and as stupid as they sound, here are my secrets for dealing with MY dad (YOUR results may vary):

The buddha said, "All life is suffering, and suffering stems from desire. So, to end desire is to end suffering." It's true in a lot of ways. My desire was for my dad to ACT the way *I* wanted a dad to act. He consistantly failed to meet up to those expectations, and so I was consistantly angry and stressed. Once I became an adult though, I realized that he is the way he is, and if I want him to accept me, I have to accept him. I can't expect him to act the way I want. Well, I can EXPECT it, but it'll just make me mad.

So, I stopped expecting him to act a certain way. When I stopped that, I found that I was able to take a step back and take control of the relationship to some degree. If he wants to throw a tantrum, he can do that, but he doesn't get to snare me into it. I don't desire from him what I know I can't have, so my committment to his emotional swings are limited.

Does that sound kooky? Maybe. I love him, and I'll always love him, but finding a way to deal with him has been priceless.

Last night, he sent me an email, apologizing for his swing, and asking if I wanted to follow up on that suggestion I made to see him and his wife after our birthdays. I said that sounded wonderful, and I was all for it.

So, I think my conclusion is this, "time outs": they work for small children and insane parents, when you just can't pick up and move to hawaii.

BANANA DOWN!!!

I'm home sick today. It sucks, but I've learned that it's better to take the day than try to work through it, which makes you sicker for longer. The hubs, who was also feeling a little under the weather, and I tried to get to bed early. Our morning conversation went like this:

Him: How are you feeling this morning?

Me: I would be BETTER but SOMEBODY was taking up an entire half of the bed last night!

Him: Who? Me?

Me: No!! Moe! (our kitty)

Him: WHA?!

Me: Not bad for a little furball who's only about 2 feet long!

No lie, this cat STRETCHED himself out on his back (like his daddy), and started squeezing me off the bed! But can I be mad at him?! No...

Him: THIS little kitty caused all the problems?! Who's a widdle kitty?! Who's a siwwy, widdle puddy?!

Me: SNUGGLE KIDDY!!!

...and so on. What is with these little guys?! How can I be mad at him one minute for taking the entire bed while I'm trying to sleep, and the next minute I can't stop tickling his tummy?!

I've fallen victim to that yummy little face.

BANANA DOWN!!

The thing about the 60's

Here's the thing, I think most people my age (though I guess I no longer count as a "young person") WANT to get involved, and WANT to help change the world, but we just don't know how it's done.

I'm not blind to the fact that over 5 million people have died in the Congo since the 2003 "Peace Accords."

5 MILLION.

As a Jew, that hits home, and as human beings, I think most of us are horrified that people are starving, and that rape is being used as a weapon against women and children. I think most of us, if we could, would DO something to help.

But what?

Let's face it, I don't know if you've looked at your checkbook lately, but I'm living paycheck to paycheck right now. I just started a new job, and while I want to help women in the Congo, I can't afford not to pay our mortgage.

Not having been there, it seems to me that in the 60's, there was always some protest or another going on, and you could just join up! But now... how do I start a protest? What... what do I do? Does someone know?

In my humble opinion, I think maybe those soldiers would be a hell of a lot less likely to rape those women, if the women could defend themselves. Yes, it's very important that "justice be done" and that the soldiers are brough to court, but how do we empower those women there? Honestly? Stupid as it sounds... what... what if we taught them self-defense? And not like those little "knee-to-the-groin" classes you took in college, but like real, fucking, beat-the-shit-out-of-the-guy self defense that they teach to military? Like Krav Maga, or something? At least a shot to defend THEMSELVES and take back some honor? But who do I talk to about this?

I'm not ignorant that globally we're losing free speech rights, and women are being abused and murdered... but how do I START doing something?

Thoughts?

UN-FUCKING-BELIEVABLE!!!

I sent an email to my step-mother today, letting her know that my hubs has been planning a surprise for my birthday. Not a couple of hours later, I get the MOST passive-aggressive call from my dad.

"Well! You do what you want!" He says.

It all stems from this: I am terrible on the phone. I HATE talking on the phone. I have a hard time understanding things people say, I can't hear them that well, I don't like holding phones so close to my head... whatever. I just don't like it. So I always tell people, EMAIL ME. It's easier, and I can get back to you WHILE I'M AT WORK!!

So he calls up:

Dad: Can I talk to you about something?

Me: Well, I'm at work, but if it's important, sure, what's up?

Dad: I just want to talk to you about the way I'm feeling.

Me: Uhhh... ok.

Dad: I just don't feel like I'm a part of your life anymore! You haven't called for MONTHS! (Backstory: the reason why I stopped calling him was because of yet ANOTHER passive-aggressive phone call where he called me selfish for not calling his wife to thank her for the gift card the MOMENT we got it... which was our one-year anniversary. I'm such a bitch!)

Me: Well A) That's probably because when I do call you, I get conversations like these and B) You KNOW I hate to talk on the phone... why don't you just email me?

Dad: You KNOW I hate emailing! It's so impersonal! I could have been dead for months now, and you never would have known!!

Me: Dad, I really think your wife would have sent out an email if something like that happened. That seems like news to know.

Dad: NO! Cause I told her not to!

Me: ..... what the fuck?

.... and it goes on and on like this. The problem is that this is his 70th birthday party, and neither his brother, or my older (half)sister (Julie) will be there. Why? Because they're fucking nuts. I'm not saying I'm a poster child for normalcy, but I've made the promise to have my dad in my life, and family is about being there for each other, even when your crazy father goes tripping the fuck off the deep end.

Whatever. He had his tantrum, so I wrote him an email:

"Your Call:

I'm sorry that you're having a hard time understanding that I don't like the phone. I am sorry that you're feeling abandoned by your family with your 70th birthday coming up, and knowing that your brother, first daughter, and grandchildren will not be there. That's a pain I never hope to imagine.

However, that does not then make it appropriate for you to call me at work and load it all on me. I am NOT sorry that I don't like talking on the phone: it's just the way I am. If YOU don't like sending emails, then we'll have to come to a compromise, no matter how much you may not like it. This is what an adult relationship is like; not throwing a tantrum on the phone and telling me that you've now told Mona not to tell anyone if you die. That's childish.

You've been so impressed by my analysis of Julie, so let me impress you again: you're angry because you feel older now, and the rest of your family is a bunch of shitheads. That's no reflection on you, but anyone would feel alone knowing that their family won't be there for them. You're mad at me, because you want me at your birthday party. I understand that, and I want to be there for you. *I*, unlike the rest of your family, DO love and support you, even if I can't be there physically. However, *I* also have a big birthday coming up, and I would like to think that my father would be SO HAPPY for me to have a wonderful man in my life who wants to take me out of the country and surprise me with a trip, that he would be sad, but understand.

I would hope that a father who loves me would be aware that his daughter doesn't like the phone, and would condescend to send her an email once in a while, so that she could chat with him while she was at work. And not a mass email that you send to G-D and country, but something to say hi to her. Letters DID come before the phone, you know.

You, Dad, were an ass on the phone. You didn't call to discuss, you called to unload on me. Well, I don't appreciate that.

You talk about how no one ever taught you how to be a "good" father. Let me give you a pointer: I love you, even though you're an ass sometimes. My husband wants to take me on a romantic trip. Your wife is wonderful, and I appreciated the gift card, but not the aggressive call I got the morning after my anniversary telling me how rude it was that I didn't call IMMEDIATELY upon receiving the card (the night before).

I won't be at your birthday party, not because I don't want to be there for you, but because I have a life too. Stop being an ass, stop feeling abandoned. As frustrating as you can be, I still love you, and I'm not going anywhere... even if you can't send out an email every once in a while.

I will try to call more. YOU try to email more.

Also, try not to be an ass.

Love,

Hannah"

If I had to analyze this relationship as a stock investment (because, let's be fair, everything in life is SOME sort of an investment) I would say that I don't get a lot of return on my investment. There are some people (Back me up, Sally!) who are energy-suckers. You almost have to ramp yourself up to talk to them, because they take so much out of you. I love my dad, but he takes A LOT. He throws tantrums, he has his fits, but at the core, he's a good kid. An annoying kid, but good.

So the question is: do I give in to his games and say "to hell with this!" or do I let the tempest pass? Frankly, I feel like the main reason I reinitiated this relationship was because so many people told me how healthy it would be.

I'm thinking: EPIC FAIL.

Nip/Tuck

I can't really point fingers, because my mom had a facelift, but the thing about plastic surgery that freaks me out, is that it's so entirely unregulated.

Our own Roberta put out an interesting post that Arnold Schwarzenegger has signed a law stating that in California, you have to have a physical exam before having plastic surgery. Could you even imagine going into any type of surgery by just rolling up in your car, pulling off your clothes, jumping on the table and yelling, "CUT AWAY, DOC!" I read an article in Marie Claire last month that talked about how some women go to their local "man-in-a-van" (literally) to get cut and lifted and injected. IN.A.VAN.

And now maybe you're thinking, "OMG! So stupid! I would never do that!" Ok, sure, but what about your dentist. You trust him/her, don't you? They're so good with your teeth, that when they send out a pamphelet announcing that they now provide discounted botox injections, you figure, "SURE!" but here's the problem: not all "doctors" are created equal. Many of these specialist-cum-cometic surgeons only have to take an online course for a couple of weeks to be allowed to purchase the medical-quality botox.

So, the man who is stuffing your face with deadly poisons, just stabbing that needle around your head, only had to put in a few hours to know how to (basically) PROBABLY not kill you. Would you want someone giving you anesthesia after taking an online course for a few weeks?

I get it, I do. My mom wanted to look younger, so she got a facelift. But the doctor, who I never met, and who she claims IS certified to be a cosmetic surgeon, DIDN'T do a detailed enough medical history on her.

My mom is a breat cancer survivor, and like many people who have gone through chemo and radiation, her ability to clot and heal after bruises was compromised.

Her. Face. Was. Black. Not even purple with bruises. He made her eyelids so tight, that with the swelling, they bulged out. She looked like she had been beaten half to death, and the bruises continued all the way down her neck to her sternum.

I cried when I saw her, and though she's ok now, what if it had been worse? What if she couldn't stop bleeding, and the doctor didn't know because he hadn't paid enough attention? Is that beauty? Is that what people want?

I get it. I'm only 29, and maybe someday I'll want a little nip here and a tuck there, and if YOU do, then I certainly don't blame you. All I ask is that you do ALL of your homework. There ARE board certified cosmetic surgeons out there, who KNOW what they're doing. Find them. Don't do what one of the women in the article did, and go to some cheap-o on the side... her left nipple ended up rotting away.

WHO LIKES BOOBS?!?!

YEAH YOU DO! Go visit one fantastic website (complete with boobs) and show your support during Breast Cancer awareness month. Also, you get to read a story about my mom's boobs and a dude named Vinnie. OMG, you are SO in!

http://toywithme.com/accepting-your-body/my-mothers-magnificent-mams/#comments

This is why we can't be friends

To better understand this story, you need some BACKstory.

My parents are divorced. My dad became crazy-religious when I was around 2 or 3, and my mom couldn't take it any more (and frankly, neither could I). My childhood was punctuated by events in their relationship that included me as a bargaining piece.I'm not complaining, and I know that there are MANY other people who had it far worse than I did growing up. They never hit me (I don't count well-deserved spankings as "beating"), and I always had food to eat.

Still, there's a lot to be said about my parents' own issues and how they interact with the world. For example, my dad loved me so much, that he kidnapped me twice... it made sense in his head.

Anyway, my dad and I have birthdays that are 3 days (and 40 years) apart. I'm December 4, he's December 7th. The problem with having birthdays so close together is that when major milestones hit, you have to figure out who gets to celebrate it.

This year, I'll turn 30, and he'll turn 70.

This morning I got an email from my step-mother (bless her, the woman can drive a saint to murder), telling me that I should keep that weekend free, because they're having a big birthday party for him.

For him...

Not that I don't think he doesn't deserve a wonderful birthday! We've both worked very hard at our relationship. I spent much of my life not actively dealing with him, but I feel that as I get older, it wouldn't be fair for me to keep him from any kids my husband and I may produce. If they choose not to be in touch with him as they get older, then that is their decision, but I won't keep family from family.

Anyway, I'm getting side-tracked. It's likely that my step-mom has planned some sort of "surprise" thing for me, in addition to my dad's party, but here's where the tough part comes in (ADVICE IS WELCOME!!!)

I've been telling the hubs FOREVER how much I love him, but how he is not at all romantic. He isn't. He's sweet, and kind, and considerate, but to get a bouquet of flowers out of the man is like pulling teeth. Well, for my 30th he said, "I'm planning a trip for us. Bring your passport, and warm clothes."

I have my suspicions, but CRAP! WHAT DO I DO NOW?! I don't think he's bought tickets yet to where ever, but if he hasn't, then do I forego having fun with the hubs in some possibly amazingly romantica locale, so I can sit around with a bunch of 50+ Orthodox Jews?Why would I want to celebrate MY birthday like that?

DAMMIT!!!!!!!

Hugs: Cheaper than Zoloft

You know, I get that some people are just born with chemical problems in their brains, but I really think that most of us could just use a damn good hug. Especially as winter comes on. I mean, don't you just stop in the middle of your day sometimes and think, "If I just had a really good hug right now, I could make it through this day, easy."

OMG. How great would it feel to be like, "fuck this. I'm going out for a Starbucks. No! Wait! I'm going out for a HUG! A nice big bear hug!"

Ugh! Why aren't there people who just offer sweet, warm, hugs all the time?

...my mommy lives too far away....

I will beat you to death, and other tales of the workplace

HI ALL! I know, I suck, I haven't been on in a long time, and I've missed y'all. A recap of the last few weeks: Carm and I have been texted back and forth like crazy people, because I needed a piece of PVC to put up my Sukkah (look it up, peeps!), and she was the only other person IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD who knew what piece I was looking for, so she totally went, ON HER BIRTHDAY, to get the pieces from a local hardware store in Washington state, so that she could mail them to Washington DC. Cause she's awesome. Yes.

Then, I started my new job... AS A MANAGER!!!! WOOT!! For a little back story as to why I feel the deep and abiding urge to murder today, let me explain a little bit about what you've missed by not living inside my head:

The guy I work with who runs the other half of the team is named Tony, but for now we'll just call him Tony the Asshole. TTA decided that as soon as I came on-board, it would be a good time to try and overwhelm me with work and craziness, so that he could get all the things done that he wanted to get done, but COULDN'T when my predecessor was here. Nice. So he starts throwing things (work, not actual things) at me and my team, trying to overwhelm me, and this morning I get an email in my inbox.

"We have to talk about 'O'". "O" is a very sweet girl who works with me. Is she snarky? Yes. Does she lack the finer skills of handling men who use paperwork to compensate for significant other deficiencies? Sure. She's not, what my former manager would have called, "demure." But girlfriend knows her shit, and all the rest, baby, is ICING.

We have to talk about "O." Some of her customers have been complaining, and the fact that she's pregnant should be discussed.

Are you fucking retarded, Tony? First of all, by even MENTIONING her condition, you open us ALL up to litigation you fucking fuck! Secondly, YOU'RE TALKING TO A WOMAN. HOW THE FUCK DO YOU THINK I FEEL TALKING ABOUT REMOVING A WOMAN FROM A CONTRACT BECAUSE SHE'S PREGNANT?! Jesus-tittyfucking-Christ! Were you absent during "common sense" day at school?!

I told myself I was going to be calm about this, and not pull off his head like a twisty top on a grape drink, but this man is working my LAST DAMN NERVE.

Oh... and my former company hasn't paid me in a month. Awesome. So now I totally owe Carm money, and I have to run to the bank today so that I can actually pay this wonderful woman back for all her help and not look like a mooch.

It may be a Tuesday, but it feels like a Monday.

Why pseudo science makes my head hurt

When I was in college, I had the most awesomest of awesome Psychology professors OF. ALL. TIME. Dr. Rudski.

Dr. Rudski was a victim of a very serious and very real case of ADD. So much so in fact that everyone in his class learned to make our papers concise and to the point, which was very different from the other profs who wanted verbose and flowery. I loved Dr. Rudski. I would totally have had his little crazy babies.... but he was already married.

Anyway, that's not the point. The point is, one day in class he starts off saying, "We're going to talk about the difference between CORRELATION and CAUSATION. A CORRELATION is when two events appear to have a relationship to each other. You don't know exactly what that relationship is, but you know there IS one. A CAUSATION is when one event can be PROVEN to cause another."

Sexy, fucked up, AND smart. Totally my type.

Anyway, he used this great example that stays with me to this day:

In the Fall, kids go back to school. Also, geese fly south for the winter. That's a correlation: kids go to school, and geese fly south. You can't say that the children CAUSE the geese to fly, nor can you say that the geese CAUSE the kids to go to school.

I learned that in a Psych 101 course, and yet I see people like this who, though they SAY there is no causational relationship, act all excited and discuss their findings in terms of causationals.

Winter babies = kids who are more likely to quit school early? How does that make sense? Do you think kids hit 16 in the winter and think, "YES! Now I can drop out in the middle of the school year!" whereas summer kids are like, "Yeah, fuggit. I'll just do another two years, since I'm already half way through my summer."

What?

But since we're going with hairbrained theories, here's mine: since people with a stronger education tend to have fewer kids, their data has to be "stretched" mathematically to fit with the population of people who have poorer educations. So, let's say you have 100 couples who really got a bad shake at school, and 10 couples who went to the finest schools around. So, those 100 couples just have babies all year around, no particular pattern; but a December baby would probably be conceived in March or thereabouts. So, you get a couple of friskies on during March. 

But the 10 couples, well, maybe they're professors, or business people, or whatever you like. March is a shitty time for professors; you have school you have things going on, and it's not much better for the business folks who are just getting funding for departments back and track and hiring and promotions and things like that. You're not really relaxed during March. But when are you maybe more relaxed? Oooooh, Thanksgiving sounds lovely. Things wind down, you relax, there's food, or at the very least, it's fall and nice and the colors are changing.... whatever.

So, if 5 out of the 10 couples have babies in the summer, you're like, "HOLY SHIT! THAT'S 50-FUCKING%!!"

But if the same 5 couples were in the 100 couple pool, that would be 5%.... and hardly worth mentioning.

So, what I'm trying to say is that I don't trust their comparison methods, and I think they're stupid sacks of shit. Mostly because I'm a December baby.

Anyway, that's my theory. It has nothing to do with "babies born in the winter are stoopid'r" it just has more to do with scheduling and realistic demands on life.

..... or, it could be space aliens.

Fuck it. It's the aliens.

Prayers couldn't hurt...

If you're the prayin' kind, I could use some help.

I have a friend, a sweet and kind and loving friend, named Sasha. She lives in England. We met over MySpace, and have been in touch for about 4 years now. Bless her, she is the type to give until it hurts. She would hug the world if she could.

Sasha has OCD. She's been in and out of hospitals and mental wards. Her older sister committed suicide when Sash was a little girl, and it had a profound impact on her, as they both suffered through many of the same illnesses.

Sash and I connect over our depression, but her issues go far beyond something that a little bit of Zoloft can fix. When she was 16, she met an older, married man. He encouraged her affecting and devotion, and like anything else, she became addicted after a while. It's an abusive relationship, and he can become violent with her. He and his wife (who is well aware of the relationship) call her names, can be physically abusive, are cruel and trashy people. They at once encourage her dependency on him, and put her down for it. They've taken money from her in the past, and thrown it in her face when she has none. He got her pregnant, and told her that she had to have an abortion, because he didn't want any more Jewish babies in the world; he's an antisemite, who seems to have no problem screwing a Jewish girl.

Sasha has been addicted to drugs and alcohol, but in 2008, she got herself clean and moved away from England in an attempt to get herself off of her addiction to this man as well. She moved to Israel (being Jewish, they took her instantly), and began to try and build a new life for herself. But like going on any wagon, she fell off.

She's back in England now, and fighting very hard to kick her abusive relationship. She's trying everything she can do, but she's so angry at herself for "failing" to stay in Israel that she's allowing the abuse.... but hating herself for it.

I don't have a lot of money, but I may take a quick trip to London. Maybe buy her a ticket to come here. There's not much that can be done from my side, other than try and be there for her.

But if you pray, then pray. If you're aethist, then just wish good things for her. She scared and alone, and she doesn't know what to do, so even if all you have is your good hope, then please send that to my friend Sasha in London.

It's on like Donkey Kong!!

Perhaps you have read a previous post of mine where I talk about the front desk woman who WONT BUZZ ME INTO THE OFFICE, because I "go out too much."

She won't press her fat-ass finger to the button to buzz me in.

And while I was away..... she told my manager.

Seriously. She pulled my manager aside and was like, "She goes out too much!" And my manager, bless her heart, was like, "You mean Hannah? The girl who HASN'T BEEN HERE ALL WEEK?!?!"

But I can't even believe she fucking ran to my manager to snitch on me because I go to the bathroom and get lunch!!!! My last day in this office is October 4th. That bitch had better be here so I can yell at her for being entirely unprofessional and a fucking HUGE ASS BITCH!! EAT A DAMN SALAD!!!!

ARGH!!!

FUCK YOU, NEWARK!!

So, if we don't stalk each other on Facebook, then you've missed the journey that was my trip to Israel.

You see, my husband is half Yemini, and half Easter-European Jew (like me!). The Eastern-block folks are mostly all here in America, but the Yemini side is in Israel, along with his 90+ year old grandmother who was born in Yemin and FUCKING WALKED TO ISRAEL. Walked! So, the next time you're like, "do I take the car to go to the bodega on the corner, or do I walk?" WALK!! Anyway, she came to Israel, met her husband, and had 8 kids. But, she's old now, so the husband wants to go back at least once a year to go see her and do a Jewish holiday here.

Oh yeah. It's the Jewish New Year. Happy New Year, peoples!!

Anyway, so we got our shiznit together on Friday, and were supposed to fly out that night. Now, seeing as how it's a 10.5 hour flight going, plus the 7 hour time difference, we figured we'd be there around noonish Saturday. We get our shiz, and head to BWI, and then on to Newark for our connection.

FUCKING NEWARK! Our plane to go to Israel arrives, and Newark is like, "Yeah.... no" at 11pm!!! So we all have to go and get vouchers for a hotel stay and some food, until the flight can leave at 6am the next morning.

Here's the problem. The flight going to Israel was filled with Israelis. While I don't like hating on my own people, this is a group of folks who are typically no-nonsense, abrasive kids. On top of that, most don't speak-a the English. My hubs, as one of the most bilingual folks there, ends up being the fucking MOSES of the trip, getting all the info from the people at the counter and leading a sea of Israelis to the hotel. It was hilarious. AND NOT ONLY THAT, BUT THEY'RE ARGUING WITH HIM THE ENTIRE TIME THEY'RE FOLLOWING HIM!! "I think the woman at the counter said go here!" "Sir, do you speak English?" "No." "Then HOW DO YOU KNOW WHAT SHE SAID?!?!"

They put us up overnight. The next morning, we all get on a bus to the airport again, and he leads the way to the gate.... while they're arguing with him. "I don't think it's this gate!" "Sir, do you READ English?" "No." "Then how do you know what the SIGNS SAY?!??!!"

We get to Israel. I get a damn eye infection... because the country hates me and wants me out. I am allergic to the entire damn country.

Then, it's time for me to fly back (my guy is still there, giving lectures at some universities cause he's all smart and shit).

The 11.5 hour flight back was punctuated by the continued YAMMERING of a bunch of Israelis, and I probably could have gotten put in jail for taking them down. I can't sleep on planes, but if I can't even close my eyes because you people won't shut up.... there will be blood.

Back to good ol' Newark again. They put my luggage somewhere else, not on the belt, so I had to go find it. Why?

Because you have to PICK YOUR LUGGAGE UP, AND THEN RECHECK IT AND GO THROUGH SECURITY ALL OVER AGAIN. Seriously.

I walked my luggage the 30 feet to check it again after picking it up.

"Has your luggage been with you the whole time, ma'am?"

"No."

"What?!"

"It's been on a plane for 11.5 hours, and then some dude took it off the plane and put it somewhere in the airport for me to find like I'm fucking Poirot. So no. It's been with you guys the whole time."

"I'll just mark that as a 'yes'."

Then I go through security. Or I try. The woman in front of me is going to Mexico. That sounds lovely. So I guess that makes her exept from the flying regulations, because she brings an 8oz bottle of lotion in her bag. The TSA agent pulls her aside.

"Ma'am, we have a fluid limit of 3 oz on the plane. You'll either have to toss the bottle, or check your purse as well."

"But the bottle is mostly empty! There's probably only 1 oz left!"

"Ma'am, I can't check the fluid levels. You need to bring in-flight liquids in a 3oz or smaller container."

"But it's almost gone."

"Ma'am, I apologize if I gave you the impression that this was a conversation. It's not. These are the rules. You are welcome to keep the lotion, but then you must check your purse and not carry it with you..."

...and so on, while the rest of us are standing there thinking, "UNFUCKINGBELIEVABLE."

Why are you arguing with TSA? She isn't going to bend the rules FOR YOU. Just figure out your course of action and bitch about it to your friends when you get there!!

Ugh! Finally, I get on my flight to go home. Where I realized.... it was 11am and I had the whole day, and no idea what to do with it because I was still on Israeli time, and exhausted from the 2 hours of sleep I DID finally get on the flight.

I took an hour long bath, and watched the "Axis of Evil Comedy Tour" on Netflix. Awesome.

Also. I'm quitting my job today, because I got another job offer where I can be a manager, and not have to listen to sex stories at work. Or maybe I will. Who knows. I've totally given up on a sane working life here in DC.

So..... what did I miss??  

GO TOUCH MY BALL!!!

Alright, I admit it! I stole Phil's topic, and wrote a piece for ToyWithMe about Purity balls: http://toywithme.com/articles/purity-balls-because-metaphorical-incest-is-totally-cool/

I think it's kinda funny. I also think the couple who run the site asked me to be more Jewish in my writing. I don't know how to do that... my articles might start popping up in yiddish. I'll keep y'all posted.

GO SEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

.... MoM - no fighting!

What do you put on your walls?

First of all, I'm ignoring the fact that it's September 11th. Why? Because my mom was there on 9/11, and she just called me all chatty and talking about her trip (she just got back from Israel), and I didn't want to say anything that was going to get her upset again. The one image that will always stick with me, was of Styvesant High School, covered in dust from the blast. To anyone else, it was just a building, to me, it was where I took my SATs. It was my home. But we're ignoring that, and just thinking it quietly to ourselves, and softly mourning those who are gone.

Ok.

So, on to other things. Last night, I was looking around the walls of our bedroom (which is quite small, sadly!) and I realized that, while we live in our house, we haven't really made it a *home*. We have some art up around the house, but nothing in our bedroom. I think that comes as a function of the fact that we want to keep the bedroom a restful place (no tv), and we don't want to make it look any smaller than it is. That being said, it looks REALLY bare!!

What do you guys have up on the walls of your bedrooms? I want something soothing, preferably in the blue range of colors, but nothing huge, and nothing crazy. What do you all have up? Do you have some kind of color scheme??

HELP. ME.

I WIN!!!!!!!!!!!

Can be tailored to fit a cat!!: http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/41qn9-pqijL._AA260_.jpg

OMG. Halloweeen is going to be AWWWWWWWESOMMMMMMME!!!

JOOOOO FOOOOOOOOOD!!!!!!!!!

Ladies and Gentlemen! Welcome to the High Holy Days! Yes, Septmber is the month of a bunch of Jewish holidays!! Starting September 19th, we have Rosh Hashannah, or the Jewish New Year (I hope you all caught that my name was in there, because things should always begin and end with a good banana!), then there's Yom Kippur on the 28th. This is our day of fasting.

*****Boring background info: The Jewish New Year isn't exactly like the Calendar YOU know, because we believe that G-D opens two books on Rosh Hashannah: the book of life, and the book of death. Between Rosh Hashannah and Yom Kippur, G-D takes the time to inscribe the names of all living things, great and small, in those books. On Yom Kippur, at sundown (EST thankyouverymuch, because G-d is CIVILIZED), He closes the books, and your general future for the coming year has been determined. On Yom Kippur, we're all,

"HOLY SHIT, G-D! PLEASE DON'T KILL US! I'M TOTALLY SORRY FOR ALL THAT CRAP I DID LAST YEAR, AND I SUPER-DUPER PROMISE TO BE AN AWESOME JEW (Banana, if it's me) IN THE COMING YEAR!!! IN FACT, I'M SO SERIOUS, I'M TOTALLY NOT GOING TO EAT ALL DAY! WERD!"

**********Thus ends boring background info.

So anyway, loads of people send each other Kosher gift baskets for the new year. You're supposed to eat sweet things, so that you'll have a sweet new year. But finding Kosher gift baskets can be a total pain in the ass.

Why?

You know Hebrew National Hotdogs? They're kosher, right? Yes, but NOT KOSHER ENOUGH for some people. See, they deliver on Saturday (shabbat), so some Jews are all, "FUCK YOU, AND YOUR DAMN FRANKS!!"

So, I wanna send some tasty Jew-food to my dad and his wife, but I gotta be all, "how koshery-kosher is it?!" and then it's a whole big thing, when all i really wanna do is send flower, but my dad is allergic, so fuck it, maybe i'll just send them a hedgehog. I hear they make good pets.

Oh. And if you wanna send fruit to an orthodox person, it has to be KOSHER fruit. See? You didn't know there was a difference between kosher fruit and just plain ol' shitty fruit, did you? Yeah.

Fuckin A man.

My mom is awesome in a way that makes me look normal.

The husband and I went to Brooklyn for Mother's day. Actually, we went up on Saturday, and stayed overnight. Sunday morning comes along, and the husband, my mom, two of our tenants (because all my mom's tenants love her to death and, like, wanna have her babies), my mom's coworker, and I go to a really nice restaurant in Times Square for brunch. The tenants just had a baby, and were going to have an abortion when they found out they were pregnant, and my mom was like, "I know where you live, and I will beat you down, because you're both in your 40's, and you're not going to have this chance again. Also, I know where you live."

So they had the baby, and are super thrilled! (The husband joined AA because he wanted to be around to see his son grow up, and hasn't touched a drop of liquor since.) So, we all go to the Marriott Marquis in Times Square.

This is a note if you're not from NYC, but you think you may head there: THE VIEW restaurant at the top of the Marriott spins slowly so you can see the whole city, is RARELY fully booked, and has a STUPID GOOD buffet. People are always like, "Oh, buffets are crap." This buffet has fresh oysters, five different HUGE stations, and these gourmet desserts that are so good, you want to open your mouth, tip the table back, and let it all slide down your throat. So. Good.

So I called ahead. Oh, no, you don't need reservations for the Buffet, please feel free to just walk in... which is what I figured they'd say.

We get there, ALL OF US, and we're told by the woman in the hotel that the buffet is a SPECIAL mother's day buffet, and is fully booked, has been so for two weeks, and they're very sorry. So was I! I felt terrible! Our tenant lost her mother 18 years ago, and has not had a good mother's day since, until THIS YEAR when she had her little wonder-baby, and this was her FIRST MOTHER'S DAY, and I just F*ED IT UP! I felt like the worst person of all time.

So we go to another restaurant in the hotel, but they say lunch doesn't start for 20 minutes. So we all go and sit by the Starbucks.

"Well," my mom says, "I think I'm just going to go upstairs to the View, and see if we can't just go and take everyone to just see it real fast." This is actually my mom's code for, "F* this shit. I'mma work this!" So she heads to the 47th floor.

We sit by the starbucks, and a few minutes later our tenant looks at me and says, "You know, I think if anyone can get us into a fully booked restaurant, it'll be your mom." Two minutes later, my phone rings.

I. Kid. You. Not.

"Get up here. I got us a table. I'm hungry. Let's eat."

I don't know what she said/did/paid someone else to do, but we got up there, and there was a table for 6 ready and waiting for us.

Because my mom is badass like that.