Aggravated Assault With

Cookies? Where do people come up with these ideas? Just imagine how great the world would be if people with this kind of creativity would put it to GOOD use instead of stupidity.

You Should See My Inbox

Do I ever get some doozies! I have hundreds to share but only time for one today so here goes:

BLESS MOTHERS WHO DRUGGED US!

The other day, someone at a store in our town read that a methamphetamine lab had been found in an old farmhouse in the adjoining county and he asked me a rhetorical question: "Why didn't we have a drug problem when you and I were growing up?"

I replied: I had! a drug problem when I was young:

I was drug to church on Sunday morning. I was drug to church for weddings and funerals.

I was drug to family reunions and community socials no matter the weather.

I was dry by my ears when I was disrespectful to adults.

I was also drug to the woodshed when I disobeyed my parents, told a lie, brought home a bad report card, did not speak with respect, spoke ill of the teacher or preacher, or if I didn't put forth my best effort in everything that was asked of me.

I was drug to the kitchen sink to have my mouth washed out with soap if I uttered a profane four-letter word.

I was drug out to pull weeds in mom's garden and flowerbeds and cockelburs out of dad's fields.

I was drug to the homes of family, friends, and neighbors to help out some poor soul who had no one to mow the yard, repair the clothesline, or chop some firewood; and if my mother had ever known that I took a single dime as a tip for this kindness, she would have drug me back to the woodshed.

Those drugs are still in my veins; and they affect my behavior in everything I do, say, and think. They are stronger than cocaine, crack, or heroin; and if today's children had this kind of drug problem, America would be a better place.

Louise

I Thought My Eyes Were Deceiving Me

When I looked around and thought that peoples' asses were not only getting larger but that the number of those large asses has increased. Michigan ranks 44 in prevalence of obesity with 28.8% of the population being obese, compared to 14.1% in 1990. At first I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me, and then I thought maybe it was due to dissatisfaction with my own exponentially larger ass, projecting onto other people. Now I see that it really is the case. In only 17 years, we've more than doubled the percentage of the population who are obese.

Consider the medical ramifications of this: More diabetes, more hypertension, more respiratory difficulties, more musculoskeletal disorders. Big Pharma and Sisters are going to have a high time with this trend, though: More medications for obesity-related health disorders, more medications for weight loss efforts, more diet programs and related products, more bariatric surgeries, more money, more money, more money.

This might explain why every time I go into Wal-Mart to buy some clothes, the only sizes I can find are either XS or 3XL, and nothing in between. Back in the "good old days" I never saw anything larger than XL hanging on the racks (my size preference due to my breast. . . "problems". . . they're too damn big). I guess I either have to lose some weight and get my boobs cut off so I can wear the XS or eat some more Twinkies so I can fit in the 3XL. I could just go back to making my own clothes, but that sounds a lot like WORK.

A Day Off

I saw this floating around back in the Dark Ages when I first started working (away from the farm and for actual taxable money, ya know?). I couldn't resist and had to scam a copy, filed it away and forgot about it for, oh, just about 20-odd years.

I found it.

You're gonna LOVE this one!

"A DAY OFF"

So you want a day off.  Let's take a look at what you are asking for:

There are 365 days per year available for work.
There are 52 weeks per year in which you already have
2 days off per week, leaving 261 day available for work.
Since you spend 16 hours each day away from work,
you have used up 170 days, leaving only 91 days available.
You spend 30 minutes each day on coffee break.
That accounts for 23 days each year, leaving only
68 days available.
With a one-hour lunch period each day, you have
used up another 46 days, leaving only 22 days available for
work.
You normally spend 2 days per year on sick leave.
This leaves you only 20 days available for work.
We are off for 5 holidays per year, so your available
working time is down to 15 days
We generously give you 14 days of vacation per year,
which leaves only 1 day available for work,
and I'll be damned if you're going to take that day off!!!

Recall of the Week

Seems we've had so many recalls on products and foods lately, it's just ordinary news. Here's our recall of the week, Frozen Pizzas.

If it's not news about recalls for contaminated food, it's news about the next outbreak of MRSA. Hitting a little close to home with a recent area school closing.

Just where are we driving ourselves here, people? I used to hear rumors about the downfall of civilization due to HIV/AIDS, but I notice that isn't in the news much any more. Recalls and MRSA sure are taking a lot of headlines, though. Ahh, the times are a-changin.

Future of America

Unbelievable. A whole collection of stupidity all packed into just about 4 minutes.

5 W's and an H

Some more "reevaluating" going on here, folks. Bear with me. Sometimes I'm a little (OK, a lot) hard-headed and feel compelled to pick apart every detail, and this self-analysis is no exception. It's been one of the most difficult things I've ever done and certainly the most revealing.

Who?

I'm just me. No more, no less. It took a long time to come to grips with the fact that I needed to be ME and not who everyone else wanted me to be, learning to be comfortable with who I am, accepting the fact that there was nothing wrong with being me, and moving on with my life as the best person I could be. Sometimes I fail and that's OK, too, as long as I learn along the way. The failures are as much a part of me as the successes, and the experience of those failures and what I've learned from them makes me a better person. I've also learned that I need to allow others in my life to have the same presence of being that I expect for myself: They are who they are and I should not try to change them into what I want them to be but accept them as they are and see that they are still a part of me.

What?
I am many things, but of great value to me is that fact that I am and will forever be a mom, daughter, sister, wife--not always the best, I admit, but I can and will try to do better. I will hold my children in my heart always, even after they've spread their own wings. I'm too big to curl up on dad's lap, but I can still tell him I love him. I'd give my left arm (you know, the FUNCTIONING one) to be able to give one last hug to my mom and tell her that I love her. Having gained acceptance of myself and others, I have fallen in love with my husband all over again.

When?
Right now. I can't live in the past, but I can learn from it. I can't live only for the future, but we need dreams and goals to get from one day to the next. We need to be honorable in forming those goals and fulfilling those dreams, not full of vindictiveness and pettiness, cruelty and hatred, selfishness and greed. I honestly feel I can say I lay no claim to these motivations myself but know individuals in whom these lie at their very core and with recent events, I need to be careful I don't follow that path or I will have become the same as them. That's not the future I want to live for, the present I want to find myself in, or the past I want to be remembered by.

Where?
Right here, holding out my hand, asking you to hold it. I cannot withdraw inside myself, hiding from harm. I've found that by hiding, I am missing the wonders in life; and harm seeks you out in other ways, so there is no escaping it anyhow. The risks outweigh the benefits, I guess. Enjoy what you have while you have it because it won't be around forever.

Why?
I've learned recently I need to stop asking this question so much. It's the bane of my existence, always wanting to know the WHY of things, and sometimes there is no answer that any PERSON can provide. I need to keep my faith in God's plan and someday he will reveal the WHY to me, and only THEN will my quest for knowledge be complete.

How?
Take my hand and walk with me on this journey. I see that I cannot go it alone. I give my soul to the Lord, but I give my friendship to you. I know I need to turn to Him in my hour of need for strength and courage and wisdom, but if He didn't want us to draw on each other as well, would He have put us all here together in the first place?

Reevaluation

I've had a lot of time to think these past few weeks--not really considering my life decisions with regret, just making a reevaluation and thinking about where I've been, where I am, and where I'm going.

Part of me loves to analyze, criticize, and hypothesize and I've made a mission of finding ways to make things better, more efficient, more productive, or just more fun. I finally see that it is long past time I sat down and did exactly that with regards to ME instead of the people, places, and things around me. Had I done this years ago, I might have realized a few things (among others):

• I spend too much time trying to do things or effect changes on my own instead of asking for help from or delegating responsibility to others.
• I spend too much time trying to control each aspect of my life, sometimes questioning God's plan for me and often trying to cut my own trail through life's jungle instead of "following the beaten path" (regardless of whether that path is wide or narrow, I want to go my own way even if it's directly through thorny bushes).
  
• I spend too much time thinking and analyzing and not enough time laughing and loving.
• I focus too much on trivial things and not enough on those that truly matter, not realizing that those things, taking up so much of my focus, are things I might be better off without in the first place and in the end diminish the important ones.
  
• I have not appreciated enough the people I love/d and that love/d me in return, unconditionally, and the gifts I had been bestowed until they were gone.

I don't know what part of the "grieving process" this is or if it's just a wake-up call, but I see now that it is time to listen, understand, and make the changes I need to in order to move on with my life. Yet another chapter closed, pen in hand, waiting to see what the next chapter will bring.

I have been an iceberg all my time, but the warm salty seas have lapped at my sides and diminished my former proud presence, leaving me drowning in a sea of tears and seemingly no land in sight. The land is there, I just need to open my inner eyes to really "see" it. It may not be lush and green--it may be rocky and steep--but it IS there.

Lessons I've learned:
Learn.
Laugh.
Most importantly, love.
And it only took me 35 years to learn them.


God is our refuge and strength,
an ever-present help in trouble.
Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way
and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea.
Psalm 46:1-2

I See What It Takes Now!

AHA, that last post actually elicited some responses! WOOOOOO HOOOOOOO!

OK, folks, if you liked that one, here we go with some more.

These are some more folks you really need to check out:

Shannon
Christy
Vanessa
Phil
Ev
Dorky Dad

Go on, click the links. You know you WANNA.

Good Grief

I was enjoying a while back readers coming and going quite regularly and leaving me comments (which I absolutely ADORE since I'm a comment freak). Then my life turned upside down with my MRI scan followed my sad, pitiful life being smashed on the concrete a few weeks ago and I dropped out of circulation for a while. So sorry about that. Truly I am.

In case you haven't noticed, I'm kind of back, a little bit, somewhat, in spirit if not in body - so where the heck did the readers go? I know some of you are still coming around but lawdy do I miss you folks!

If I've offended anyone, sorry about that, too (not really because this is MY soapbox but you get the point - it's mostly in good fun anyhow and poo-poo on you if you can't take it - hee hee). Get your butts back here for pity sake, make me feel like I'm useful to SOMEONE out there in this horrific world.

Anyhoo. . . Even if you don't feel an overwhelming desire to come and check out the train wreck that is my life, you really should go visit some of these people (and many more, but I only have about 10 minutes to do this post):

Count and Ms. Count
Jo
Dazd
Becky
Dawn
Diamondssaphire
Diesel
Annie
Karly

Go. See them. They have good stuff. You should also visit every single one of the blogs in my pull-downs on the side. Yes. Just go, and have some fun!

Future of America

Yeah, talk about home-grown idiots. Makes me proud to be an American, where we breed and raise this kind of walking, talking feces to be the "future of America." Shoot me now.

New Email

MY QUILT

As I faced my Maker at the last judgment,
I knelt before the Lord along with all the other souls.

Before each of us laid our lives like the squares of a quilt in many piles.
An angel sat before each of us, sewing our quilt squares together
into a tapestry that is our life.

But as my angel took each piece of cloth off the pile,
I noticed how ragged and empty each of my squares was.
They were filled with giant holes.
Each square was labeled with a part of my life that had been difficult,
the challenges and temptations I was faced with in everyday life.
I saw hardships that I endured, which were the largest holes of all.

I glanced around me.
Nobody else had such squares.
Other than a tiny hole here and there, the other tapestries
were filled with rich color and the bright hues of worldly fortune.
I gazed upon my own life and was disheartened.
My angel was sewing the ragged pieces of cloth together,
threadbare and empty, like binding air.

Finally the time came when each life was to be displayed,
held up to the light, the scrutiny of truth.
The others rose; each in turn, holding up their tapestries.
So filled their lives had been.
My angel looked upon me, and nodded for me to rise.

My gaze dropped to the ground in shame.
I hadn't had all the earthly fortunes.
I had love in my life, and laughter.
But there had also been trials of illness, and wealth,
and false accusations that took from me my world, as I knew it.
I had to start over many times.
I often struggled with the temptation to quit,
only to somehow muster the strength to pick up and begin again.
I spent many nights on my knees in prayer,
asking for help and guidance in my life.
I had often been held up to ridicule, which I endured painfully,
each time offering it up to the Father in hopes that I would not
melt within my skin beneath the judgmental gaze of those
who unfairly judged me.

And now, I had to face the truth.
My life was what it was, and I had to accept it for what it was.
I rose and slowly lifted the combined squares of my life to the light.

An awe-filled gasp filled the air.
I gazed around at the others who stared at me with wide eyes.

Then, I looked upon the tapestry before me.
Light flooded the many holes, creating an image, the face of Christ.
Then our Lord stood before me, with warmth and love in His eyes.
He said, 'Every time you gave over your life to Me,
it became My life, My hardships, and My struggles.

Each point of light in your life is when you stepped aside and let Me
shine through, until there was more of Me than there was of you.'

May all our quilts be threadbare and worn, allowing Christ to shine through!

God determines who walks into your life....
it's up to you to decide who you let walk away,
who you let stay,
and who you refuse to let go.'

I need this back. If you'll do this for me, I'll do it for you....
When there is nothing left but God, that is when you find out that
God is all you need.

Becoming an Illegal Alien

I got this in my email a while back, and I found it very. . . interesting. Time to take back the USA, folks.


The Honorable Tom Harkin
731 Hart Senate Office Building
Phone (202) 224 3254
Washington DC , 20510

Dear Senator Harkin,

As a native Iowan and excellent customer of the Internal Revenue Service, I am writing to ask for your assistance. I have contacted the Department of Homeland Security in an effort to determine the process for becoming an illegal alien and they referred me to you.

My primary reason for wishing to change my status from US. Citizen to illegal alien stems from the bill which was recently passed by the Senate and for which you voted. If my understanding of this bill's provisions is accurate, as an illegal alien who has been in the United States for five years, all I need to do to become a citizen is to pay a $2,000 fine and income taxes for three of the last five years. I know a good deal when I see one and I am anxious to get the process started before everyone figures it out.

Simply put, those of us who have been here legally have had to pay taxes every year so I'm excited about the prospect of avoiding two years of taxes in return for paying a $2,000 fine. Is there any way that I can apply to be illegal retroactively? This would yield an excellent result for me and my family because we paid heavy taxes in 2004 and 2005.

Additionally, as an illegal alien I could begin using the local emergency room as my primary health care provider. Once I have stopped paying premiums for medical insurance, my accountant figures I could save almost $10,000 a year.

Another benefit in gaining illegal status would be that my daughter would receive preferential treatment relative to her law school applications, as well as "in-state" tuition rates for many colleges throughout the United States for my son.

Lastly, I understand that illegal status would relieve me of the burden of renewing my driver' s license and making those burdensome car insurance premiums. This is very important to me given that I still have college age children driving my car.

If you would provide me with an outline of the process to become illegal (retroactively if possible) and copies of the necessary forms, I would be most appreciative. Thank you for your assistance.

Your Loyal Constituent,
Donald Ruppert
Burlington, IA

Get your Forms (NOW)!! Call your Internal Revenue Service 1-800-289-1040.

Please pass this onto your friends so they can save on this great offer!!!!

B-B-B-Buggin

I've been completely buggin the last few days. My mouse wasn't working right (it was moving the cursor up and down but not side to side, and it's clean inside so no clue what happened there) so I put a cheap junk one on the computer that I had laying around. Exactly 38 seconds later, the scroll wheel fell inside the mouse between the right and left click buttons. Talk about a piss-me-off kind of thing to have happen. I use my scroll wheel A LOT. I was trying to deal with it, use it as a "regular" mouse without the scroll wheel, but it wasn't going very well and there were a lot of tears shed on my part (and more than a few cuss words).

Anyhoo. . . Mom-law was up visiting and (I think it was her, anyhow) got me a brand-new mouse at Wal-Mart. It is wireless and I was worried that it wouldn't work with my KVM switch (yeah, I have multiple computers for my multiple jobs--don't roll your eyes at me). I hooked it up, though, and it worked fine. I'm feeling much better now, cruising along with my little wheel.

If only the other problems in my life were so easily solved.

What's Up With That?

Am I the only one noticing the massive numbers of product recalls the last few months? I know I barked about this before, but it seems like they've increased even more since then.

Be careful of what you eat, you could get a dangerous bacteria and get very sick and possibly die. Be careful of what medications you take, you could have a heart attack and die. Be careful of what products you purchase for your child, they could be hurt or die. Be careful what you feed your dog or cat, he could get sick and die. Honestly, who's watching over this stuff?

Pot pies, Baby Yoplait, pet food, hamburger, baby cribs, children's toys, green beans, defibrillators, infant medicines. What's next? It's not just what you eat anymore, either. Defibrillators placed for heart function? Cribs to put babies to sleep in? Toys for children to play with?

Again begging the question, how long are we safe?

Thoughts from Archie

That was one funny guy, Archie Bunker--calling them as he saw them. Now, Archie said a lot of stuff he shouldn't have, but some of the stuff that did come out of his mouth made you laugh because of how blunt and real-world it was (and still is). The way he slaughtered words was my favorite though.

Entertainment is a thing of the past. Today we've got television.

I got nothing against mankind. It's people I can't stand.

I want you all to synchronize your tongues to silence.

If you liberals keep getting your way, we're all gonna hear one big loud flush. The sound of the U.S. of A goin' straight down the toilet.

There's nothing wrong with revenge. It's the best way to get even!

Like the Good Book says: "Let him who is without sin be the rolling stone."

Future of America

Or what about these guys? Maybe with any luck, the one who racks his nuts won't be producing any offspring to do this kind of stuff.

Future of America

Yeah, these ass-hats take the cake (and probably tried to smoke the damn thing, too).

Not Enough of These in the World

Driving through town and see Little Caesar's has put a new sign up:

NOW HIRING ASS MANAGER

Yeah. I guess there aren't enough ass managers in the world, Caesar's needs to go look for some more.

(Yes, I know they mean "assistant" manager, but come on, they couldn't be bothered to hang another "T" on the fucking sign? Lazy and stupid, so they really MUST need an ass manager, or else it was just one of the idiot kids in town fucking with the sign, so who really knows?)

Hope for the Best

Hope for the best, expect the worst. I'm a glass-half-full kind of girl. At least, I used to be until the past few weeks.

Lately I've become a glass-smashed-on-concrete-and-shards-kicked-around kind of person. If I just give up hope and have no positive expectations (especially "good always triumphs over evil"--I think THAT'S a crock of shit now, too), and just embrace the fact that the worst will happen, PERIOD, there might be a chance it will not completely destroy my soul when I am finally smashed and kicked around like the proverbial glass. The worst part of the destruction of one's soul isn't it's actual demise (at least not from this chair), it's the process the destroyer puts the destroyee through to crush them BEFORE stomping them to dust.

I have my faith in God but have lost my faith in humanity. How can any of us have faith in this beast called "man" when we continue to be evil to each other, allow it to continue and even perpetuate it by turning a blind eye? "It's not my problem." "It doesn't concern me." We fail to realize, though, that it DOES concern us and it IS our problem if we have the power to stop it and we do nothing. We're not civilized, and I think there's little hope for mankind as a whole.

I don't like feeling like this, not at all. It goes against the very nature of every fiber in my being. I've been talking to God a lot, and I sure hope he is listening. I've got a pretty big mouth and a pretty big heart and a pretty big soul, so I think he can't help but hear me. That's probably why the destruction is so painful, since I have so much "where it counts" and it takes a lot more work to tear someone like me down, so the tearing just hurts that much more.

Please keep me and my family in your thoughts and prayers. It's probably tacky to ask but I need help right now and am asking for you to hold my hand.

Lots of love,
A.

Thoughts From Jules

Well, I'm a mushroom cloud-laying motherfucker, motherfucker.

Now look, maybe your method of massage differs from mine, but, you know, touchin' his wife's feet and stickin' your tongue in her Holiest of Holies ain't the same fuckin' ballpark, it ain't the same league, it ain't even the same fuckin' sport. Look, foot massages don't mean shit.

Whether or not what we experienced was an According to Hoyle miracle is insignificant. What is significant is that I felt the touch of God. God got involved.

ENGLISH, MOTHERFUCKER! DO-YOU-SPEAK-IT?

The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the iniquities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness, for he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who would attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know my name is the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon thee.

Hey, sewer rat may taste like pumpkin pie, but I'd never know 'cause I wouldn't eat the filthy motherfucker. Pigs sleep and root in shit. That's a filthy animal. I ain't eat nothin' that ain't got enough sense enough to disregard its own feces.

If my answers frighten you then you should cease asking scary questions.

Hamburgers. The cornerstone of any nutritious breakfast.

I'll just walk the earth. . . You know, walk the earth, meet people. . . get into adventures. Like Caine from "Kung Fu."

Still Alive and Kicking

I'm still alive but having the most difficult and trying time I've ever been through in my life. I appreciate your thoughts and prayers and am very thankful for my Lord and my friends to help me right now. Sorry to be so vague, but it's a long and horrific story that I pray comes to a peaceful ending soon and I will be able to share more with you sometime.

Until then, thank you again for your support and encouragement and one of these days we'll all sit around and I'll share my Mountain Dew and Cheetos and we'll catch up on everything I've missed.

Future of America

Yet more proof that stupid people shouldn't breed.

Thinking of the Holidays

I stopped over to visit Santa at his Wish Tree site and came across this wonderful poem. "Will you share? Will you help?" It got me to thinking about another Christmas poem my folks-in-law sent me a link to a while back, Teach The Children, about Santa and the meaning of Christmas. It's very moving to see great blogs like Santa's, ones that have a purpose beyond the limited use I've put my own to.

It's hard to believe September is flying by and Thanksgiving and Christmas are right around the corner (*gag* and another birthday) with a New Year right on their tails. Where is the time going?

When It Rains. . .

Miss-thing (big girl) lost another tooth today at school. Thankfully the teacher put it in an envelope and put it in her backpack to bring home. It's her "lucky lost tooth." The kid's turning this into a regular money-making venture. My little entrepreneur.

Three of the kids went back to school yesterday (THANK YOU, LORD). Middle girl's school starts next week (she goes to a school in a different district because they offer a hearing-impaired program) but her start gets kicked off later than that since she's going in for heart surgery next week. Say a prayer, keep your fingers crossed, keep us in your thoughts, whatever method of well-wishing floats your boat, please. AND. . . my littlest girl is being tested for preschool this Friday, and she can't WAIT to start school so she can ride the bus like "Sissy."

My nest is feeling emptier by the day, and my uterus has gone from chanting to shrieking at my fickle ovaries. I'm a mess, but you already knew that, didn't you? Guess I'd better talk to my neurologist at my appointment next week (finally, 6 weeks after my MRI). I've read that MS symptoms tend to go into remission during pregnancy, so I'm trying to convince hubby-man to keep me barefoot and pregnant as long as possible. He's having a stroke, of course. Hey, if God wants me to have more babies, He'll make my uterus and ovaries keep on working. Look at Jim Bob and Michelle.

Oh Yeah, Uh-huh - WOOOOO!

Couldn't be truer if I do say so myself. Must be the gallons of Mountain Dew I willingly submit myself to every day. I'M ALL JACKED UP ON THE STUFF! LOL

This is actually pretty dang amusing.

A whole 94%?????

You Are 94% Non Conformist

You're incredibly strange. And a weirdness like yours takes skill to cultivate! No one really understands you. And you're cool with that. You just hope you never have to understand them!

Are You a Nonconformist?

Good News for the UP

Finally, the blaze in Michigan's Upper Peninsula is coming under control. Over 18,000 acres and $6 million later, this is the 3rd largest fire in state history. It's very sad, thinking about the thousands of acres of woodland gone up in smoke in an area I've frequented dozens of times including the Tahquamenon Falls area, where hubby-man and I went for our "honeymoon."

Have I Got a Cure For You

I have the answer to world peace. I can eliminate hunger across the globe, wipe out unemployment, and make the health care access crisis a distant memory. I can stamp out child abuse and domestic violence. I can clean up crime, drugs, and abuse of firearms. I can eliminate the National Debt and all manner of financial woes. You name it, I can fix it. I have the answer.

The answer is gonna piss a lot of people off, but it's the answer nonetheless. It's too bad the ones carrying the wallet of the world get to make the decisions, since they make them based on what's going to put more in that wallet instead of what's best for the future of humanity.

Thoughts From Ross

H. Ross Perot, of course.

Now the average citizen can't relate to a billion or a trillion. A million dollars in thousand-dollar bills is a stack of 1000$ bills, four inches high. A billion dollars in 1000$ bills is 300 feet high. A trillion dollars in 1000$ bills extends from the top of [this] table to 63 miles out in space.

The activist is not the man who says the river is dirty. The activist is the man who cleans up the river.

Your country is like your children. It's fundamentally important that you love them, but you need to work on any problems that come along.

We don't like government business. We don't do any business direct with the government. Because to the government a horse is an animal with four legs, a head, and a tail, whether it's a jack-ass or a race horse.

We've got a patient whose heart has stopped beating and has broken fingers and toes, and all the politicians want to talk about is the fingers and toes. I want to go straight to the heart.

When the history of junk bonds is written, I think the fist sentence should be, 'Junk bonds, by definition, were junk.

Versatility in a Nifty Four-Letter Package

I love the word "fuck." I sprinkle it over my conversations when I get upset, angry, or just plain excited. It's the perfect "sentence enhancer" (thank you, Patrick Star) and makes your language very colorful indeed. The secret is knowing when to stifle it and when to let it roar. (I have a huge mouth and have a really hard time stifling, and those little fuckers tend to slip out from time to time without my control. I'm actually shocked that I don't use it here more, but whatever.) Yeah, my lips are tingling from the spiciness of the conversation.

I've seen this floating around in various versions for the better part of 20-some years, but this is one of the more up-to-date, all-encompassing, and best laid out versions I've seen describing the versatility and uses of the word "fuck." If you're offended by the word, by all means, DO NOT CLICK THE LINK.

I Love My Job

I really, really do. It's one of the few jobs I can think of that doesn't take a degree in rocket science and still keeps you on your toes, where you learn something new every single day. Mostly I love this job for what are considered "bloopers," sometimes caught by the person dictating and sometimes not. I've been doing this type of job for, oh, the past 19 years in different fields, predominantly medical and legal (and often the two go hand-in-hand). You can't help but giggle when you hear someone cussing in the background or even right into the microphone. You have to literally laugh out loud when you hear them say something completely off the wall and unexpected, realize what they've said, and then follow it up with "Oh, shit, take that out." Sometimes you have to shake your head in disbelief that someone would say something so blatantly hilarious without having that intention.

A few of my favorite snippets from the years have included:

• "She was struck with another cheerleader while at cheerleader camp." (How the hell do you strike someone with a cheerleader?)
• "The patient's sister died at age 100 of unknown causes." (I would guess OLD AGE or NATURAL CAUSES, but anyhow).
• "He is just so arrogant, it is hard to believe him." (ROFL)
• "He/she complains of [...]. She/he has been having symptoms of [...]. He/she will undergo [...]" (referring to a trans-gendered patient in the process of sex change - ummm, I think I would have settled on the sex the patient was converting to, rather than "he/she")
• "The patient complains he smells bad...Wait, no, that's not right...The patient complains his sense of smell is bad." (Do we really wanna go there?)
• "Ah, shit, I don't know what I'm saying. Just make me sound good." (Sometimes easier said than done, but I love ya anyhow)
  
• "Angie, you know what the hell I'm saying, so just put it in there." (I get paid to mind read now, too? Where's the frigging bonus check?)
  

WOW

Have I had a lot to say or a have I had a lot to say? Yet very little of it that made much sense or mattered very much. Interesting.

I'm sitting here pondering the answer to the question of life, the universe, and everything (which is 42, if you didn't know). Sitting and watching my cat from the corner of my eye and thinking about grilled cat. Yes, she needs to be grilled up. She's sitting here licking the condensation off the side of my Mountain Dew bottle when she's got a perfectly good bowl of water sitting there. Unless she's a Dew addict like me and I managed to dribble some down the side of the bottle when I poured myself a glass and THAT'S what she's licking . . . In that case, I guess she can't be grilled. Sneaking up on her prey:

BUSTED! Is this a look of guilt, or what? It actually looks kind of menacing, like "get outta my face, beyotch!" Fierce, huh? Mice tremble in her presence. And birds. And squirrels. And small snakes. She's weird.

Swamped, Sorry

Too much work, too little time, I’ll post tomorrow. Till then visit Count. Nah, I'm just kidding. I do have too much work and too little time, but I can't guarantee I'll post tomorrow so I had better do it today. Seriously, you really should go visit Count and Mrs. Count when you have a chance, though. You should also visit some of the other awesome blogs I like to read, easily found in my sidebar pull-down menus.

Did you ever get that as a kid? I'd ask my mom something and she'd tell me to ask my dad. I'd ask my dad, and he'd tell me to ask my mom. It was a vicious circle. I was smart enough to figure out to stop asking them stuff since I already knew the answer they'd give me and have always hated repeating myself and/or wasting my breath. I stuck my face in books to find the answers I wanted. I know not everyone loves to read, though, so I don't mind answering questions. My philosophy is, the only dumb questions are the ones you don't ask. Go ahead and ask me anything; if I don't know the answer, I'll make one up for you.

Anyhow, I'm soooooo delinquent on some stuff here, so let's try to clear some up now while I'm just sitting here, unable to sleep and unable to concentrate to work or even read a good book.

In order of oldest age (not cuz I think you're old, but because yours is the oldest tag I've neglected; you know I love ya, Ev, and not like that!):
Ev from My Life is Murphy's law tagged me with a 10 Things I Hate Meme:

1. Food I hate: OMG, I hate liver, too! It's just nasty in flavor and texture and has a rather disturbing appearance in its raw form, yet still surprisingly aesthetically disturbing in cooked form. Why is that?
2. Fruit I hate: I can't stand grapefruit. I'm such a banana. Oh, wait. . . I'm an iceberg. Whatever.
3. Veggie I hate: Lima beans. I was traumatized by lima beans as a child. Again, that flavor and texture thing. And the trauma.
   
4. Celebrities/People I hate: I can't say I hate anyone in particular, but I sure am sickened by some of the things people do.
5. Event/Situation/Incident that I hate: The loss of much of the use the right side of my body. I'm right handed and it's a bitch trying to learn to do things left handed. I'm too damn old to learn new tricks.
6. TV shows/movies that I hate: Ummmm. . . I don't really know. I rarely get very far into any program or movie before I become unconscious, so I don't know what I hate or what I love. Neiner, neiner neiner!
   
7. Music I hate: Music with derogatory/hateful lyrics.
8. Household chores that I hate: Much like Ev, NOT MY DEPARTMENT. I bring home the bacon, I don't cook it and I sure as hell don't clean up after it's cooked. That's my "wife's" job (yeah, *snicker* my wife. Go ahead and call him that like I do and see how many finger gestures NOT related to American Sign Language you get! ROFL)
9. Things that you hate around the world: "The world" consists of me and what is mine (yes, that includes YOU, my readers) and I don't hate anything about what belongs to me other than my traitorous central nervous system.
10. Things that you hate about yourself: "Nothing. I’m perfect." *DOUBLE SNORT* Yeah, I'm perfect, too. Inside, where it counts. Other than that, please see above.

Thanks, Ev, this was fun! Now, if you liked this meme, consider yourself tagged.

NEXT UP is my blog-sis Diamond over at Nonsense, Tears. . . , who has tagged me with the Seven P's of Me: WVb A blog about everything and more created this meme called the 7 P's in an effort to learn more about the blogs they read on a regular basis.

• Passion: My children
  
• Purpose: Changing things for the better when I am able and accepting those that I cannot
  
• Pursuit: (Passion + Purpose = Pursuit)
  
• Position: Society's going down the shitter, so someone better either flush or grab a plunger
  
• Pummeling: Abuse of the government by the government for the government
• Progress: Two steps forward and three steps back; at this rate, I should be in China by Easter 2008
  
• Personality: I'm just me, and if someone doesn't like it, TOUGH NOODLES
  

Thanks for the linky love, Jo. Right back at ya, hon. Yeah, we're too much alike. We even look alike, if I had blonde hair, green eyes, a different nose, a smaller mouth. . .

And last but certainly not least, I LOVE TWISTED SISTERS! OMG, thank you so, so much for this totally awesome Luv Badge. I love yours, too! I'm so addicted to it, I've gotta have it in my feed reader (along with all the other blogs above in this post - go ahead, READ THEM!) and several others. I can't tear myself up by choosing more blogs I love to pass this on to, so I award it to everyone I love.

I love that you love my blog. I love that you actually keep coming back for more of my psychological diarrhea. Now it's time for me to go feel all fuzzy and warm inside (a new experience for someone as crusty as me) from all the love y'all keep throwing my way.

It's kind of weird, glowing from something that doesn't involve a mental picture of my husband getting kicked in the nads by a pair of steel-toed boots.

Future of America

Where do they breed these kids at? How do these kids get so stupid? And just think: THIS IS THE FUTURE OF AMERICA!

More Milestones

My big girl is so proud of herself today: She lost her first tooth and can't wait to trade that sucker in for cold hard cash courtesy of the Tooth Fairy:


Every 10 minutes, "Mom, see my tooth?" and "Mom, I won't forget to put my tooth under the pillow for the Tooth Fairy" and "Mom. . . Mom. . . Mom. . . " It's been a lot of years since the boys lost their first teeth and it's just "deja vu all over again."

The other girls trying to copy "Sissy":



My middle girl was excited yesterday when she picked out frames for new glasses (she broke the last pair she owned so badly they can't be fixed) because they were PURPLE. Three different frames (gotta have spares, ya know), all purple. They are "princess" glasses. She cried when she couldn't take the display frames home with her, upset that she has to wait a 5 to 7 days to get her new purple glasses. The lady at Wal-Mart almost cried, too, when she saw those big crocodile tears because she couldn't give them to her yesterday. She made a huge effort for us, trying to get a rush order from the lab, since our girl's going in for heart surgery in a couple of weeks and needs her glasses before she goes - it would be scary for a deaf child who relies on her vision for communication to be in a strange environment if she didn't have them before she went in.

My baby girl is getting ready to start school in the Early Childhood Program, and she can't wait. "Bus." "School." "Backpack." Every day she reminds me she's going to school, and it tears my heart up. I'm just not ready to let go yet; she's only 3. She gets speech therapy, though, when she goes, so I know it's for the best.

They just grow up too fast.

Totally One of Those Days

No, this isn't mine - yet. I do manage to keep my cigarettes in the ashtray and I don't drink alcohol (again - YET). I do, however, have a rather large bottle of Tums sitting on the hutch above my monitor. . .

What Will They Do

What will they do in a couple of years when it's no longer "cool" to have gigantic holes where gigantic holes don't belong? On their wedding day? On their first job interview?

Seriously, beyond the initial shock factor, what's this really worth?

It's Official

I am now the proud owner of a 16-year-old boy. I'm sitting here trying to remember my own 16th birthday but, let's face it, that was just too damn long ago. It's confusing, seeing time go by so fast. My sweet baby boy's not a "baby" anymore, at least in his eyes. He'll ALWAYS be my baby, whether he's 16 or 60. Where did all the years go? No, it's no consolation that I've got 5 more here under my wings, they'll turn 16 themselves in due time, and my heart gets to ache 5 more times, every time it happens.

It's time to get a new photo done (this was from last summer) but my middle son decided to shave his head (don't ask) and I'm pretty pissed about it, so now the photo has to wait until his hair grows out again. But, hey, don't I have awesome kids?

Future of America

Be frightened - very, very frightened.

After all, this is the FUTURE OF AMERICA here.

Yeah, Right, All Over Again

As if it isn't enough that the Upper Peninsula is on fire and I can't go there for vacation, hubby-man checked the extended weather forecast for the Traverse City area and it's supposed to rain all next week. I have a feeling we're staying home after all. If we do, I'm gonna have to break out the cat o' nine tails and make this herd work on my house and get it finished once and for all.

I'm having a mad craving for Chester's Cheesy Puffcorn. I don't know what's up with that. Only one store around here sells them (the itty bitty store near my house) and they had only one bag, so who knows when - or if - they will get more. And cucumbers. I'm dying for a cucumber. I think I should just go out in the kitchen and make a 42-pound batch of fudge and sit and eat it all. Fudge just like my grandma taught me to make. It's so good, it's better than sex. It's even better than Mountain Dew. Hell, it's better than Mountain Dew and sex together (not that I've tried that, I can't fathom the logistics of it and don't like getting sticky; I just mean the pleasure of both of them combined but not necessarily at the same time, kind of a synergistic thing, ya know). It's just yummy, creamy goodness in little brown squares (or big brown squares, depending on how you cut it in the pan). We're not talking fudge with marshmallow cream, either. It gets it's creaminess directly from Grandma. I'm the only one she taught how to make it, and it's all my secret now, so NEINER NEINER NEINER.

Ah, fuck me running with a baseball bat, I'm rambling again. I need some of that ever-elusive sleep.

My Demon Within

We're having a wrestling match, to see who wins control of this oh-so-lovely situation that has begun to rapidly spiral out of control - you know, the train wreck that is my life. The little bastard's gotten the upper hand over the last few days, but mostly because I haven't picked up the courage yet to kick him square in the scrote. Gimme time, I'm getting there. I've got issues about sack-kicking: Once upon a time many, many years ago, I kicked my cousin in the crotch, completely by accident, and I cried harder about it than he did. It devastated me so much having kicked him in the privates and making him cry, I swore I'd never kick anyone like that again. It's a hard habit to break, not kicking someone in the balls. You just have no idea!

Hubby-man told me about an incident when he was younger, getting kicked in the jewels by a foot clad in a steel-toed boot. Unfortunately, that's his story to share and not mine. (I do admit to a teeny, tiny sadistic streak in me that loves to bring out that particular mental picture and glow over it when he's a putz. I've been glowing a lot the last couple weeks. In fact, my glow level has gotten so intense, they could prop my ass up on the Whitefish Point tower and use me to ward ships off the shoals.)

Anywhoo. I'm still around, floating around (yes, I'm OK, Dawn; thanks for asking - big huggz to you). Just trying to get through the mad scramble that always seems to accompany a vacation around here (we're leaving Tuesday; I wanted to go Monday but the oldest boy is having a fit about it because that's his 16th birthday and "jeez, ma, I gotta get my tractor from the tractor show that day) when you have to pack for 6 kids and 2 adults to go spend a week (now less one day thanks to the doodie-head) in the woods in tents. Yeah, I sleep in the woods. I used to do it at least 5 or 6 times a summer but . . . then I got married. Learned my lesson, didn't I?

OH, and if this just ain't the pisser: I lost my vacation a couple weeks ago sitting in doctors' offices and was really excited about having another crack at a trip to the Upper Peninsula, until I found out the other day that THE FRIGGING UP IS ON FIRE. I'm thinking to myself, "Fuggit, no UP for you, beyotch."

Corporate America Hard At Work

Yet again, Big Money hard at work trying to pork the little guy who is trying to do some good for mankind:

Johnson & Johnson sues American Red Cross

It really IS all about money, isn't it?

Another New Hobby

For now, until I get bored with it like I did crocheting, painting plaster statues, cross-stitching, baking/cooking and creating my own recipes, and any number of other hobbies I've started and given up on after only a few months: I have a massive box of pictures that need to be sorted and put into albums, including dozens of rolls of vacation pictures from sites around Michigan (mostly Upper Peninsula). I am going to start scanning some of those Michigan pictures in (as soon as I clean out the bucket of sand one of the kids dumped into my printer/scanner) and sharing them, the history around the site, and how it made me feel to be somewhere history actually happened or just how I feel being surrounded by God's country.

A few of the places I have tons of photos of include:

• Sleeping Bear Dunes
• Mackinac Bridge (I love the history of the bridge and that entire area)
  
• Mackinac Island
• Tahquamenon Falls (summer AND winter)
  
• Fayette
• Copper Harbor
• Porcupine Mountains

This should keep me entertained for a little while, and you too, if you like history and/or pictures of historical or simply amazing places - all in my neck of the woods. It also forces me to get motivated to sort and album-ize my gazillions of pictures.

After All That Hemming and Hawing

We're going camping after all. Just for a couple of days, but it's still a couple of days my ass won't be stuck in the imprint in my chair and I can cut the chains that bind me to my desk 24/7. Where to go, where to go? The little kids have never been to Sleeping Bear Dunes, so maybe there. Traverse City is always nice. Oldest son turns 16 when we take off, needs to log hours for his driver's permit on different types of roads, so maybe I-75 all the way up to the Upper Peninsula and across the Mighty Mac? So much to think about, so much to pack. I need a frigging school bus to pack everyone and their shit but my poor, tired old vans will just have to do. I'm so excited, though, I might just pee my pants. I rarely get out of the house anymore, let alone up north.

I bet my chair will be lonely, not having my ass to keep it company.

I Love Being Worshipped

It's so awesome.

LOL I don't know if they REALLY worship me but sometimes it sure feels like it, when my stepdaughters and my two youngest babies absolutely MUST take the time - dozens of times a day - to hug me and kiss me and follow me all over the house, racing each other to knock me over and jump on me when I walk outside on break from work (all 4 of them at once, burying me on the bottom of the pile), screaming MOMMY and telling me how much they love me and just making me feel all gooey inside.

I love being a mom. It's the best job on Earth.

What's That? Say Again?

For those of you who don't know, I'm a transcriptionist by profession. A medical transcriptionist to be exact, although I've been known to transcribe documents for attorneys, teachers, and Indian chiefs from time to time. It's a pretty good gig, for the most part. It keeps me sharp because I have to make sure that not only is the grammar correct but that "left foot" doesn't turn into "right foot" somewhere in the report, someone's not being given 325 mg of Norvasc, and a lot of other really important stuff like that. While double-checking what's actually being dictated, I also have to double-check what I'm transcribing. It's pretty intense concentration we're talking about here (that's why John Cusack could walk in here and I'd completely miss him, then have to be pissed because I did - yes, I just looooooooooove John). It's a job I take very seriously and I treat every report as if it were my own. After all, a report could affect how someone receives medical care and I'm helping the doctor hold that patient's life in their hands.

There's a fun side to transcription, too, like when the doctor says something that just doesn't quite come out right, like "The patient smells bad," stops and thinks about it and then corrects himself to "The patient's sense of smell is bad." It's also pretty amusing when doctors address us directly (bless their hearts, I love being acknowledged as a person) but don't know exactly who is transcribing since we work in herds, calling us "transcriber" (that's the machine the tape goes in to work from), "stenographer" (that's an entirely different field), "dictator" (that's the doctor), "dictationist" (I don't think that's even a word), or my personal favorite: "hey, YOU."

"What's your point?" you ask. I guess I really don't have one. I'm stuck in ramble mode.

Oh, wait. I know what it is. This profession has long been a sort of gemstone in the non-clinical aspect of health care. It's perfect for someone like me doesn't have the stomach for phlebotomy, the oomph to be a nurse, or the money to become a doctor. Over the years it's evolved from using Selectric typewriters (you know, the ones with the little ball inside?) to electronic typewriters to using a PC and typing in a word processing program. This evolution has saved a lot of hair on my head: Whenever a doctor says "correction" and wants to correct/add to a statement he made 8 paragraphs up, I don't need to pull my hair out. Those were nightmare days in the early years, and I'm sure I'm not the only one who felt like shoving that Selectric up his ass when he did that since the whole document had to be re-typed.

The downside of this evolution into the computer age has meant the introduction of voice recognition software. The developers of these programs are putting people like me out of a job or, worse, turning us from the exalted transcriptionist into an editor. Don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with being a document editor if that's where you start out in the field, but for those of us who have been doing transcription for almost 20 years, it's painful. Along with this new job description comes a new pay scale - generally about half of what we made before. This really makes little sense to me, since we still have to review WORD FOR WORD what the doctor has dictated and make sure it's what the software thinks he's saying (and quite often isn't so we end up re-transcribing it anyhow, only now at half the pay), make sure the grammar is correct, and make sure lefts and rights match up and that medications aren't being administered in a glaringly inappropriate manner. I can understand it's not worth the same pay as before, but HALF? I think 85% would be more appropriate.

The saddest part, though, is the blow to the ego, when the doctor knows he's dictating for a machine but doesn't realize there's still a person editing, and he no longer addresses us personally since that's just extra words for the software to process and stick in the report where they shouldn't be, words we then have to take out AT HALF THE PAY.

I love technology. I actually love editing (shhhhh, don't tell, it's a secret). I just don't love feeling undervalued while the technology is still in it's infancy and still learning. It's almost as bad as having to retype those frigging reports over after the "correction" in the Selectric days.

I Love My Email

Yeah, besides just penis extender and debt relief ads, I occasionally get emails from real people. They're almost always chain emails, but I can't resist reading them and then checking out Snopes to see how long ago the contents of the message were debunked.

Here's the one I got today:

*27th Aug the Whole World is waiting for.............*
Planet Mars will be the brightest in the night sky starting August. It will look as large as the full moon to the naked eye. This will culminate on Aug. 27 when Mars comes within 34.65M miles of earth. Be sure to watch the sky on Aug. 27 12:30 am midnight. It will look like the earth has 2 moons. The next time Mars may come this much closer in 2287.

Share this with your friends as NO ONE ALIVE TODAY will ever see it again.

It's cute but come on, really. I know how busy the 3 other people in my address book are (whoa, 3 whole people - yeah, I'm popular) and don't bother sending these on. Sometimes they're old (like this one) and irrelevant but mostly they're just garbage gobbling up ether and circle the web for years. I love getting mail just like anyone else and don't mind once in a while getting silly stuff, but when I get 482 messages a week like this one or this one or this one, it gets old after a while.

Is it Candy, or is it Candy?

My baby boy has a new favorite sign in recent weeks: "Candy." Before that it was "poop," so I guess I'm glad he finally moved on from his poop fixation and settled on candy. He knows mom keeps a stash (read: 4-pound bag from Wal-Mart) of Wint-O-Green Livesavers in the desk drawer (my pathetic attempt at quitting smoking) and his ritual is to come in when he sees me on the computer and ask ever so nicely for "candy." When I don't hand it over promptly enough for him, he sneaks around the chair and gets it himself since he knows I'm so engrossed in my listening and transcribing I won't even see him. Hell, John Cusack could walk in here and I still wouldn't notice and then have to be really pissed that I missed him.

Anyhow. I was having a mad craving for Chester's Puffcorns last night and sent hubby-man out to get me some in the middle of the night. The gas station didn't have any, so he brought me the next best thing: Cheetos. Boy-boy found the bag in the desk drawer and hauled it out, but he couldn't get it open so started poking me in the ribs to get my attention. I saw what he had and asked to have the bag back but he vehemently signed "NO." He pointed at it and then at me and then finally at himself. You get the picture. I open the bag and he starts signing "candy." Of course, Cheetos is candy!

Out of the mouths (or off the fingertips) of babes.

Connecting

I started out this blog as a sort of catharsis, verbal diarrhea if you will, to get stuff out of the cesspool of stuff clogging up my mind. I didn't really expect people to read it, let alone have people come back and read it regularly and ASK FOR MORE. I admit to a great deal of pleasure knowing there really are people out there who want to hear what I have to say, whether it be profound and earth shattering, gut-wrenchingly and heartbreakingly sad, ROFL kind of funny, or just regular run-of-the-mill bitching. I also didn't expect to connect with other people but am very proud of the fact that I have made some great new friends. I dearly love visiting their blogs and seeing what they have to say, whether it be profound and earth shattering, gut-wrenchingly and heartbreakingly sad, ROFL kind of funny, or just regular run-of-the-mill bitching. My really bad habits, though, are 1) I don't always respond to comments left here, and 2) I tend to be a lurker at other people's sites, gobbling down what they say and rarely leaving comments for them. Sorry about this, but I can't help myself. Between work and kids and hubby-man and my own bodily "crap" that I'm dealing with and stretching my poor over-worked brain around everything, some days it's all I can do just to get out of bed.

I seem to have bungled up the phases of grief regarding my MRI. This isn't really surprising, considering how contrary and against the grain my personality can be been anyhow. I skipped right over shock and denial (I already knew something was up and the doctors just thought I was a flake, a liar, a hypochondriac, a worry-monger, or some combination of all of these). Who needs shock and denial anyhow? I'm sure that since I neglected them, they'll be back to bite me in the leg later on. I immediately jumped to acceptance, the final phase of the grieving process, so I'm once again proving how much of an asshole I can be. I'm now battling a mishmash of others, all at once: Bargaining, guilt, and depression. I don't need anger, since there's already enough in the world to piss me off and my body doesn't need to be one of them. Like Billy Crystal's character says in Analyze That, "it's a process." Unfortunately, I don't always follow directions well, so that's probably why I've gone about it all half-assed.

It takes so much effort to be an asshole, I'm thinking maybe I need a new hobby. So, I think once a week, on a specific day, I should post about a site I like and let you know about it so you can check it out yourselves. I'm sure there's a term for this (not just adding to blogroll, and not writing a review, either), but since I was out today in the heat picking blueberries (yeah, really intelligent, I know) and seem to be suffering sun-induced dementia, I'm sure you'll forgive me (or at least let me know what it is so I don't sound so ignorant).

I have the attention span of a dill pickle right now, so after just a few short months I've become bored with actually writing a blog but don't want you to forget about me. For some strange reason, though, I can sit and read other people's stuff for hours on end. I think that's also part of my job description as an asshole, being so bass-ackwards, but I have to check the manual to be sure.

I'm rambling now.

Here We Go Again

When I'm right, I'm right. And I'm always right. I mentioned previously that stories about food recalls seem to be on the rise, and I look at the news again and see, yup, there's another one. This time it's green beans.

In other news, Lake Superior is shrinking and getting warmer. This is depressing for someone like me, who has dreamed for years of moving north to Marquette, knowing that the changes in the lake are going to affect not only the ecostructure (the reason why I love it there, it's God's country) but the financial structure of the region.

Some interesting facts about Lake Superior:

SIZE, DEPTH, WATERSHED, WATER QUALITY, etc

1. Lake Superior is, by surface area, the world's largest freshwater lake.
2. The surface area of Lake Superior (31,700 square miles or 82,170 square kilometers) is greater than the combined areas of Vermont, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, Connecticut, and New Hampshire.
3. Lake Superior contains as much water as all the other Great Lakes combined, even throwing in two extra Lake Eries.
4. Lake Superior contains 10% of all the earth's fresh surface water.
5. There is enough water in Lake Superior (3,000,000,000,000,000--or 3 quadrillion-- gallons) to flood all of North and South America to a depth of one foot.
6. The deepest point in Lake Superior (about 40 miles north of Munising, Michigan) is 1,300 feet (400 meters) below the surface.
7. Over 300 streams and rivers empty into Lake Superior.
8. The average elevation of Lake Superior is about 602 feet above sea level.
9. The Lake Superior watershed region ranges in size from 160 miles inland near Wabakimi Provincial Park to only 5 miles inland from Pictured Rocks National Seashore.
10. The Lake Superior shoreline, if straightened out, could connect Duluth and the Bahama Islands.
11. The average underwater visibility of Lake Superior is 27 feet, making it easily the cleanest and clearest of the Great Lakes. Underwater visibility in places reaches 100 feet. Lake Superior has been described as "the most oligotrophic lake in the world."
12. The lake is about 350 miles (563 km) in length and 160 miles (257 km) in width.
13. In the summer, the sun sets more than 35 minutes later on the western shore of Lake Superior than at its southeastern edge.
    

GEOLOGY, FLORA AND FAUNA, CLIMATE, etc.

1. Lake Superior is one of the earth's youngest major features, at only about 10,000 years of age--dating to the last glacial retreat. By comparison, the earth's second largest lake (by surface area, and largest by volume), Lake Baikal in Russia, is 25 million years old.
2. Fifty-eight orchid species are native to the Lake Superior basin. In North America, only Florida has more native orchid species.
3. Lake Superior produces the greatest lake effect snows on earth. (Significant lake effect snows are a rare phenomenon, occurring--besides on the Great Lakes--only on the east shore of Hudson Bay and the west coasts of two Japanese islands.) Lake effect snows extend 20 to 30 miles inland, primarily on the Ontario shore southeast of Marathon, and from Sault Ste. Marie to the Wisconsin-Michigan border. Average annual snowfall in Michigan's Keweenaw exceeds 200 inches in places.
4. Lake Superior has been at its modern elevation for only about 2,000 years, when elevations of Lake Michigan and Lake Huron dropped, creating a rapids at Sault Ste. Marie.
5. Lake Superior has its origins in the North American Mid-Continent Rift of 1.1 to 1.2 billion years ago, which produced a huge plume of hot mantle where the present lake sits. The crust tore apart, leaving an arc-shaped scar stretching form Kansas through Minnesota, then down to Michigan.
6. Within its borders, Lake Superior has both the thickest, and nearly the thinnest, crust found anywhere in North America.
7. When European explorers visited Lake Superior in the 1600s they reported giant sturgeons (up to nine feet in length) and pike of greater than seven feet in length.
8. The largest tributary of Lake Superior, Ontario's Nipigon River, was in the 1800s the finest brook trout water in the world. It produced the world record brook trout of 14.5 pounds.
9. Some of the world's oldest rocks, about 2.7 billion years of age, can be found on the Ontario shore of Lake Superior.
10. The average annual water temperature of Lake Superior is 40º F. It only very rarely freezes over completely, and then usually just for hours. The last complete freezing of Lake Superior occurred in 1979.
11. Migrating birds of prey funnel down Lake Superior's north shore in great numbers each fall. On a single day at Duluth's Hawk Ridge as many as 100,000 birds of prey might pass by.
12. Lake Superior rests mostly on Precambrian rock at the southern edge of the Canadian shield, the largest exposure of such bedrock on the planet.
13. Sliver Islet, a Lake Superior island off Ontario's north shore, was the site for 15 years in the 1800s of the world's richest silver mine.
    

Thoughts From Tyler

Tyler Durden, that is.

Man, I see in Fight Club the strongest and smartest men who have ever lived. I see all this potential, and I see it squandered. Goddammit, an entire generation pumping gas, waiting tables, slaves with white collars. Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don't need. We're the middle children of history, man; no purpose or place. We have no Great War, no Great Depression. Our Great War is a spiritual war. Our Great Depression is our lives. We've all been raised by television to believe that one day we'd all be millionaires and movie gods and rock stars. But we won't; and we're slowly learning that fact. And we're very, very pissed off.

You are not your job. You are not the money in your bank account. You are not the car you drive. You are not how much money is in your wallet. You are not your fucking khakis. You are the all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world.

You are not a beautiful or unique snowflake! You are the same decaying organic matter as everything else. We are the all singing all dancing crap of the world.

The things you own end up owning you.

Stupid Crimes That Shouldn't Be Crimes

News Flash: There is no more violent crime in Mexico City. Because there are no crimes like rape, murder, or child molestation to fill up the dockets, prosecutors have gone in search of crimes committed by little old ladies. Prosecutors also have included diagnosing psychiatric conditions as part of their job description because they don't have enough work to keep them busy. Officials are investigating a "crime" committed by a woman who apparently couldn't let go of her husband after he died and kept him at her bedside for a year after his death. "Hiding a corpse" may be a crime, but it certainly doesn't sound like this family was "hiding" anything. After all, they didn't stuff the guy in the freezer, bury him in the basement floor, or brick him up in the fireplace. He died, apparently from natural causes, and his wife kept him in her bed - not very well hidden, I would think - until neighbors complained about the smell, and now the cry is "crime"? Whatever. My question for you, Mr. Attorney General: If the autopsy proves he died a natural death and you acknowledge that this woman is psychologically disturbed, do you really think locking her up in a nut house is going to make her better? She's old and probably demented; leave her alone, for piss' sake.

I am just disgusted by the crap in the news anymore. If news services took out all the garbage they spew to the public about celebrities and their own brand of stupidity (Britney, Paris, Lindsay, etc., ad nauseum), there would be a total of five stories in the news. One of them would be this story. A second would be about some asshole killing their kid after beating, torturing, and/or molesting them for years. Another would be about some food or medication recall (am I alone in noticing these seem to be increasing lately???). The other two would be about the mis-administration of the White House. Cheney is marketing hard for celebrity status alongside Paris and Britney, so fuck it, take those stories out, too. They're just fluff anyhow. We already know that no one who has the power to do anything will ever REALLY take action against what the Bush Administration has done to screw this country for years in the proverbial rectum without the benefit of a little Vaseline. The lawmakers in this country are too busy worrying about their next press appearance (our tax dollars hard at work to make sure it's a GOOD one), porking up spending projects (to benefit the lobbyists who contribute the most to their election campaigns), and ignoring the imminent demise of The United States (all the way from its democracy to the future well-being of it's constituents who put them there in the first place). Makes me sick.

Sorry I'm in such a pissy mood right now. I'm just tired of seeing shit in the news when there is so much more going on in the world that is actually IMPORTANT that never makes headlines.

I Had a Revelation

I had a revelation tonight. It was so profound, so earth shattering, so incredibly life altering I just HAD to sit down and share it with you, my blogging brothers and sisters, so that I could enrich your lives for all of eternity like I just KNEW mine was going to do to mine. It was THAT frigging important. Then one of the kids came in and asked me "Where are the crayons?" and I forgot what the hell I was even thinking about in the first place.

It's gone, just like that.

If you're looking for something incredible from me tonight, tough noodles. You'll just have to wait until that thought recycles itself in my head, which could take years, there's so much shit in my head. Sometimes stuff disappears into my own mental black hole, never to be seen again, so it's a pretty good bet that it ain't happening any time soon.

I once had a teacher who told me that if you forgot something and couldn't remember it quickly, it wasn't really that important to begin with. I think she was just demented. She was like 300 years old, so she MUST have had something wrong with her. After all, only the good die young, right? Just kidding. She was actually one of my favorite teachers and someone who really left a mark on my life (besides an emotional scar, which is a lot more than can be said for some of the other teachers I had throughout my elementary, middle and high school career and even in college). She really was like 300 years old, though.

Praying For Her Safety

It's hard to believe it's been 21 years since the Challenger tragedy. The memory of the explosion was burned on my memory for all time, and to this day I still think about it, the loss of life, the grieving of the families.

NASA is sending another teacher into space, and I pray she has a safe trip. Bring back some stardust for me, Ms. Morgan.

Now I Can Say "Get Off My Back"

Caffeine and Exercise May Help Ward Off Skin Cancer

Now when people holler at me that I drink "too much Mountain Dew" and say "all that caffeine's not good for you," I can say "get off my back because. . ."

Granted, I don't exercise anymore since I'm chained to my desk 18 hours a day, 7 days a week and because of that also don't get out in the sun much, but hey, I USED to do heavy farm work (the kind that will keep you more fit than any exercise routine) out IN THE SUN, so I'm just applying my caffeine consumption retroactively.

It doesn't work that way? Tough noodles. :)

It's a New Day

The sun is shining, and I'm still here. It's all good.

A New Chapter in My Life

Sixteen years ago I started a new chapter in my life with the birth of my oldest son. Over the years it has been added to and the outcome of the story rewritten with the births of 3 more children, the loss of 3 pregnancies, and the bringing of my stepchildren into my life. Other chapters unfolded alongside this one, all penned carefully in the tedious manner of my perfectionism, detailing various jobs, the love and loss of my mother, the coming and going of friends, and the final acceptance of myself as being who I really am and not who everyone else thought I should be. The story could have gone on in this manner for years, adding more and more, all the way to an "and they all lived happily ever after" ending in the book of my life.

Today I closed that chapter and opened a new one, since that life was shattered and no longer existed. The uncertainty of the outcome of this new story lurks in the lower recesses of my psyche and threatens the sanctity of the first in the face of a seemingly more menacing future.

This story begins July 30, 2007.

I received the results of my most recent MRI scan today, beginning my new tale. No one can really say how the story will end.

IMPRESSION: At least two areas of abnormality in FLAIR signal situated in the periventricular white matter on the right side, in the parietal and occipital regions, demonstrating no significant enhancement after contrast and having a nonspecific appearance and can be seen with multiple sclerosis in an appropriate clinical situation.

After being told "it's all in your head, you need to see a psychiatrist," 12 months after the onset of my symptoms I find out that it really IS all in my head - just not in the way it was attempted to be forced on me back then.

This is why it is so important for each of us to be aware of our own bodies; and if we think something is wrong, we need to pursue it to its conclusion and not just accept the word of someone who can never walk in our shoes. Had I just nodded my head and played the game according to their rules instead of my own, taking that referral to a psychiatrist, I would never had made it this far in this misadventure.

I'm not dead yet and I don't plan on giving up easily or lying down without a fight. I WILL win, you wait and see. I will use my pen and all the gifts endowed upon me by the Lord to rewrite this chapter to that happily-ever-after ending, not only for my own sake but for my children's. This iceberg has a long journey ahead in the warm ocean currents before melting away, but I know I will not be forgotten - I will live on, like the berg that took down the Titanic.

How Smart is Your Right Foot?

I got this email and got a giggle out of it (thanks for giving me one more useless bit of knowledge to clutter up my head, Andrea!) and thought I'd pass it on:

How smart is Your Right Foot ?

Just try this. It is from an orthopedic surgeon............

This will boggle your mind and you will keep trying over and over again to see if you can outsmart your foot, but, you can't. It's preprogrammed in your brain!

WITHOUT anyone watching you (they will think you are GOOFY......) and while sitting where you are at your desk in front of your computer, lift your right foot off the floor and make clockwise circles. Now, while doing this, draw the number "6" in the air with your right hand. Your foot will change direction. (If it doesn't you have a neurological problem)!

I told you so!!! And there's nothing you can do about it!

You and I both know how stupid it is, but before the day is done you are going to try it again, if you've not already done so. Send it to your buddies to frustrate them, too.