IDC: You know, you really shouldn't eat those Reese's Peanut Butter Cups the kids got for Easter.
Me: Oh, they're just the small ones. It's not a big deal.
IDC: So how many small ones does it take to make a full-size one?
Me: Oh, Jesus, I have no idea. Probably like - 12??
IDC: Mmmm, I'd guess more like 2 or 3.
Me: No way. It takes at least 5 to make a full size.
IDC: Let's just assume it's 4.
Me: Whatever. 4. What's your point?
IDC: There's like 10 wrappers in the trash, so basically you've eaten more than a full pack by now.
Me: Well, not of the Walgreens/movie theater 4 packs. That's like barely more than half, and that's using your crazy math of only 4 smalls = 1 large and everyone knows that there's at least 8 smalls in one big.
IDC: Really, there's only so much I can do here...
For the record, there were not more than 5 wrappers in the trash. Frickin' exaggerating IDC!
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Goodbye Explorer...Hello Firefox
So I just switched my default browser to Firefox because when I upgraded to the "improved" version of Blogger.com, it took away my spell check...which, if you asked me, is just lame! There's some nonsense explanation online about how the interest (Google in particular) is multilingual so it doesn't behoove them to have spell check just in English. Hello - I'm blogging in America and I don't want shit misspelled on my blog!
Whatever! Firefox just does it automatically for me, so see ya' later Microsoft!
Whatever! Firefox just does it automatically for me, so see ya' later Microsoft!
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Lo-prah's Book Club
The Privileges by Jonathan Dee
OK - so I don't know what I think about this book. It's the story of this East Coast couple who get married too young but make things work because they have some incredible bond and love each other madly. They live in NYC and he gets a Wall Street job and makes tons of money and then has some illegal insider trading scheme that makes him really a ton of money and eventually he starts his own hedge fund and becomes like really really really rich (4 syllable rich - Paul would say - like ri-hi-hi-hich!).
Anyway, they have this silly life of exorbitant privilege and their kids are these sheltered entitled losers. And there's really nothing particularly compelling about any of the characters that makes you care one way or the other about what happens to them. It's not that they are total assholes like Michael Douglas in Wall Street or anything. Nobody ever says "greed is good," but you can tell that living in the perfect penthouse overlooking Central Park and belonging to the perfect clubs and living as the "perfect people" is all these people ever wanted for themselves. And they get it - without ever having to endure any kind of struggle to get there. It's like they are so patently un-selfaware that it never even occurs to them to question their actions or take stock along the way. Life just happens to these people. Even the seemingly seedy or illegal activity the guy gets involved in just seems to wrap itself nicely up when he decides he no longer wants to do it. It's just weird.
In the end they realize they want to "do something good" for they world so they start some multinational foundation to save the world or end poverty or some such shit - blah blah blah. And throughout the book I found myself asking "do I have the slightest interest in what becomes of these people?" And the answer was a resounding NO.
You can't possibly feel sorry for these people or their poor-little-rich-kid kids with their stereotypical drug problem on the one hand and self-loathing for coming from money on the other. The guy who makes his zillions of dollars but can't stop because making money seems to be the only thing he knows how to do - oh, cry me a river, or his beautiful wife whose father left when she was a kid and finds herself forever needing to feel needed and/or wanted by him. It's just all so cliché. But there's nothing interesting enough to really hate about them either - so like I said, I just found myself asking "so what" throughout the entire book.
But then again, it's not like I hated the book or was so bored that I couldn't finish. (Well, to be fair, it's only 250 pages and it took me over a week to finish reading every night when I went to bed...so I obviously could put it down.) But, I finished it, so I must have had some level interest. It wasn't like Prodigal Summer that I started and put down about 10 times before finally packing it away in the guest-room closet hoping to hand it off to some sucker passing through on the way to the airport. Maybe I just don't get it. It's probably too complex and/or subtle for me. I guess I should stick to the Twilight series!
OK - so I don't know what I think about this book. It's the story of this East Coast couple who get married too young but make things work because they have some incredible bond and love each other madly. They live in NYC and he gets a Wall Street job and makes tons of money and then has some illegal insider trading scheme that makes him really a ton of money and eventually he starts his own hedge fund and becomes like really really really rich (4 syllable rich - Paul would say - like ri-hi-hi-hich!).
Anyway, they have this silly life of exorbitant privilege and their kids are these sheltered entitled losers. And there's really nothing particularly compelling about any of the characters that makes you care one way or the other about what happens to them. It's not that they are total assholes like Michael Douglas in Wall Street or anything. Nobody ever says "greed is good," but you can tell that living in the perfect penthouse overlooking Central Park and belonging to the perfect clubs and living as the "perfect people" is all these people ever wanted for themselves. And they get it - without ever having to endure any kind of struggle to get there. It's like they are so patently un-selfaware that it never even occurs to them to question their actions or take stock along the way. Life just happens to these people. Even the seemingly seedy or illegal activity the guy gets involved in just seems to wrap itself nicely up when he decides he no longer wants to do it. It's just weird.
In the end they realize they want to "do something good" for they world so they start some multinational foundation to save the world or end poverty or some such shit - blah blah blah. And throughout the book I found myself asking "do I have the slightest interest in what becomes of these people?" And the answer was a resounding NO.
You can't possibly feel sorry for these people or their poor-little-rich-kid kids with their stereotypical drug problem on the one hand and self-loathing for coming from money on the other. The guy who makes his zillions of dollars but can't stop because making money seems to be the only thing he knows how to do - oh, cry me a river, or his beautiful wife whose father left when she was a kid and finds herself forever needing to feel needed and/or wanted by him. It's just all so cliché. But there's nothing interesting enough to really hate about them either - so like I said, I just found myself asking "so what" throughout the entire book.
But then again, it's not like I hated the book or was so bored that I couldn't finish. (Well, to be fair, it's only 250 pages and it took me over a week to finish reading every night when I went to bed...so I obviously could put it down.) But, I finished it, so I must have had some level interest. It wasn't like Prodigal Summer that I started and put down about 10 times before finally packing it away in the guest-room closet hoping to hand it off to some sucker passing through on the way to the airport. Maybe I just don't get it. It's probably too complex and/or subtle for me. I guess I should stick to the Twilight series!
Maybe the hit-counter is not such a good idea!
So far I have a grand 3 hits...and I believe all 3 of them were by ME. This could be damaging to the overall self-esteem thing I've got going on...we'll see!
Monday, April 12, 2010
Real Conversations with my Imaginary Fashion Consultant (IFC)
IFC: You need to go change. You can't wear sweatpants in the middle of the day on a work day.
Me: Oh, these aren't sweat pants. They're yoga pants. Besides, I don't work.
IFC: Well the fact that you don't work - that's abundantly clear...but are you doing yoga right now?
Me: Uh, no.
IFC: Have that planned for later, do ya?
Me: Well, no. I'm just wearing these. They're comfortable.
IFC: And yesterday - those velour things, I suppose those weren't sweatpants either?
Me: No - those are more like "leisure wear." It's the new daytime casual.
IFC: Go put some real clothes on for God's sake.
Me: Why? I'm just sitting at home by myself. Why does it matter?
IFC: It matters!
Me: I don't get why.
IFC: That's my whole point...
Just for the record...my imaginary fashion consultant it a total wimp...I'm sitting here in velour leisure pants right now!
Me: Oh, these aren't sweat pants. They're yoga pants. Besides, I don't work.
IFC: Well the fact that you don't work - that's abundantly clear...but are you doing yoga right now?
Me: Uh, no.
IFC: Have that planned for later, do ya?
Me: Well, no. I'm just wearing these. They're comfortable.
IFC: And yesterday - those velour things, I suppose those weren't sweatpants either?
Me: No - those are more like "leisure wear." It's the new daytime casual.
IFC: Go put some real clothes on for God's sake.
Me: Why? I'm just sitting at home by myself. Why does it matter?
IFC: It matters!
Me: I don't get why.
IFC: That's my whole point...
Just for the record...my imaginary fashion consultant it a total wimp...I'm sitting here in velour leisure pants right now!
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Ever wondered who's the worst mom in the world? Now we know!
So, we've had our fair share of bad parenting episodes here in Colorado, don't get me wrong. Take Balloon-Boy's dad, for example. The Heeny's are way up there on the Don't Do This Shit To Your Kids flow chart. And back in 2000 we had to those crazies over in Golden the Newmakers who suffocated their daughter to death during a "rebirthing" therapy. That was bad and I'm not making excuses for them, but the truth is, regardless of the obvious fact that they are lunatics, they did think they were helping the kid; it wasn't just about them being too selfish to deal - they actually thought recreating the birthing experience would "cure" her of her psychological troubles. (Yes, I realize the irony there - the whole nature vs. nurture argument SCREAMS nurture in that case!) But this lady in Tennessee - this Hansen lady - she's really rivaling the best of the worst.
Here's the story - Hansen adopts a 7 year old boy from Russia and then decides that the Russian government had "misrepresented" his mental state...so she ships him back??!!!?? Literally - she buys him a one-way ticket to Moscow and sends him BY HIMSELF from Washington DC with a note to the Russian authorities saying she's "returning" him.
HE'S A CHILD - NOT A FAKE iPOD THAT DOESN'T HOLD AS MANY SONGS AS YOU WERE LED TO BELIEVE. YOU CAN'T JUST RETURN HIM LIKE A PIECE OF SPOILED MEAT.
Does she still have her receipt? Does she want her money back, or would she settle for a store-credit? What's the country's return policy on CHILDREN????
As if this kid didn't already have enough problems - whatever the reasons were for him ending up in an orphanage to begin with, now he has the added trauma of being taken from him home country to a place where nobody speaks his native language or has any idea what he's been through under the false hope of finding a home. Talk about throwing the baby out with the bath water.
There's a special place in hell for this one!
http://http//news.yahoo.com/s/ap/eu_russia_adopted_boy
Here's the story - Hansen adopts a 7 year old boy from Russia and then decides that the Russian government had "misrepresented" his mental state...so she ships him back??!!!?? Literally - she buys him a one-way ticket to Moscow and sends him BY HIMSELF from Washington DC with a note to the Russian authorities saying she's "returning" him.
HE'S A CHILD - NOT A FAKE iPOD THAT DOESN'T HOLD AS MANY SONGS AS YOU WERE LED TO BELIEVE. YOU CAN'T JUST RETURN HIM LIKE A PIECE OF SPOILED MEAT.
Does she still have her receipt? Does she want her money back, or would she settle for a store-credit? What's the country's return policy on CHILDREN????
As if this kid didn't already have enough problems - whatever the reasons were for him ending up in an orphanage to begin with, now he has the added trauma of being taken from him home country to a place where nobody speaks his native language or has any idea what he's been through under the false hope of finding a home. Talk about throwing the baby out with the bath water.
There's a special place in hell for this one!
http://http//news.yahoo.com/s/ap/eu_russia_adopted_boy
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
The real story of Santa
**This conversation took place just before Christmas. It's a cute little vignette I thought I would use to remind us that (Tourette's issues aside) childhood is still filled with wide-eyed wonder.
Zach: Mom, are you Santa?
me: Oh yeah, I spend Christmas Eve every year riding around the world on my reindeer driven sleigh handing presents out to a bunch of kids I don't even know.
Zach: Ugh, mom - I'm serious!
me: No, I'm not Santa! Besides, Santa's a boy, so maybe Daddy's Santa but I don't think so because we can't afford all that stuff. Why do you ask?
Zach: Safia told me there's no Santa. She said it's just the mom and dad that give the kids presents.
me: (scrambling) Oooohhhh, sweetie, that's so sad. Safia must be really bad!
Zach: Why? What do you mean?
me: I guess she's so bad that Santa never even comes to her house at all and her mom had to make up an excuse about why not!
Zach: Yeah. She is pretty bad. And she lies! I'm glad Santa doesn't skip our house.
me: Me too, honey. Me too!
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