Grinding Halt

Despite having a post in Draft, I have no desire to write lately. Not blogs, not e-mails, not even signing my name. I'd much rather call these days, or hang out in person. If I owe you an e-mail, this is why you haven't gotten one. If I sent you a one-line email that seems rushed, this is why. I refuse to force myself to write, because the whole point is gone if I do that.

Instead, I will wait for myself. Wait until I want to catalog all the ways the universe is sending me signs of the new year. Wait until I want to detail for you the two (two!) people who fell on the bus this weekend. Wait until I have the patience to post the first part of the story about the partner who got fired.

Don't wait for me to write about things like the bail-out though, because I'm waiting until I can ask Golden Boy to explain it to me. He is one of the very few people who instinctively knows how to explain things in ways I'll understand, which is why he gets the hard questions.

Well, This Is a New One

All of your comments get emailed to me. So if you ever want to comment on a post I wrote in 2006, but wonder if I'll ever even see it, leave that comment. I will see it. Sometimes, I even forward the email with your comment back to you (if I can find your email address) with a comment of my own.

Every so often one of your comments gets stuck in Spam, but I check and within a week or so, find it. Today I found an email in Spam from someone who wanted to know if I'd like to review a product from their company on my blog.

This is what those mommy bloggers are always hoping for, isn't it? I should be honored, and excited and enthusiastic, right? Apparently the company will either pay money for my review, or if I'd like, they'll let me keep the product free of charge. Ooh, how exciting! Free shit!

As I was reading the e-mail, I thought to myself, "Sure, I'll review a product. I love having opinions on things. I'm low on money, so cash will be great!" And then I got to the bottom of the e-mail. Where it says what the product is, and all my hopes and dreams of having an exciting blog that reviews products came to a crashing halt. Because I'm not going to review a penis enhancer.

Guess I'll just have to stick to writing about people who trip and partners who get fired from law firms (coming soon).

Late At Night

I call them yes-men. They are the people who surround you and say yes to whatever you want, no matter how impossible or ridiculous. I want a reality tv show all about my love for my new white-trash boyfriend. Okay, Britney. I want a chimp named Bubbles! Okay, Michael.

This is very dangerous, as we saw with Michael Jackson. Too many people, always saying yes, is not healthy. Somebody needs to say there'll be no pudding until your meat has been eaten. Somebody needs to explain that little boys can not be used as toys.

It's my belief that this is how little boys wind up being used as toys and how maids in hotels wind up with bruises on their heads in the shape of telephones. Nothing is off limits, and the one time someone says no, a shit-fit (or telephone) is pitched.

I never see anyone else suggesting this is unhealthy. But whatever, I'll be the trail-blazer. I think famous, rich, powerful people need to be told no. I think people need to not accept lies. I think people need to demand more of themselves, for themselves. Listen to what you say as you say it. Think about if it makes sense. Stop talking if it doesn't. Listen more, talk less.

I wonder if late at night, after Sarah Palin has finished baking cookies and praying and reviewing the index cards McCain's people have written up for her, she surfs the web, reads any of the unfavorable articles written about her, and cries. Because come on, it's gotta hurt. Never mind the truth hurts shit, it must drive her nuts too.

She's surrounded by people who are her yes-men, and to not be able to regulate what people write, to not be able to shut down unfavorable opinions, must kill her.

Or do her yes-men only direct Sarah to articles that promote her ability to be a heartbeat away from POTUS? Late at night, that's what I'm wondering.

Help a Girl Out

I don't know what to write about, so I've decided that once again, it's time for you to decide. Vote early, vote often.

A. First grade
B. Facebook (just kidding)
C. The partner I worked for who got FIRED from the law firm
D. A list of things that piss me off (I have nothing prepared, but I'm sure I can come up with something)
E. My college roommates (there were two, but not at the same time)

Why You Should Cross Over To the Dark Side

Dear Pilar,

We have been friends for four years now, since I moved here. You have taught me many things, and shown me different ways of looking at things, and I appreciate that, and you, greatly. And we'll get the truffles right one of these days, don't you worry.

Although you are older by a mere "four" years, you do not know everything. There are things you can learn from me. (I just realized this sort of sounds like some lesbian love letter, but I assure you, it's not.) (Sorry to anyone who is disappointed.) But you refuse.

Pilar, I have tried numerous times to suck you in to the wonderful world of Facebook. I have gone so far as to go into my account at your house, so you can see all the interesting information waiting to be found. But no. "I can't handle another social networking site - I'm full up," you tell me.

But there are mob wars! I'm in a mob. I punch people in the face, daily! DAILY! Anyone who attacks me, punched in the face. And the Scramble. Let's not forget the Scrambling.

No, you firmly say. You can play that on other sites. But Pilar, DO YOU? A-ha! No. No you do not play that on other sites.

Lately I have noticed something interesting happening. My mind? My memory? It's working. In the last two weeks I have had that "it's on the tip of my tongue" sensation three or four times, and each time I was able to come up with what I'd been trying to think of, but previously couldn't.

And I attribute this to playing Scramble, and Wordwhateveritscallednow that I like even better than Scramble. It's as if these word games have greased the wheels of my brain so they can turn again. I've read articles that say word puzzles are good for the brain. That the brain is like a muscle and if you exercise it, it will get stronger. I've always believed in that, and now I'm seeing it in action.

Pilar, in case you've forgotten (because your brain is failing solely due to your lack of a Facebook account), you are older than me, and your brain is going to fail before mine. But you are a good friend to me, and so I will do my part in being a good friend to you, by continuing to play word games on Facebook, so that when you are old and forgetful, I will still be able to tell you which band sings Kryptonite.

Love and gingko biloba,
Green

In Which You Agree I Am In Fact, A Terrible Person

So. Hurricane Ike. All that damage. So many people having to evacuate. Terrible. Shouts out to everyone's favorite Texan nurse who housed 3,927 people during the hurricane.

It's been a difficult time for our Southwestern friends, and J'fluffer if you're reading, I'm still waiting to hear that you and yours are alright.

But here's my problem. Oh shut up, you knew it was coming. My problem is, all these people were told to evacuate. Some did. However, some did not. Which meant that rescue services had to go in and put their lives in danger to save people who refused to save themselves.

This pisses me off. Somebody is too stupid to save themselves from obvious danger. When I was a kid, my parents were fond of yelling at Golden Boy and I that, "no little birdie is going to tap you on the shoulder," encouraging us to think for ourselves. But these people got the birdie tap! They actually had people telling them to leave! Yet still, they chose to stay.

It's a bit harsh to say that people who are stupid should die, but is it right that others should be putting their lives on the line for the stupid people? Yes you say, because that's a part of what rescue services sign up to do. Well ... when you become part of a rescue crew, aren't you intending that you'll be helping people who were unable to help themselves? Little old ladies in wheelchairs? People who can't afford gas for their car to drive away? Those who have no friend's houses to go stay at?

So I'm thinking these people should be charged. Not for the cost of the rescue but more like a Stupid Fine. Like $50 or $100. Just a little something to punish them for not realizing their dumb decisions affect other people.

September 11th

Not that it'll happen, but it would be really nice, and cause me to feel the tiniest bit of respect, if the politicians said nothing other than some variation of, "You know, there's nothing I can say that hasn't already been said, and nothing I can say that will feel right to you, so I'm not going to say anything other than you're in my thoughts."

Because who wants to hear them talk about how this anniversary is connected with war or the military or the reason for our time for change, or any of that shit? Nobody.

*I found this interesting, in a morbidly sad way.

Rachel Zoe Show

Okay who is watching this with me?  Nicole? Mrs. T.D. Randi? 

Taylor the style assistant is the biggest bitch I have ever seen on reality television.  Aside from Spencer Pratt.  She is manipulative, passive-aggressive and just plain bitchily aggressive.  And I am shocked SHOCKED that she is also bitchy to her boss.  No matter how much of an asshole I think Rachel Zoe is (and I think she's a big one), it is simply not acceptable to talk to your boss that way.  

Okay and Nicole, yes, I did cry when Lauren and Audrina had their talk at the fireplace and they cried.  You are not alone, my blog-friend. 

The People In Your Supermarket

This week I am not working, which gives me the opportunity to do things like go to the supermarket during off times. Oh. The rush-hours of supermarkets are rush hour on weekdays (like 5-7pm) and Saturday and Sundays (times will vary - towns where people go to church on Sunday mornings will have empty supermarkets then, though they may not sell you alcohol until after 12pm).

Anyway. My point is that I went to the supermarket today around 4pm thinking it wouldn't be crowded but I was wrong and wound up in a very long express line. In front of me was a guy who looked like a recovering junkie. Behind me was a chinese guy who initially stepped into my dance space until I looked at him, and then he apologized and moved back. When I smiled at him, he gestured at the In Touch magazine in front of us with Angelina Jolie on the cover and asked me what postpartum means.

I stumbled through some words involving "hormones" and "after being pregnant" and he nodded. "That's the one everyone takes Prozac for, yeah?" Uhhh.... I don't know. "What does Prozac do?" I don't know. He continues to ask me questions about hormones and Prozac and I continue to make noises indicating I know nothing about this.

Luckily for the friendly chinese guy, the friendly junkie was all to happy to share his wife's experiences with needing a hysterectomy and then going through early menopause (the junkie was in his late 30's to early 40's) and hormone replacement therapy.

Now we've got the two guys talking with each other around me, who does not want to be listening to this at all. Finally the junkie leaves and it's my turn. The chinese guy was really friendly to the cashier, asking him "How much more time?"

The cashier had no idea what he was being asked, so I explained, "He is asking how much longer your shift is." I bagged my shit and got the hell out of there.

While I was waiting for my bus I saw the junkie and chinese guy exchanging phone numbers. I bet they'll have a nice talk about hormones later this week.

Toddlers and Tiaras

Don't even bother asking how I wound up seeing this show - I think I was watching something else, it ended and the channel just never got changed.

It's a really weird thing - you listen to the mothers talk, saying things like, "Well every girl wants to be a princess," and you kind of can understand that. But then you think, "But actually ... no, not every girl wants to." If every girl wanted to be a princess, then there would be no such thing as a tomboy.

Then you keep listening some more, and hear things that make you feel like it's all about the mothers who are entering their kids. "I want the crown." I swear that is an actual quote by an adult whose kid was in a contest.

That mom who said that? She's black. And a lesbian. In the South. Just tossing that out there. Breaks the mold a bit. Interesting. Know what else was interesting? The little girl who wanted to win money because she wanted to buy a cow. A cow. A moo cow. (She won, by the way, and when she got off the stage, asked her mother, 'Mama, can I buy a cow now?' and her mother said yes.)

Every girl I saw on the show looked unhappy and uncomfortable (or completely dazed). Maybe a lot of little girls like the idea of being a princess, but I can't imagine they like all the preparation the mothers and grandmothers have decided it takes in order to be a princess. They all looked either disinterested or outrightly sad while their hair and makeup were being done.

Apparently you can be like zero years old and compete in these things - one baby was not only brought on the stage carried by her parent, but brought on stage to accept an award while she was asleep.

These people buy their kids dresses that cost over a thousand dollars. My bat mitzvah dress didn't even cost that much! Just to review, there's a several-hundred dollar pageant entry fee, there's the money for the multiple outfits, the cost of the various coaches, and then travel and hotel costs.

You know what this show reminded me off? The shock I felt when Trixie and I watched Jesus Camp.

This whole thing blows my mind. I can't imagine having a kid, but if I could, I wouldn't be able to imagine carting it around to contests where they are judged on their looks. I could imagine carting it around to see and do all sorts of things, but they wouldn't be based on looks. And yes, I know that they compete in talent and personality and shit, but let's be honest - it's mostly looks. And that looks pretty shallow to me.

I Officially Give Up

Fifteen months. That's how long I paid for COBRA. Know how many times I used it? Once, and I was actually trying to bypass it at the time. As of September 1, when I did not send in a check to pay for health insurance for this month, I have given up. I can't do it anymore. I already maxed out the credit card that has the highest limit.

I simply can not afford health insurance anymore. It just costs way too much. Pre-existing conditions be dammed. At least I'll probably be healthier now that I won't be stressing over going further and further into debt so quickly. I only had three months left of COBRA left anyway before it ran out.

I am tired. So fucking tired. I can not even tell you how many times I lied during that weekend in Florida. Where do you work? What do you do? How do you like work? I come from a very black and white family when it comes to lying. To the point that when I was a little girl, and changed my favorite color from purple to red one week, my father asked if I'd been lying last week or if I was lying this week. We're hardcore about lying. So to lie about what I do every day, for the bulk of my day, hurt me deeply.

White lies are a great invention. I'm all for lying to avoid hurting people, and lying to protect. And I lied to protect myself. Because I can not stand being asked anymore. How's the job search going? It's still going, which tells you it's not going well. How are you doing? Horribly, and it's a huge effort for me to not burst into tears and throw myself into your arms. How are you affording this? The truth is, I'm not. I'm deeply in debt, scrambling to pay minimums and rent and for food.

The truth is I wish I still had my car. The one I sold in Florida to pay for the move out here. Because that was always my back-up plan. That when I became homeless (when, never if, because I've always believed I'd ultimately fail in life, since I was a little girl) I'd move into my car. And now I have no car to move into. And it scares the shit out of me.

Estate Trust Asset Recovery

Disclaimer: This is not legal advice. I am not a lawyer. Nothing I say should be taken as legal advice. I will laugh when you trip.

Now for a little housekeeping. About once a week I check some of my stats. Every single month multiple people are finding my blog by googling about estate trust asset recovery. Because I blogged about it once.

Here's what happened. You are owed money for something. In my case, it was car insurance that I canceled. You did not collect the money you were owed for whatever reason. The company that owed you the money somehow neglected to get it to you for whatever reason. That money then gets turned over to the state. In my case, the state was Florida. The state keeps lists of who is owed money, and how much they are owed.

Some companies (also known as law firms) acquire (buy? steal? probably buy) these lists. They then contact the people who are owed money and offer to get the money to them. That's the letter you're getting from a company or law firm that you don't recognize, saying it wants to give you money.

Legal? Yes. The catch? Yes, there is one. For this service, of getting your money from the state and getting it to you, this company or law firm is going to take a fee. A percentage of that money.

Legal? Yes.

I am cheap in that way though, so I decided to bypass the law firms (oh yes, more than one company or law firm can buy the same lists and more than one contacted me) and try to get my money myself. And I did. You can too.

You're welcome. This has not been legal advice. I am still not a lawyer. I look forward to you tripping, and welcome stories from you about people you saw trip.

For Wide Lawns Because It's Funny

We're Going To Talk About This, Right?

Please say yes. Please? Because I really want to. I loved the first 90210 back in the 90's.

Naturally I *had* to watch the new Beverly Hills 90210 last night. All two hours of it. I even warned 9am over the weekend of my plans.

First of all, I just need to get this out of the way. Whoever is in charge of Jennie Garth's wardrobe should be fired for putting her in that black, skintight, miniskirt that she wore in the parking lot of the school. It made her legs look terrible. It made her look like she belonged in a Whitesnake video on top of a car. A-line would have made her look much cuter. You're welcome.

B, you may be interested in watching when I tell you the character Annie is played by the same actress who plays Darcy on Degrassi: The Next Generation.

Did anyone else feel like their mind was racing when Silver introduced herself to Annie and then we all realized she was Erin Silver? As in Kelly Taylor and David Silver's little sister? For a second there I confused her with Dylan's little sister. I barely caught the Hannah Zuckerman-Vasquez thing, they flew by it so quickly. Did anyone else keep expecting Danny Tanner to come in and start cleaning something every time they saw Lori Loughlin?

Naomi. She is what Summer was for The OC at the beginning. I hate the actress they picked for her. I think Annalynne McCord overacts. And despite the fact that she's only 21 in real life, she is supposed to be playing a 16 year old. But she looks about 25. When she found out (SPOILER!) her boyfriend cheated on her and she cried, I felt nothing. You know why? Because she overacts!

So Jennie and Shannen came back, Tori threw a hissy fit, and supposedly Jason is coming back later in the season. I hope more of the original characters come back. Next week Kelly Taylor's mom will be in the episode. Nat from the Peach Pit made an appearance, and somebody should tell him to dye his hair back - we all know he's gone gray, it's okay.

Why I Do Not Support Sarah Palin

It's not because she has five kids. It's not because she went back to work three days after giving birth to a baby with Down's, which I think is wrong. That's right, I do. Not that mothers shouldn't work, but take a moment, won't you? To stop bleeding, to bond with your baby, to immerse yourself in what you waited all those months for (the mountain, fuck do I need an intervention). And yes, some people don't have the time off from work to take for maternity leave. But I am pretty sure Sarah Palin did.

It's not even because she is anti sex-education. Or because her 17 year-old daughter Bristol is pregnant (we'll put aside the question of whether the Down's baby is really hers or if she truly DID have mono, for now).

No, the reason I'm not a fan of Sarah Palin has more to do with the fact that she doesn't believe in sex education even AFTER having proof in her own home, with her own daughter, that her method does not work. I mean, it does, if you want pregnant teenagers...