Puppies don't care about monkey worries - jobs, relationships, money, bills....

While The Veil Is Still Thin

Is there anyone out there who isn't having a hard time this Halloween? This is the day when everything is supposed to feel magikal...as if neither the darkness or the light have fallen on the earth. The twilight is here...and where are you? Stuck in some stupid, human funk.

As my favorite ad from the Austin Statesman said:
"Release your monkey mind!"

Light a candle, make a wish.

Samhain only comes once. New beginnings are taking root into the earth, new hopes and dreams are dwelling.

Be reflectful, not unhappy. Repent for your trespasses from the past year.

The New Year has fallen. Open your arms and prepare for something wonderful and magical.

I see it.

Haunted sites - GA

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

For a pretty extensive listing of haunted sites in Georgia,
visit the Shadowland's Haunted Place Page.
(Other states are available).

http://www.theshadowlands.net/places/georgia.htm

I noticed that they didn't mention the Pet Cemetary near Crittersville, or Devil's Graveyard, or the weird (now missing) cemetary near the railroad trestles, or the Zion cemetary where the satanists play....

START SURFING, DAMMIT! CHRISTOPHER WALKEN FOR PRESIDENT!!!!!

You people need to go see the sights I see, and then you can walk in my shoes.

Do you ever feel like your sense of humor is off kilter and absolutely insane? You laugh aloud, and nobody else around laughs?

That's because they suck, and you are truly funny. I promise.

Anyway, I found a couple of sites that are worth mention. Because I'm lazy, I can't figure out how to link to other sites on a toolbar on my blog. So you have to read my shi#, yo.

1. www.petsinuniform.com.

" So we all feel for our men and women in uniform, but what about our pets? The cats and dogs put on a uniform everyday and protect this great nation against prowlers and the mailman are to be commended."

2. http://www.walken2008.com/index.html

Christopher Walken for President - 2008.

"To: Friends, Family, and my fellow Americans

Subject: Get America Back On Track!

It's not too early to be thinking about the future of this country and who's going to lead it. Election after election we're given the "choice" between two unappealing candidates and have no choice but to vote for the one we dislike less. But now, that's about to change.

Stepping up to the forefront of politics is a new type of leader, motivated by his love for his country, not special interest groups. His distinct image and captivating voice you already know, and now it's your chance to make him the leader of the people, for the people, by the people. That's right... Christopher Walken is running for President.

Now, at this early stage of the campaign, is when the grass-roots voters like us can really influence the candidates we'll see in the elections. So take a few minutes to visit the Walken 2008 Home Page at http://www.walken2008.com, read about the man and his ideas, and send them a message of your support. This is how the system should work, and now's your chance to have your voice. Don't let it slip away!

Sincerely,

-A caring citizen"

3. http://www.officeguns.com/gunadv_super_maul.html

Office Guns.

Made out of thin pencils and those alligator clippies you still wish you hadn't clipped to your nipples that one time you were drunk at work.
For shooting at your asshole boss when he's busy whining.

4. http://bloodynuisance.blogspot.com/

Because he suggests arming domestic violence victims. Because he's a World of Warcrack addict, just like Z. Because he's funny, and has ideas along my own extremist mindset (For reference, see Michael Douglas in "Falling Down": http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0106856/)

5. I, Asshole.

http://iasshole.org/about/
Nutty librarian mom of 2 in Seattle, who somehow, creepily seems like a reincarnated blogger friend from a past life. Is that possible, in this oh-so-short-life of the blogosphere? Yep.

ZEN AND THE ART OF BLOG MAINTENANCE
(Because I never read that shitty book , and I'm freaking tired of hearing my boss talk about it. What was it, The Tao of Pooh for the early '80s? He forgets, dammit, I was raised by a semi manic yearly religious convert. My earliest memories are of sitting with Dad on the side of a lake, while he threw his I Ching.)

Do you think the Tibetan monks wrote cryptic messages on boulders, and then with much great determination, they rolled them down the big freaking mountain? Typically, they hit the Village People below in bowling pin fashion, especially the cop (who is now a crackhead fugitive, you gotta watch those crackheads http://www.amw.com/fugitives/case.cfm?id=35412).

However, on every arbitrary Wednesday the boulder would be stopped in its path down the mountain by an annoying ten year old using the force. (See the oh-so-irritating "Short Round" from "Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom": http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0702841/)

Aforesaid irritating ten year old grabs the blog boulder, dashes up the himalayan mountain in leaps and bounds, a la "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon". Upon reaching the top, he throws the boulder into the temple, throws on some yellow robes, and sits upon it. (See "The Golden Child" for reference: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0091129/).

And the whole blog boulder thing starts again, because those poor Tibetan monks are so freaking tired of having that annoying ten year old on the boulder throne. You gotta roll with the punches, folks.

SUMMARY:

You want to see:
1. Pets in Uniform;
2. Christopher Walken for President;
3. Office Guns;
4. a World of Warcrack extremist;
5. I, Asshole. (Because the name is enough. I keep picturing Derek Jacobi http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0001394/).

The 2nd Thing You Do With A Mirror

And no, I'm not talking about shaving your balls.

This article is kind of funny. While I understand why Johnny Depp decided to present Kate Moss with a mirror upon her gradimacation from rehab, you have to admit the irony is - well - a bit too much.

Demonic Laughter In Background.

http://www.femalefirst.co.uk/celebrity/68382004.htm

"Depp gives Kate Moss mirror rehab gift"

Your Zodiac For The Week

I completely had some of you in mind when I read this forecast. Where the hell are my cards dammit.


www.celestialweather.com
(Come on, you know you are a believer. Quit playin.)
Week of October 23rd, 2005

Week as a Whole:

On Tuesday evening Jupiter enters Scorpio and begins his yearlong residence in this sign of strong desire and fixed purposes. Less than 24 hours later, Neptune comes to his semi-annual standstill and resumes normal forward motion through the zodiac. Both Jupiter and Neptune represent our connections and expansions into the larger worlds outside our personal and family life. Both inform our sense of reality by defining, consciously and unconsciously, what we think is possible. After this week, the world will seem a different place with new options and some old patterns of thought left behind.

Jupiter is the philosopher of the zodiac. He takes the broad view in all senses and his condition describes the condition of our cultural institutions like our courts, universities, and formal religions. He opens a pathway for us to expand up and out into our society. He informs our long-range relationships with people and countries. He is a policy maker working with big ideas and concepts. For the past year, Jupiter has been passing through Libra, a sign noted for its grace, objectivity, and balance. Sometimes, Libra can be so polite and evenhanded that the crucial issues are not discussed, but inconclusively danced around. Not so with Scorpio. Matters that were debated intellectually and “rationally” a month ago, will now be charged with emotion. No wiggle room allowed. Politics will become even more polarized. Do not be fooled by a veneer of civility; the true blood sport nature of political power will be roiling just beneath the surface.

As Jupiter moves forward into Scorpio he will make square angles in December with Saturn in Leo and in February with Neptune in Aquarius, and with both at once in the late summer of 2006. These will mark times of serious power struggles and battles over cultural values. The mid-term elections in the U.S. will be a stage for this contest over the country’s direction. Court battles and trials will be the locations for power changing hands. Much will be hidden in typical Scorpio fashion. The law and legal arguments will be a means to an end.

Neptune connects us by the experiences we have in common. He dissolves our boundaries, boundaries like class, nationality, geography, gender, age, political affinity, and wealth. Neptune reaches us through mass media that touches our common humanity. We feel his power in the weather and the common cold that can affect us all. Our unified experience in a symphony or a football game is Neptunian. Music flows over and through us like his oceanic waters that make up 70 percent of our bodies. Neptune has been slowly moving through forward-looking Aquarius for the past few years uniting all of us in concern and anticipation of an approaching future vastly different that the recent past. We all feel something headed our way. We all know intuitively that technology and industry – Aquarian attributes – are driving these changes. We can expect that the square angle between Jupiter and Neptune in February and then later next summer will mark points of tension over the shaping of this future and how we use or don’t use our resources.

We’re at the end of a long period of extreme stress and high energy. Calmer days lie just ahead, but this week as Jupiter and Neptune change, we come to new mental and spiritual understanding of what has happened. The political landscape has changed, and in a more subtle way, our assumptions about what’s possible have also changed. The previous weeks have made serious changes within our personal sphere, our feelings have changed, we have new information, and our minds have been stretched a bit. But this week those changes come outside and manifest. Hidden matters come to the surface; this is a time for revelations big and small.

Uh...I didn't do it. 

VAGINA IDOLS!!!!!!!!!!

I know you people have heard of "The Vagina Monologues", the Broadway show that kind of took post-feminist feminists by storm. I for one thought it was a little weird for women to all want to be in a show that is about ahem vaginas. Ew. I don't care about your creepy vagina.

Anyway, I was reading up on something today....ooopss....I can't remember what...and I found out about Sheila-na-Gigs. Here is what they are, courtesy of some ol history site.

http://askelm.com/doctrine/d980928.htm
Early Irish Churches Blatantly Show Female Genitalia

The Christian men in Ireland who were in authority over their flocks had churches built in order to perform the liturgies and rituals associated with their sacred duties. And what did the church authorities place at the entrances to many of their churches just before and after the time of the Crusades? In full view of the congregations that attended the various Catholic Churches then in Ireland, the priests and monks placed a statue carved out of stone (usually) showing a squatting woman with her legs apart and the genitalia of the woman held open with her hands. Such images were widespread in Ireland and each one was known as a Shiela-Na-Gig (probably meaning, the "Woman of the Vulva"). This naked woman was prominently displayed for all the churchgoers at the keystone spot of an arched doorway leading into the church (or sometimes over a pointed arch of a window that was also apart of the church).

It may be difficult for us of modern times to believe that such things happened in a Catholic Christian environment, but the fact is, they did indeed take place. In the prestigious "Encyclopedia of Religion," edited by Mercia Eliade and published by Macmillian Publishing Company for the University of Chicago, there are references to these Sheila-Na-Gigs (sometimes spelled Sheelagh-na-gig). Notice what the encyclopedia tells us about them.

"Aside from the transformative religious mysteries of sacrifice and initiation, the obvious life-giving and growth-promoting powers of the vulva and its secretions have given rise to a widespread use of representations of the female genitalia as apotropaic devices. The custom of plowing a furrow for magical protection around a town was practiced all over Europe by peasants. It was still observed in the twentieth century in Russia, where villages were thus annually 'purified.' The practice was exclusively carried out by women, who, while plowing, called on the moon goddess. A similar apotropaic function seems to have prompted the placing of squatting female figures prominently exposing their open vulvas on the key of arches at church entrances in Ireland, Great Britain, and German Switzerland. In Ireland these figures are called Sheelagh-na-gigs. Some of these figures represent emaciated old women. These images are illustrations of myths concerning the territorial Celtic goddess who was the granter of royalty. When the goddess wished to test the king-elect, she came to him in the form of an old hag, soliciting sexual intercourse. If the king-elect accepted, she transformed herself into a radiantly beautiful young woman and conferred on him royalty and blessed his reign. Most such figures were removed from churches in the nineteenth century.

And a little farther down in the same article:

"A remarkable parallel to the Celtic Sheelagh-na-gig is found in the Palauan archipelago. The wooden figure of a nude woman, prominently exposing her vulva by sitting with legs wide apart and extended to either side of the body, is placed on the eastern gable of each village's chiefly meeting house. Such figures are called dilugai. Interestingly, the yoni [the female genitalia] is in the shape of a cleft downward-pointing triangle. These female figures protect the villagers' health and ward off all evil spirits as well. They are constructed by ritual specialists according to strict rules, which if broken would result in the specialist's as well as the chiefs death. It is not coincidental that each example of signs representing the female genitalia used as apotropaic devices are found on gates. The vulva is the primordial gate, the mysterious divide between nonlife and life" (Encyclopedia of Religion, article YONI, Vol.15, p.534).

There is a great deal of information about these Sheila-Na-Gigs that were found in many places in Ireland (until the Protestant Reformation when many of them were destroyed by the reformers) and in various places of Northern Europe within Christian times (indeed, these images were found in the most prominent places carved on Catholic Christian churches). They were even found on Cathedrals (the seat of a bishopric). The highest authorities in the Christian Church allowed them to exist at the time.
In the famous "Encyclopaedia of Religion and Ethics," edited by James Hastings, we read the following.

"Nor are such female effigies confined to the pagan natives of tropical wilds. They were frequently carved on churches in the Middle Ages. Many have been preserved until recently in Ireland, as, e.g. on a doorway of Cloyne Cathedral, Co. Cork. The Royal Irish Academy in Dublin possesses a very good specimen removed from a church. They are known to Irish antiquaries by the name Sheila-Na-Gig. Most of them, however, have now been destroyed" (vol. IX, p.8~7).

Barbara Walker in her book "The Woman’s Dictionary of Symbols and Sacred Objects," states under the subject Sheila-Na-Gig:

"Female figures prominently displaying the yoni [female genitalia] as a vesica piscus [Mandorla] were once common ornaments of Irish churches built before the sixteenth century. As a rule the sheila-na-gig was carved into the keystone of a window or doorway arch. Undoubtedly it was a protective sign left over from pre-Christian Goddess worship. Figures of the same type were found throughout Europe as cathedral decorations, on the capitals of columns, at the ends of ceiling beams, and so forth. Squatting Goddess figures almost identical to the Sheila-Na-Gig guarded the doors of temples in India" (p.104).

It should be recalled that the depiction of these women blatantly showing their genitalia in the most prominent places of a Cathedral or church were sanctioned and ordained by the Christian ecclesiastical authorities with the approval and approbation of the papacy in Rome (after all, some of them were found on churches as late as the nineteenth century). A few of these images approved by the priests and monks are shown below. These few represent the hundreds that must have existed on other churches.

Many symbols and signs on churches and cathedrals in Europe were not as blatant as the Sheila-Na-Gigs, but the so-called benign symbols that the female and male genitalia represented only the initiated into the "church mysteries" would know what they meant. Many windows were given various designs that to the uninitiated looked like pretty decorations to make the church appear attractive to the eye. Yes, it did that, but the architects of Ten had much more in mind when they painted (or constructed) their rose windows or carvings in walls, on columns, at the top of columns, or at the end of beams. As a point in fact, at the Church of San Fedele in France there were discovered some medals dating from the fourteenth to the sixteenth centuries that had on one side the "benign" symbol in the form of a cross with other decorations with what the symbol actually entailed on the reverse side (which was a phallic symbol). Some signs were "male" and others were "female" and were identified by the respective genitalia found on the reverse side. The Plate IX below was taken from the book "A History of Phallic Worship," by Thomas Wright and published as a reprint by Dorset Press, 1992.



WELL WELL WELL.
So you men have really been worshipping the pus&y for an eon or so, haven'tcha? Ew. Get a grip.

Email Time Capsule

Send yourself an email, to be delivered in

A. 1 Year
B. 3 Years
C. 5 Years
D. 10 Years
E. 20 Years

What will you say to yourself?

http://forbes.codefix.net/capsule/

 

Ten Things I Really Love

Because I am such a stressed out, nervous wreck of a human being (subsisting solely on painkillers to numb the anxiety - where is the valium, dammit) I decided it was important to be grateful. And I am. So here are 10 Things I Really Love (as discovered or rediscovered in the past week)

1. Sex with a deep emotional connection. No lights out, or eyes glancing away from your lover's face. How awesome is that. When the connection is there, the sex will always be awesome.

2. My new recipe for peanut butter/chocolate frosting, ultra rich because it had melted Reese's cups in it. Wow. One spoonful and you'll be good to go for another 6 months. Amazing.

3. Traipsing around in the woods with a blankie covering your shoulders and a straw hat tied onto your head to keep those cute baby hairs from frizzing around on your forehead. I swear I felt like I was in "Howard's End", and I was Helena Bonham Carter. Just kind of swooshing around in the crackled leaved woods. Yum again.

4. Being needed. Although I do plenty of bitching about how I don't have a shrink to talk to, it sure is easy to forget your own problems when someone desperately needs a shoulder to cry on. Sorry for the circumstance, Naa, but you may have saved me from a weekend long drunken stupor.

5. Planning a botanical garden. Yay. Having a great time planning perennials and reading the seed catalogues.

6. My lovely friend, Ms.Monty Python in Philly. She called me while I was roaming around in the grocery store like some lost insane asylum patient. Great to hear her drunk and happy, and wanting to tell me that she missed me also. Yes, it is very weird to be having so much fun without her around. On the other hand, I am really glad she was able to escape her hell - Crittersville.

7. The new present my friend-in-law (she refuses to be called a mother-in-law, or a pseudo mother-in-law, or an almost mother-in-law) sent me from Austin. There is absolutely no reason that you would use a car buffing mitt made out of real fur on a stupid car, I don't care how pretty it is. That thing was meant for the bedside table drawer, you know what I mean?

8. I lost 9.5 lbs last week. Kind of. I had actually gained 4 in water weight, then lost it all in one 9.5 lb. burst. Nice. And the exercise really helped my stress. My daughter is my personal trainer. She won't allow me to jog - no - I'm full out sprinting after her at the park.

9. The smell of fireplaces being used.

10. My daughter's sweet, soft cheeks. Sometimes I just lay my head on hers, and put my cheeks next to hers. I can feel the little tickle of baby blond hairs on her face rubbing over mine. And suddenly, life is good, and I am proud to have been given such a gift.

The past week or so seems to have been really hard on everyone I know. Four people died, two are incorrigibly fighting with their spouse, one had her abusive husband come back home, and one is simply the watcher and the keeper. That's me.

I watch, and hope I can be of service. I wait, and know that my love for my extended, created family may help in some way. I keep the bad things bottled up, and when I am in the privacy of my own secret place I let it all go in one big whooosh. I can pour my love, and douse with it also.

I wish you all the strength, courage, and confidence to continue on the path you know is pulling you. Life is the most difficult and humbling experience one can ever expect to have. Buddha said so. He also said that life is misery, and in many ways that is too true.

Without such misery, how would we be able to appreciate walking in the woods, or peanut butter/chocolate frosting? I know everyone hates the old "what doesn't hurt you makes you stronger" bit, but it is true, and you know it.

So hunker down and ride out this storm. True love can withstand anything. And that includes true love for yourself, something very necessary before you can gift it to others.

We'll make it through this one. I promise. And I am always available. (Unless Z has broken out the real fur car mitt).

How to produce a moment of zen for a Type A personality

By last Friday, I literally thought I was going to tear my hair out, any moment. I had schedules to follow, appointments to attend, people to see, things to do....not exactly the most calming start to a weekend away from hell at work.

I was meeting my friend Naa in Crittersville. Naa currently resides in some podunk town 2 hours south of Atlanta. Not by choice, mind you, just giving him free residence while he gets his head together and figures out what to do for the rest of his life. Poor Naa is the least likely denizen of such a small, hick redneck place. It's terrible. He's taken to wearing butch macho clothing - like ruffian shirts from Aeropostale and ACG shitkicking boots. What the hell. I'm used to meeting this guy and going - "Oh hell. He's a character. Who else would be caught dead wearing something like that?"

Anyway, Naa lived in Hilton Head for a few years, and while there, shared his rent with a roommate, we'll call him John. John split to Atlanta after they both moved out of the apartment, and since then, has apparently been tasting the ever-luscious crystal meth scene in Atlanta's House/Techno clubs.

John had been an ice lover before, but had quit for his years in SC. Only here was it so prevalent, and so available, that he apparently couldn't turn away.

Anyway, he was in the midst of the depressive down that shows up around day 3 or 4, and won't leave for six months after you quit. He hung himself in his bathroom in his apartment down in Midtown. 28. Pretty yucky.

Naa was here to grieve, and needed a bit of help having some fun. WE went on an adventure, one that reminded me of my life before children. We spent an hour in the grocery store, arguing over which cake mix idea seemed the most beneficial to hiding things within. We bought humongous tart pans, and made the biggest cupcakes you have ever seen. I made peanut butter frosting from Reese's cups, and we ate our little chocolate confections of joy.

The rest of the weekend is pretty much in a fog. I remember waking up around Noon on Saturday, and being pissed that Naa called me and woke me up. We went to the mountains, and walked around in the woods as though we were traipsing to a tea party. We ate more chocolate peanut butter cupcakes.

I became pretty violently ill by last evening, I don't think my body was prepared for such intoxication. After a couple of salads laden with vinegar and salt, I felt much better.

Today, I'm going to stay home, work some, and pray a whole lot. Our inspection report on our house has not yet been written, but I am aware of the many little tasks that need to be done. Z and I are anxious. We both back-and-forth on the house from day to day. Do I honestly want to teach myself to replace subflooring? Maybe not. I don't see myself fuc&ing it up- I have a pretty rational mind for carpentry (Woodshop was my favorite class growing up. I got into huge trouble when my teacher with the feet that were hairy on the bottom - long story - caught me using a scroll saw on a expensive piece of teak. Whoops.)

The point is, I don't know that I want to have to work any more than I already do. I have issues maintaining balance as is. I want to have time to go to drum circles. I want to have time to take my daughter to the apple festival. I want to have time to go running.

I did find my zen, however. Somehow, running around like a hooligan, clearly gone, helped bring some childishness into my heart. Seriousness can easily melt away when you are too busy giggling.

So I say break free when you can. I got a lot out of dancing around on freshly waxed hardwood floors, in my socks, humming the song that was pleasantly stuck in my head.

I know you all can and should. Break free, that is.

Six year olds don't bother worrying about carpets and vinyl. 

Weird Laws of the Crittersville Area

Unlike Cobb County (home of Newt Gingrich and Bob Barr, just south of my home), Cartersville doesn't outlaw homosexuality or make you own a gun (Kennesaw, GA). These are kind of cute.

From the Daily Tribune News, my source for reading up on who has been arrested in town ("The Bartow Blotter" has been a mainstay since high school):

Weird laws: Have you broken any?
Profanity, spitting part of laws still on the books

Monica L. Burge Staff Writer Published October 16, 2005 10:13 PM CDT

Using profanity is prohibited in Cartersville; all Acworth citizens must own a rake; and fornication is banned in every county in the state.

It is illegal to tie any animal to a telephone pole in Emerson, and spitting on the sidewalk in Cartersville is prohibited.

Emerson Police Department Interim Chief Kevin McBurnett verified some of these bizarre ordinances and statutes but made assurances that laws like the anti-fornication and adultery laws "that have been on the books for years" are "overlooked" by most law enforcement officers.

Even though violations such as playing marbles in the street, "loud talking" outside a church during Sunday services and removing a shopping cart from a store are hardly ever enforced, ignoring violations of these seemingly insignificant offenses "is at the discretion of the officer," McBurnett said.

Hyponatremeia

Your word from the day.

Seriously, though, a pretty scary story about the poisoning that can occur from drinking too much water. Common among marathoners.

Marathoners Warned About Too Much Water

By GINA KOLATA
Published: October 20, 2005

"Dr. Lewis G. Maharam, the medical director for the New York City Marathon and marathons in San Diego, Phoenix, Nashville and Virginia Beach, said he was taking every opportunity this year to educate runners about the biggest threat to their lives on race day - drinking too much water."

http://www.nytimes.com/2005/10/20/sports/othersports/20marathon.html?ei=5070&en=77eb1f5573dbcd5f&ex=1130558400&adxnnl=1&adxnnlx=1129896336-wI2cGYckBNWvoByw/HvK3A

Matthew McConnaughey Can Perk Any Of Us Up

Wow. My bad mood mysteriously disappeared after seeing the Bastardly's photospread of uber-hottie, Matthew McConnaughey. Scrumptious. Give me a Cinnabon and we'll be all set. Whoopee.

These are going in my photo file. Damn. http://www.bastardly.com/archives/2005/10/20/matthew-mcconaughey-for-the-ladies/1/

Blues

I'm pretty unhappy. I'll post when I have something nice to say.

And, because I'm not getting any

I started reading this Forbes article: "Health Benefits of Sex: Is It Necessary?"

Too funny. We were talking about this recently, Z and I. Mostly because I don't think anyone is able to accurately measure some of the health benefits accrued through sexual behavior...mostly because some people are moving and some people....UGH. I'm now utterly embarassed that I even thought to bring this up. I'm blushing. No lie.

Anyway, here are a few tidbits from Forbes that made me laugh. Enjoy. I hope to.

ON EXERCISE AND OVERALL PHYSICALL WELL-BEING:
"Men's Health magazine has gone so far as to call the bed the single greatest piece of exercise equipment ever invented. "

(Of course you do. )


REDUCED DEPRESSION?

"American psychologist Gordon Gallup reported that sexually active participants whose male partners did not use condoms were less subject to depression than those whose partners did. One theory of causality: Prostoglandin, a hormone found only in semen, may be absorbed in the female genital tract, thus modulating female hormones. "

(HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAAAA!!! OF COURSE Mr. Gallup DOES!)

PAIN RELIEF?

"Immediately before orgasm, levels of the hormone oxytocin surge to five times their normal level. This in turn releases endorphins, which alleviate the pain of everything from headache to arthritis to even migraines. In women, sex also prompts production of estrogen, which can reduce the pain of PMS."

(Turn the tables on those bitches who won't put out. No "I have a headache tonight, dear" 's to be heard round here, dammit!)

I have saved the best for last. Read below.


BETTER TEETH?

"Seminal plasma contains zinc, calcium and other minerals shown to retard tooth decay. Since this is a family Web site, we will omit discussion of the mineral delivery system. Suffice it to say that it could be a far richer, more complex and more satisfying experience than squeezing a tube of Crest--even Tartar Control Crest. Researchers have noted, parenthetically, that sexual etiquette usually demands the brushing of one's teeth before and/or after intimacy, which, by itself, would help promote better oral hygiene. "


Comment: I'm pretty sure it is on the Top Ten Man-Rules List that you keep up the subterfuge as sharply as you can. When men break down and act obvious in their duplicitousness, they can be harshly disciplined by the other men.

I am just kidding, of course. I believe in all of those. Fiercely.

"Your Duty" to Abort your Disabled child

I read this article from the Washington Post yesterday and cried. The woman who wrote the article, Patricia Bauer, writes about how all of a sudden, you just don't see children with disabilities or Down's syndrome born in middle-upper class America. http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2005/10/17/AR2005101701311.html.

Bauer's own daughter has Down's, and has received a bit of flak, I take it, because she did not choose to have an abortion. Science has really provided us with more moral quandaries to trespass.

At around 16-20 weeks, pregnant women now get regularly screened with an AFP (alpha fetoprotein) test. http://ucsfhealth.org/childrens/medical_services/preg/prenatal/moreinfo/faq.htmlThis test reveals abnormalities in the blood that usually indicate genetic disorders. (For more info about genetic disorders, of which there are a whole array, read this Emory University Department of Genetics website: http://server2k.genetics.emory.edu/ask/user/view_topic.pl?topic=20&temp=3).

At this time, you still have a very small window to opt for an abortion. When my AFP test results came back abnormal, I was told that I needed a more conclusive, in-depth Ultrasound at Emory. Then I could make decisions.

The ultrasound was incredible. I was able to see the tiny passages in my daughter's heart, brain, and lungs. It was like having an anatomy book on screen. A little creepy, also, considering that the subject was a creature that was part of my flesh, and had taken a nice hold inside me.

The ultrasound was inconclusive. No abnormalities were noted, but the physicians on staff warned me that some genetic disorders are impossible to physically note. Her head and body were shaped right, but plenty of people born with genetic disorders do not have typical physical characteristics - they look like you and I.

I was urged by members of my family to have an abortion. Everyone was all freaked out already, thought that I was like Julia Roberts in "Steel Magnolias", and that I would die in childbirth.

I knew differently. We had bonded, you see, this little alien inside my tummy and I. We sang to eachother in our dreams, and whispered in the middle of the night. I knew she was perfectly "fine".

To me, "fine" was a figurative term. What is normal, anyway? How can you possibly tell me that someone with genetic "disorders" was not meant to live on this Earth, especially when they are mild syndromes? Isn't the idea that abnormalities exist a basic tenet of evolution and natural selection, ideas in which I deeply believe?

She was "fine" because she was conceived, something I did not believe could happen. Her dreams, shared with me while she was in utero, revealed a strong, healthy, and talkative child just waiting to meet me for the first time.

I pity you people who deem others "not good enough". True, it is incredibly difficult to raise a child with mental/physical problems. I've seen mothers driven crazy by such a momentous task. However, isn't this the risk we take by procreating anyway?

If you have ever seen the movie "Gattaca", you know of the dangers of selection that can occur when people decide just what is perfect. I feel we are treading on very dangerous ground, morally, if we decide to interuppt the normal natural selection process.

Abortion is a terrible thing in some ways, in others it is very necessary, while still being absolutely horrible. I know. I had one. My heart still breaks every day as I remember it. I doubt I will ever forgive myself for it, and I know that I will carry it with me into the next life.

That people should be so cold and hardened to believe that you deserve a "normal" child, in all your trappings of wealth, absolutely astounds me. You aren't suffering from a lack of education and poverty. It won't cripple you, financially or emotionally, for the rest of your life to raise the child that you were given by nature. You also are not in such an extreme situation that you will be so burdened by childbirth that you will eventually become a destructive, abusive parent. You have the resources to handle this, and with resources come the comfort of knowing that you have that foundation to walk upon. Break out your Blue Cross/Blue Shield card and go to town, you money-laden scum of the earth.

Worse, you are suffering from elitism, pride, and massive egos. What made you so fuc&ing special? Are you so perfect? Why would you possibly think that you are a divine enough being to decide what perfection is?

Christians believe in judgment day. I don't. I believe that your reincarnations will naturally keep bringing up all the bad shit. You screw someone royally in this life, they may just come back in the next, when you are a dog, and beat you day in and day out.

I wonder what happens to those who decide they are God. How does nature address such absurd over-confidence?

 

In solitude we give passionate attention to our lives, to our memories, to the details around us.

Virginia Woolf

SIGNS WITH MEANING

Sign over a Gynecologist's Office:
"Dr. Jones, at your cervix."

In a Podiatrist's office:
"Time wounds all heels."

On a Septic Tank Truck in Oregon:
Yesterday's Meals on Wheels

On a Septic Tank Truck sign:
"We're #1 in the #2 business."

At a Proctologist's door
"To expedite your visit please back in."

On a Plumber's truck:
"We repair what your husband fixed."

On a Plumber's truck:
"Don't sleep with a drip. Call your plumber.."

Pizza Shop Slogan: "7 days without pizza makes one weak."

At a Tire Shop in Milwaukee:
"Invite us to your next blowout."

On a Plastic Surgeon's Office door:
"Hello. Can we pick your nose?"

At a Towing company:
"We don't charge an arm and a leg. We want tows."

On an Electrician's truck:
"Let us remove your shorts."

In a Nonsmoking Area:
"If we see smoke, we will assume you are on fire and take appropriate action."

On a Maternity Room door: "Push. Push. Push."

At an Optometrist's Office
"If you don't see what you're looking for, you've come to the right place."

On a Taxidermist's window:
"We really know our stuff."

On a Fence:
"Salesmen welcome! Dog food is expensive."

At a Car Dealership:
"The best way to get back on your feet - miss a car payment."

Outside a Muffler Shop:
"No appointment necessary. We hear you coming."

In a Veterinarian's waiting room:
"Be back in 5 minutes. Sit! Stay!"

At the Electric Company:
"We would be delighted if you send in your payment.
However, if you don't, you will be."

In a Restaurant window:
"Don't stand there and be hungry, Come on in and get fed up."

In the front yard of a Funeral Home:
"Drive carefully. We'll wait."

At a Propane Filling Station,
"Thank heaven for little grills."

And don't forget the sign at a Chicago Radiator Shop:
"Best place in town to take a leak."

ANYWHERE BUT HERE COMMENT:
This was courtesy of an email today. I thought I would put my two cents in, like usual.

AS SEEN IN A GLASS SHOP NEAR KNOXVILLE, TENNESSEE
"A Pane In The Glass". Enough Said, I dare say....

PLAY WITH NIPPLES!!!!!!!!!!! ( I have to credit the incredible photojournalist for this one. www.livejournal.com/. ../68160.html
What a great way to help illustrate my point. These young lads look friendly, don't they?

You suck because of your Oxytocin

I had a really, really shitty day at work, and it was mostly because people either:

A. Can't communicate worth a damn. If you don't write well, don't expect to make a lot of sense when you send e-mails. Likewise, if you come off as an asshole when you talk (a la really shitty boss), don't talk so much. You readers get the picture. Downplay your flaws and exaggerate your assets. I don't wear skintight pants but I sure do know what to do with this cleavage (even after 45 lbs, it's still there. I don't get it. I'm afraid I'm going to wake up one day and POOOOFFF! NO Boobs!!!!!!!!)

B. Haven't any empathy/understanding of others. In some instances, my coworkers resemble sociopathic patients in an outpatient facility. You know the type: able to make it okay in the outside world, but really, really need therapy. Bad.

You know when you run across one of these character types. You speak one sentence. QUICK AS LIGHTNING! FLASH! You are interuppted, and the point of your anecdote was lost to the four winds. What a way to make you feel meaningless, eh?

I deal with this everyday, every hour, unless it is Yom Kippur, Rosh Hashanah, or Passover. Or vacation.

Anyway, Yahoo news says that scientists have been playing around with mice, and have discovered that a key ingredient to human empathy is oxytocin. http://news.yahoo.com/s/hsn/20051019/hl_hsn/hormonelinkedtoaggressioninmice
If you can process oxytocin, you are capable of forming relationships, garnering trust, and you won't likely be autistic.

I have experience with oxytocin. Did you know that when they are inducing labor, they inject you with pitocin, which is the chemical version of the natural oxytocin hormone? I have a better story, just wait.

About three weeks prior to my due date, I had to go to the hospital and get tested in a labor room. Apparently, because I was a high risk pregnant lady, they wanted to see what happened when my body thought that it was in labor.

As they explained it, rather gently and scientifically, oxytocin is the hormone released that eases your body into labor. It's like the flame on the dynamite stick. The only way to fake this is to either shoot you up with pitocin, which they don't want to do, OR

YOU PLAY WITH YOUR NIPPLES. IS THAT WEIRD OR WHAT?

So I get into this hospital gown and they strap this big thing around my enormous belly that is meant to gauge the infant's heartbeat when my body is stressed out with all that oxytocin running around. I had a monitor measuring my heartbeat on the left arm. I had an IV in, just in case I started things up too much.

Then they politely left me, with the tv on, to play with my own nipples. Apparently you could have your man there to do it for you, but I think he was working.

It's a bit weird to think that the nurses in the nursing station are anxiously awaiting for your nipple playing to adequately excite yourself into shedding some oxytocin. They have your vitals on a screen in front of them, you see, so they know if you are a good nipple player or not.

So that is my oxytocin story. Figure out how to use it right, stupid coworkers. Or just play with your nipples.

HOUSE (FINAL?

WE HAVE A CONTRACT! PRAY THE INSPECTION DOESN"T BRING ANYTHING UP THAT IS AWFUL (TRANSLATION: MORE THAN $1500 OF REPAIRS!!!!!!!)

American Girl will now be on my Christmas Gift List

And yes, I did have one of the first American Girl dolls - Samantha - as a Xmas present in fifth or sixth grade. I love that company. Their stuff is awesome. Nice looking girlie presents. Not ugly dolls, like Madame Alexanders.

From http://sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?file=/c/a/2005/10/15/MNG5VF8ODD1.DTL:

Conservatives turn on dollmaker that had been their darling
American Girl is helping group that backs legal abortion

David Crary, New York Times

Saturday, October 15, 2005

American Girl, manufacturer of a highly popular line of dolls and children's books, has become the target of conservative activists threatening a boycott unless the toy maker cuts off contributions to a youth organization that supports abortion rights and acceptance of lesbians.

Why I am Machiavellian

Okay, Okay, I give up. Forget that last post. Yes, I am lacking the drive, passion and creativity today to do anything other than answer these stupid quizzies and think that you people actually care about "what color your crayon is".

Here is the latest, about how machiavellian I am. Duh. I'm so sorry.

You Are Somewhat Machiavellian

You're not going to mow over everyone to get ahead...But you're also powerful enough to make things happen for yourself.You understand how the world works, even when it's an ugly place.You just don't get ugly yourself - unless you have to!

How Machiavellian Are You?

What Kind of Food I am

I found this website that gives you things to post on your blog. I'm a little miffed, because I have eight emails I sent to myself, all with crap I want to post. Now some lazy asshole out there has these cutesy things for me to do, to find out "What kind of hooker you are" "What Buddha thinks of you" and etc.

So here is what kind of food I am. I now hereby swear never to post this junk again.

You Are Mexican Food

Spicy yet dependable. You pull punches, but people still love you.

What Kind of Food Are You?

About how I feel right now. Yecccchhhhh. 

Hell

Within a period of 5 minutes, my Friday zen has turned into absolute sheer hell. My normal working hours have commenced again. Yom Kippur is over, dammit.
FUC&.

Evidence of Intelligent Design

http://www.fred.net/tds/noodles/noodle.html


Origin of the Novel Species Noodleous doubleous: Evidence for Intelligent Design
Thomas D. Schneider, Ph.D.
Frederick, MD

Abstract
Penne Rigate will spontaneously insert itself into Rigatoni (order pasta) under liquid to gas transition conditions of H2O to create the previously unobserved species Noodleous doubleous. The estimated probability of this spontaneous generation event is too low to be explained by thermodynamics and therefore apparently represents intelligent design.

Forgive Me. I did get rid of the car with the Darwin-fishie sticker on it. I'm going mainstream, I promise.

ATTENTION: OCD LIST MAKERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This site is sooooooo for you. (pandabutt66, I'm referring to you, sweetheart. I know you crave the precision of making your fifty lists online).

www.rememberthemilk.com

Achieve Domestic Bliss.
Never forget the milk (or anything else) again.
Remember The Milk is the easiest and best way to manage your to-do lists online. Here are just a few of the reasons why it's so cool:


Features galore.
Sharing, publishing, notes... we've got it all.
Get reminded.
Receive reminders via email, instant messenger, and SMS.
It's free.
Hard to believe, we know, but it's true.

Don't walk behind me; I may not lead. Don't walk in front of me;I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend.
-- Albert Camus

Liberals are soooooo politically correct

I'm doing research on this subject, so that is the only reason I have been reading up on it.

When I was a kid in CA, political commentators referred to recent emigres from Mexico as "Illegal Aliens". I guess the liberal left has taken issue with this term. Why?

What is wrong with aliens? I personally want to get to know aliens, whether they come from another country or another planet. Lest I be termed an alien-bumper-sticker-toting-UFO-enthusiast, I need to gently explain.

Alien, as defined by Yahoo Education, is:

NOUN:
1. An unnaturalized foreign resident of a country. Also called noncitizen .

2. A person from another and very different family, people, or place.

3. A person who is not included in a group; an outsider.

4. A creature from outer space: a story about an invasion of aliens.

(Ecology An organism, especially a plant or animal, that occurs in or is naturalized in a region to which it is not native. )

Only when you look at "Alien" as an adjective do you see that it can describe something foreign or strange. Where I come from, being foreign or strange isn't necessarily a bad thing. Much better to be slightly eccentric than one of the homogenous sheep.

Now, instead of "illegal alien" being an appropriate term, liberals use "undocumented resident". Well shoot. My cat is an undocumented resident. Until her birth certificate was completed on Day 5, my kid was an undocumented resident.

And doesn't the weight of responsibility cast upon the word "undocumented" seem evil? Undocumented by whom? The big, bad, almighty man, the government, of course. I hate to assign ownership of a word to the government unless I have to, and when you stick this phrase out there for political commentators to parlay, it immediately is. Screw that. The man (or men, as it probably should be) already takes my money and blow it, and claims that fiscal accountability exists. You can't have my language, dammit. It isn't linguistically responsible to go ahead and give them a big multi-syllable word like undocumented.

It would be much nicer to give them a little bitty word from beginning phonics, especially since we have DD in office. (Dumbass Dubya, in case you didn't know).

Any suggestions? I hate to give up man (therefore, unmanned) unless we have to. I like man.

Aaaaahhhhh, little butterfly...

(DISCLAIMER: I didn't write this. My spam from "The Motley Fool" did. But I like the parable. I think this may apply to a lot of us right now.)


Ever hear the apocryphal story of the farmhand who applies for a job? When asked about his qualifications, the farmhand replies, "I can sleep when the wind blows." Though puzzled, the farmer hires the otherwise able fellow.

The farmer is awakened by a violent storm a few nights later. Terrified by the gusting wind, cracking lightning, and rolling thunder, he jumps out of bed and frantically runs around the house. Instead of the devastation he expects, he finds the windows shuttered, the logs stacked by the fireplace, the tractor secured in the shed, and the animals warm in the barn with fresh hay. He returns to the house and finds the farmhand fast asleep.

It was then that the farmhand's words made sense: As long as you're prepared for the storms that will inevitably come, and as long as you faithfully do what needs to be done each day, you can still sleep soundly when the tempest is upon you.

1000 Things Made Of Bamboo

My vote for the next eco-friendly resource. Do you know how fast that stuff grows? Where is the engineering design for vehicles fueled by bamboo oil?

http://www.bambus.de/infos/1000/indexx.php

Dolphins sing 'Batman' theme

That's cute.

http://abc.net.au/science/news/stories/s1473208.htm

"God told me to strike at al Qaida and I struck them, and then he instructed me to strike at Saddam, which I did, and now I am determined to solve..."

I'm not kidding. Bush really said that. Read it here.

http://www.haaretz.com/hasen/pages/ShArt.jhtml?itemNo=310788&contrassID=2&subContrassID=1&sbSubContrassID=0&listSrc=Y

Anderson Cooper SUX

Noone seems to believe me when I say that Anderson Cooper is an ass. You see, when I moved to Georgia, I was tortured every morning with some crappy news segment on the TV in homeroom, called Channel One. Patronizing and idiotic in that bubbly Disney Channel kind of way, the best fodder for our jokes every morning was the anchor. You guessed it, Anderson Cooper.

When I found out that he was making it bigtime, my jaw dropped. I couldn't believe these producers. What the hell. The guy we constantly made fun of for being such an asshole was on primetime.

It's not that I don't like him for goofy reasons. Yes, his voice is utterly jaw-clenching. However, his idle commentary on everything is just insane. I tend to believe that he is just so self absorbed that he doesn't see how much of an ass he makes of himself.

Finally, someone agreed with me. Anderson Cooper sux, dammit.

http://sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2005/10/12/GOODMAN.TMP

Paris Hilton in Darfur

Absolutely hilarious, isn't it? Apparently, a recent conversation held with Don Cheadle (Hotel Rwanda - I have it and still need to see it) and Ryan Gosling (I have no comment about him) suggested that the next reality series needs to star Paris Hilton running scared in Darfur.

For the NY Daily News Article:
http://www.nydailynews.com/news/gossip/story/354460p-302208c.html
For the Defamer shot of Paris, wearing a "Darfur Sucks" T-shirt:
http://www.defamer.com/

and, last but not least, for the latest serial coverage of the horrors happening in Africa, read "Kevin Sites in the Hotzone" over at Yahoo News. Yesterday, they talked about the serial sexual violence that just won't stop. Horrendous. I'll quit my job and become a volunteer if you will.

http://hotzone.yahoo.com/b/hotzone/blogs1180

45 Warm and Fuzzy Things (Sent by Z)

1. Falling in love.

2. Laughing so hard your face hurts.

3. A hot shower.

4. No lines at the supermarket

5. A special glance.

6. Getting mail

7. Taking a drive on a pretty road.

8. Hearing your favorite song on the radio.

9. Lying in bed listening to the rain outside.

10. Hot towels fresh out of the dryer.

11. Chocolate milkshake. (or vanilla or strawberry!)

12. A bubble bath.

13. Giggling.

14. A good conversation.

15. The beach

16. Finding a 20 dollar bill in your coat from last winter.

17. Laughing at yourself.

19. Midnight phone calls that last for hours.

20. Running through sprinklers.

21. Laughing for absolutely no reason at all.

22. Having someone tell you that you're beautiful.

23. Laughing at an inside joke.

24. Friends.

25. Accidentally overhearing someone say something nice about you.

26. Waking up and realizing you still have a few hours left to sleep.

27. A beautiful sunset.

28. Making new friends or spending time with old ones.

29. Playing with a new puppy.

30. Having someone play with your hair.

31. Sweet dreams.

32. Hot chocolate.

33. Road trips with friends.

34. Swinging on swings.

35. Making eye contact with a nice stranger.

36. Making chocolate chip cookies.

37. Having your friends send you homemade cookies.

38. Holding hands with someone you care about.

39. Running into an old friend and realizing that some things (good or bad) never change.

40. Watching the _expression on someone's face as they open a much desired present from you.

41. Watching the sunrise.

42. Getting out of bed every morning and being grateful for another beautiful day.

43. Knowing that somebody misses you.

44. Getting a hug from someone you care about deeply.

45. Knowing you've done the right thing, no matter what other people think.

Let me count all the reasons I hate you....

1. You talk to hear yourself speak. I don't understand the purpose of having normal, day to day tasks raised to the level of mini conflicts. You run around like a chicken with your head cut off, and tell everyone, in an excited, hyperactive, anxiety filled voice about these scenarios. It's bad enough I'm the first person you get a hold of to listen to this crap all day long. Please don't step four feet away and recount the same diatribe for some other unlucky fool.

2. Everything is a bitch and a whine, it doesn't matter how positive it may be. IF your kid did something sweet for you, you whine. If your wife and you are going out to dinner, it's a bitch.

3. You yourself admitted that you have no friends. Why the fuc$ do you bring all your shit to work? You can only bring some of your personal life to work, not all of it. Why can't you make any fuc#ing friends to tell this shit to?

4. Why do you talk about other people's $$$ all the time? Didn't your mother teach you that was not nice/crass/impolite/trashy?

5. Do you really feel it is necessary to talk so loudly that everyone in a 60 ft. radius can hear what you are saying? Especially when you are discussing sensitive information?

6. Haven't you learned to be careful of which bridges you burn? I'm not sure it is a good idea to bitch about people who are more important than you are, especially since you refuse to quietly mumble. Everyone can hear everything you say, and don't think it isn't commented upon.

7. When you know that I have spent a considerable portion of time learning about something, why do you feel as though you have to then read up on it? When you come tell me everything you just read for an hour or so, I feel as though my life is a broken, skipping record. Brains aren't revealed by spewing other people's thoughts. Think up something of your own, and then you'll be recognized as a thinker.

I lean right, you lean left

My friend over at Transplanted Philly Girl http://www.transplantedgirl.blogspot.com/ found a quiz to determine your political leanings. Just in case you weren't sure about mine ( I thought my love for San Francisco said it all) here it is:

You are a Social Liberal (73% permissive) and an... Economic Liberal (30% permissive) You are best described as a: Democrat Link: The Politics Test on Ok Cupid Also: The OkCupid Dating Persona Test

Tolstoy, Misery and Marriage

I'm in the midst of a pretty great time of my life. I have great plans in motion for the future and I am desperately in love, still, after more than 3 years. I don't think you could ask for better.

However, I know that other people may not be in such a place. For those of you in the weird gloomy emotions inseparable from fall, this is for you.

One of my favorite catty blogs, requisite with celebrity pictures of asses and such, has proven to be an intellectual beyond just contemporary culture. He (?)
posted this, from Tolstoy's short story The Kreutzer Sonata:

“In our world, everything is just the opposite. If a man practices abstinence while a bachelor, as son as he gets married he considers abstinence no longer necessary. After all, those trips taken after the wedding, that seclusion in which the young people withdraw with the sanction of their parents—it is nothing but the sanction of profligacy. But moral laws inflict their own punishment if violated. Hard as I tried to turn our holiday into a honeymoon, I did not succeed. From beginning to the end it was shameful, disgusting, and boring. But soon it became even more trying. Very soon. On the third, or perhaps the fourth day I found my wife depressed. I asked her the reason and began to pet her, thinking that might be what she wanted, but she pushed my arm away and began to cry. Why? She could not tell me. But she was unhappy, she was miserable. Probably her strained nerves told her the truth as to how loathsome our relations were, but she could not express it. I pressed her, she muttered something about missing her mother. I felt it was not the truth. I began to coax her, ignoring what she had said about her mother. I did not understand that she was simply miserable and used her mother as an excuse. But she took offense with me for having ignored her mother, as if I had not believed her. She said she was sure I did not love her. I accused her of being capricious, and suddenly her face changed completely; the expression of misery was supplanted by one of irritation, and in the most biting terms she began to accuse me of selfishness and cruelty. I looked at her. Her whole face expressed utter frigidity and hostility, almost hatred of me. I remember how shocked I was ‘how is this?’ I thought. ‘Instead of love, a union of souls—this. Impossible! She is not herself.’ I tried to mollify her, but I found myself confronted by such an implacable wall of cold, caustic hostility, that before I knew it I myself had flown into rage and we said a lot of nasty things to each other. That first quarrel made a dreadful impression on me. I recall a quarrel, but it was not really a quarrel: it was merely a revelation of the great gulf that lay between us. Our love was exhausted as soon as our desire was satisfied, and now we stood facing each other in our true relationship, which was of two completely alien and completely selfish individuals who only wanted to get the greatest amount of satisfaction out of each other.

“I have called what happened a quarrel, but it was not a quarrel; it was merely the exposure of our true relationship brought about by the cessation of sensual desire. I did not realize that this attitude of cold hostility was the normal relationship between us, and I did not realize it was because soon this attitude of hostility was hidden from sight by a new wave of sensuality, of being in love.

“I thought we had quarreled and made it up, and that we would never do such a thing again. But in this first month of honeymooning we soon reached another period of surfeit when no longer needed each other, and this brought on another quarrel. I found the second quarrel more painful than the first. ‘And so our first quarrel was not an accident after all,’ I thought. ‘It was only what was to be expected and will surely be repeated.’ I found the second quarrel particularly shocking because it arose from the most trivial of causes—something about money, of which I was never sparing and could not possibly have begrudged my wife. I only remember that she twisted something I had said into meaning that my money gave me power over her and that I alone had the right to dispose of my money, or something equally vile and stupid and unworthy of either of us. I became angry and accused her of showing a lack of tact, she answered me back, and again we were off. In her words, in the expression of her face and eyes, I again saw that cold, cruel hostility that had shocked me so the first time. I remember having quarreled with my brother, my friends, even my father, but never had there been that peculiarly poisonous malevolence that I saw here.

“With the passage of time, however, this mutual hatred was again screened by the state of being in love, that is to say by sensuality, and again I consoled myself with the thought that these two quarrels had been mistakes that could be righted. But then there came the third and the fourth, and I realized once and for all that they were not accidents, that they could not have been avoided then and could not be avoided in the future, and the prospect horrified me. I was further tormented by the thought that it was only my marriage that had turned out so badly, so differently from my expectations, and that other marriages were successful. I was not then aware that this is everyone’s fate, and that everyone thinks, just as I then thought, that his misfortune is an exception and hides this exceptional and shameful misfortune not only from others, but even from himself, refusing to admit it.

“Our hostility began as soon as soon as we were married and went on and on, growing deeper and more relentless. From the very first week I felt in my heart that I was caught, that instead of being a great happiness, was a great misfortune. But I, like everyone else, did not want to admit it (I would never have admitted it if it had not been for the outcome) and I hid the truth not only from others, but from myself as well. When I think back over it I was amazed that for so long a time I could have failed to see things as they really were. The very fact that our quarrels began with matters of trivial that we could not even remember them afterward should have made everything clear to me. Our reason was given no opportunity to invent weighty motives, to support the perpetual state of hostility we found ourselves in. But even more shocking were the sham motives for our reconciliations. Sometimes there were words, explanations, even tears, but at others—how loathsome the recollection!—after having said the most cruel things to each other, we would steal shy glances, smile, kiss, embrace. Ugh, how low! How could I possibly have failed to the vileness of it all?”
(pg. 313-316, Six Short Masterpieces by Tolstoy, The Kreutzer Sonata)

Perfect time of the year for Tolstoy. I need a fireplace, a nice bottle of wine, a lap quilt, and the smell of scattered, colored leaves floating about. Prepare yourselves, kids, Just So Stories may be in order for the month.

Northern CA 

Biggest House in the US

Wow. I guess it's easy to feel poor, when you really are just middle-class, when you grow up in the community that will soon be home to the biggest house in the U.S. (Estimated 76,000+ square feet).

Read about David Duffield's (founder of Peoplesoft) plans for his home in Alamo, CA, on the foothills of Mt. Diablo. Bigger than The White House, Bill Gates' estate, and the Taj Majal.


"Home makes Taj Mahal seem puny"
C.W. Nevius
Saturday, October 8, 2005
http://sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2005/10/08/BAGGRF49GI1.DTL
Also bigger than Aaron Spelling's mansion in LA - take that, TORI! Ha! I know you are hoping to have that crib when Daddy passes on (speculation has surfaced in the past few weeks that Aaron Spelling is on his last leg). You'll just be peanuts to these people, baby.

Pics of Spelling's monstrosity available here:
http://images.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://news.bbc.co.uk/media/images/38748000/jpg/_38748847_150spellingbbc.jpg&imgrefurl=http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/uk/2701297.stm&h=180&w=150&sz=8&tbnid=FI90i2QmYjEJ:&tbnh=96&tbnw=80&hl=en&start=1&prev=/images%3Fq%3DAaron%2BSpelling%2527s%2Bhome%26svnum%3D10%26hl%3Den%26lr%3D%26sa%3DG

this three-tiered vanilla buttercream cake was created to represent an island's Caribbean culture. The bottom tier represents the turquoise water with edible coral and seashells; The middle tier includes images of sailboat racing, Anguilla's national sport, and the beautiful beach of Cap Juluca. Finally, the top tier represents home and family and the start of Nikki and Buddy's new life together with a Caribbean cottage, complete with sugar shutters and a buttercream roof! All of the decorations are edible. Each layer has a different filling to give it a unique taste of coconut, lemon or chocolate.
 

a twist on the classic wedding cake using chocolate chip cookies in lieu of cake. Geoff & Drew's creation is a white, four-tiered cake with a white-beaded trim border, adorned with pastillage orchids that are reminiscent of a tropical location. Inside each tier, there are three delicious layers of Geoff & Drew's award-winning chocolate chunk cookies set between their own freshly-made French buttercream icing.
 

a "Caribbean Citrus Love" cake of four square tiers. Each layer, at graduating heights, incorporates a different twist with chocolate-sculpted lemons, limes, leaves, vines and delicate blossoms. Details include the couples monogram on the second layer, bordered with leaves, and on top sits a white chocolate clamshell urn adorned with pearls. For the lemon lovers, this cake satisfies with a white chocolate butter cake with layers of zesty key lime curd and white chocolate buttercream and luscious lemon cream with toasted coconut. For the chocoholics, there is a triple chocolate cheesecake on a macadamia nut crust.
 

a decadent three-layer chocolate "Opera Cake" infused with a hint of espresso and covered with a satin-rolled fondant. This vibrant ocean theme cake has a sugared-pearl design and is adorned with exquisite tropical seashells. Each layer of cake is filled with one layer of rich chocolate ganache, a second layer of mocha cream and finished with a vanilla buttercream frosting. Each slice of cake is plated along with a white chocolate seashell embossed with gold.

 

The Apprentice, Wedding Cakes, and my wedding

The last Apprentice: Martha Stewart episode placed the job applicants in the position of trying to create, make and sell wedding cakes. I really liked that show. I should have been trying to be Martha Stewart's employee.

One of my favorite and shortest stints in my varied employment was as a Pastry Chef. My mother ran a catering company when I was young, and I worked for a large catering company in Atlanta for awhile. I had contemplated going to culinary school, and probably should have. However, several things held me back:

A. You have to taste what you make. After several experiences of having blood sugars in the 500s, because of my job, I felt it was an on-the-job risk I couldn't bear.

B. Chefs don't cook for fun. I am not big on cooking when I am not in the mood, I feel the product isn't emotionally driven from the right place.

I thought it was funny that the last Martha Stewart episode revolved around cakemaking. Last week, I found myself doing my typical webcrawling and I discovered a website. The page was dedicated to a television segment a show had done where they gave one couple the wedding of their dreams. Each week, the audience picked something new for the couple: the hair, the clothes, the cake, the rings, the location....

The location picked for the couple was a destination package in the Caribbean. As my own wedding is tentatively scheduled for a little spot in the Caribbean, I was completely intrigued. Zach and I have been a bit stumped about the wedding cake issue.

How do you get a wedding cake made in what is normally a bit of a third-world country, and how much would it cost?

We don't like cake. Do we need cake? Especially considering how informal our wedding will be (white linen and bare feet) I can't see us having some outrageous, $1000 cake.

Anyway, take a look for yourself at the cakes above. We don't want to spend our fortunes on cake, but if we could, here is what we may have chosen. They are awesome.

My Fear 

How was your Friday?

I have a few things to blog about, and I figured I would start with the yucky stuff first, so that my lovely readers wouldn't be incredibly bummed by the first post they saw on the page. So here you go, blogophiles:

Yesterday was one of the worst working days I have had in a long time. I don't really know what to say about it, except that my own Type A, just-brimming-under-the-surface anxiety sometimes brims to the edge. Add my neurotic, out of control boss to the equation, and you have sheer disaster. I basically left yesterday after telling him to back off - this may be a move I regret in the near future.

I was freaked about driving home. It was raining hard, and no matter how well I put on my fearless-face, I am very far from fearless. I am rendered a scared infant in the face of driving in the rain. I know I have to get over this, but I am starting to think I need to go talk to someone about this fear.

Like usual, I placed myself in the slow lane, going 5 mph under the speedlimit. Like usual, every asshole around me was doing 10-20 over the speed limit, and climbed up on the ass of my truck in impatient disgust.

What the hell happened? I used to be the leader of the pack, the Type A speed demon who well led the line of traffic. Now, in the face of big puddles (potential hydroplaning) and unexpected downpours (the climate just prior to my wreck) I am afraid. I don't feel safe inside my car. I was told by a stress counselor that I have to get to the place where my car feels like a safety net around me, and my calm is restored simply because I am inside.

It sure doesn't feel that way. The walls of my truck feel permeable, and have the potential to be crunched/smashed/blitzed to smittereens.

Because I refused to take my last leg home on the freeway, and I took backroads for 15 miles, it ended up taking 2 hours and 15 minutes to get home. By the time I picked up my daughter, and plopped myself down on my bed, I was emotionally vapid. All of my anxiety had robbed me of any energy to be had.

I fell asleep with my clothes on, and woke up at midnight when Z threw himself on top of me and started kissing my back. After I hugged him and told him how happy I was that he was home, I fell into this huge state of panic. It was like the stress had been quenched by my sleep, and built up to the moment I popped open my eyes. I cried.

I dreamed about a new job twice last night. I just can't deal with the stress of my job - the stress of driving 45 miles one way, the stress of my neurotic, out of control supervisor who demands my attention to all of his tasks at work. (Not to mention the 2 hours per day he spends seeking my counsel about his personal problems).

I am not an administrative assistant, or an executive assistant, you see. If I were, I would have no problem being such a handholder for such a weak, petty little man. That almost seems like it is part of the job description.

I am not sure why he has placed me in this position, except for "The Shrink" role that has been squarely tatooed on my forehead. Almost all of my other jobs have landed me in such a place. Men seek it out from me, I'm afraid. The best scenario was when I worked as my dad's assistant for several years. It was a great job, with nice perks. I took 2 hour lunches and went running. As long as the work was complete, I could do what I wanted. And he required very little handholding at that time.

The last job I worked was as a Manager and a Trainer. My boss, the owner of the company, filled my days with long lunches and crying bursts, where he lamented his shitty love life. Although he was a cutie, and I contemplated nailing him just to see the transformation that may have taken place (you would be surprised what happens to a man in the face of good sex. Men who are normally beaten down, emotional wastebaskets turn into powerful, confident Gods when they get the lay they need. I call it a courtesy fuck.) this was probably the worst position I've been in professionally.

I need out. If my sleep is suffering because I am that unhappy and anxious, I need to see the light and make this happen.

After talking about it with Z last night, we decided to make an offer on a house we fell in love with at the very beginning of our househunt. It is beautiful - modest, clean and airy. The yard is filled with grass and oaks. It felt like home when we first saw it, and I hope we don't suffer from heartbreak when we don't get it.

Only after I find a house can I leave my hellhole workplace. I am not sure my sanity can be upheld for much longer. I need to get into motion, and start making it possible for me to leave.

Catholic Church no longer swears by truth of the Bible

Finally. Get with the program, people. Shit.

http://www.timesonline.co.uk/article/0,,13509-1811332,00.html

FRANZ FERDINAND 's BLOG

WHOOPEEE!!!!!!!

http://www.franzferdinand.co.uk/blog.php

Printable Scrabble

I haven't talked to my sister in 6 months (she only lives 30 min away, but she's busy doing some nesting with her man.) but she is a scrabble freak. I need to remember to send her this.

Disposable scrabble: print out the page on letter size, take it on the plane, in the car, to the Doctors' office...

http://www.instructables.com/ex/i/358B2860845A1028A786001143E7E506/

Autism, Childhood Vaccines, and other SCAM (so called alternative medicine) quackery

My man and I politely disagree about alternative medicine. While I believe in the healing powers of positive thinking and prayer (to Ronald McDonald, Buddha, Cartman, the Jolly Green Giant), which is evidenced by scientific research,
http://64.233.161.104/search?q=cache:ANCFGNEXWkQJ:xnet.kp.org/permanentejournal/sum05/evidence.html+study+healing+prayer+cancer&hl=en&start=8
and
http://64.233.161.104/search?q=cache:yGGCIZ0CDPAJ:www.azcentral.com/health/wellness/articles/0601health-prayer01-ON.html+study+published+prayer+healing+%22San+Francisco+General+Hospital%22+&hl=en&start=3
(or search for info on cardiologist Randolph Byrd's 1988 groundbreaking study on the power of prayer upon coronary care patients at San Francisco General Hospital)

I am not big on the alternative remedies that are acclaimed by the mass populace. I have a cherokee healing book, and the herbs, flowers, roots and plants they used for healing were very different from what you see on late night television.

One of our greatest arguments concerns the diagnoses of autism in children that have received their vaccinations. I have a big problem with this alternative theory, for a couple of reasons:

A. I did a big, decade long personal research project (for my own interest) on Jonas Salk and the polio vaccine in the '50s. Yes, I understand that more information has surfaced in the past 20 years or so about Dr. Salk, which characterizes him as some kind of megalomaniac tyrant. Love it or leave it, I say. His work, and the work of others who helped create the polio vac were truly revolutionary. Antivirus derived vaccinations may help us evade killer flu epidemics in the future.

B. I'm a little familiar with autism, too. As I mentioned before in other posts, I was decked pretty hard by an autistic boy when I was in third grade. Since then, I like to read about advances they are making. I do believe the disease has much to be uncovered. There has to be a spiritual/metaphysical reason that these autistics have such incredibly acute sensory perception. Cool stuff, if you ask me. Who wouldn't want to see the colors in rays of sunlight? We just need to find a helpful tools for autistics, so they can control and refine their sensory overload. In my mind, seems like a lifelong acid trip.

So I found a site today that talks about this from my perspective, for the first time. (Trust me, I tried to find medical research to debunk this. The medical community completely shuns the idea, because they consider it too valueless to try and refute the theory. )

Check out:
http://quackfiles.blogspot.com/2005/06/dont-believe-childhood-vaccine.html

Also, see www.quackfiles.com. Interesting stuff. I'm not big on being a dummie.

Blackmailboxes

Way too cool. I'm going to get crazy some night and run around my town and paint ours. I wonder how fast a panic will ensue. They aren't too bright in Crittersville.

http://www.boingboing.net/2005/10/03/blackmaillike_notes_.html
http://www.flickr.com/photos/84835281@N00

Bush's Nominations and Number 76 of the Federalist Papers

I've been watching Bush's nominations over the past few weeks with a bit of a bemused eye. I find it really goofy that a guy with the mental horsepower of a pea is recommending candidates - based on their intelligence, experience, moral character...

In light of these recent events, several smarty-farty lawyers over at the Legal Theory Blog (http://lsolum.blogspot.com/archives/2005_10_01_lsolum_archive.html#112834852634675411)
pulled up Alexander Hamilton's portion of Number 76 of the Federalist Papers. I robbed them because I liked the passage so much, and I thought I would share. Pretty insightful, in a nostradamus predictor kind of way.

"To what purpose then require the co-operation of the Senate? I answer, that the necessity of their concurrence would have a powerful, though, in general, a silent operation. It would be an excellent check upon a spirit of favoritism in the President, and would tend greatly to prevent the appointment of unfit characters from State prejudice, from family connection, from personal attachment, or from a view to popularity. In addition to this, it would be an efficacious source of stability in the administration.

It will readily be comprehended, that a man who had himself the sole disposition of offices, would be governed much more by his private inclinations and interests, than when he was bound to submit the propriety of his choice to the discussion and determination of a different and independent body, and that body an entier branch of the legislature. The possibility of rejection would be a strong motive to care in proposing. The danger to his own reputation, and, in the case of an elective magistrate, to his political existence, from betraying a spirit of favoritism, or an unbecoming pursuit of popularity, to the observation of a body whose opinion would have great weight in forming that of the public, could not fail to operate as a barrier to the one and to the other. He would be both ashamed and afraid to bring forward, for the most distinguished or lucrative stations, candidates who had no other merit than that of coming from the same State to which he particularly belonged, or of being in some way or other personally allied to him, or of possessing the necessary insignificance and pliancy to render them the obsequious instruments of his pleasure."

Sarah Polley and Terry Gilliam (reminiscent of the "Griffin and Sabine" series)

I love "The Adventures of Baron Munchausen". If you haven't seen it, shame on you. It's on my Top 10 list. The movie reminds me of every single fantasy I ever had as a child, when it was still okay to dream the day away.

The child star, Sarah Polley, did grow up and become a fine adult actress. Did you see "Go"? She was in that. www.suzukitch.com/.../ v.image/v2.go/v-1.go.html

Follow this link
http://www.thestar.com/NASApp/cs/ContentServer?pagename=thestar/Layout/Article_Type1&c=Article&cid=1128162276690&call_pageid=968867495754&col=969483191630&DPL=IvsNDS/7ChAX&tacodalogin=yes

to find the recent correspondence between Polley and Director Terry Gilliam. Her remarks on perceptions of child actresses are illuminating, to say the least.

I remember Polley fondly, she attended an audition my mother dragged me to when I was in third grade. She had the same concentration camp look I did at the time, she was just child sized (whereas I was this beanpole that stretched to the sky). I always thought that was the reason she landed the part.

I didn't mind so much, though. Most of the time, when I went to those horrible auditions, I hated the girl who got the part. She was always the sassiest, perkiest, and snottiest behind closed doors.

Sarah was different. She was quiet, shy, and non-abrasive. I'm glad she has done so well, and from her letters, she seems to be a thoughtful, insightful person.

 

The Shrink

He used to call me "the shrink". When he did, he would give a little laugh. He was capable of many kinds of laughs. There was the hearty, deep, throaty laugh that showed true passion and mirth, and made his cheeks pink. The chortle, which emphasized his sarcasm. He was also capable of a cold chuckle, and send the hair on the back of my neck on edge. When he laughed like that, I knew he was on the fringe of combustion.

No, he always called me a shrink, and accompanied it with a rueful laugh. He told me that I had this way of making people open up to me. He told me that when I asked him questions, he felt as though the conversation was reflective, easygoing, and calm, and that his answers would be painless. Only upon opening up, did he realize that he didn't like it. he said he only felt that way when he went to therapy, and began to remember the things he had always wanted to forget.

He told me everything. The things that robbed his soul at night. He called them

" The things that scare the hell out of you, and keep you awake at night, unable to move. You know that if you do move, your first action may be to try and kill yourself. That's how bad the thoughts are."

I knew what he was referring to, and I hoped to never go there - inside me - again.

He called me "the shrink", and told me about his dreams. We explored the means to achieve these. Somehow, it seemed we were laying railroad tracks for our own personal heaven. Possibilities appeared out of thin air, and we were given a feeling of excitement. We had hope.

They seemed possible when he and I talked. His passion and excitement made me feel like a keeper. Our conversations brought it out, you see, and I thought that it was because of me that he was able to bring these dreams bubbling to the surface. You see, when they were spoken, it seemed as if they could be real.

There were plenty of nightmares, too, but it felt okay to talk about these together. Many times, we would talk, and cry, and talk until the sun rose. Our cigarette packs would be long empty, and our throats would be sore.

A few times, he wasn't there for me when I needed him. I felt the most incredible loneliness then. It would turn into bitter anger. Why would I be given such a person, someone I could share it all with, if that person disappeared when I needed a listener? Why did I have to contemplate my horrors on my own? Where was my shrink?

I think it has been about two years since we have talked. And I admit, sometimes I miss him. I just can't live through another loss. At one time, I thought that I would put up with anything in order to have the opportunity to love him and know him. Now I believe I would rather learn to have a life without him. At least now I know that I won't feel that again, because he isn't around. The times when he leaves are just too hard, you see. My heart isn't built for that kind of rejection.

He taught me that I am a shrink. There is a reason that strangers sit next to me on a park bench and tell me their darkest secrets. When drunks in bars end up crying on my shoulder, I know why.

People talk and talk and talk, and I wonder if they feel better when it is over. I doubt it. They don't ever let me say much, or listen to the comparisons I make between their situations and one of my own. I am the shrink, you see. They allow me to ask the questions, and don't listen to any suggestions. I am the one, who by asking, leads them to their own conclusions. They don't really need my input.

I can't tell anyone my own sorrows and hurts - not like what I am told - people don't seem to put up with it. The shrink can't have feelings, or flaws. My job is to listen, not to talk. I sometimes think I have forgotten how to say the things that ache on the edge of my heart.

I get tired. I hurt for what I hear. Misery is all around us, I believe Buddha for that much. My head hurts, my heart hurts. I feel so incredibly helpless. I can only listen, I am unable to help, or ease the pain. That makes me feel so incredibly impotent. I can't seem to find reasons to wholly hate anyone, but I can sure find plenty of reasons to try and take some of the pain away.

I once thought I was a shrink, and therefore I was a sponge. I had the strength to soak it in and help them out. That may be true on some level. I sure don't feel strength right now, though. I feel like the little kid I once was. That dishwater blond girl with the string bean body, who had adults follow her, and tell her their dark secrets, robbing her of the innocence that comes with being purely naive. Who really knows anger, misery, fear or sorrow as a young child? Only the truly fucked, I am sure.

That adult knowledge, that peek into the world that children are not part of, left me saddened and deeper. Yes, I am more aware of the facets of the world, all the shades of gray. I lost that bright, luminescent sunshine part of childhood. And I miss it.