So it is finals week. Presentations week. Hell week. And as the number of papers pile up on my desk and we go into senior final project presentation week, my ulcers begin perculating with the stress related acid levels that have begun to rise. There is alot going on right now. Sightings of the little piggy may be sporadic around the blog'o'sphere for the next few weeks. Same goes for blogging. Although I will try to post for Friday's overlooked club and will be back to post a new random funny things my kid's say - latest installment over seeing a police officer picking his nose. Oh yes, I tease you with the funnies.
But I shall share my perplexity with you about the strangeness of my students. Every semester I always have many whiners in my classes. Seems the norm.
Class+ writing papers+hard work+grades = whining. Lots and lots of whining.
Whining I understand, but being rude to your professor? WTF?
Recent email exchange with rude student:
Me email to whole class: If you need a second review of your final project before submission, please send to me by _______ otherwise there is not enough time for me to give you an additional review. (please note, second review is a courtesy review not mandatory.)
Student sends email after deadline for second review.
Me: I can't review as there is not enough time.
Student: You need to remember that you have only provided me with one corrected paper with your comments on my topic. It is not fair to me since other students received two reviews. It is your responsibility to provide me with a second review.
Me (a bit stunned at the tone and manner of her email): Other students sent their paper to me early or on time. And actually, I only need to provide you with one review, the second review was a courtesy.
Student has not responded.
Flip side:
Email from student who sent her paper in early for second review.
Professor, I'm sorry to be nagging you, but I thought by sending in my paper in a timely manner (actually it was early) I would get an early review and early reply. Yet I have not heard any word from you. Please provide me with your comments asap as I need your input in order to finalize for my faculty advisor.
My response:
Dear Nagging Student, The reason I have not returned to you your second review is because I am still working on first reviews of these 30 page papers for your classmates. And while I appreciate your sending your paper in early, I had just returned your first review a day before receiving your new draft and cannot believe any real substantive changes could have been made. I will review your paper for the second courtesy review after all first mandatory reviews are done.
Seriously, teaching would be alot easier without the PITAs.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Monday, April 28, 2008
Six more random thoughts
Precie tagged me for another one of those random memes. Funny thing is I realize that I have actually been tagged by the random virus six times already. You would think that I would be all randomned out. But you would be wrong for I am one bizarre person.
1. I like to talk to myself. All the time. Even in my sleep. I find myself truly amusing. I also crack myself up on a regular basis. My own jokes are so funny that I laugh harder than anyone else in the room. And if they don't laugh at all, I just about go into hysterics. This is why I am never bored.
2. After seeing Raiders of the Lost Ark, I was determined to marry Harrison Ford when I grew up. In fact I practiced writing "Love You" on my eyelids with my mother's black eyeliner but all I did was make myself look like I had two black eyes. Plus I was a stupid kid so I kept writing "U EVL."
3. My maiden name is Ha. Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want. Believe me, there isn't a joke I haven't heard already. Remember that old tv show "Hee Haw?" That was me "She Ha." I never ever saw the show but I can tell you I will hate it til the day I die.
4. I married a guy with the last name Oh. Oh no she didn't. Oh yes she did.
5. Ha and Oh make for the worst married hyphenated name in the world. But it is great fun for telemarketers trying to pronounce your name right. "Is Ms. Haaaaoooh there?" "Is Mrs. Hanoh there, I mean Haaaalohhh?" "Is Mrs. Hauhumoh there?" I always say no and hang up.
6. After I delivered my first child, my loving husband, so warm and caring and attentive, who had been by my side as I squeezed his hand to a pulp and bore down so hard on his right shoulder that he was a bit hunchbacked for awhile, turned and caught my Doctor removing the placenta to which Da Man shrieked out at the top of his lungs, "Oh my god! That is the most disgusting thing I have ever seen in my entire life! I think I'm going to puke." Why don't you take a guess as to what my response might have been. Was it:
1. I like to talk to myself. All the time. Even in my sleep. I find myself truly amusing. I also crack myself up on a regular basis. My own jokes are so funny that I laugh harder than anyone else in the room. And if they don't laugh at all, I just about go into hysterics. This is why I am never bored.
2. After seeing Raiders of the Lost Ark, I was determined to marry Harrison Ford when I grew up. In fact I practiced writing "Love You" on my eyelids with my mother's black eyeliner but all I did was make myself look like I had two black eyes. Plus I was a stupid kid so I kept writing "U EVL."
3. My maiden name is Ha. Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want. Believe me, there isn't a joke I haven't heard already. Remember that old tv show "Hee Haw?" That was me "She Ha." I never ever saw the show but I can tell you I will hate it til the day I die.
4. I married a guy with the last name Oh. Oh no she didn't. Oh yes she did.
5. Ha and Oh make for the worst married hyphenated name in the world. But it is great fun for telemarketers trying to pronounce your name right. "Is Ms. Haaaaoooh there?" "Is Mrs. Hanoh there, I mean Haaaalohhh?" "Is Mrs. Hauhumoh there?" I always say no and hang up.
6. After I delivered my first child, my loving husband, so warm and caring and attentive, who had been by my side as I squeezed his hand to a pulp and bore down so hard on his right shoulder that he was a bit hunchbacked for awhile, turned and caught my Doctor removing the placenta to which Da Man shrieked out at the top of his lungs, "Oh my god! That is the most disgusting thing I have ever seen in my entire life! I think I'm going to puke." Why don't you take a guess as to what my response might have been. Was it:
No tagging. But as always feel free to share randomness with me so that I can talk to myself about it later and amuse myself at your expense.
a. That's really nice, honey! Way to make me feel really good!
b. F**k You, A**hole!!!!!
c. You are such a jerk!
d. If you think that's disgusting now, wait til I take it home and serve it to you for dinner, jackass!
e. None of the above
f. All of the above
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Contest Entries
Here are the first set of entries in my contest. You have until Sunday, 5pm EST to enter. I am happy to post your entry anonymously and will not disclose your information if you do not wish to. Since the prize is sent via email, all I need is your email to enter you and for you to win. So don't hold back! Send it in! We want to laugh, God Damn it!
To all those who have entered, make sure to have all your buddies come by and vote for reader recommendation prize on Monday via comment or by email.
And thank you very much to all of you who have already entered. There may have been some leakage, but I cannot confirm yet.
1. That new Charmin, they say its ultra soft but my ass feels red... can you confirm it is indeed red, because it sure as hell feels red.
- Todd, March to the Sea
2. Monkey see, Monkey poo.
- Chris Eldin,Former Church Lady
3. Why, yes Gladys, it is your best side, but your breath is atrocious from this angle.
- Merry Monteleone, Mom and More
4. Call for you on line toot.
- Charles Gramlich, Razored Zen
5. I keep inserting quarters, but nothing happens. Worst Jukebox ever!
- Paul Liadis, The Struggling Writer
Dawn: Bud, Dawn needs to know something.” (Oh my God, I thought, she is talking in the third person.) Dawn knows that she is a great catch for Bud. She is young, pretty and bright. Now Dawn does understand that Bud has four children. Dawn would like to get very serious with Bud. Would Bud have a child with Dawn?
Bud: Could at least we have dinner first?
Dawn: Dawn thinks Bud is a very funny man. But seriously, would Bud have a child with Dawn?
Bud: (I am very experienced with this type of question. I have been single for all but three years since 1990.) Dawn, yes I have four kids. I love kids. Why wouldn’t I have another?
Dawn: Dawn thinks this is REALLY encouraging. Dawn thinks that she and Bud will be together a long time.
Bud: (Now if she means that I’ll probably eat my grinder before leaving, than “yes.” It will be a LONG time) Waitress!
Waitress: Yes, Sir.
Bud: Do you have any real alcohol here?
Waitress: Why yes, sir. What can I get you?
Bud: Smirnoff, please.
Waitress: With what?
Bud: A glass and some ice. And quickly, very quickly.
Dawn: Dawn is SO happy this is going so well!!
I paid the check. Dawn asked, “Would Bud like to see Dawn’s apartment?” I paused, smiled and said, “Dawn, as you said, this went so well, why spoil it?”
-- Bud Weiser, WTIT Tape Radio
*******
7. On meeting his daughter-in-law for the first time, Daddy Rhesus realized two things. One, she had a wacky sense of humor. Two, he really needed glasses.
- Mary Whitsell, Resident Alien
8. Okay, Barney, I believe you. And yes, it IS your iPod now. But you're gonna buy me a new one you sick sonofabitch.
- Blogless Troll, Underneath the Bridge
9. No, for the last time! It does NOT look like the Virgin Mary!
- Blogless Troll
10. Hey, don't blame me. You're the one who ate the remote. Now hold still. SportsCenter's coming on.
- Blogless Troll
11. This is what I think of your @#$%^*&)#ed SUV, you apeshit bitch!
-- Lana Gramlich, The Dreaming Tree
12. True story by Anonymouse
I'm only sending you my entry because I think it will win the prize but you must promise me to keep my identity hidden and protect my secret shame.
When I was doing real estate I used to show alot of houses. One time I had an open house in a lovely old colonial house all done up tastefully. Unfortunately I am lactose intolerant but had taken a little too much milk with the coffee I had been downing all day. During a particularly long slow session where I was all alone in the house with no one coming by for at least 45 minutes, I finally let one rip. It was so bad I offended myself. As luck would have it, not 5 minutes after I had farted, a young happy couple came in to see the house. I welcomed them, trying not to flush at the lingering funky odor. They woman crinkled her nose and discreetly tried to turn away from the stink, but the man took a deep sniff and gave me a puzzled expression. "Excuse me," he said. "Is that like a spicy curry I smell? Are the homeowners Indian?" I shook my head no just as the wife turned and noticed the large family portrait of a very white family hanging in the living room. Thankfully, the couple decided to leave quickly without looking any further at the house, before I could die of complete mortification.
-- Whatever you do Do Not Post My Name or I Will Kill You
13. Pheromones, huh? Are you sure this is the way Chanel got started?
-- The Anti-Wife, The Anti-wife blogspot
To all those who have entered, make sure to have all your buddies come by and vote for reader recommendation prize on Monday via comment or by email.
And thank you very much to all of you who have already entered. There may have been some leakage, but I cannot confirm yet.
1. That new Charmin, they say its ultra soft but my ass feels red... can you confirm it is indeed red, because it sure as hell feels red.
2. Monkey see, Monkey poo.
- Chris Eldin,Former Church Lady
3. Why, yes Gladys, it is your best side, but your breath is atrocious from this angle.
- Merry Monteleone, Mom and More
4. Call for you on line toot.
- Charles Gramlich, Razored Zen
5. I keep inserting quarters, but nothing happens. Worst Jukebox ever!
- Paul Liadis, The Struggling Writer
6. A true story by Bud Weiser
First date. Dawn orders a wine. I assume it is a beer/wine place so I ordered a Budweiser. Now begins the adventure:
Dawn: Bud, Dawn needs to know something.” (Oh my God, I thought, she is talking in the third person.) Dawn knows that she is a great catch for Bud. She is young, pretty and bright. Now Dawn does understand that Bud has four children. Dawn would like to get very serious with Bud. Would Bud have a child with Dawn?
Bud: Could at least we have dinner first?
Dawn: Dawn thinks Bud is a very funny man. But seriously, would Bud have a child with Dawn?
Bud: (I am very experienced with this type of question. I have been single for all but three years since 1990.) Dawn, yes I have four kids. I love kids. Why wouldn’t I have another?
Dawn: Dawn thinks this is REALLY encouraging. Dawn thinks that she and Bud will be together a long time.
Bud: (Now if she means that I’ll probably eat my grinder before leaving, than “yes.” It will be a LONG time) Waitress!
Waitress: Yes, Sir.
Bud: Do you have any real alcohol here?
Waitress: Why yes, sir. What can I get you?
Bud: Smirnoff, please.
Waitress: With what?
Bud: A glass and some ice. And quickly, very quickly.
Dawn: Dawn is SO happy this is going so well!!
I paid the check. Dawn asked, “Would Bud like to see Dawn’s apartment?” I paused, smiled and said, “Dawn, as you said, this went so well, why spoil it?”
-- Bud Weiser, WTIT Tape Radio
7. On meeting his daughter-in-law for the first time, Daddy Rhesus realized two things. One, she had a wacky sense of humor. Two, he really needed glasses.
- Mary Whitsell, Resident Alien
8. Okay, Barney, I believe you. And yes, it IS your iPod now. But you're gonna buy me a new one you sick sonofabitch.
- Blogless Troll, Underneath the Bridge
9. No, for the last time! It does NOT look like the Virgin Mary!
- Blogless Troll
10. Hey, don't blame me. You're the one who ate the remote. Now hold still. SportsCenter's coming on.
- Blogless Troll
11. This is what I think of your @#$%^*&)#ed SUV, you apeshit bitch!
-- Lana Gramlich, The Dreaming Tree
12. True story by Anonymouse
I'm only sending you my entry because I think it will win the prize but you must promise me to keep my identity hidden and protect my secret shame.
When I was doing real estate I used to show alot of houses. One time I had an open house in a lovely old colonial house all done up tastefully. Unfortunately I am lactose intolerant but had taken a little too much milk with the coffee I had been downing all day. During a particularly long slow session where I was all alone in the house with no one coming by for at least 45 minutes, I finally let one rip. It was so bad I offended myself. As luck would have it, not 5 minutes after I had farted, a young happy couple came in to see the house. I welcomed them, trying not to flush at the lingering funky odor. They woman crinkled her nose and discreetly tried to turn away from the stink, but the man took a deep sniff and gave me a puzzled expression. "Excuse me," he said. "Is that like a spicy curry I smell? Are the homeowners Indian?" I shook my head no just as the wife turned and noticed the large family portrait of a very white family hanging in the living room. Thankfully, the couple decided to leave quickly without looking any further at the house, before I could die of complete mortification.
-- Whatever you do Do Not Post My Name or I Will Kill You
13. Pheromones, huh? Are you sure this is the way Chanel got started?
-- The Anti-Wife, The Anti-wife blogspot
Friday, April 18, 2008
Contest! Contest!
Copyright Thadman available via Flickr.comIt's pretty funny. Actually it is hysterical. Kind of hard to top this picture right? But that is what you are going to have to do. Be funnier than this picture. To enter, write a story - no less than one full sentence, no more than 250 words - something, anything that is really gut wrenchingly funny. That's what I'm looking for. You can tell a funny true story, write a caption for the picture, or make up a funny joke, I don't care, as long as it makes me laugh. This picture gives you an idea of what cracks me up. If for some reason you try and try and realize you are just not that funny, then please feel free to commission friends, family and neighbors who are funnier to come up with a winning submission.
To win, your submission has to be "pee my pants" funny. Creativity is key. While fart jokes are great, there probably isn't a variation of a fart joke that I haven't already heard. So if you're gonna fart, make sure it's a doozy!
In the event that I have run out of Depends and need consulting assistance, Da Man will step in as a tiebreaker judge. But this is my contest, not his so he will need to watch his step!
So to recap the rules:
1. Submit something funny, a line, a caption to the picture, a story, an anecdote, whatever. No less than one sentence, no more than 250 words.
2. Submissions open til 5:00pm EST Sunday, April 20th, 2008.
3. Email me your submission at ello.echo@gmail.com
4. For the Reader's Choice award, I shall begin posting entries over the weekend. Reader's choice voting begins early Monday morning and ends at midnight. Email me your choice for the funniest Reader's choice award at the above email address.
5. I shall post the two winners on Tuesday, April 22nd, on my birthday.
First Prize wins a $25 gift certificate to Amazon.
Reader's Choice award wins a $15 gift certificate to Amazon.
And one of you lucky people might randomly win a special Delicious New Treat Sensation. But not Mary or Kappa since they actually like the stuff! And not Paca cause he knows what it tastes like already. But everyone else, be warned! If I don't like your entry, you may get a special surprise! heh heh.
Gladiators! I have girded my loins. (Ha!) And am prepared for the onslaught of hilarity and loss of bodily functions. I salute you! Bring it on!!!!
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Me Win Pretty Award
See what I got! Isn't this great?
The good people over at The Rising Blogger site have such impeccable taste that they awarded me "Post of the Day" on their bogsite for my dentist post. Ain't that something? I can't tell you how good it makes me feel to know my pain caused so many others happiness. Apparently they think I'm funny and original. But for the part where they call me a lady, I'd say that they are pretty much right about everything else. So please join me in a well deserved round of patting myself on the back. Thank me, thank me.
So if a dentist visit gets me a post of the day award, what do you think I'll get for a colonoscopy? If you said pain in the ass you would be only half correct. The answer is a pain in the ass and a funny Charlie Chaplin walk.
I think I'd better get a root canal.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Why my Minivan is better than your Monster SUV
Warning - Rant.
Yesterday I was nearly run off the road by a very large, very black Suburban SUV. The woman, who was too busy talking on the phone to realize that she had cut me off, forcing me to ride the curb for 10 seconds, is a mom at my youngest kid's school. Miss Ihavemoremoneythanyoucoulddreamabout Shithead has two kids that go to there. Yes, 2 kids. Not, 4 or 6. Just 2. Why does she need a huge ass Suburban to lug around 2 kids? Because she is an asshole.
When I was younger, the thought of driving a minivan seemed incredibly uncool. No way I'm driving a minivan, is what I would say. But after having kids, I fell in love with the Honda Odyssey. Yes a minivan with sliding doors and back seats that fold completely flat and that isn't hideously ugly. Convenience and safety. Plus I get 25 miles to the gallon on the highway and my engine is smart enough to shut off some of its cylinders for fuel efficiency when cruising. I couldn't ask for anything more. But in my neck of the woods, there are still alot of people out here who think minivans terribly uncool and wouldn't be caught dead in one. That's fine, I respect this. Except when they then feel they must buy a monster SUV.
Don't get me wrong, I like SUV's. They are fun and sporty and guzzle alot of gas. They are cool and sleek and guzzle alot of gas. What is there not to love, right? But monster SUV's? If you live in an urban area, why do you need a Suburban? Seriously, if you are not hauling bales of hay and livestock through four wheeling territory, what possible need is there for a huge ass, gas guzzling monster SUV? When I pull up to the gas station after a Suburban or Expedition drives away, and I see $90 rung up on the meter, I just about fall over laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. But then when I think about how much gas those monster SUVs are using up, causing the price of gas to rise for the rest of us, it's not so funny.
Let me clarify that I am not aiming this post at all Suburban, Expedition, Escalade, Tahoe, etc. drivers. Some of you have legitimate business and family reasons for driving a 10 mile to the gallon, gas hogging environmental hazard that are too heavy for most of our residential roads, causing more and more frequent road damage that all of us taxpayers must bear the burden for. Hey if you have an important reason that overrides these issues, then I won't blame you. Except if you drive a Hummer, cause if you are driving a 10,000 lb Hummer around residential areas just for the hell of it, then you are a prick. But most Hummer drivers know this already about themselves so this should come as no surprise.
However, those monster SUV drivers out there who think they look so cool in your huge ass SUV, a word of advice. It is a good idea to learn how to drive a big car first. When I was first learning how to drive, my parents got me a big old chevy caprice. The thing was huge, I hated it, but because of that car, I can drive anything big without any hesitation. My parallel parking is a thing of 3 point beauty. But from what I have seen, most others learn to drive in small cars and bring their small car mentality to their new big cars. And then what happens? Sucky bad drivers.
Maybe there should be a separate drivers' license exam for the monster SUV's. After all, they are for all purposes a truck. There is a practical element to this idea, after all these huge vehicles all weigh in at over 3 tons (6,000 pounds!!) while most cars and minivans weigh in between 2,000 and 4,000 pounds. That means you've got some real bad drivers out there driving vehicles that weigh one or two tons more than the average car or minivan. Talk about not liking those statistics. And let's face it, we have all seen the bad drivers out there. The ones that drive in both lanes of traffic because they can't judge how big their cars are. The ones that drift into your lane. The ones that park over two spaces. The ones that park 5 feet from the curb and out into the traffic lane. We all have stories. We all despise them.
Like Miss Ifyouarenotatmysociallevelnevertalktome Dumbass who is about 5 feet tall and looks like an elaborately dressed Prada munchkin behind the wheel of her truck. If you aren't 6 feet tall, you have got to be part monkey to get in and out of those things. And if you are wearing a skirt? I see London, I see France, I can see your underpants. And Miss Iworkoutwithapersonaltrainereveryday Monkeybutt thinks she is one hot mama and likes to wear really low low rider pants. In fact, I have seen the crack of her ass one too many times. But I seriously hate the fact that I gotta be on the streets at the same time that she is. The woman is a menace. She drives real fast, breaks really suddenly so that you hear and smell rubber burning. Her poor kids must suffer from chronic whip lash. She drives with the mentality that because she is in a big car, you need to watch her. I can't even count the number of times she has caused another car to spin out in an attempt to avoid hitting her.
So yesterday, I came to the 4 way stop near my kid's school before SUV mom. But as I proceeded to cross into the intersection, Miss IfIwasn'tsorichI'dbetrailertrash Asshole gunned a left turn and cut in front of me, causing me to ride the curb. I leaned on my horn, but the Odyssey has a very wimpy horn. It's more like a Meep Meep Meeeeeeeeeeeep. Like I sat on a sesame street muppet. Not very intimidating. And Miss Mynailsaresomuchmoreimportantthanyourlife Dipshit just drove away at like 60 miles an hour on a residential street. However, she was going into the school parking lot, just like me. And when I arrived, I had the pleasure of watching her park her car in front of the orange cones that mean no parking, and run her two kids in while I pulled into a spot muttering like a schizophrenic. Youngest tried to ask me what a plucking itch was but I gave her a piece of gum to distract her.
As I fumed walking into the school, out walks Miss Myboobscostmorethanyourhouse Asswipe. I stop right in front of her, holding Youngest's little hand, I smile real big and I say very loudly in a really friendly voice, "Hey! Thanks ever so much for running me off the road back at that four way stop! I absolutely love the way you whipped out in front of me even though you came to the 4 way intersection after me! And boy what an absolute adrenaline rush for me, trying to regain control of my car and not crash into the front of someone's house. THAT WAS SO MUCH FUN!" I am practically shouting into her face as she edges past me and breaks into a run. "Oh come on! Where you going? That was so much fun? Let's do it again! But next time, I'll run you off the road, ok? OKAY?"
Miss IamsomuchbetterthanyouIpeeDomPerignon Bimbette can't run away fast enough and I am not doing much better judging from the funny looks the other parents are giving me as they walk in and out of the school. And at that very moment, I had an epiphany. Man, I don't belong at this pre-school. There are way too many pretentious posers here. I am beer in champagne land. I am a 1979 Chevy Caprice in the land of brand new Mercedes and Range Rovers. I am a hot dog in a lobster world. I am too loud, too in your face. I drive a minivan, worry about the environment and want my kids to be good people. They drive luxury SUVS, screw the environment and want their kids to know they will always be better than everyone else. I don't like them. They don't like me. I have no friends here and that is just fine with me. I have nothing in common with these people. And I just don't care. Life is too short to worry about what other people think. And if you mess with me, I will call you out. I might do it in an unexpected way (I try not to scream obscenities in front of the kids), but I will eventually let you know exactly what I think.
Yesterday I was nearly run off the road by a very large, very black Suburban SUV. The woman, who was too busy talking on the phone to realize that she had cut me off, forcing me to ride the curb for 10 seconds, is a mom at my youngest kid's school. Miss Ihavemoremoneythanyoucoulddreamabout Shithead has two kids that go to there. Yes, 2 kids. Not, 4 or 6. Just 2. Why does she need a huge ass Suburban to lug around 2 kids? Because she is an asshole.
When I was younger, the thought of driving a minivan seemed incredibly uncool. No way I'm driving a minivan, is what I would say. But after having kids, I fell in love with the Honda Odyssey. Yes a minivan with sliding doors and back seats that fold completely flat and that isn't hideously ugly. Convenience and safety. Plus I get 25 miles to the gallon on the highway and my engine is smart enough to shut off some of its cylinders for fuel efficiency when cruising. I couldn't ask for anything more. But in my neck of the woods, there are still alot of people out here who think minivans terribly uncool and wouldn't be caught dead in one. That's fine, I respect this. Except when they then feel they must buy a monster SUV.
Don't get me wrong, I like SUV's. They are fun and sporty and guzzle alot of gas. They are cool and sleek and guzzle alot of gas. What is there not to love, right? But monster SUV's? If you live in an urban area, why do you need a Suburban? Seriously, if you are not hauling bales of hay and livestock through four wheeling territory, what possible need is there for a huge ass, gas guzzling monster SUV? When I pull up to the gas station after a Suburban or Expedition drives away, and I see $90 rung up on the meter, I just about fall over laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. But then when I think about how much gas those monster SUVs are using up, causing the price of gas to rise for the rest of us, it's not so funny.
Let me clarify that I am not aiming this post at all Suburban, Expedition, Escalade, Tahoe, etc. drivers. Some of you have legitimate business and family reasons for driving a 10 mile to the gallon, gas hogging environmental hazard that are too heavy for most of our residential roads, causing more and more frequent road damage that all of us taxpayers must bear the burden for. Hey if you have an important reason that overrides these issues, then I won't blame you. Except if you drive a Hummer, cause if you are driving a 10,000 lb Hummer around residential areas just for the hell of it, then you are a prick. But most Hummer drivers know this already about themselves so this should come as no surprise.
However, those monster SUV drivers out there who think they look so cool in your huge ass SUV, a word of advice. It is a good idea to learn how to drive a big car first. When I was first learning how to drive, my parents got me a big old chevy caprice. The thing was huge, I hated it, but because of that car, I can drive anything big without any hesitation. My parallel parking is a thing of 3 point beauty. But from what I have seen, most others learn to drive in small cars and bring their small car mentality to their new big cars. And then what happens? Sucky bad drivers.
Maybe there should be a separate drivers' license exam for the monster SUV's. After all, they are for all purposes a truck. There is a practical element to this idea, after all these huge vehicles all weigh in at over 3 tons (6,000 pounds!!) while most cars and minivans weigh in between 2,000 and 4,000 pounds. That means you've got some real bad drivers out there driving vehicles that weigh one or two tons more than the average car or minivan. Talk about not liking those statistics. And let's face it, we have all seen the bad drivers out there. The ones that drive in both lanes of traffic because they can't judge how big their cars are. The ones that drift into your lane. The ones that park over two spaces. The ones that park 5 feet from the curb and out into the traffic lane. We all have stories. We all despise them.
Like Miss Ifyouarenotatmysociallevelnevertalktome Dumbass who is about 5 feet tall and looks like an elaborately dressed Prada munchkin behind the wheel of her truck. If you aren't 6 feet tall, you have got to be part monkey to get in and out of those things. And if you are wearing a skirt? I see London, I see France, I can see your underpants. And Miss Iworkoutwithapersonaltrainereveryday Monkeybutt thinks she is one hot mama and likes to wear really low low rider pants. In fact, I have seen the crack of her ass one too many times. But I seriously hate the fact that I gotta be on the streets at the same time that she is. The woman is a menace. She drives real fast, breaks really suddenly so that you hear and smell rubber burning. Her poor kids must suffer from chronic whip lash. She drives with the mentality that because she is in a big car, you need to watch her. I can't even count the number of times she has caused another car to spin out in an attempt to avoid hitting her.
So yesterday, I came to the 4 way stop near my kid's school before SUV mom. But as I proceeded to cross into the intersection, Miss IfIwasn'tsorichI'dbetrailertrash Asshole gunned a left turn and cut in front of me, causing me to ride the curb. I leaned on my horn, but the Odyssey has a very wimpy horn. It's more like a Meep Meep Meeeeeeeeeeeep. Like I sat on a sesame street muppet. Not very intimidating. And Miss Mynailsaresomuchmoreimportantthanyourlife Dipshit just drove away at like 60 miles an hour on a residential street. However, she was going into the school parking lot, just like me. And when I arrived, I had the pleasure of watching her park her car in front of the orange cones that mean no parking, and run her two kids in while I pulled into a spot muttering like a schizophrenic. Youngest tried to ask me what a plucking itch was but I gave her a piece of gum to distract her.
As I fumed walking into the school, out walks Miss Myboobscostmorethanyourhouse Asswipe. I stop right in front of her, holding Youngest's little hand, I smile real big and I say very loudly in a really friendly voice, "Hey! Thanks ever so much for running me off the road back at that four way stop! I absolutely love the way you whipped out in front of me even though you came to the 4 way intersection after me! And boy what an absolute adrenaline rush for me, trying to regain control of my car and not crash into the front of someone's house. THAT WAS SO MUCH FUN!" I am practically shouting into her face as she edges past me and breaks into a run. "Oh come on! Where you going? That was so much fun? Let's do it again! But next time, I'll run you off the road, ok? OKAY?"
Miss IamsomuchbetterthanyouIpeeDomPerignon Bimbette can't run away fast enough and I am not doing much better judging from the funny looks the other parents are giving me as they walk in and out of the school. And at that very moment, I had an epiphany. Man, I don't belong at this pre-school. There are way too many pretentious posers here. I am beer in champagne land. I am a 1979 Chevy Caprice in the land of brand new Mercedes and Range Rovers. I am a hot dog in a lobster world. I am too loud, too in your face. I drive a minivan, worry about the environment and want my kids to be good people. They drive luxury SUVS, screw the environment and want their kids to know they will always be better than everyone else. I don't like them. They don't like me. I have no friends here and that is just fine with me. I have nothing in common with these people. And I just don't care. Life is too short to worry about what other people think. And if you mess with me, I will call you out. I might do it in an unexpected way (I try not to scream obscenities in front of the kids), but I will eventually let you know exactly what I think.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Contest this Friday!
Copyright Nick Haskins available via Flickr.comHere ye! Here ye! There will be a contest this Friday, April 18th, with prizes. Real prizes. I won a contest over at Angie's Desk to pay it forward contest. So now it is my turn!
I will post a funny picture, like above. But it shall not be this picture. It will be an even funnier picture. The object of the contest will be to make the angry pig laugh. First prize goes to whoever makes the pig pee her pants. Granted, this is not so hard after 3 pregnancies, but the angry pig has had some tough times and so making her laugh will not be as easy as you think. There shall also be a reader's choice award. So get ready. Tell everyone to pop by Friday. Contest will be open all weekend. Think funny. Think hilarious. Think pee pee.
Monday, April 14, 2008
Poisoned Pig
Pig is angry
See Pig stomp about in fury
Pig was sick as a dog all weekend
Pig was poisoned
Pig was poisoned by Da'Man
Da'Man made a big mistake
Poisoning only made Pig really really really sick
Really really really really really really really really sick
Pig is very angry
See Da'Man run
Run Da'Man run
Run for your very life
I've been suffering from allergies lately which means my sense of smell is completely out of whack. Apparently on Saturday my husband decided to cook up some rancid meat for lunch. Thank the Lord he didn't serve the meat to the kids. Turns out the meat had been left uncooked in the fridge for 5 days and he was not quite sure what the expiration date for the meat might have been prior to that. Since he has no sense of smell and the meat was highly seasoned, he cooked it up. I was unable to smell if it was off because my sinuses are filled with pollen and I have a constant nasal drip. But I remember thinking it tasted just a tad funny. A few hours later, this little piggy was so sick, it made the recent dental trip look like a day at a luxury spa resort. Unfortunately, the same piece of meat did not make my husband sick because he is part vulture and can eat rotted carrion meat with tabasco and have no ill effect.
I have yet to decide how I will inflict my masterful revenge. Shall I unspool all his fishing lines and replace them with dental floss? Shall I shave off one of his eyebrows while he is sleeping? Shall I put a slow leak into his favorite basketball? Shall I send embarrassing photos of him to everyone at his office? Or shall I just satisfy myself with blogging about how he unsuccessfully tried to kill me? I think I shall let it be a surprise.
See Pig stomp about in fury
Pig was sick as a dog all weekend
Pig was poisoned
Pig was poisoned by Da'Man
Da'Man made a big mistake
Poisoning only made Pig really really really sick
Really really really really really really really really sick
Pig is very angry
See Da'Man run
Run Da'Man run
Run for your very life
I've been suffering from allergies lately which means my sense of smell is completely out of whack. Apparently on Saturday my husband decided to cook up some rancid meat for lunch. Thank the Lord he didn't serve the meat to the kids. Turns out the meat had been left uncooked in the fridge for 5 days and he was not quite sure what the expiration date for the meat might have been prior to that. Since he has no sense of smell and the meat was highly seasoned, he cooked it up. I was unable to smell if it was off because my sinuses are filled with pollen and I have a constant nasal drip. But I remember thinking it tasted just a tad funny. A few hours later, this little piggy was so sick, it made the recent dental trip look like a day at a luxury spa resort. Unfortunately, the same piece of meat did not make my husband sick because he is part vulture and can eat rotted carrion meat with tabasco and have no ill effect.
I have yet to decide how I will inflict my masterful revenge. Shall I unspool all his fishing lines and replace them with dental floss? Shall I shave off one of his eyebrows while he is sleeping? Shall I put a slow leak into his favorite basketball? Shall I send embarrassing photos of him to everyone at his office? Or shall I just satisfy myself with blogging about how he unsuccessfully tried to kill me? I think I shall let it be a surprise.
Friday, April 11, 2008
The Devil's Dentist
I had to go to the Dentist yesterday. Such a joyful experience. My Dentist is actually a very nice guy. He has a smiley face, glasses, looks like a mopheaded giant cherub. Until he gets you in the chair. And then he is possessed by Satan. The mild mannered Clark Kent disguise is just a facade. I believe he derives a sick satisfaction from watching me squirm frantically in his chair. I have finally deciphered his sick code.
It doesn't hurt means It's gonna really hurt
It might hurt means You are going to cry.
This will hurt means The pain is so bad it will give you diarrhea, possibly in your pants. This is why the chair is covered in plastic.
Last week I went in for a regular cleaning and was told that I needed a deep tissue gum cleaning in order to get rid of gum disease and keep all my teeth. When your dentist asks you if you want to keep all your teeth, you answer yes, right? Don't worry, he says, you're gonna thank me for this.
Here's the thing, you need to get 4 needles in your mouth to be able to withstand deep tissus gum cleaning. And it is so bad, they make you do it on two separate days, one side of the mouth at a time.
Wait a minute, if this is a cleaning, why do I need shots? Seriously I hate shots in my gums. I can take any needle in my body but a needle in my gum is the most horrendous thing. The only thing worse would be a needle in my eyeball as I watched.
We need to remove all the diseased gum and so we have to give you some anesthesia. Dr. Evil says, right as he jabs a 4 inch needle into the lower gum, jawline. HOld still, he says, you are making it worse.
I'M MAKING IT WORSE?!!!! IS HE (word censored) ME?!!! Not only has he jabbed a 4 inch needle in my mouth, but now he is moving it around WHILE IT IS STILL INSERTED IN MY MOUTH!!! as he squirts the medicine all over my gum line. The anesthesia works so quickly that my lip instantly sags to my chest and my eyeball is numb.
Dr? My eye is numb! I say. But what comes out is. Dorrer, mah ah zzzz umm.
I am fairly sure he doesn't understand what I am saying but he says, Don't worry, it's normal.
My eyeball is frozen in place and feels like someone took it out and replaced it with a large marble but apparently it is normal.
My mouth is filled with water and the incessant scraping of his dental cleaning instruments of torture fill my ears when suddenly I jump. Ow! Why isn't my anesthesia working?
"Oh did that hurt?" Why no! Of course not! I slid down half the length of the chair because it's more comfortable sitting with my butt hanging off the end of the chair.
"Imagine how bad it would have been without anesthesia!" Har har. I imagine I would be dead.
Gargle, gargle, mmmmphhh, spray gargle, blah blah, gargle.
Translation - perhaps we should wait for the anesthesia to kick in some more.
"It'll be fine! Open your mouth nice and wide. There you go, good girl," he says.
OWWWWWWWWWWWW! GRRRRR, spit bubble, dribble, gargle, mmmmphhp, spray, MMMMMMPPHPHHPHPH, ARGH!!! I am insistent.
"Are you sure that hurt? You should be quite numb by now. Hmm, let's suction your mouth."
He gives me the suction to suck out all the water and debris but doesn't give me a chance to respond before shoving his instruments and that damn water pick back in my mouth.
"Gosh that's disgusting. You can't believe the amount of diseased gum I am picking out right now! You will be thanking me when you are 70 and eating with all your teeth."
Thanks are just not what is coming to mind for me right now. And why is it that Dentists feel they must sustain a conversation with you during a dental procedure when they've got their hands down your throat?
When we are all done, he asks, "There, that wasn't so bad was it?"
I want to scream at him. I want to curse him for the horrible pain he has caused me. But all that comes out is a long stringy line of drool.
"Oh here, let me mop that up for you. You have quite a lot of drool there. Do you have a drooling problem while you sleep?"
Drool is the least of my problems. The whole right side of my face feels like it is melting off. My eye is still numb, I cannot move it. I now have a lazy eye. I need to stare to my left to compensate, otherwise I would walk in circles. My left eye has decided to twitch at this juncture. So now I have a twitchy left eye and a lazy right eye, I am drooling from a fat lip that hangs down past my chin and my right nostril has begun to drip, which I am only aware of because it is dripping onto my fat lip and I can taste something salty.
"You did great! Let's schedule an appointment to finish the whole procedure for next week!" he says with a great big jovial smile.
Maybe dentures wouldn't be such a bad thing.
It doesn't hurt means It's gonna really hurt
It might hurt means You are going to cry.
This will hurt means The pain is so bad it will give you diarrhea, possibly in your pants. This is why the chair is covered in plastic.
Last week I went in for a regular cleaning and was told that I needed a deep tissue gum cleaning in order to get rid of gum disease and keep all my teeth. When your dentist asks you if you want to keep all your teeth, you answer yes, right? Don't worry, he says, you're gonna thank me for this.
Here's the thing, you need to get 4 needles in your mouth to be able to withstand deep tissus gum cleaning. And it is so bad, they make you do it on two separate days, one side of the mouth at a time.
Wait a minute, if this is a cleaning, why do I need shots? Seriously I hate shots in my gums. I can take any needle in my body but a needle in my gum is the most horrendous thing. The only thing worse would be a needle in my eyeball as I watched.
We need to remove all the diseased gum and so we have to give you some anesthesia. Dr. Evil says, right as he jabs a 4 inch needle into the lower gum, jawline. HOld still, he says, you are making it worse.
I'M MAKING IT WORSE?!!!! IS HE (word censored) ME?!!! Not only has he jabbed a 4 inch needle in my mouth, but now he is moving it around WHILE IT IS STILL INSERTED IN MY MOUTH!!! as he squirts the medicine all over my gum line. The anesthesia works so quickly that my lip instantly sags to my chest and my eyeball is numb.
Dr? My eye is numb! I say. But what comes out is. Dorrer, mah ah zzzz umm.
I am fairly sure he doesn't understand what I am saying but he says, Don't worry, it's normal.
My eyeball is frozen in place and feels like someone took it out and replaced it with a large marble but apparently it is normal.
My mouth is filled with water and the incessant scraping of his dental cleaning instruments of torture fill my ears when suddenly I jump. Ow! Why isn't my anesthesia working?
"Oh did that hurt?" Why no! Of course not! I slid down half the length of the chair because it's more comfortable sitting with my butt hanging off the end of the chair.
"Imagine how bad it would have been without anesthesia!" Har har. I imagine I would be dead.
Gargle, gargle, mmmmphhh, spray gargle, blah blah, gargle.
Translation - perhaps we should wait for the anesthesia to kick in some more.
"It'll be fine! Open your mouth nice and wide. There you go, good girl," he says.
OWWWWWWWWWWWW! GRRRRR, spit bubble, dribble, gargle, mmmmphhp, spray, MMMMMMPPHPHHPHPH, ARGH!!! I am insistent.
"Are you sure that hurt? You should be quite numb by now. Hmm, let's suction your mouth."
He gives me the suction to suck out all the water and debris but doesn't give me a chance to respond before shoving his instruments and that damn water pick back in my mouth.
"Gosh that's disgusting. You can't believe the amount of diseased gum I am picking out right now! You will be thanking me when you are 70 and eating with all your teeth."
Thanks are just not what is coming to mind for me right now. And why is it that Dentists feel they must sustain a conversation with you during a dental procedure when they've got their hands down your throat?
When we are all done, he asks, "There, that wasn't so bad was it?"
I want to scream at him. I want to curse him for the horrible pain he has caused me. But all that comes out is a long stringy line of drool.
"Oh here, let me mop that up for you. You have quite a lot of drool there. Do you have a drooling problem while you sleep?"
Drool is the least of my problems. The whole right side of my face feels like it is melting off. My eye is still numb, I cannot move it. I now have a lazy eye. I need to stare to my left to compensate, otherwise I would walk in circles. My left eye has decided to twitch at this juncture. So now I have a twitchy left eye and a lazy right eye, I am drooling from a fat lip that hangs down past my chin and my right nostril has begun to drip, which I am only aware of because it is dripping onto my fat lip and I can taste something salty.
"You did great! Let's schedule an appointment to finish the whole procedure for next week!" he says with a great big jovial smile.
Maybe dentures wouldn't be such a bad thing.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Random Funny Things My Kids Say - Part 9
Ok it's been awhile since I had anything good to report on my kids funny sayings. But I just got a doozy to post.
So Tuesdays and Thursdays are my days at home with youngest since she and I are both on part time school schedules. As much as I say I can't wait for her to start full time in the fall, I will definitely miss our days together. We usually run errands and have lunch together. She is a very easygoing kid.
Yesterday, we went to eat lunch at our local pizza joint, the best place in the DC area for New York style pizza. And I am picky about pizza. As we sat at our table, I notice Youngest keeps peering over my shoulder at someone. I look over and see that there is a mother nursing her baby in the booth diagonal from us. The woman is pretty open about it, not even bothering to cover up her breasts. Youngest keeps staring completely fascinated. When I tell her to mind her own business she says, "I saw her nimples!" For a four year old, she can be quite loud at the most inappropriate times.
"Shhhh," I whisper, "and they are called nipples not nimples."
"Oh! Nipples, nipples, nipples!" She starts chanting.
I hush her again and glance over to see if the mother is offended. She is too busy nursing the baby and yelling at her two year old. But the man in a business suit sitting behind Youngest is trying hard not to laugh out loud.
"That mommy has big bwestesses," she says in a cute Elmer Fudd way. "Her bwestessess is bigger than the baby's head!"
"Shhhhhh, you are being rude," I say.
She is quiet for awhile, still staring every so often. "The nipples has milk in it, right?" Youngest asks as she takes a bite of pizza.
"Yes."
"Does that make her a cow?"
The man behind her has choked on his soda.
"No, that does not make her a cow," I whisper and make scary eyes at her.
"Then does she drink cow milk to make milk for her nimples?" Youngest asks.
The man behind her is studiously avoiding my eyes.
"Nipples, honey, not nimples. And yeah, something like that!" I am still giving her the Mommy warning eyes but she is just not taking the hint.
Youngest is still staring.
"Honey you have got to stop staring!" I whisper, glaring at her.
"But Mommy! She is giving the baby soda! And you said soda is vewy bad for little kids!" Youngest shouts out indignantly.
"Shhh! She is not giving the baby soda!" I say trying to calm her down.
"Yes she is!" Youngest is up on her knees in her chair and pointing. "Look! She is drinking soda and the baby is drinking her NIMPLES!"
I am absolutely mortified as the man behind Youngest just about falls on the ground laughing and the nursing mom sends us completely puzzled looks.
"Please be quiet! Mommy made a mistake. Only milk comes out of there," I say as I shove her pizza in her mouth.
"Oh, ok," Youngest says agreeably. "Then she is like a cow after all."
So Tuesdays and Thursdays are my days at home with youngest since she and I are both on part time school schedules. As much as I say I can't wait for her to start full time in the fall, I will definitely miss our days together. We usually run errands and have lunch together. She is a very easygoing kid.
Yesterday, we went to eat lunch at our local pizza joint, the best place in the DC area for New York style pizza. And I am picky about pizza. As we sat at our table, I notice Youngest keeps peering over my shoulder at someone. I look over and see that there is a mother nursing her baby in the booth diagonal from us. The woman is pretty open about it, not even bothering to cover up her breasts. Youngest keeps staring completely fascinated. When I tell her to mind her own business she says, "I saw her nimples!" For a four year old, she can be quite loud at the most inappropriate times.
"Shhhh," I whisper, "and they are called nipples not nimples."
"Oh! Nipples, nipples, nipples!" She starts chanting.
I hush her again and glance over to see if the mother is offended. She is too busy nursing the baby and yelling at her two year old. But the man in a business suit sitting behind Youngest is trying hard not to laugh out loud.
"That mommy has big bwestesses," she says in a cute Elmer Fudd way. "Her bwestessess is bigger than the baby's head!"
"Shhhhhh, you are being rude," I say.
She is quiet for awhile, still staring every so often. "The nipples has milk in it, right?" Youngest asks as she takes a bite of pizza.
"Yes."
"Does that make her a cow?"
The man behind her has choked on his soda.
"No, that does not make her a cow," I whisper and make scary eyes at her.
"Then does she drink cow milk to make milk for her nimples?" Youngest asks.
The man behind her is studiously avoiding my eyes.
"Nipples, honey, not nimples. And yeah, something like that!" I am still giving her the Mommy warning eyes but she is just not taking the hint.
Youngest is still staring.
"Honey you have got to stop staring!" I whisper, glaring at her.
"But Mommy! She is giving the baby soda! And you said soda is vewy bad for little kids!" Youngest shouts out indignantly.
"Shhh! She is not giving the baby soda!" I say trying to calm her down.
"Yes she is!" Youngest is up on her knees in her chair and pointing. "Look! She is drinking soda and the baby is drinking her NIMPLES!"
I am absolutely mortified as the man behind Youngest just about falls on the ground laughing and the nursing mom sends us completely puzzled looks.
"Please be quiet! Mommy made a mistake. Only milk comes out of there," I say as I shove her pizza in her mouth.
"Oh, ok," Youngest says agreeably. "Then she is like a cow after all."
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Great advice from an agent
Jim McCarthy over at Dystel & Goderich has a terrific post up about his reading process. It is really worth taking a look at.
Welcome to my world
A recent exchange with one of my chronic problem students. Always late. Falls asleep in class and when she awakes she says inane things out loud like "Why does the reading have to be so boring?" or "Can we end early today?"
Chronic Problem Student - Professor, I didn't do my assignment for today because I had no idea there was anything due! You didn't write it up on the board last week!
Long suffering Professor - Didn't you read your syllabus?
CPS - But usually professor's write the assignments on the board. (in an indignant and self-righteous and yet incredibly whiny voice)
LSP - It is now the end of March and we have been in class for 9 weeks already. Tell me something, do you recall me ever doing that?
Pause.
CPS - I lost my syllabus.
LSP - There is an electronic version on the internet.
Pause.
CPS - You're not going to give me an extension are you.
Pause.
LSP - (sighing) Get it to me by Monday.
CPS - Thank you Professor! I promise I will get it to you right away! By Sunday night! Thank you so much.
Tuesday morning, still no assignment. So what excuse do you think I will hear this time?
Chronic Problem Student - Professor, I didn't do my assignment for today because I had no idea there was anything due! You didn't write it up on the board last week!
Long suffering Professor - Didn't you read your syllabus?
CPS - But usually professor's write the assignments on the board. (in an indignant and self-righteous and yet incredibly whiny voice)
LSP - It is now the end of March and we have been in class for 9 weeks already. Tell me something, do you recall me ever doing that?
Pause.
CPS - I lost my syllabus.
LSP - There is an electronic version on the internet.
Pause.
CPS - You're not going to give me an extension are you.
Pause.
LSP - (sighing) Get it to me by Monday.
CPS - Thank you Professor! I promise I will get it to you right away! By Sunday night! Thank you so much.
Tuesday morning, still no assignment. So what excuse do you think I will hear this time?
Monday, March 31, 2008
My Town Monday Series - Washington, DC at night
For this week's installment of Travis' My Town Monday posts, I have done a night tour of the DC monuments.
Whenever I have a friend come into town who has never been to Washington, DC, my favorite thing to do is to take them on a driving tour of the monuments. First off, I am not a big people person so the crowds during the day drive me crazy. Luckily at night, there is hardly anyone around. Secondly, the monuments are absolutely beautiful at night. Below is a picture of Pennsylvania Avenue which takes you right up to the Capitol Building. Lining the avenue are federal government buildings, from the Old Post Office to the National Archives. This is federal government worker central.
Copyright by wyntuition available from Flickr.com
Heading down to Constitution Avenue, we drive parallel the National Mall. For those of you who do not know what the National Mall is, it is not a shopping center. The Mall is the term used to describe the open national park area that starts from the steps of the Capitol building and leads all the way to the Lincoln Memorial, a distance of approximately two miles. All along the National Mall, from the Capitol to the Washington Monument, there are the Smithsonian museums. This link will take you to a map of the National Mall and show you exactly where all the museums are as well as the lovely outdoor skating rink. The museums are simply spectacular. Starting at the Capitol, past the reflecting pool, you will find the brand new National Museum of the American Indian on your left and the East wing of the National Gallery of Art to your right. And straight down on either side are The National Air and Space Museum, the Museum of Natural History, The American History Museum, the African Art Museum, the Holocaust Museum and the funny round Hirshorn Museum. You could spend days wandering the Mall and still not see everything there is to see. And these are just the museums on the National Mall. There are even more museums in DC.
Copyright by Scott Ableman available from Flickr.com
From the Capitol steps, if you look straight down the great expanse of the Mall, you will see the Washington monument. And beyond it is the Lincoln memorial. To me, seeing the Washington monument during the day does not excite me. It is a tall pointy white building that does not show itself to great advantage during the day. But at night, this funny thing becomes an architectural marvel and a thing of beauty.
Copyright by ashoe available on Flickr. com
Behind the Washington Monument, there are the war memorials. There are three very different memorials for three different wars. World War II, The Korean War and the Vietnam War. The World War II memorial is an amazing sight at night. It is really a plaza with a rainbow pool and 56 granite pillars surrounding it which represent the unification of a nation at war. There are two large pavilions that mark the north and south sides of the plaza. They symbolize the two important battle theaters of WWII, the Pacific and The Atlantic theaters. There is also a Freedom Wall with 4,000 gold stars to honor the more than 400,000 Americans who lost their lives during the conflict.
Vietnam Memorial Copyright by doclam01 available via Flickr. com
The Vietnam War is now world famous as the winning entry of at the time, a 21 year old architecture student. Two long black granite walls which grow in height into a large angle, the corner meeting at the two walls highest points. The memorial bears the names of 58,000 servicemen killed or missing during this conflict. I have been to this memorial many times since it was built in 1982. Whether I see it during the day or night, in crowds or alone, this memorial always moves me to great sadness, cocoons me in a silent peaceful mourning for those whose names grace this beautiful monument.
The war memorials seem to be situated in such a way that they point to the Lincoln memorial. Like some kind of ancient Greek temple, the large seated statue of Lincoln is surrounded by 36 columns. There is even a bookstore on the first floor.
This night time drive through the monuments would not be complete if I didn't take you by the Jefferson memorial and the tidal basin. A little domed building holds the bronzed statue of Thomas Jefferson but more importantly some of Jefferson's most famous phrases are etched into the walls. "We hold these truths to be self-evident: That all men are created equal. That they are endowed by their creator with certain inalienable rights..."
If you are planning to come to the DC area, now is the time to come for at this particular moment in time, the cherry blossoms have begun to bloom. And all along the tidal basin where the Jefferson monument sits, the hundreds of cherry trees that line the banks of the tidal basin are beginning to wake up. Delicate snow white and pink petals are blossoming on branches that have been bare too long. Within a few days they will all burst forth to unveil a great canopy of fragrant cherry blossoms. Walking along the basin promenade, under the boughs of spectacular color, you will fall in love with our nation's capital.
Whenever I have a friend come into town who has never been to Washington, DC, my favorite thing to do is to take them on a driving tour of the monuments. First off, I am not a big people person so the crowds during the day drive me crazy. Luckily at night, there is hardly anyone around. Secondly, the monuments are absolutely beautiful at night. Below is a picture of Pennsylvania Avenue which takes you right up to the Capitol Building. Lining the avenue are federal government buildings, from the Old Post Office to the National Archives. This is federal government worker central.
Copyright by wyntuition available from Flickr.comHeading down to Constitution Avenue, we drive parallel the National Mall. For those of you who do not know what the National Mall is, it is not a shopping center. The Mall is the term used to describe the open national park area that starts from the steps of the Capitol building and leads all the way to the Lincoln Memorial, a distance of approximately two miles. All along the National Mall, from the Capitol to the Washington Monument, there are the Smithsonian museums. This link will take you to a map of the National Mall and show you exactly where all the museums are as well as the lovely outdoor skating rink. The museums are simply spectacular. Starting at the Capitol, past the reflecting pool, you will find the brand new National Museum of the American Indian on your left and the East wing of the National Gallery of Art to your right. And straight down on either side are The National Air and Space Museum, the Museum of Natural History, The American History Museum, the African Art Museum, the Holocaust Museum and the funny round Hirshorn Museum. You could spend days wandering the Mall and still not see everything there is to see. And these are just the museums on the National Mall. There are even more museums in DC.
Copyright by Scott Ableman available from Flickr.comFrom the Capitol steps, if you look straight down the great expanse of the Mall, you will see the Washington monument. And beyond it is the Lincoln memorial. To me, seeing the Washington monument during the day does not excite me. It is a tall pointy white building that does not show itself to great advantage during the day. But at night, this funny thing becomes an architectural marvel and a thing of beauty.
Copyright by ashoe available on Flickr. comBehind the Washington Monument, there are the war memorials. There are three very different memorials for three different wars. World War II, The Korean War and the Vietnam War. The World War II memorial is an amazing sight at night. It is really a plaza with a rainbow pool and 56 granite pillars surrounding it which represent the unification of a nation at war. There are two large pavilions that mark the north and south sides of the plaza. They symbolize the two important battle theaters of WWII, the Pacific and The Atlantic theaters. There is also a Freedom Wall with 4,000 gold stars to honor the more than 400,000 Americans who lost their lives during the conflict.
Vietnam Memorial Copyright by doclam01 available via Flickr. comThe Vietnam War is now world famous as the winning entry of at the time, a 21 year old architecture student. Two long black granite walls which grow in height into a large angle, the corner meeting at the two walls highest points. The memorial bears the names of 58,000 servicemen killed or missing during this conflict. I have been to this memorial many times since it was built in 1982. Whether I see it during the day or night, in crowds or alone, this memorial always moves me to great sadness, cocoons me in a silent peaceful mourning for those whose names grace this beautiful monument.
The war memorials seem to be situated in such a way that they point to the Lincoln memorial. Like some kind of ancient Greek temple, the large seated statue of Lincoln is surrounded by 36 columns. There is even a bookstore on the first floor.
This night time drive through the monuments would not be complete if I didn't take you by the Jefferson memorial and the tidal basin. A little domed building holds the bronzed statue of Thomas Jefferson but more importantly some of Jefferson's most famous phrases are etched into the walls. "We hold these truths to be self-evident: That all men are created equal. That they are endowed by their creator with certain inalienable rights..."
If you are planning to come to the DC area, now is the time to come for at this particular moment in time, the cherry blossoms have begun to bloom. And all along the tidal basin where the Jefferson monument sits, the hundreds of cherry trees that line the banks of the tidal basin are beginning to wake up. Delicate snow white and pink petals are blossoming on branches that have been bare too long. Within a few days they will all burst forth to unveil a great canopy of fragrant cherry blossoms. Walking along the basin promenade, under the boughs of spectacular color, you will fall in love with our nation's capital.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Delicious new treat sensation
Today a friend of Oldest brought over a box of Japanese cookies. They looked innocuous enough with pictures of some round red fruit in front although it was all in Japanese. Somewhere on the side I can make out the words Kisyu Ume and inside the foil wrappers, the word Pretzel. After her friend left, Oldest brings over the cookie box and asks if she can have one.
Sure go ahead I say. Eagerly she opens the box and shoves a stick in her mouth. All of a sudden a curious and utterly horrible expression overcomes her face and she immediately spits out the cookie.
"It tastes disgusting," she says. She hands me half of the long, thin pink stick she had just bitten. Curious I take the inoffensive looking thing. It has the strangest perfume-like fragrance but with the added funk of rotten fruit notes. Just the smell alone is enough to put you off of it, but then I took a small bite. Oh Lord she was not lying! Please get this horrible taste out of my mouth!!!!! I cannot describe the salty, vinegary, sour, rotten and generally disgusting taste that assaulted me. I spat it out and tried desperately to rinse the taste out to no avail. Hours later I could still smell the faintest whiff of the perfume-like-rot clinging to my lips. I realize only after looking it up that Ume is salted, pickled plum and while it is a delicacy in Japan, it is also an acquired taste.
"What's going on?" Angus asks with a curious look. She has been busy playing in the other room and only comes over at our riotous ways. Oldest quietly hands her another stick from her very full pack.
Angus grabs it and pops it in her mouth. The immediate look of horror that overcomes her sends me and Oldest into laughing fits.
"Why did you let me eat that?" Angus asks with a look of utter betrayal on her face.
"Because it was too funny," I reply wiping my eyes.
Youngest has been watching the proceedings the whole time with absolute fascination. Angus tries to foist the rest on Youngest but Youngest runs away. She is no fool.
At that moment, Da Man returns home. Oldest and I look at each other and we begin to grin and giggle. Angus realizing our evil intent, begins to run towards her father, intent on warning him.
"NO Dad! Don't eat it..." I catch Angus and wrapping a hand around her mouth plead with her not to say anything and bribe her with more Pokemon cards. She agrees but decides she can't watch the carnage and runs away.
"Hi Dad! Welcome home!" Oldest says, all smiles.
"Hey honey, I'm glad you are home, S gave Oldest a box of cookies but we can't make out what they might be. Here try one and tell us what you think."
Da Man reaches eagerly for a cookie and take a large bite. The immediate reaction is all that we could have hoped for as aghast he runs to the kitchen to spit out the cookie. I thought I was going to have a coronary laughing as hard as I did. The look of horrified revulsion was beyond priceless. I only wish I could make him eat it over and over again for my general amusement.
Oldest and I are debating what to do with the rest of the nasty treat when I say, "Hey, Auntie is coming over for dinner tomorrow!"
Oldest and I grin evilly. I place the box carefully back into the pantry. I cannot wait to see my sister's face when she tries our new treat.
Monday, March 24, 2008
My Town Monday
Alright, since I am currently in New York City, having enjoyed Easter Sunday with my folks, I have decided to be perverse and write My Town Monday post for Travis not on Brooklyn, but on Washington, DC. In fact today I am going to take you through Georgetown. Why would I pour salt in my own wound after my Hoyas humiliating defeat at the hands of upstart Davidson? Because I am just that kind of masochist.
So when I speak of Georgetown, I am not speaking of the University, although it is located here. What I am referring to is a neighborhood of Washington, DC which sits along the Potomac River.
So when I speak of Georgetown, I am not speaking of the University, although it is located here. What I am referring to is a neighborhood of Washington, DC which sits along the Potomac River.
Copyright mutbka from Flickr.com
Long before the white man came to its borders, Georgetown was known as Tahoga and was a peaceful Indian village. There are no real documented facts to what happened to the Indians. But let’s put it this way, once there was a thriving Indian village, insert white people, and then there wasn’t.
After killing off, I mean, relocating all the native Indians, the white settlers founded Georgetown in 1751. This predates the establishment of Washington as a city. In fact, Georgetown was originally part of Maryland and was a busy Maryland tobacco port. When the District of Columbia was created in 1791, Maryland lost Georgetown to the newly developed capital.
Tourists love to come to Georgetown. It is known as a shopping and eating mecca for the fashionable elite of Washington, DC. But a little known fact about Georgetown is that this chic, elegant, neighborhood that is almost exclusively white and ridiculously expensive to live in, was once the center of a thriving slave trade and an all black community.
In a Washington Post article by Andrew Stephen, dated July 16, 2006, he speaks about Georgetown’s hidden history and how a “combination of legislative, social and economic pressures gradually forced nearly all the black people out, turning the neighborhood into the wealthy, effectively all-white enclave it is today.”
“Between 1865 and 1870, its black population increased from 1,935 to 3,271. Over the next two or three decades, a skilled black working class started to emerge alongside a handful of black professionals. But countless laws and regulations that continued well into the 20th century prevented true economic and social emancipation: Only white passengers were allowed to ride on Georgetown's new electric streetcars, for example, enabling them to commute to Washington for well-paying jobs that were effectively denied to blacks. Then came a series of economic blows that began to seal the fate of Georgetown's blacks. The Potomac silted up, virtually ending the industrial effectiveness of Georgetown's harbor. The Chesapeake and Ohio Canal, which flowed through Georgetown and was crucial to many businesses such as flour and paper mills, flooded disastrously in 1889. Blacks were the first to lose their jobs when countless firms went bust. By 1910, the black population of Georgetown had peaked, and when the Great Depression struck 19 years later, more and more blacks found themselves displaced by whites taking menial jobs.
C&O Canal copright by Bethany L. King from Flickr.com
"Perversely, FDR's New Deal then began to work against blacks in Georgetown. Thousands of well-paid white government workers poured into Washington, creating further demand for housing and pushing property prices ever higher in Georgetown. "The dispossession of the Negro resident [of Georgetown]," the Conference on Better Housing Among Negroes reported, "is jointly managed by the city's leading realtors and their allied banks and trust companies. Two pieces of legislation passed in the 20th century by none other than Congress itself, though, were the final straws for Georgetown's blacks. The ostensible purpose of the District of Columbia Alley Dwelling Act of 1934 was to get rid of slums; but I suspect that to a House with only one black member and a Senate with none at all, slums and blacks were synonymous."
"Then, in 1950, Congress passed the Old Georgetown Act "to preserve and protect places of historic interest," but it had the effect of making Georgetown's gentrification legally enforceable. It was pushed through despite fears from "Negro groups," The Washington Post reported at the time, that it "might drive them from the area." Less than a decade later, Georgetown's black population had dwindled to fewer than 3 percent, and in 1972 The Post noted that fewer than 250 remained, 'so few that some Georgetown residents are unaware they are there.'" (Stephens, Andrew. “Georgetown's Hidden History.” Washington Post. 16 July 2006.)
You don’t see any of this history in the wealthy Georgetown of today. The Georgetown business association claims that “Our village in the nation's capital is widely known for its historic charm and European feel.” The historic charm they refer to does not include the slave trade or the fact that at one point Georgetown had a reputation of being one of the worst slums of Washington. No mention of its sordid past is made. No discussion of the anomaly of several African-American churches, like the oldest Mount Zion United Methodist Church, filled with churchgoers who do not live in Georgetown.
Waterfront copyright by M.V. Jantzen from Flickr.comThe concept of putting the word “hidden” with “history” is always appalling to me. History must be an open book so that we can learn, understand and always remind ourselves of the good and bad of humanity. And so I share this post and this article with you today so that one day when you do come to Georgetown, you can look around you with a clear eye of what the fancy shops and restaurants of Georgetown really cover and how the richest real estate of Washington, DC was virtually stolen from the Native Indians and African American communities.Next Monday, I will give you more of a walking tour of DC and less of a history lesson.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
I am not here
I have lost my mind. I am not here. I am going blind. Too many papers to grade. Too much of it crap. I am not here. But enjoy this funny video instead.
Monday, March 17, 2008
My Town Monday Series Part 2
I forgot to participate in My Town Monday with Travis last week due to sheer and utter forgetfulness brought on by age and stupidity. So this week I wanted to make sure I prepared myself ahead of time. Here are some fun facts I dug out about Brooklyn:
I wasn't allowed to watch alot of tv and my folks were always working so I spent alot of time reading. It was my gameboy, my playstation, my cable channels - it was all my entertainment. Children these days are so spoiled with all the electronic gadgets and toys out there that they have really lost the pleasure of a good book. Something I have rectified in my own house by being the Big Bad Mommy and banning all electronic devices on school nights. Since my kids just received a Wii as a present from their Aunt, this rule has been a huge sore point in the house. But I am evil, I laugh at their whining, I scoff at their pleas for fairness. It's not fair? I growl, you lazy little ingrates have no idea of what unfair really is. Stinky Mommy they call me.
Anyway, my local library was pretty small, but when I was thirteen, I discovered the central library. My father drove me there when I had to do a book report and all the books I needed were not at my local branch. I remember walking in and being awed at this big beautiful library. The huge, high ceilinged reading rooms and the impressive number of reference librarians. Soon after, I would take the bus and transfer twice to get to the library on my own.
When I started at NYU, I finally found a library that I would love more than Grand Army. NYU's Bobst library is an architectural marvel and the best place to hide and study. A place of windows and cubicles and millions and milions of books. Bobst became my new favorite library, but I never forgot learning how great a library was at Grand Army. Or how annoying a stinky horny homeless man could be.
- Brooklyn was once a separate city. In 1898, it was united with the other four boroughs (Queens, Bronx, Manhattan, and Staten Island) to form what we now know as the City of
- Brooklyn's population of nearly 2.5 million people, would make it the fourth largest city in the
- Brooklyn is located on the island of Long Island but is not considered part of Long Island.
- The Brooklyn Children's Museum is the world's first museum for children.
I wasn't allowed to watch alot of tv and my folks were always working so I spent alot of time reading. It was my gameboy, my playstation, my cable channels - it was all my entertainment. Children these days are so spoiled with all the electronic gadgets and toys out there that they have really lost the pleasure of a good book. Something I have rectified in my own house by being the Big Bad Mommy and banning all electronic devices on school nights. Since my kids just received a Wii as a present from their Aunt, this rule has been a huge sore point in the house. But I am evil, I laugh at their whining, I scoff at their pleas for fairness. It's not fair? I growl, you lazy little ingrates have no idea of what unfair really is. Stinky Mommy they call me.
Anyway, my local library was pretty small, but when I was thirteen, I discovered the central library. My father drove me there when I had to do a book report and all the books I needed were not at my local branch. I remember walking in and being awed at this big beautiful library. The huge, high ceilinged reading rooms and the impressive number of reference librarians. Soon after, I would take the bus and transfer twice to get to the library on my own.
The library is located on Eastern Parkway and Flatbush Avenue and as you can see from the above picture, it is huge. It was built in 1941 and its architecture was created to resemble an open book, with the spine on
When I started at NYU, I finally found a library that I would love more than Grand Army. NYU's Bobst library is an architectural marvel and the best place to hide and study. A place of windows and cubicles and millions and milions of books. Bobst became my new favorite library, but I never forgot learning how great a library was at Grand Army. Or how annoying a stinky horny homeless man could be.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Random Funny Things My Kids Say - Part 8
For awhile now Youngest has been calling random people she sees Humans. It is her way of differentiating people from animals. I didn't think anything of it until she began doing it loudly in public. Only then did I realize how funny and potentially offensive, it sounds. For example, the other day at my local supermarket, the high school students at a nearby high school came in a huge swarm. Youngest watched the mass exodus and announced in her loud child's voice, "Mommy the HUMANS are coming!!!"
No matter how many times I tell her to say people, person, man, woman, boy or girl, she prefers to use the term Human. She might tack on boy or girl to differentiate what kind of human, but that is as far as she goes. For example:
Mommy that human boy waved at me!
Look at that funny human.
The human has a dog!
Is she a bad Human or a good Human?
That Human picked his nose.
Is that a Human out there in front of our car?
Why did that Human cross the road?
What's the matter with that Human?
So I took Youngest to Target, my favorite store in the whole world, and we were being rung up by the cashier who was the most tatooed, pierced, dyed person I've seen since leaving NYU behind. Her head was half shaved/half dyed with bits of purple, magenta, aquamarine and black with about ten piercings in one eyebrow, both ears and a big stud in her nose. Her makeup was Marilyn Manson style goth black. Needless to say, Youngest was scared. She was sitting in the child seat of the shopping cart and she kept hiding her face in my coat while the cashier was ringing us up. At one point, Youngest peered out to look just as the cashier looked straight at her. This so surprised Youngest that instead of hiding her face in my coat she just screwed her eyes shut tight and asked me in a loud whisper, "Mommy, stop that Human from looking at me!"
"Shhhhh!" I said, embarrassed. "Don't be rude."
Youngest refused to open her eyes.
"Are we done yet?" she asked, eyes still tightly shut.
Cashier smiled sardonically at my apologetic smile.
"Whatever," Goth girl said, "I like when kids are scared of me. Then they leave me alone."
I mumbled an apology, took my receipt and started pushing the cart out. Youngest finally opened her eyes and peered carefully around me to take a final look at the Goth girl. When we were finally safely out of the store she announced, "Mommy, that was Noooo Human."
"You might be right," I said.
No matter how many times I tell her to say people, person, man, woman, boy or girl, she prefers to use the term Human. She might tack on boy or girl to differentiate what kind of human, but that is as far as she goes. For example:
Mommy that human boy waved at me!
Look at that funny human.
The human has a dog!
Is she a bad Human or a good Human?
That Human picked his nose.
Is that a Human out there in front of our car?
Why did that Human cross the road?
What's the matter with that Human?
So I took Youngest to Target, my favorite store in the whole world, and we were being rung up by the cashier who was the most tatooed, pierced, dyed person I've seen since leaving NYU behind. Her head was half shaved/half dyed with bits of purple, magenta, aquamarine and black with about ten piercings in one eyebrow, both ears and a big stud in her nose. Her makeup was Marilyn Manson style goth black. Needless to say, Youngest was scared. She was sitting in the child seat of the shopping cart and she kept hiding her face in my coat while the cashier was ringing us up. At one point, Youngest peered out to look just as the cashier looked straight at her. This so surprised Youngest that instead of hiding her face in my coat she just screwed her eyes shut tight and asked me in a loud whisper, "Mommy, stop that Human from looking at me!"
"Shhhhh!" I said, embarrassed. "Don't be rude."
Youngest refused to open her eyes.
"Are we done yet?" she asked, eyes still tightly shut.
Cashier smiled sardonically at my apologetic smile.
"Whatever," Goth girl said, "I like when kids are scared of me. Then they leave me alone."
I mumbled an apology, took my receipt and started pushing the cart out. Youngest finally opened her eyes and peered carefully around me to take a final look at the Goth girl. When we were finally safely out of the store she announced, "Mommy, that was Noooo Human."
"You might be right," I said.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Asians with Unexpected Accents
Uh, Fran Dresher? I’m from Brooklyn, not
“And you sound like Gomer Pyle, Golly!” I mocked.
“Ahh, doooohn know whooooo you’re tawkin’ about,” he laughed good naturedly. “Yoooooo dun taaaaaawk toooooo fast."
“And, yoooooooo talk tooooooooo slow!” I replied. Needless to say we became good friends even as we mocked each other viciously. He reminded me of a Korean American comic I saw a long time ago on Comedy Central. Too bad I can’t remember his name cause that boy was funny. But he did this piece about his friend J.B. Daniels. Apparently the J.B. doesn’t stand for anything, so when J.B. went to get his driver’s license, he wrote in “J” --- only, “B” ---- only Daniels. When he got his license it read, Jonly Bonly Daniels. I think it was funnier in person. But for me, part of what made him so funny was the novelty of seeing an Asian American with a southern accent.
They reminded me that Korean Americans are newer immigrants. 80% of mainland Korean Americans are first and second generation only. We are the ones with parents that gave us all American names which they promptly mispronounced. My best friend Sylvia’s name is forever pronounced Sylbeeahh.
Saturday, March 8, 2008
Random Loveliness
Copyright Maki_C30DBarter
by Sarah Teasdale
Life has loveliness to sell,
All beautiful and splendid things,
Blue waves whitened on a cliff,
Soaring fire that sways and sings,
And children's faces looking up,
Holding wonder like a cup.
Life has loveliness to sell,
Music like a curve of gold,
Scent of pine trees in the rain,
Eyes that love you, arms that hold,
And for your spirit's still delight,
Holy thoughts that star the night.
Spend all you have for loveliness,
Buy it and never count the cost;
For one white singing hour of peace
Count many a year of strife well lost,
And for a breath of ecstacy
Give all you have been, or could be.
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