Queenie Award, Penguin Nursery update, and the English Language

I won! I won! I won! Yes, ladies and germs, even though it was an indirect incident, I have been such a disaster in the kitchen as to deserve a Queenie. And I'm proud of it! I hope everyone heads over to her site, listed on the side here someplace, and reads my disgrace and gets hooked on her. She's truly funny, certifiably insane at times, and one of god's chosen, I'm sure. Besides, there are stories on there better than mine to get a giggle out of.

I'm terribly disappointed about the penguin nursery. I've done a bit of checking into it, and as much as I really want to go help these adorable things, I think I'm going to run into issues with finance. It seems that since I have no penguin experts to back me on the need nor offering to assist in the actual operation of said nursery/assisted rookery that I am unlikely to obtain the billions of dollars needed to start this project. Dammit anyway. Who needs experts? You build the thing, get some fish and then begin coaxing the little darlings into using it. No harm no foul. Humph. No cooperation. No cooperation at all.

As for the English language, being an English major has given me plenty of reason to look into it. Now there are many dialects and other aspects of it I won't go into. However, I am becoming enamored of books like "Lost Words", "Forgotton Words", and "Completely Made Up Words". Why? Okay, I'll tell you! Sheesh. I often catch myself wondering (for days) where and who gets to name things, decide what's what, and where various phrases/words come from. One example, shit-faced. Now you know that back in the Dark Ages, some ale-sotted moron fell into pile of shit. Human or other doesn't matter. Hence the phrase shit-faced. But what about others? Twitterpated. Legs up to her armpits. Legs that won't quit. If you ask me, that woman has serious health problems. For one, with legs up to her armpits? What a funny looking chic. And legs that won't quit? That is a scream for medical intervention. If my legs wouldn't quit, I'd go insane. How could one sleep? Seriously, now folks, and this is a hard assignment, trust me, but next time you're out and about to kill time, take a pen and paper. Listen and jot down a few of the phrases or words you hear and their context. Then really think them over. And please include the accidental mix ups. You know, the ones where you're talking slower than your brain is moving and you get two words bunched together. Or as my grandpa would say, 'you got your tongue tangled around your eye teeth and couldn't see what you was trying to say". Those can be the funniest things ever. Like Spanky saying she was going to end up in the looney barn or calling some drive-thru worker a facer instead of whatever it was she was trying to say. Or when my mom elbowed me one day, realized I was bra-less and told me to go put a boob on. These are still funny topics of conversation today. Let me know what you find. And don't worry, my assignment's already been turned in and graded. I won't cheat like that. I just found it interesting and thought you would too.

Penguins, First Day of School, & Other BS

I finally went to see The March of the Penguins!! I have also decided that I need to move to Antarctica. There are baby penguins there in need of my assistance. Now, all I need to do is figure out how to build a penguin nursery, convince the penguins that it's safe, finance the whole operation...oh and, yeah, figure out how to survive myself. No problem! I like fish. I'm sure I can buy the clothing I need someplace. Not sure about shelter, but I'll figure that out later. Igloos seemed to work for the Eskimos. I'll just sign up for an architecture course. Yep, that about sums it up.

Okay, I lied. That far from sums it up. The penguins are absolutely adorable! I had no idea they made noise! And I really like the way the dads are responsible for the eggs for so long. Another fine example of how nature screwed womankind. I swear to god, people, I almost got kicked out...before the movie started! The previews quit and the screen was just showing all the ice and shit in Antarctica and I started clapping and squealing. To top it off, my landlord and one of his kids were there! Talk about weird. Not too mention mildly worrisome. I mean, it's bad enough he lives right across the road from me and has seen some of my pecularities, but to have him witness my fanaticism is a bit much, doncha think? Oh well, too late now.

Classes began today for me and my kids. Hooray! The monsters are back in school! (Dancing at computer desk ensues) After school, everyone reported a good day with only minor hitches such as my girl wearing sandals instead of tennies on a gym day and the boys' school bus making them a few minutes late to school. I had a great day, too. One of my teachers I've had before. Not only is he funny and brilliant, but he's pretty hot, too! In fact, last year, we spent some time flirting with each other after class was over. (Long story & nothing came of it..dammit) He remembers me and this class appears to be even more fun than the last. To top it off, after only one class period with me, another instructor whom I've never had before, is so impressed with me that she is giving me a writing internship position that she created along with a lady at the Crisis Center! (more desk dancing) It's unpaid, but practically guarantees my acceptance to the Writer's Workshop next fall, guarantees me to have published work afterward, and will look exceedingly good on a resume. Or biographical sketch when I become a famous author.

As for other BS, I ranted a few months ago about pedestrians in this town. Look it up, I won't repeat it. (I heard that sigh of relief, by the way) At any rate, I actually saw a professor drive his bicycle into the side of a bright yellow Cambus today after my last class. He was going against the crossing light, of course. From the looks of things, no one was hurt. I mean, the bus had barely started moving and he had been at a complete stop also. May have wracked himself, but it's his own fault! No sympathy whatsoever. None. And this man presumably has at least a Master's Degree, so it's not like he's uneducated or anything. Morons!

That's all folks! Hope your day was terrific and your tomorrow is even better!

Justice? Rant/Rave/WTFever!

So I'm watching this show last night called The Dark Side of Parole. On there, some lawyer or deputy or corrections administrator was saying about some murderer that got let go in California who murdered again that 'our system hasn't quite decided how to handle violent offenders; we don't really warehouse them, we don't really rehabilitate them'. He's right. Scarily right. I don't know about the rest of the country, but the prisons in Iowa are so full, there's a waiting list to get in. No matter what you did or were convicted of. I do know that research here has shown that the majority of offenders in the prison system here are drug related. Okay, fine, its illegal. However, where does that leave violent offenders? Out in public? I'm beginning to wonder. I've said here in the past that a first time drug offender can get more prison time than a child molester. It's true. How more violent and sick can you get? Speaking from experience, and it was a mild experience compared to some, being molested as a child can have drastic and long-lasting repurcussions. I'm talking for the rest of your life long-lasting. I've done therapy. I've done all kinds of things. I'm as over it as I'll ever get. I've even forgiven the monster that did it to the extent I'm able. It's a sickness, and I can believe it. I also believe that there are abusers who were abused. Yakkity yakkity yakkity. Doesn't make it right. I also don't buy into the whole 'these people can be rehabilitated' ideal. Nice theory. Doesn't work. And since tattoos can be removed and since some people think that removing these perverts genitalia or branding their foreheads, hands or other body parts with some symbol is cruel and unusual punishment, I have an idea: KEEP THEM LOCKED UP! The rate of recidivism (repeating the offense) among sexual predators is higher than that of a drug addict. They are notorious for not registering with their localities, state, or whatever like they are required to do. They also tend to move themselves into areas where they are around children, like close to schools or daycares, or to get jobs that place them in contact with children, even with all the fancy background checks available today. These people will do it again. I don't mean the 10 year old molested child who lives down the block who decides to share his pain with the neighborhood kids. Yes, that's bad, but he's still young and stands a real chance of being 'cured'. I'm talking about the ones who were doing that and then continued it into adulthood. If the bleeding hearts still want to give people a chance to prove themselves, fine. Give even first time offenders electronic bracelets like Martha Stewart got and monitor them for the rest of their lives. That would be tax money well spent. If they do re-offend, then lock them up for the rest of their lives. Or give them lethal injection. Again, tax money well spent. As a bonus, the latter option frees up space in the prisons for other offenders. One male offender over here used a putty knife to cut open a two or three year old little girl so he could fit inside her (sorry for the graphic detail) and only got 5 or 7 years for his little mishap. Huh? That little girl lived, but her life would never be the same. Why should his ever have a chance to return to any semblence of normalcy? I don't care if he hadn't done the cutting job, in my opinion, any act of sexual activity with a child should be considered a violent offense. Kids are pretty much defenseless. And since child abusers, whether sexual or other, do not walk around wearing signs that say "I'm a pervert" all the talking about stranger danger and good touch/bad touch won't make any difference. These people can be teachers, clergy, doctors, the bum in the park, or the old guy who brings the family tomatoes out of his garden each year. There are women offenders too and they should be treated the same way. I'm sorry but our justice system is failing us, the public. We either need to warehouse these menaces or kill them off. There is no rehabilitation to it. If they insist on that avenue, then these people need a brand on them in some very prominent place that we can teach kids to recognize or some kind of non-removable monitoring device. And don't give me any 'cruel and unusual punishment' bullshit. Children's lives are at stake. Cruel and unusual punishment? Tell that to the 2 or 3 year old girl who was cut open for some asshole to rape her. Or to that girl's parents. Or to my niece who was raped and drowned at the age of 4 by her own uncle, a man who supposedly had never been in 'that kind' of trouble before. Or to me. Tell me how cruel and unusual it would be for the monster who did what he did to me to have been forced to wear a device to track his movements or wear a brand or something after his first conviction. If that had happened, maybe there wouldn't have been a second instance...maybe I would have gone unmolested. And who knows about any other victims? These guys are experts at manipulation. How many didn't come forward for whatever reason...in any case, not just my example? How cruel and unusual is that for a child to live with? I'm sorry. It may be an illness, it may be created through abuse. All I know is that this is an illness that can be prevented...or eradicated...and our justice system? It isn't working.

Beginning of a Bar Joke

While waiting for Mom to get out of surgery, I was sitting with my aunt and her mom, whom I refer to as Gramma, cuz she's just that type, ya know? At any rate, a commercial for March of the Penguins comes on the tube and I'm like, my usual excited, jumping up and down in my chair clapping my hands and squealing like I'm two, self. My aunt knows of my penguin obsession, but Gramma doesn't apparently. So, in trying to explain it to her, I say, "If I was told I only had three weeks to live and was granted three wishes, one of them would be to go to Sea World or somewhere and play with the penguins. You know, give me some fish, a coat, and some penguins. The peguins and I will get along fine, I swear." By this time, she's looking at me very strangely. I ask what's wrong and she says, "What do you want with a goat?" I laughed so hard, I almost wet myself right there in the waiting room. Which had terrible coffee, by the way. I got her corrected and she started laughing too, and goes, "I thought you said you wanted a fish, a goat, and a penguin...and I couldn't figure out what you wanted a goat for. The fish and the penguin I could understand..." and was lost to the giggles. So was I. I mean seriously: a fish, a goat, and a penguin? Sounds like the beginning to a really bad bar joke....

'A fish, a goat, and a penguin walk into a bar..."

You finish it. I'd love to see what you come up with. God knows, I'm trying to come up with some. It's just too good an opportunity to pass up. You know me, I simply cannot walk past an open door. Ask Grasshopper or Wendy. The stories they could tell you...but won't.
]I have too much blackmail.

Instructions for Surgery

This is reality, folks. My mother, who has been extremely afraid of her surgery that took place on Wednesday, has spent the last few weeks joking with me about a variety of things related to it. Such as whether or not a sprained ankle is sufficient injury to allow the docs to pull her life support, organ donation/removal, and euthanasia. All joking aside, she truly feared that she would be cut open and found to be 'riddled with cancer'. Nothing I said made that better. Since surgery was scheduled at 8:30 in the morning, requiring her and I to be at the hospital at 7:30, I went over on Tuesday afternoon. When I arrived, we shared the usual pleasantries, had dinner, and then she handed me the following hand-written instructions for her surgery:

Do NOT Remove

liver
pancreas
heart
brain
stomach
voice box
ear drums
eyes

Can remove if absolutely necessary

1 lung
1 kidney
gall bladder
spleen

They can put me to sleep, but don't let them PUT me to sleep.

If they accidentally suction out some of my fat -- Do Not let them put it back in.

If they locate my bitch nerve, please ask them to remove at least half of it.

Now, these were written by her in her own hand. I have the paper in front of me as I am typing. After surgery, I joked with her a bit in front of the nurse about her fat being suctioned and her bitch nerve. The nurse shook her head sadly about the fat, saying that 'since it wasn't on the release, we couldn't do it', then laughed with me and mom. (Mom laughed very softly and carefully) When it came to the bitch nerve, the nurse told us that she refuses to allow that to be removed from any woman as each of us needs it.

The day before the surgery, Grasshopper and I were talking about it and she came up with the idea of telling my mother, who is at this time very insistent that I not allow the hospital to euthanize her, that as soon as Mom comes out of surgery and is coherent, that the doc wanted to euthanize her and she's lucky we didn't let him. Instead of waiting, Grasshopper called Mom and shared this with her. She still thinks it's funny, but right now it just hurts to laugh.

Also, on a more personal note, while I am truly relieved that the surgery went as planned and that my mother is well and on the road to full recovery, it is fun to watch her flop like a fish out of water when trying to sit up on the couch or bed. It is also fun dealing with my mother on high-intensity pain relievers. She gets her words mixed around, often her thoughts, and this morning when trying to sit up in bed, reached for my hand for support then told me repeatedly that she wasn't ready and didn't know why she wasn't. Neither did I, so I was therefore useless in that regard. I did manage not to laugh where she could see or hear me. For that, I think I should get good-daughter points. Which I'm sure will be taken away as soon as she realizes I've written all this on my blog. Damn. Broke even again. Just when I thought I could get ahead on the good-daughter score, too.

God is coming...and She is pissed!

My friend Wendy posted this as a comment to my last post. I'm repeating it here because it's simply too funny not to! Thanks, Wendy!


One day, in the Garden of Eden, Eve calls out to God: "I have a problem!""What's the problem, Eve?""I know you've created me and have provided this beautiful garden and all of these wonderful animals, and that hilarious comedic snake, but I'm just not happy.""Why is that, Eve," came the reply from above."I am lonely. And I'm sick to death of apples.""Well, Eve, in that case, I have a solution. I shall create a man for you.""What's a 'man'?""This man will be a flawed creature, with many bad traits. He'll lie, cheat, and be vainglorious; all in all, he'll give you a hard time. But, he'll be bigger, faster, and will like to hunt and kill things. He will look silly aroused, but since you've been complaining, I'll create him in such a way that he will satisfy your - ah - physical needs. He'll be witless and will revel in childish things like fighting and kicking a ball about. He won't be too smart, so he'll also need your help to think properly.""Sounds great," says Eve, with an ironically raised eyebrow. "What's the catch?""Yeah, well... you can have him on one condition.""What's that?""As I said, he'll be proud, arrogant, and self-admiring...so you'll have to let him believe that I made him first... So, just remember... it's our secret... Woman-to-woman!"

Consider this...

I am afraid. In fact, I am phobic. I am polyphobic, according to http://phobialist.com. I am/have: Achluophobia- Fear of darkness, Alektorophobia- Fear of chickens, Astraphobia or Astrapophobia- Fear of thunder and lightning.(Ceraunophobia, Keraunophobia), Aviophobia or Aviatophobia- Fear of flying, Coimetrophobia- Fear of cemeteries, Entomophobia- Fear of insects (mainly grasshoppers), and I'm developing Ephebiphobia- Fear of teenagers. A deep fear of teenagers...I'm told this is normal however, and probably healthy.

I am also an arctophile (teddy bear lover), chocoholic, shopaholic, and bibliophile, and obviously a penguin lover. I'm sure it has a more formal name, I just cannot locate it at the moment. At any rate, check out the phobia site, even if you have no phobias, it's amazing what the names are!

Hehehehehehe

Thank you, once again, Queenie! I've taken your suggestion to heart. My book bag (pic of design on right) not only has a picture of a winter witch (complete with penguin familiar) on it, but now both sides are in the process of being decorated with the stickers I mentioned in my last post and assorted painted on pentacles, dripping with blood (I bought some of the puffy paint), and other assorted witchy stuff. I'm also doing it to my notebooks, binders, and so on. This will probably not have the desired effects however, as there is such a strong pagan movement over here that last year a group petitioned (and won) to create a pagan students group. Dammit all. Oh well, I'm sure there are plenty of Christians on campus that I'll be able to offend.

Of course, Batman has me beat to hell in this category. Wendy told me that he actually hissed as some missionaries who came to try to share the gospel or some such with him. Bravo! I'll have to remember that one. I don't get many, but the Jehovah's Witnesses are particulary persistent. Sad part is, they're the only ones to get their religion half way straight. I almost (almost) hate to frighten them. Okay, not really, but I do have relatives that are Witnesses, so I'll try not to give anyone a heart attack. A brief palpitation maybe, but no thrombosis or myocardial infarcts. Not on purpose anyway.

So, Brava, Queenie, inspirator sans match, and Bravo, Batman! Keep up the good work!

Picture above is located on almost any item a person could want through this website: http://www.cafepress.com/shop/animals/browse/OVKEY-penguin_p-2_N-1788+20797309_in~dim~search-1_OVMTC-standard_OVRAW-penguins_nr-1_CMP-KNC%3doverture Sorry, I do not know how to do the link thingy that you only have to put in one word. The site has nearly every animal in creation on it and a few that don't exist any more. It's terrific!

Evilness Reigns Supreme

All right, so I am vile and wicked. I like it that way and so do my friends. Also, to apologize in advance to any readers who are devoutly Christian, you may want to stop here and recognize that this is not directed at you personally.

While signing up for classes, I was looking for classes in the Women's Studies area for filling out elective hours with something I might actually use and/or enjoy. So I began perusing classes that fall into that category. Many of them are closed. More are at night when it simply isn't feasible for me to attend classes. I did run into two classes that piqued my interest momentarily...until I read the online version of the syllabi. One, called Women in Religion was basically a repeat of the other, Women in the Bible, with about three weeks of class devoted to exploring women's roles and so on in Eastern and Native American religions. Based on what I read, instead of challenging or exploring the patriarchical view point of the Bible and how it relates to women or even doing a comparison between treatment of women by different religions, the courses seem to desire to reinforce the Christian view. Uh huh. Not this redhead. I'd end up inciting a riot. Not that this would surprise any one who knows me well. And, since the building my classes are in were built in the 1960's era of violent protests by liberal, philosophy/etc. majors, the place has no windows that open and seems to be made of a strange multi-layered brick compound and bulletproof glass. It wouldn't be any fun. It does, however, sound like something interesting to put on my resume. My mother would be so proud! (sniffle) I just think it would be fun to show up to that class around Halloween dressed like a nun painted all over with voodoo and witchcraft symbols, cackling wildly, shuffling tarot cards, and dragging my broom along behind me...maybe leave shouting, "I'll get you my pretties, and your nutty professor too!" Doesn't matter. I'm headed back to this little store tomorrow called Spellbound to get another 'Blessed Be' sticker, another 'My other car is a broomstick' sticker, and this bright purple one that reads "Sorry I missed church...I was out practicing witchcraft and becoming a lesbian." I think I'll get two of each: cover both sides of my bookbag and one for my car. I know it isn't right...I simply cannot help myself. Everyone has a hobby...mine is to scare people.

I'm good at it.

Now the other side

Since my last rant...er, post, I've thought it over and feel it's only fair to present the good things about my recycled hubby.

He voluntarily moved away from a job he loved and made great money at to come here. He also left two young children from his second marriage in another state in order to move here. If I need money, he simply hands me his entire wallet and tells me to take what I want. I know his ATM pin number. I know all of his passwords to all of his assorted online accounts and so on. He voluntarily went out and got a job making about half of what he made before and goes to work. I know that doesn't seem like much, but some women have bums living with them that won't even contribute financially. He adores me...every inch of me, body, mind, and soul. He willingly watches sports in another room so as not to interfere with my anti-sports mentality. He will pick up after himself so far as dishes are concerned and he at least aims for the toilet if not putting the seat back down. I can carry on an intelligent conversation with him for the most part, though he accuses me of mumbling constantly -- but only when he's engrossed in something else. He's very intelligent, and has reasonable hobbies. He likes model trains, fishing, and reading. He doesn't even force me to listen to his version of music, since he knows I can't stand it. He also likes video games. I could do without that part, but at least he's not neurotic about them. He's also affectionate and not afraid to push a shopping cart around a busy store with my purse sitting in it. He'll even hold my purse for me, though he refuses to dig into it for any reason aside to drag his cigs out of the side pocket -- even if I tell him it's okay to.

Okay, now I've covered everything I can think of that is the opposite of my rant yesterday. I'm still miffed (love that word) about all the stuff I ranted on then, but there are good points to him.

On a side and reallly far away point, I think the animals in my small portion of Iowa have gone crazy from the heat. I'm used to roadkill (see past posting) though I do have a few concerns about it, but the past two days have seen much increased daylight activity from the wildlife. I saw a mama raccoon with at least 6 babies the other day, followed a short distance later by a badger. I have a family of woodchucks (aka groundhogs) living on my property. An entire herd of deer traipsed across my road at 2 o'clock today, apparently headed towards a family reunion across town. I've seen about 10 roadkill skunks, but those may be night kills. There is a plethora of bunnies around, and suddenly I have squirrels. Okay, that sounded like a disease, but last year, I had no squirrels. Now, I have like 4 or 5. Since I live in the middle of nowehere, I'm trying to figure out where they came from. I don't think they lay eggs or grow from seeds, so you figure it out. Which reminds me of a shirt I saw in Hot Topic the other day (love that store). It says, "I have animal magnetism. Every time I go outside, squirrels stick to my clothes." I am going to buy that and wear it to the park. Better yet, to parent-teacher conferences. I like to shake things up. Oh...and back to the animals...there also appears to be a rather smallish muskrat or beaver or some manner of weasel type thing living down the road from me in a brackish creek. It squealed at my daughter when she tossed a rock next to a frog trying to get it to jump. Then it swam away. I only got a brief look at it, but I'm fairly positive that wasn't around last year either. I tell ya, it's like Wild Kingdom aroudn here. Turkeys, pheasants, and other assorted fowl are all over nearby too. I do not live in the woods! The only things missing so far are reptiles. I'm waiting for them to show up tomorrow.

Helpless Male

I love my recycled hubby very much! I love my recycled hubby very much! (I'm hoping that repeating this will help me calm down) I love my recycled hubby very much! (etc.)

Don't get me wrong, it's true: I do love him very much. However, this dependence of his is getting on my nerves. My 8 year old daughter can cook for the entire family on her own and on the stove. Granted, it's only scrambled eggs or cheese fajitas, but she can. He can barely pop corn in the microwave. Maybe I shouldn't bitch since I'm not working right now. He's the worker. But when school starts in three weeks (the kids & I start the same day), what's going to happen? Plus, next week my nother has to have surgery. She lives 2 and 1/2 hours away. I'll be gone, probably with the kids, for at least three days. Two of these are his days off and he is welcome to come with us, but if he chooses to stay home, I understand. However, if he does stay home, I'm not sure he can be trusted to feed the dogs and the bunny much less himself. No kidding, his idea of breakfast is 1/4 gallon of ice cream with 1/2 a container of Cool Whip on it. He's shown no ability to reheat leftovers on his own nor to be able to make his own frozen pizza, even. He cannot brown hamburger, and the one time I asked him to help me cook dinner by lining a baking pan with parchment paper (a gift from the gods) he used waxed paper instead. Silly me, I wasn't paying attention and didn't notice until the pork chops had already started to absorb the wax and the paper almost caught fire in my oven. (There's a Queenie-esque situation for you) At any rate, he is also apparently incapable of doing laundry, finding a hamper/basket, washing dishes, vacuuming, taking out garbage, or other household chores. He will help if I ask him to, which is a bonus, unless it involves leaving the house. Three days ago, I asked him to run into the town for me.

Me: Would you run into town for me?
Him: Which town?
Me: Duh. Iowa City! I need you to go to Fareway for me. I need about three things.
Him: Fareway?
Me: You know where it is, right?
Him: I think so.
Me: Know the movie place we always go to?
Him:Yeah.
Me:It's right next to it. Can't miss it.
Him:For what?
Me:I need a good-sized red onion, a small thing of baby potatoes, aluminum foil, and charcoal. Ok, four things.
Him:I'd fuck it up...You want a red onion, I'd bring back a red radish...
Me:You can't buy a single red radish.
Him:Ok, a turnip then. I'd just fuck it up.

Have you ever heard such drivel? Or such a piss-ppor excuse for not doing something? Grrr. Then he wonders why we aren't bumping uglies that often.

Okay, rant over. I feel better now. Send me the bill, as usual, and thank you for your time.