My Advice to Talk Show Guests

Ah, my last post of 2004. Since this was a rather crappy year for us, I can't say that I'm sorry to see it go. I'm not going to post resolutions because quite frankly I don't make them anymore. Instead I give you this:

I have been in the house quite a bit this week hiding from the children, I mean doing housework. Thus I have caught quite a few talk shows on daytime television. These shows are strangely addicting. Much like a train wreck, it's hard to stop staring. Please do not think I have been laying here on the sofa staring at these shows eating bon bons. I just have them on for background noise. *ahem* There is a weird comfort to these mini-dramas. They point out that no matter how ridiculous you think your life is, there is someone else out there that makes your life look like a 1950's sitcom. I have compiled some sage advice, just in case you are contemplating a guest spot on a talk show in the coming year.

If there is ANY chance at all that your husband, boyfriend or ex-significant other may NOT be the father of your baby, do NOT go on national television for a DNA test. The more obnoxious you are trying to prove your point (i.e. – she has his ears, he has his hair, see!), the more likely it is that he is NOT the father. You will be embarrassed and exposed for the whore you were when you conceived.

If you are cheating on your mate, do NOT take a lie detector test on national television to prove your innocence. You may think you're smooth enough to beat it. You are not.

If you honestly believe your mate is cheating, do NOT drag them on national television to take a lie detector test. Chances are your instincts are correct. This is especially true if you experience any of the following: someone else's panties in your bed, 72 phone numbers of strange women in his wallet, hang up calls at all hours of the night, your mate stays "out" for three days straight, etc. Save yourself the trouble of looking stupid and just get out of the relationship.

If your Hubby is emotionally abusive and holds you captive in your own home, an appearance on a talk show will not "cure" him.

If you weigh more than 300 pounds and dress like a "hoochie mama," it's a safe bet that your family is already embarrassed. Do them the favor of not flaunting it for the world to see. Get dressed and save the eyesight of the rest of us.

If you were a nasty bully in high school who made some poor geek's life a living hell, do NOT go on a talk show to "be surprised by someone from your past." It is not a secret admirer who was enchanted by your beauty and can't forget you. Instead, it is the geek you tortured who has transformed their physical self with contacts and steroids or a boob job. Their psyche has not healed and the audience will taunt you while the former geek prances around the stage wearing nothing but dental floss.

Do NOT under any circumstances agree to go on an episode of something called the "Jerry Springer Show." The free trip to New York is really not worth it, no matter how badly you want to get out of the trailer park.

Enjoy yourselves tonight my friends and have a blessed New Year!

When In Rome

As you know, I have been subjected to all kinds of music courtesy of the Dueling Stereos Game (see the post below if you don't know how to play). This has got me thinking about the stupid names bands give themselves. For your enjoyment, I have compiled a list of some of my kids' recent favorites.

Linkin Park – Obviously public school grads with that spelling.
Jimmy Eats World – No doubt Jimmy is a teenager
Bowling for Soup – When crappy beer just won't do.
Switchfoot – Every parent of a toddler knows the potty dance.
Finger Eleven – I guess 10 was not enough.

Suddenly Led Zepplin doesn't sound so strange.

In other news, Dueling Stereos has become rather amusing for me. You see both kids have the same brand of stereo and a very thin wall between their rooms. Armed with their own remote, they are able to control the stereo of the opposing sibling. Instead of constantly turning their own music volume UP, they are now turning down or even OFF the music in the other room.

Karma is a wonderful thing.

The Beat Goes On

I love my parents. I really do, but something tells me that they are trying to repay some imagined transgression I committed against them in my childhood. There is no other explanation. You see they gave #1 Son a stereo for his birthday last month. They have now given a stereo to the Little One for Christmas. My friends, I am a victim of Dueling Stereos.

It started out with one of them putting on a CD and setting the volume to an almost tolerable level. The other one decided they would prefer another CD, thus they put theirs on and turned the volume up a click or two more. The first kid got angry and hiked their volume up a couple of notches. This move was unacceptable to the second music aficionado who then turned their volume up more. The pattern repeated itself until the speakers were straining, the ceiling above my head was vibrating and my ears were bleeding. It was then time for me to deal with the problem.

I threw open whichever door I first stumbled to with my hands covering my ears. Of course the kid had his back to me, since he was supposed to be cleaning his room.

Me: (screaming at the top of my lungs) TURN IT DOWN!
No response, so I repeated the maneuver. Still nothing. I then resorted to grabbing something off the closest pile of debris and heaved it at him. He turned around with a murderous look, thinking that his sister had disturbed him until he noticed that it was me. He smiled at me and waved innocently.
Me: (still screaming) TURN IT DOWN!
Him: WHAT? Of course I couldn't hear him, so I got that from reading his lips.
Me: (getting hoarse) TURN IT DOWN!
Him: (cupping his hand to his ear) WHAT? His lips moved and I thought he said "I CAN'T HEAR YOU!"

I finally gave up and took my life into my hands by climbing through the debris to the stereo. When I violently dialed the volume knob down to 0 he whined at me, "MOM, I was listening to that." Yeah kid, so were the neighbors and they're not happy about it. He then told me that he couldn't hear over his sister's music, so he HAD to turn it up. I told him I'd take care of her. The scene above was repeated in the Little One's room.

I had no sooner made it down the stairs when it started over again. I have given up, my friends. 8 more days until school is back in session. If you need me, I'll be curled up in the fetal position under the workbench in the garage.

Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow

We had a beautiful snowstorm, our first of the year. Of course it was a day late for a white Christmas – it came yesterday. We in the south are not used to this snow nonsense. This fact is glaringly apparent on our roads. Here is how to know you're in the south when a snowstorm hits:

Snow tires are virtually unheard of in the south. So are chains.

Every yahoo that owns a mini-van, SUV or truck heads out on the road to see the "pretty snow." It does not matter if the vehicle has 4-wheel drive or not.

Drivers of mini-vans, SUVs and trucks think that their vehicles "can handle" the roads, thus they drive as fast or faster than they do in normal road conditions.

The number of multi-vehicle accidents increases. These involve mini-vans, SUVs and trucks.

You will inevitably get stuck behind some guy in a low rider with "ground effects" who tries to plow through the snow for his daily 12-pack of Budweiser.

Clowns "doing donuts" will mar the pristine beauty of every snow-covered parking lot in town.

All four snowplows that are owned by the city are on the roads.

Concrete roads cannot be plowed without creating huge crater-like potholes.

The city does not own an abundance of road salt, thus they conserve it.

The plows spread sand instead.

Unlike salt, sand does not prevent the slush and water from freezing overnight.

Southern drivers think "black ice" is a mythical term.

Southern drivers do not know how to stop on black ice.

The morning commute following a snowstorm takes three times as long as normal. This is due to the accident at every intersection.

Enjoy the day my friends! As for me and mine, we'll be staying in drinking hot chocolate. I figure by working a solid 8 hours a day to clean the house after the annual Christmas trashing, we should be finished some time around February.

A Gift For YOU

In the spirit of the Holiday, I'd like to give you a gift. I shopped for you, but you are really difficult to buy for. I love to read blogs. I figure if you are here, you love to read blogs, too. I can think of no more perfect gift for you than the blogs from my sidebar. I've tried to categorize them, but it's tough. So many belong in several categories, but they are all fantastic reads.

From The Heart
I call these "from the heart" because that's how they are written. Raw, passionate and often funny, these blogs are personal stories. I have become very attached to these bloggers, whether they like it or not:

Heather at Inside Heather's Head is thought provoking and often hysterically funny. I adore her. Inanna over at Anything Goes is a great read. Once you read a few posts, you will soon fall in love with the Nanner like I did. She tells it like it is, no holds barred. Be sure to check out my Good Twin Ang over at Cootersnap. We are the exact same age (she's older by a few hours, something I don't let her forget). She's another one who's life you'll get wrapped up in. My buddy Seth over at Crazy Lawsuit Game is a lot of fun. He knows tons about car racing and chemistry and everything in between! Read Seth for a while and I promise you'll learn something.

Irreverent is a good description of the Princess of Power at Don't Sneeze into the Fan. PoP has a fantastic sense of humor and a beautiful site. She's constantly changing things, so be sure to check back often. You can guess who writes Make Mine Mike, but what you don't know from the title is how funny Mikey is. He often brings a tear to my eye, usually because I'm laughing so much but also because there is the occasional post of a serious and touching nature. Mike is the undisputed "King of Comments," as he never fails to leave a funny one...ever.

Though Pua at The Abyss lives on the other side of the country from me, I am amazed at how much we have in common. She has a beautiful and very talented family. Keep your eye on her daughter, as she will no doubt end up famous someday and when you see her on TV or the big screen you can say, "I read her Mom's blog. I know that girl!" The Defiant Heart is a young man and an old soul. He is incredibly talented and is going places.

Sid at Tiny Little Rants of Doom writes about whatever comes to mind. Her Haiku will crack you up! Some of my favorite posts describe "burrito doom," stories about her job in a Mexican restaurant. No Milk Please is a fantastic read. He is into all kinds of topics and researches them fully. I love the additional links he provides that relate to his stories! I always feel a little smarter after I read Paul. They don't come any sweeter than Aimee at Random Aimee. She is such a doll! Talented (she sews like a pro – wedding dresses even!) and caring, I love catching up on her life. Torfeida lives in Australia and writes about her life at Similar To. I felt like I went through her last year of High School with her, now she's going on to college and I'm looking forward to those adventures! Trica at Wood Not Wood is another sweetheart. There are so many things to do on her site that you will never be bored!

Story Tellers
These bloggers are fantastic storytellers. I warn you now; you’ll be so hooked that you’ll spend hours in their archives. I know I did.

Read The Gooch On... just about everything. Every time I read Gooch I feel like I must have known this guy back in school. He's like an old friend. Trashman at Doing Time will amaze you. This guy has nine lives and has lived 8 of them. If you want to experience life on the "wild side," read Trash. In a fight, I want him on MY side!

Kristin over at The Society Page can tell a tale, as you would imagine from a Texan! Her entries are lengthy, but worth every word. Many times there is a moral to the story (always humorous), and be sure to check out her gift giving advice to men. Jack at Texas Music is an INCREDIBLE writer. He is an undercover policeman among other things. Each post is like reading something you'd see on television. Jack is incredibly funny and yet he touches your heart as well. You'll also be hooked on Vadergrrrl's Rant Page after only one read. I don't know anyone that puts more effort into her posts. She amazes me. She obviously researches everything, as there are pictures, song lyrics, etc. in almost every entry.

Humor
Put down the drink before checking these blogs out. If you don't, you'll make a mess of your keyboard. You have been warned!

If it's laugh out loud humor you want, you'll certainly find it at mr. nice guy. His wife is pregnant and he is chronicling each and every agonizing step from his point of view. If you don't laugh out loud on his site, you've got absolutely no sense of humor. Call Centre Confidential is another blog I've been reading for ages. Wrapstar writes about his adventures as a Supervisor in a call center and since I've worked in one I can tell you everything rings true! I feel like I'm back on the phones when I read him. Dr. Rob will definitely put a smile on your face. There's always something amusing going on in Dr. Rob's Day! Right now he's lamenting about his wife's fascination with Ikea.

Mommy Blogs
Sometimes people dread that label because many blogs written by Moms are filled with mundane daily events like "Johnny went poo poo." Not these ladies, though! It doesn't matter whether you have kids yourself or you were a kid once, you'll crack up at what you read on these blogs.

Liz certainly lives in This Full House. Nominated for a Best of Blogs (BoB) award, her beautiful site will have you laughing out loud. Reading Liz is like watching a sitcom! I am pretty convinced that Lab Munkay at Deep Thoughts of a Shallow Mind and I are the same person in parallel universes. We share the same parenting philosophy – live through it!

No Way to Categorize
I don't even know how to categorize Jay at Life is Killing Me 2.0, so I'm not going to try. This is another blog I have been reading for ages. Jay's posts are short and frequent, little bits of any and everything. This guy is a gaming and computer master. Look here for the inside scoop on games and technical issues. Jay doesn't miss much. Another fascinating read is Rocket Jones. Constantly changing, filled with content, Ted's blog is a must visit!

New Friends
These blogs I have recently started reading, but I am hooked already! I plan to spend some time over the holidays digging through their archives.

Jeanette at Jeanette's Journey is a doll! She shares my sense of humor. That might not be such a good thing for her! Mick at Mixed Bag of Musings is that rare breed – a "Daddy Blog!" He writes wonderful heart-felt posts. I always enjoy my time there. I am convinced that Annette, who writes More Than Words, and I are raising the same teenager. Lord help her.

Taking a Break
These bloggers haven't posted as much as usual. They're so good though, that they are worth the wait. And hey, life happens.

The Dave's dry sense of humor and sarcasm slay me. He writes Life Cubed about working in a "cube farm" (something I can relate to). He recently got laid off so hopefully once he steps away from the X-Box he'll be posting regularly again. Johnny 5 at A Year in Forever is a fantastic storyteller. He's in Maine, so I can only imagine he'll be snowed in soon with nothing to do but catch us up on his life! Joe at Musings of a Caffeinated Mind has been a busy guy as well. He posts some fantastic pictures and his Scenes From the Forklift posts and Analyze This series always get a laugh out of me.

There are so many others that I read regularly, but I haven't had time to update my links. Be sure to check out: Gemmak who blogs from Scotland; JamDaddy who always makes me laugh as does Big Gay Sam; and Meg at Just Add Water is a beautiful lady with a beautiful site. Of course there are all the members of our online Book Club. I read their blogs regularly and they are all fantastic! The list goes on and on.

Please enjoy these blogs. They have been a gift to me – a laugh when I really needed it, a cry when I needed it more and sometimes just a darned good read when I wanted a distraction from the crap around here.

Merry Christmas, a late Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanzaa, etc. from our house to yours!

Budget Blues

We were singing the "Budget Blues" around here tonight. No not the household budget, despite the impending holiday. I've got that one figured out. They're not getting anything. Well, perhaps they'll get a "Mom & Wife free" week when I embezzle the gift fund for a Caribbean cruise, but I digress.

I have been fussing recently about the public school system, but tonight I want to tell you a positive story. #1 Son's math teacher is a genius. Mr. M is my new favorite person. If this guy doesn't get the "Teacher of the Year" award, the competition is rigged. I love this man. No, seriously. Mr. M assigned his students a "Budget Project." I thought about griping to you because the project was assigned over Thanksgiving weekend and yet here was the Prince of Wails finishing it (translated that means "doing most of it") tonight. I did get a bit testy about that part, until I saw what the project actually entailed.

The assignment was fairly straightforward. The kid had to pick a profession and put together a budget. They had to determine their monthly net pay, find an apartment and a vehicle, figure out their student loan payment, figure in monthly expenses, etc. They then had to figure out a way to make it all work, no roommates and no rich Uncles. This sounds fairly easy (HA!) to those of us who have to juggle a budget every month, but for a 13-year-old kid it was quite an eye-opener.

My first clue that things were not going well was when he came to me and asked if he could get a $671 a month allowance. That's how far in the red he was and he had not even gotten halfway down his expense list. I figured he needed my help. The first glaring red flag was the $530 car payment. I asked him why in the world he had such a huge car payment. He informed me that he had to have a "tricked out ride." Translated into English that means a 2005 Jeep with all the bells and whistles. I deflated his head and brought him back down to Earth. After lots of number crunching he settled on a 1989 Jeep Wrangler, tricks extra. That brought his insurance down, too.

Speaking of insurance, when I first saw the rate he got online as a 24-year-old male with full coverage on a brand new Jeep, I was pretty amazed. I put "Call XYZ insurance company" to inquire about switching our car insurance on my "to do" list. It wasn't until he started typing the figures into his project that I noticed he had mistyped the year of the car on the online quote page. Scratch one thing off my "to do" list. When he said something like "I don't really need car insurance," I regained my focus.

Out too was the luxury bachelor pad. He had to settle for a 1-bedroom apartment in a section of town I wouldn't exactly let him live in, had this been real life. DSL was not doable, nor was the digital cable with all the movie channels. Eventually the project was finished and C. helped #1 get it all typed up. His imaginary life was far from the "coolness" that he had originally envisioned - reality check complete. The best part was when the kid scratched his head and said to me, "Mom, I don't know how you guys do it."

Ah Grasshopper, that is a question I ask myself every month.

PS – In other news, the washer died a rather ugly death today. The new one gets delivered on Thursday. Guess what I'm getting for Christmas? Fala lala la, la la la la.

Things I Learned This Weekend

Watching an indoor soccer tournament ALL day is much more entertaining than sitting through the speeches at my graduation ceremony.

A child will get up much earlier than normal and will be in a good mood to make an 8am soccer game out of town.

That same child will be intolerably grumpy the next day.

I now know the exact level I have to scream before a child with headphones can hear me.

The quickest way to get some "alone time" is to threaten to clean out the game and craft closet.

It takes 2 solid days to clean out the game and craft closet.

We have multiple copies of several board games. All of them are missing the same piece.

#1 Son was apparently already my personal slave. Him: (in appropriate snotty voice) "So, what's my punishment going to be?" Me: "You my dear are my personal slave until further notice." Him: (under his breath) "Yeah, like I wasn't already." Who knew? Think of all the time I have lost.

The Little One will work her butt off trying to show up her brother, who is grounded and working because he is forced to as punishment.

I now know where all the missing dishes, glasses and silverware have gone.

We have some substance in this house that hardens into a permanent impenetrable mass when left in a glass under someone's bed.

The same mysterious substance is a different color on plates. And silverware.

I now know what that smell was.

12 Days of Christmas - Teenager Style

I am not a lyricist, and don't pretend to be. It's not like me to write a song, but as you can see I have been particularly inspired this year by my newly minted teenager. Parents of teenagers: please feel free to sing along. Parents of smaller children and future parents: be forewarned. For those of you with short attention spans, scroll to the last verse.

12 Days of Christmas - Teenager Style

On the first day of Christmas
my teenager gave to me
a math test marked with an "E."

On the second day of Christmas,
My teenager gave to me,
Two dirty looks,
And a math test marked with an "E."

On the third day of Christmas,
My teenager gave to me,
Three slammed doors,
Two dirty looks,
And a math test marked with an "E."

On the fourth day of Christmas,
My teenager gave to me,
Four filthy plates,
Three slammed doors,
Two dirty looks,
And a math test marked with an "E."

On the fifth day of Christmas,
My teenager gave to me,
Five mumbled words,
Four filthy plates,
Three slammed doors,
Two dirty looks,
And a math test marked with an "E."

On the sixth day of Christmas,
My teenager gave to me,
Six late assignments,
Five mumbled words,
Four filthy plates,
Three slammed doors,
Two dirty looks,
And a math test marked with an "E."

On the seventh day of Christmas,
My teenager gave to me,
Seven CDs blaring,
Six late assignments,
Five mumbled words,
Four filthy plates,
Three slammed doors,
Two dirty looks,
And a math test marked with an "E."

On the eighth day of Christmas,
My teenager gave to me,
Eight piles of laundry,
Seven CDs blaring,
Six late assignments,
Five mumbled words,
Four filthy plates,
Three slammed doors,
Two dirty looks,
And a math test marked with an "E."

On the ninth day of Christmas,
My teenager gave to me,
Nine hours of Playstation,
Eight piles of laundry,
Seven CDs blaring,
Six late assignments,
Five mumbled words,
Four filthy plates,
Three slammed doors,
Two dirty looks,
And a math test marked with an "E."

On the tenth day of Christmas,
My teenager gave to me,
Ten girls-a-calling,
Nine hours of Playstation,
Eight piles of laundry,
Seven CDs blaring,
Six late assignments,
Five mumbled words,
Four filthy plates,
Three slammed doors,
Two dirty looks,
And a math test marked with an "E."

On the eleventh day of Christmas,
My teenager gave to me,
Eleven fights with sister,
Ten girls-a-calling,
Nine hours of Playstation,
Eight piles of laundry,
Seven CDs blaring,
Six late assignments,
Five mumbled words,
Four filthy plates,
Three slammed doors,
Two dirty looks,
And a math test marked with an "E."

On the twelfth day of Christmas,
My teenager gave to me,
Twelve hours of napping,
Eleven fights with sister,
Ten girls-a-calling,
Nine hours of Playstation,
Eight piles of laundry,
Seven CDs blaring,
Six late assignments,
Five mumbled words,
Four filthy plates,
Three slammed doors,
Two dirty looks,
And a math test marked with an "E."

Copywrite 2004 by Cattiva

Countdown

My Dear Friends:

Many of you come here looking for amusing stories from the life of my nutty family. I know, I know...you are laughing WITH me, not AT me (yeah right!). Unfortunately I am now smack dab in the middle of final exams. There is nothing even remotely humorous about finals. That is unless of course you find my major procrastination funny. I will on Wednesday night when it is over, and I will be drinking profusely in celebration. Until then, this is a difficult time of the year for me.

Instead, here is a bit of an update: NO, the Christmas decorations are not completely up yet. They are on the outside, so that's all that counts at this point. I'll take a flamethrower through here later in the week. The fake tree is up front in the window and the lights are on it. Whoopdie. I'll carefully place/sling the rest of that crap on the tree after finals.

In other news, you may remember when #1 Son got assaulted. I am excited to say that we got our subpoenas to court last week. The trial date for the little thug is Jan. 5th. I can't wait. Seems he switched schools and thus did not receive his ten day suspension. #1's school was happy to be rid of the kid. That not only angered me, it angered the cop who told me about it when he followed up. Seems that cops don't have all that PC privacy crap to worry about when the kid is a suspect in a crime. Mr. Policeman looked all this kid's records up with me on the phone. SO I do have the trial to look forward to.

Finally, let me give you a little glimpse into life tonight. C. is out of town on business so I knew I'd be on my own this week. Dinner was a gourmet delight (frozen pizza). My last huge research paper is due tomorrow, the day of the exam. I cannot even fathom the level of sadism a professor has to have to make the paper due the same day as the exam. I'm a procrastinator. I just finished it - and I can honestly say that it's the worst piece of horse puckey I have ever written. When the heck am I supposed to study for the exam for cryin' out loud? Luckily, the professors have 48 hours to get final grades posted after the final exam. I'm no math major, but that gives him at least 30 research papers AND final exams (all essay) to grade and record by Thursday. I'm hoping he'll just skim all the BS I am slinging in his direction. To say I'm a bit frazzled tonight would be an understatement.

I took a quick break to talk to C. after he got settled into his luxury hotel suite, after his real gourmet dinner, that he doesn't have to clean up from...Ahem. Anyway, when I came back in the kitchen there she was. The Princess of Wails was in the middle of one of her academy award deserving performances. Curled up in the middle of the kitchen floor in the fetal position bawling her eyeballs out. Something about the Prince making fun of her drawing, her slapping him, etc. etc. I noticed there was no blood so I did what any stressed out Mom on a deadline would have done. I stepped right over her three or four times to get where I needed to be. It almost made me misty by bringing me back to her toddler tantrum days when I ignored the drama on a regular basis. *sigh* Eventually she gave it up and moved on. See, crisis solved. I am the master.

I'll be back with you soon! Thanks for hanging with me!

Into the Danger Zone

Mock me if you must, but I am all atwitter. What has me all lathered up is certainly not Christmas or chocolate. Better! On Dec. 14th the new 2-disc Special Collector's Edition of Top Gun comes out on DVD! WOO HOO! I've been dancing around the house for three days, despite the two papers I still have to complete and my three finals early next week.

The family is starting to look at me funnier than usual. Apparently the charm of my "Tom Cruise Happy Dance" is wasted on these people. C. was "kind enough" to point out that I not only already own this movie on VHS, but I also happen to own it on DVD. My response? "SO?!" 5 HOURS of special features! I mean sheesh! This is the COLLECTOR'S EDITION for cryin' out loud. Do I complain about his Lord of the Rings obsession? I do not. Did I roll my eyes when he took a vacation day for each theater opening of that particular series? Well, OK...a little, but that doesn't actually contstitute complaining.

So next Tuesday, you know where to find me. I'll be locked in the den for seven hours of Top Gun bliss. If C. and the kids don't like it, tough noogies. They can forage for food on their own. I have a date with Maverick and Ice Man.

Out of Area

Why in the name of all that is holy would you call me at dinnertime with the computerized message, "thank you for your patience, we'll be with you momentarily?" YOU called ME! It's probably because I owe you money or something. Do you honestly think that I am going to WAIT to talk to you?

When the national "Do Not Call" list came out a while back, I was one of the first in line. You see it all started several years ago around this time of year. I was full of the holiday spirit when one of those "professional fundraising companies" called me to beg for donations to my local fire department's "annual" fundraising drive. It was right after 9/11 and so I figured it was a good cause. I sent them $20 and in exchange they sent me tickets to some performer I had never heard of for some concert that I'm not sure even took place. No matter, I hadn't intended on going and that's not why I donated the money in the first place.

I had opened Pandora's box. The next to call, within a week, was the fundraiser for the police department. I donated to them, too. Little did I know that I would now be marked for life. The phone number of "Catt the Sucker" appeared on every telemarketer's call list in the capitalist world. Oh they started out subtly enough. The calls only came two or three times a week at first. Then they got more frequent. It wasn't just for charities either. I had offers for new windows and siding. I "won" contests, if I would just stay on the line to talk to the next representative. I could refinance my mortgage just by pressing "1" on my touchtone phone.

About six months after it all started, I received another call from the "fire department" thanking me for my help in the past and asking me to participate in their "annual" drive again. One quick look in my checkbook, and I realized that MY definition of annual and the fundraising company's was not exactly the same. The police fundraisers called me again that same day. It got insane after that. The calls started coming daily, sometimes twice a day or more.

I began to do a little research. It seems that these fundraising companies are for profit. They're outsourced "hired guns." You may donate X number of dollars to the group you think you are supporting, but in reality the majority of your donation goes to the fundraising company. Your charity of choice gets short changed. I also learned that a simple "I cannot help at this time, goodbye" or "I am not interested" only got me put back on the list for more calls. Hang up on them and they'd call back with a vengeance. It got to the point that I stopped answering my phone when I saw "out of area" on my caller ID.

The national "Do Not Call" list was my savior. The calls actually stopped. We were able to make it all the way through dinner without the clanging of the phone. It was almost peaceful.

Of course, that peace was short-lived. You see, political calls are exempt from "do not call" rules. In case you were living in a cave this past year, we had a national election. I am normally a tolerant person. I did not, however, require several calls a week to remind me to vote or to tell me who to vote for. It is now December. You'd think that the calls would have stopped by now. You would be wrong. The election may be over for you, but it is not for me. We have a special election on Dec. 14th to fill an empty General Assembly seat. The intrusive calls have increased. I have counted seven (yes SEVEN) this week alone supporting one candidate in particular, and it is only Wednesday morning. When they called AGAIN last night to ask if "Susie Candidate could count on my support," I forcefully said "NO!" and hung up the phone. I wouldn't vote for her now if she offered to cut my grass every week for a year.

And to the computer who so graciously called me during dinner last night: The check's in the mail.

Christmas Nazis

I just can't understand Christmas Nazis. These people have their act together. They have the whole house decorated and the Christmas cards mailed before the Thanksgiving turkey carcass has even hit the fridge. What is wrong with these people? Don't get me wrong. In a perfect world, I'd be a Christmas Nazi, too. I love the holiday and I love the decorations. The problem is that this is not the perfect world. This is MY world.

I don't know why I do this to myself. I have good intentions, but every year it's the same thing. 11 days after Turkey day and the house is still strewn with Christmas boxes. There is fake greenery everywhere. It looks like a flock of poinsettias has exploded. I have to constantly yell to remind the herd not to step on the light strings that adorn the living room floor and are strewn over the furniture. I'm getting hoarse. The kids are no help. The Little One is running around with tinsel in her hair (we don't put tinsel on our trees, so I have no idea where she got it). I haven't seen #1 Son in two days. He's a teenager, so I assume he's hibernating. He only comes out of his room to forage for food. I think I heard him mumble something yesterday, but I can't be sure.

We have already broken 3 ornaments, and yet we have not even started putting up the trees. And why isn't the artificial tree that goes in the front of the house up yet? Because we lost not one, but TWO tree stands. How does that happen? How can you LOSE a tree stand? Tree stands are pretty specific items. It's not like we would have used them for something else during the year.

There is good news, though. We have an overabundance of 10 foot extension cords. This is probably because we lost them last year and I went out and bought new ones. Either they have bred, or at some point the "lost" cords were found and they all got packed together. I'm hopeful that I will eventually find the candles that go in all the windows so that I have something to attach to all those extension cords.

I figure we have 17 days.

What the Heck IS This?

I should first explain my neighbors. He is an older gentleman. I will be charitable and call him "cranky." He is feuding with one or two of the neighbors on my street at any given time. Since they live directly next door to us, we try to get along with him for the most part. She is from Iceland. She's a Vice Consul or something. They are a strange couple. Here are a few examples:

First is the shipping thing. Apparently it costs a fortune to ship anything to Iceland. Luckily for the good citizens of that country, there are two cargo ships that traverse between here and Iceland with one in port about every two weeks. Shopping is very limited in the Viking homeland, so they love to shop on the Internet. They purchase stuff and have it shipped here, to my neighbors house. My neighbors have built a huge garage/shed to store the merchandise. When one of the ships ports here, my neighbors load up this covered trailer and head to the port where all of these purchases are then loaded onto the cargo ship and are homeward bound. There are UPS and FedEx trucks delivering here daily. Our mailman is also severely overworked. Those Vikings DO love to shop.

I was not aware, until buying this house 5 years ago, that there is quite a thriving Icelandic population here. I now know because they get together once a month at my neighbor's house. The street is filled with parked cars, all sporting Icelandic bumperstickers and personalized license plates saying something about the homeland. Sometimes they block my driveway. Icelanders don't park very well. They also tend to have small yappy dogs that like to exit their cars and poop on my grass.

Then there's the float. Yes, I said float. Icelanders are a very proud people. The group here participates in just about every major parade that is staged in our region. They have built a float. Most of the time the float lives in a storage shed near the port. About a month or two before a scheduled outing, the float moves to my neighbors driveway. This is a big, garish, spangley, silver float. They work on it, changing a few things around to fit the theme of whatever parade they happen to be participating in. For St. Patrick's Day the Viking long boat is festooned in shamrocks. Santa rides in the long boat for the Holiday parade. You get the picture. It's very easy to give directions to my house when the float is living here. "We're the first house on the left past the float," I say. Our friends have gotten used to this.

I could go on and on about my strange Viking neighbors. I could tell you about their Christmas light display. This year the lighted snowmen are standing under lighted palm trees in a sea of blue lighted fake trees. I could tell you about their immaculate back yard complete with fountains that rival those in Rome. I could even tell you about their penchant for nude sunbathing (did I mention they were older - in their late 60s - and overweight?) which, thankfully they cut down on this year after we had several trees removed. But that's not the point of this post.

I was driving home from school on trash day this week when I spotted this in front of the neighbor's house:




It appeared to be a tarp type thing with "something" on it. Quite honestly it looked like turds. Perhaps it was something from their compost pile? I don't know. So I'm asking for your opinion. What the heck WAS that?

Setting the Best Example

I have been waxing poetic lately about parental responsibility, or the lack thereof. I am a firm believer that parents have to set the best example for their kids. Keep in mind that I have been known to cuss like the proverbial sailor. I don't usually do it in front of the kids. In fact I have told them repeatedly that cursing is a sign of ignorance. People who can't think of anything more intelligent to say resort to cuss words. Unfortunately, though, I have had to dig myself out of a few sticky situations.

#1 Son and I were on the way to my parents' house for a visit when he was about a year old. We were on a two-lane road, traveling the speed limit, when an older lady decided she needed to turn left. She, of course, waited as we approached and then decided to make the turn directly in front of us. To avoid the certain accident that was coming, I had to lock up the brakes. Everything in the car violently slid forward. Luckily, #1 was strapped safely in his car seat and I was wearing my seatbelt. The incident scared me and in the heat of the moment, as I stomped on the brakes I yelled the infamous F-word. Uh oh. Of course #1 thought that was a cool new word. He proceeded to say it over and over..."F&%$, F&%$, F%&$." I could only imagine how this was going to go over with my parents. So, I got creative. I started answering him with, "Yes, that’s a big TRUCK! Look at the big TRUCK." The first couple of times he looked at me like I was nuts (no trucks around), but eventually my diversionary tactic worked. He started gleefully chanting "Truck, Truck!" Schew...disaster avoided!

From that incident I learned that if you panic, it only encourages the kid to repeat the word. Over and over. Kids are going to hear objectionable language no matter how hard you try to shelter them from it. It is on the television, they hear it from their friends and at school. This lesson was reinforced a few years later when the Little One was almost two. She heard the word "sex" on an afternoon newscast (grrr) and said it out loud. My response of a sharp intake of breath elicited an excited response from her. My beautiful innocent little daughter then spent the better part of the week marching around and chanting "Sex, Sex, Sex." She was very proud of herself. You should have seen the looks I got in the grocery store.

The kids are older now. They've heard all the words. They've probably even said most of them, though not in front of me. I'm not naive. Last night we found ourselves driving home during rush hour traffic. I hate traffic. As you enter the highway, the ramp drops you into a commuter lane that is open in the morning. It was closed last night so I had to merge into the left lane. I hit my signal, looked over my shoulder and began to merge, as I was clear by at least 4 or 5 car lengths. It was then that this BMW crossed three lanes of traffic, traveling about 70 miles an hour, right into my lane. The driver hit her horn, and as I swerved back into the commuter lane she looked back and flew me the bird. She then swerved back to the left through two more lanes of traffic as she sped off. The conversation went like this:

LO: Mom! Did you see that?
Me: Yes, she's going to cause an accident.
LO: No, I mean she flipped you the bird! You should have flipped her back.
#1 Son: She DID! You didn't see it?
LO: Oh COOL! Way to go Mom!

Damn. I thought I was being stealthy. So much for a setting an example.