Friday, February 26, 2010

Bus Stop Reunion

I forgot to tell you all that I saw Bus Stop Mom again.

I thought she was avoiding me because we *never* saw each other again. Which was fine--a little odd since she seemed so eager and since I'm in her front yard every week day and since she ran right up to Mr. Ashley, but whatever.

I usually leave all of the windows down when I'm at the bus stop so she knows I'm not the one avoiding her. (Even though I kind of am avoiding her. I don't want to be mean, I just don't want to be buddies or deal with her for any amount of time.)

But on the day I got laid off, I wasn't about to screw around with her for one minute so I arrived at the bus stop at the last possible minute--and then the bus was 25 minutes late. In order to seem as unapproachable as possible, I crossed my arms on the top of my steering wheel and rested my head on them. I was in a little bit of a daze there with my eyes closed and the sun warming up my hair when I heard a knock at my window.

I rolled it down and said hello.

"Hi! I watch you at the bus stop every morning from up there, up at my place up there."

"Oh...but Big Kid doesn't take the bus in the morning. I drive him."

"I know."

"Oh. Okay." I was thoroughly confused. I guess she watches as I drive by? That's a comforting, not creepy at all kind of thought.

"Why doesn't he take the bus in the morning? It's not that bad, he should just take the bus. You should do that. I don't know why you don't."

"It's 20 minutes earlier. I just drive him so we can sleep 10 minutes longer. Ha ha." I joke, half-heartedly.

She then stuck her head in through my window and peered around my vehicle. I had to lean all the way back in my seat to stay out of the way of her face. For a split second, I seriously considered digging my fingers into her eyeballs.

"Oh, you have third row seating. You do, right? You should drive my son too." (My third row wasn't up, so it isn't like she saw a whole empty back bench waiting to be filled. She just realized I must have one.)

I searched frantically for the bus, briefly thinking that if I somehow lost Big Kid and my job in one day, I would go on a killing spree and she would be first. "Uhmm, yeah, er...I'm moving though, remember? In 2 days."

"Oh, well still."

STILL WHAT? We sat there in awkward silence.

"Your daughter is so cute, she was asleep last time. That's a fun age, just walking. I see she scraped her knee," I nodded to her barely skinned knee, at a total loss for what to say to fill the silence.

"Oh, her dad's a doctor. Did I tell you that? Yeah, I did tell you that. He's here right now, I'm going to go hand her to him so he can take care of that. You're lucky daddy's a doctor," she told her as she turned away.

I thought she was coming back but she didn't and the bus finally came after making a wrong turn somewhere along the way.

She only had my work cell phone number, so there was one up side to being laid off. I know she was fun for you all but she gives me the heebie jeebies big time. I do hope she finds whatever she needs--a friend, a man, some meds, something. I am just not whatever that is.

Hopefully, this concludes the short saga of Bus Stop Mom.

Operation Curry

I never disliked the wife of the landlord couple. I pitied her--she's easy to talk to and seems intelligent but she married a dorky, doughy, uninteresting, spineless nerd of a man and every conversation we've had has hinted at some unhappiness or overall incompatibility. I could also empathize with their precarious financial situation.

And although I'm inconvenienced by them selling, I wanted them to sell the house. I've showed it 3 to 4 times a week (total fucking nightmare), had strangers wake up my napping child, been forced to clean up so it's "showing ready" every other day and have been civil to their total asshole of a real estate agent.

But yesterday she called Mr. Ashley to make an appointment for today and Saturday. Knowing I may still be wallowing, Mr. Ashley said I was sick and that we could do them all Saturday. She said no, absolutely not, she wouldn't reschedule.

So Mr. Ashley said I had the stomach flu and was vomiting all day (a lie, but screw them--I deserve a day off and if they force me to lie to get it, that's fine) and she said she didn't care, wouldn't reschedule, people were coming and that was that.

So Mr. Ashley pointed out that we were leaving A MONTH early since this was such a nightmare for everyone, despite paying for that vacant month since our lease isn't up, and that this was extremely insensitive. He assured her that the house would be a complete mess and that I may be unable to get out of bed.

"That's okay, she doesn't have to clean up or get out of bed."

If, as a fellow mother especially, you can tell someone who you believe to have the stomach flu that you INSIST that they let strangers traipse through their (imaginary) sick room despite them bending over backward to accommodate you and your constant bullshit--then you are the c-word.

We get the keys to the new house tomorrow. I was going to make this place immaculate, tell the realtor to show it whenever he wanted and sigh a big breath of relief to have it all behind me.

But now? Cleaning won't happen until the last weekend of March, boxes and newspaper will be everywhere (even if I have to bring in boxes and newspapers that I don't need), I will require 24 hours notice as per my lease and I will visit the house several times a week to boil a little curry and cumin on the stove.


Don't screw with a woman that needs time to wallow.

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

All Right

I may already be over the whole wallowing thing. Don't hold me to that, I reserve the right to go back to it at any time but I got into position today and just wasn't feeling it. My parents even took little kid so that I could wallow in peace, which was super nice.

The anticipation of thinking I may get laid off was actually worse than it happening. In fact, it happening is almost a relief in a sad way because I can stop worrying about it. It sucks and it is sad and I will probably miss that job forever but it's out of my hands now. The financial impact will hurt but people are worse off and I'll lose all kinds of weight as I starve.

At first the thought of being a STAY AT HOME MOM had me feeling queasy because what the heck was I going to do with myself? What would I think about? What will I do? I can't do nothing.

Tentative plans involve A LOT of reading (I will finish Owen Meany, dammit) and A LOT of time at the beach and A LOT of drinking when and if I can afford it or can get others to buy it for me. (I'm actually not a big drinker but I've been meaning to take it up for quite some time now.)

Long term plans involve more writing and maybe doing some volunteer stuff for an exciting local project I have connections with. I'm pretty sure you have to be tortured and/or an alcoholic to become a bestselling author, so maybe God is just pointing me in the right direction for more suffering and drinking.


I just got laid off.

I typed that about 50 different ways before accepting that sentence. Lost my job? No, I didn't freaking lose it, I know exactly where it is. Fired? It wasn't harsh or mean or bad like that sounds. Laid off? All of those things make it sound like I have some culpability in this or deserved it somehow.

"I just got laid off" sounds pathetic but no worse than any of the alternatives.

Being all Gifted and all, I kind of saw this coming but it doesn't make the reality hurt any less.

And it's not just the money (although the money really fucking hurts)--I loved that job. There was not one day where I woke up and wished I didn't have to do it. Even though things couldn't go 100% my way or even the way I thought they should go...I just loved it. I liked my daily tasks, I adored my supervisor, I enjoyed what I did and I felt a sense of purpose and accomplishment from doing it. I felt connected to my community. I was proud that my kids knew that their mom enjoyed working and loved her job and could see that work doesn't always suck for everyone.

I also really liked my Blackberry and laptop. Petty, minor things that shouldn't even be a consideration, but the final kick to the gut will come when I surrender them.

I swore that when it happened I would handle the situation with grace! I would retain my dignity! It would be the catalyst for the great things I am destined to do!

But now that it has really happened, I'm more like, Eh, fuck everything about all of that shit.

At least for right now. I'm tired of figuring out what to do next and I need some time to wallow. To lie in bed with my feather pillow folded into a mask around my eyes and ears.
Just for a little while.

And then we'll move on to figuring out this grace, dignity and doing great things nonsense.

Monday, February 22, 2010

Baby's 1st Hair 3.5!


Brushed out

It was finally time to get little kid's hair cut since everyone was starting to think he was a girl. He's pissed that it isn't spiky and although it's cute, the style doesn't really fit his personality (it's actually a little dorky) so I'm taking him back in and letting him get it spiky like his brother. He was a really good boy for the actual cut and was excited to have it done.

Big Kid has been in deep mourning for the curls. I've had to forbid him from mentioning it because I didn't want him to upset little kid but he definitely had the hardest time of all. It was a little hard for me at first (only because he looks so big!) but I was so sick of seeing it messy.

I am looking forward to seeing it short and spiky though--it's like having a human chia pet!

P.S. Big Kid just saw the photos and cried out, "I miss his baby hair!!"

I do too, a little bit.

Saturday, February 20, 2010

Fancy Pants

The other day Big Kid told me that there were some boys who were being mean to him. "You think you're so fancy but you're not," he sneered in an imitation of them.

"They call you...fancy?" Oh no, I thought, my mind racing. In first grade? Isn't that a weird adjective for first graders to use?

"They're all, you wish you were a fancy pants but you're blahblahblah" as he went on I tried to figure out what was going on here. Is this what happens when your first grader takes violin lessons and you don't send him to school in light-up shoes and shirts with Spongebob screenprinted across the front? Is this my fault?

"Well, they sound kind of mean. What do you say back to them? Have you mentioned it to your teacher?"

"I say 'I don't eben wanna be in your stoopid Fancy Pants club!' But I really do."

"Wait, aren't they the ones calling you Fancy Pants?"

"No, they are the Fancy Pants! And won't let me be one!"

"...they call themselves the 'Fancy Pants Club'? They are the Fancy Pants and you cannot call yourself a Fancy Pants? This is the problem?"


Snorting back laughter, "You do not want to be in their Fancy Pants club. Trust me, years from now you are going to see the humor in this and will be glad you weren't in their club."

"I don't feel like it now." He looked sad.

"Big Kid...a boy's club called the 'Fancy Pants'? What kind of name is that? It sounds like a club for grandmas!"

"It is kind of weird..." he agreed.

I'm sure I've created a situation where Big Kid will now point out how much their club name sucks, but I couldn't let the irony of a group of first grade bullies calling themselves the "Fancy Pants" go unnoticed.

Thursday, February 18, 2010

Target Locked

Today Mr. Ashley happened to be home around bus stop time and offered to go pick Big Kid up since little kid was napping (and since Mr. Ashley's new work vehicle is a Mercedes SUV and Big Kid feels like a total pimp in it).

I thought bus stop mom was avoiding me (which I should have been glad about, but has left me feeling perplexed and like I'm waiting for what will happen next) so I thought he would be safe but I warned him not to get stolen. He laughed, completely unconcerned.

When he came home he said, "NEVER AGAIN!" and looked shaken.

He met bus stop mom!

Mr. Ashley sucks at recounting details but said she ran right up and introduced herself, told him how she told me she would never steal him and began asking questions about his career path, all while assuring him she didn't know too much about our lives.

"So she mentioned the stealing you thing again?!? Did she say it jokingly? She didn't, did she? Because you could say that playfully but she doesn't! So freakin' weird!"

"No, she was serious. It was weird."

"She's intense. So, she IS crazy, right?"

"Oh yes. Definitely crazy."

"Tell me everything she said."

"No, I've got to go back to work. She's crazy though and I'm never going back there."

I'll bet you a bazillion dollars she's in love with Mr. Ashley now.

Moms always like Mr. Ashley. He's friendly to them and cute and he's a good dad and moms always dig that. Most of them are normal human beings who just seem to like having him around and find ways to take his side when I complain about him, but this one seems like the type who may try to befriend my family so that she can kill me and make a suit out of my skin in an insane attempt to assume my identity.

Ten days until voluntary witness protection program can start. If I disappear or start to smell or act weird before then--I might be her impostering me!

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

Will Not Miss List

Well, it looks like I can leave the following behind as soon as March 1st:

1. Poop throwing neighbor
2. Dishwasher missing a "normal" button
3. Plastic cowboy in master shower drain
4. Crazy realtor/teacher's husband/neighbor weirdo
5. Strange bus stop mom
6. Showings every other freaking day with strangers in the house all the time

and I got my pot-filling faucet and fancy kitchen and fun neighborhood.

I didn't see bus stop mom yesterday, which was a relief but also a little unsettling at the same time. I left as her child was knock, knock, knocking on his own door. Her car was there so I'm assuming she was too, but wouldn't you be waiting? Or at least leave the door unlocked for him? He's 5.

Maybe she's not into me either. That works too.

Monday, February 15, 2010


Yesterday I gave each of the boys a small heart-shaped box of chocolates along with a small toy and card.

Then I made waffles (which is dangerous shit, no one can convince me otherwise) and as I was doing that, little kid walked up and said, "Mumum, I needa talk to you," and wiggled his finger for me to come down to his level. I crouched down so we were face to face.

"Now mumum, I don't want you eatin' my chocawits when I go to bed at nights, mmkay?"

"I wouldn't do that, little kid! And anyway, you share with your mama!!"

"No, not chocawits and you do do it, mumum."

I do eat their candy on occasion...and it's my right as a mother, dammit.

I wasn't going to this time though.

Sunday, February 14, 2010

Friday, February 12, 2010

Crazy is Crazy

I need to preface this by saying that I have been the socially awkward mom who says too much more often than I'd care to admit. I'm outgoing but I over-talk when I'm nervous, leading to all kinds of socially painful instances I wish I could take back.

That being said...bus stop woman is completely bat shit insane.

I get a message about 25 minutes before the bus comes and it was her, asking what time our play date was. I thought I was pretty clear about the after school thing but decide to call her back to confirm.

So I do and she sounds kind of quiet and sad. We get the time stuff out of the way and she says, "Look, I am a really upfront kind of person. I know I said a lot yesterday and probably talked way too much but I do that sometimes but I want to talk to you about something, just lay it all out on the table and be honest right upfront, okay?"

Now I'm nervous. I convince myself that my one in a million chance of her seeing my blog had happened and I was about to feel like a big jerk. Okay, I answered.

"I just want to let you know that I will never steal your husband."

"Oh--okay...but you don't even know my husband?"

"I'm just that kind of person. I will not hug your husband in front of you, or kiss him on the cheek or joke around or anything like that. No matter how great he is, I would never do that to your family."

"Um, okay. I didn't think you would? And I know he wouldn't."

"I know but I want you to know that I won't. Also, I'm not attracted to women, I'm not a swinger, anything like that. It's nothing like that, okay? I just want to be friends."

...? I can't recall anything in the combined 7 minutes of conversation that we've had at the bus stop that would indicate that I was planning on bringing her home to sex her up. I never wanted her to come home with me in the first place!

(And I was a little insulted too. Screw her, she'd be lucky to get with either me or Mr. Ashley.)

"Oh, um, me neither. I...just like to have mom friends so our kids can play?"

"Good, because I'm just not like that, you know? I've had friends say things about me and their husbands so I just want to tell you right away that I will never do that and I'm not that kind of person."


Then she launched into tons of other stuff before I had to point out that I had to leave for the bus stop because we'd been on the phone quite a while.

I ended up driving to the bus stop because it was so windy and looked like rain. So when I saw her I asked, "Do you want to follow me or...?"

"Oh, my son can go in your car, it's just a block and he's tall enough to be in the middle with the seat belt."

Overjoyed that it was just her kid, I start buckling everyone in.

"I'll just walk, it's that way?"

"You can't walk. Ride with us and I'll drive you home."

"I'll walk home." Did she not see the rain clouds? Did she not feel the wind whipping our hair around our faces?

And people, it got no better from there. Conversation was never slow, but oddly enough, was occasionally interrupted completely at random with tidbits about the Edwards or Letterman affair scandals. Except it would come out of nowhere like:

"How did you choose your daughter's name?"

"Oh her father is a foreign Catholic and you know how that goes."

Since it isn't a religious name or foreign, I don't know how it goes, but whatever. Then she would immediately go on to say, "Whenever I see her in papers she looks terrible. I think they choose the very worst photos! He always looks like himself, completely fine, and then there she is with her mouth open."

I'd sit there, mind racing to figure out who she was talking about--someone related to this child's father? Why are they in the papers? I'd stay quiet hoping I'd catch on and she'd say, "Don't you agree? What was your perception of him before this?"

And then I'd be forced to ask, "Who?" and she would look at me like I was crazy for not following along all this time.

"John Edwards!"

And people, this wasn't me somehow missing part of the conversation. It happened with Letterman too, just out of nowhere without any specification of who she was even talking about. Really weird.

She was also really condescending to Big Kid a few times and I'm not one of those moms that doesn't want you addressing my kid, even if it involves an argument between our kids, but she talked down to him like a grown up would talk to a baby-- not intentionally insulting but it was annoying and then she'd turn around and say, "I don't want you to think I'm parenting for you or anything." Well then let me do it and stop speaking to him like he has 3 brain cells.

Then she's like, "I have this little book I want to show you. Did I bring it?" and starts looking through her tiny purse that looks too small for a book. I was really curious about what kind of book she brought to show me, slightly worried I was in for a religious confrontation. She shook out her sweatshirt and this old, worn paperback fell out about recovering from divorce and she wanted to read to me from its dog-eared pages.

I changed the subject quickly on that one (which was way easy to do).

The not driving thing worked in my favor because I was able to say Mr. Ashley was coming home soon and I had to start cooking dinner (which is pretty funny in itself) and hustle everyone out to drive them home.

I think her kid was trying to steal Big Kid's Nintendo DSi as they left. He was trying to push it under his backpack as he put his shoes on until I snatched it up for "re-charging".

So no, it didn't go well. She wants to do it again Monday. I'm thinking of changing my phone number and going into the witness protection program.

Thursday, February 11, 2010

I've Been Friended

Oh people, what have I gotten myself into?

So yesterday I got all pretty for the bus stop, rehearsed how to ask so that it was clear that I was inviting only the child over and only for a couple of hours, and started walking to the bus stop with little kid.

I saw her on the corner up ahead and she began shouting and waving, running towards me, waving her arms. Unsure of what the deal was but certain that it was urgent, I crossed the street and walked toward her.

"Sorry but you can't walk on that side of the street! With your back to traffic! So many cars just almost hit you, I was so scared--they didn't even slow down!!" She said breathlessly.

Two cars passed me while we walked. I walk up on the curb and little kid walks in the grass beside me and both cars still swerved to give us ample room. We live in a super quiet neighborhood of people who can generally drive straight and not hit pedestrians. But whatever.

"I'm the other big kid's mom. He rides this bus. We just moved to those apartments."

"Yes, we met yesterday. I'm Big Kid's mom," wondering if she forgot that we met.

"I know," then she launches into her life story. I wish I could recount it but I'm already scared of the 1 in a million chance she'll read and recognize this story at some point. But people...I shouldn't know the things I knew within the first 5 minutes. What will even be left? It was that kind of conversation. Lots going on.

About 2 minutes later she takes a breath and says, "I'm sorry. I don't ever talk to adults. I'm so lonely. Since I had my youngest, I don't really have any friends and neither does my son and..."

And I've so been there. This poor soul was looking into my eyes like a lost puppy needing a friend. And I like her son. I decided not to abort the mission (although I still only wanted the kid to come over).

"Yeah, I was wondering if we could have your son over to--"

"YES! Yes! That would be great, he would love that!!"

"Okay, how about he comes over tomorrow or on--"

"Tomorrow! Tomorrow is perfect!"

"He could walk home with us from the bus stop, I live just right there. I'll give you my info and everything--"

"Come meet my mom. You have to meet my mom, I told her all about you. I told her how I met someone who was so happy and how I knew we were going to be friends!"

"Oh. You told your mom about me? Ha ha. I don't know if people would call me happy but yeah, thank you."

"No! No you are happy! I can tell. I could tell when I met you. It will be nice to have a friend in the neighborhood."

"We're actually moving in a few weeks, but we'll still be nearby."

"Are you sure?"


"You should move here," she said, pointing to the apartments.

"Oh I would, these are a great deal, but we have dogs and--"

"I'll help you with the dogs! You should move here!"

"Well we already have a place lined--"

"Think about it though!"

So I met her mom and she was really sweet. The kind of "Please for the love of God, be my child's friend" type of sweet.

She stood there with her pen and a scrap of paper, "Alright, give me all your contact info!"

I gave her my name and address, pointing to our house again, hesitating with the phone number because we all know it's probably a bad idea, when she says "Phone number too so I can CALL YOU!!"

Well, I was going to have her child in my care, of course she needed my number. I gave it to her.

"Okay, well I'll see you tomorrow at the bus stop--"

"We're so excited! We can't wait to come over! It was so nice of you to invite us over! Mom, she invited us to her house tomorrow!!"

People, crazy invites itself over.

Then she told me she voted for John McCain and when I said I liked him other than the whole Palin thing, she said she loved Palin because she reminds her of her great uncle in North Dakota.

(Could I even make this sort of shit up?!?!)

As I was walking away, head spinning, she yelled out, "There's no school Monday! We can do BOTH DAYS!!!"

Sooooooo, I am in for an interesting afternoon and am ever-so-thankful we'll be moving soon. I sense boundary issues and long conversations that leave you tired and confused. Also, I double checked because I was having a hard time believing it, and her child has been in this school since the beginning of the year and she doesn't seem to know his teacher's name. She genuinely seems nice, don't get me wrong, she's just a little overwhelming--she talks quickly and goes off on odd tangents and shares a lot of information. I woke up with a feeling of dread until Big Kid woke up and yelled "Today's the day!" because he's so incredibly excited to have a friend over.

The things I do for my kids.

Bus Stop Buddy

I met a mom yesterday who may have friendship potential.

A little boy I hadn't seen before hopped off at Big Kid's bus stop and looked around, confused. Not seeing any new parents around and afraid he got off at the wrong stop, I got out of the car just as his mom came jogging up from the apartments behind us.

Our kids both have the same first name so she was asking about our last name and when I asked about her son's last name, went into this long, confused thing about her divorce and names and how she had decided what to do and then I had to ask again "Yeah, but what is his last name?"

She was probably my age and seemed easy going and friendly. Our sons are friends in school and she just moved to the apartments near the bus stop. I asked what teacher her son had and she didn't know (and I think he's been in that class since the beginning of the year...they just changed homes, not school zones) and launched into a confusing description of the school layout and where his classroom was and team colors and other stuff, never establishing who his teacher is.

I don't think she's drinking or on drugs or anything, I think she's just a bit scattered and weird. I'm okay with that. I don't know what she's talking about a lot of the time but maybe I'd figure it out eventually or she wouldn't mind.

Big Kid said, "I can't believe I have a friend in my neighborhood! Dese are about to be da best days of my life!" and my heart broke a little bit before he realized we were moving to a different neighborhood, probably in a matter of weeks, and then he was sad. I promised him we could still see his friend since he'd be nearby and promised to invite him over soon.

I'm thinking tomorrow after school but now have the awkward proposition of asking his mom, knowing that it will most likely lead to a nearly incomprehensible conversation and the possibility of her somehow coming over too (and I'm not ready for that yet).

I'm hoping she was just nervous and will normal up a bit. I really like her kid and Big Kid needs some friends who are boys.

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

A Prayer for Owen Meany?

I'm reading a Prayer for Owen Meany and it is well-written and enjoyable, but it is long and I'm just not feeling it. It's too easy to put down and I don't know if the library will tolerate how long it may take me to finish it at the rate I'm going.

So does it get better? Not that it's not good, but does it get more captivating or interesting at any point or have some beautiful or stunning ending?

I'm around the time of the Christmas pageant now.

Please advise.

Guess Who?

Yesterday the doorbell rang and when I opened the door, I was surprised to see the neighbor (the realtor across the street who is also Big Kid's teacher's husband who wanted in to see my house without an appointment at 8am and then missed the appointment he did set weeks ago).

Hi, it's me! He said, gesturing to his house behind him and waving goofily when he saw me glaring at him.

Yes? I asked without opening the glass storm door between us.

Is the house ready for me to see yet?

I was truly in shock that he was repeating our prior encounter. I stared at him, wide-eyed. He shrugged and smiled.

Nooooooo, you need an appointment. With the listing agent. With 24 hours notice. Like last time.

The listing agent has been calling me and asking if I've seen it.

Call him back and tell him you need an appointment with 24 hours notice.

Eh, I understand, I really do. If I could just--

Goodbye, I said as I closed the door.

(and then I thought of 9 trillion things I should have said because that's how it always goes!)

The owner had the realtor call that guy and tell him to never, ever come near the house or yard again without an appointment and 24 hours notice, so it's safe to say that things are a little awkward with Big Kid's teacher's family now (luckily Big Kid has 2 teachers and I usually deal with the other one, but still.)

It looks like we might be getting the perfect house in the perfect neighborhood with the perfect kitchen. The perfect kitchen has a pot-filling faucet over the gourmet stove--do you know how convenient it will be not to carry the pot of water for my Kraft Mac and Cheese across the kitchen? And this is the neighborhood that everyone drives through to see the spectacle of Christmas lights and they have block parties at Halloween and Easter Egg hunts and a community pool and park.

I'm not getting my hopes up until the lease is signed (although it may sound like my hopes are a *little* bit up) but if it all works out I can be done with house-showing hell as soon as March 1st, and that's probably in everyone's best interest.

P.S. Mr. Realtor Neighbor keeps leaving his bike at the end of his driveway and I resist the overwhelming temptation to run it over every time I pass. He's lucky I'm kind of a good person.

Saturday, February 6, 2010

Change History

I was just watching a Tom and Jerry video with little kid and right before it started, Whoopi Goldberg came on explaining that some of the cartoons featured the black Mammy character, the only human ever featured in the Tom and Jerry cartoons, and that there had been requests to delete scenes involving her or stop showing those cartoons because the depiction is racist.

So wait--our apology to those who were treated poorly in the past is going to include pretending they didn't exist? Am I seeing this wrong or is that a bizarre solution? Especially when it comes to the southern black housekeeper on Tom and Jerry. Whether we like it now or not, there were black women like this--strong, hardworking women who were raising other people's kids and caring for their homes who happened to speak with a southern dialect due to their geographical location. Do we really think they would rather we just pretend they never existed since they weren't treated well or paid fair wages?

And let's face it, Tom and Jerry smoke, drink, play with fire, shoot guns, flirt with skanky female cats and mice, destroy things and seem to exist only to emotionally and physically torture each other...and people have a problem with the black housekeeper who occasionally shoos them out of the house or feeds the cat??


They didn't delete those scenes since the cartoons wouldn't work without them and since the housekeeper was an important character, but the fact that they even needed to try to explain to kids that her inclusion could be considered racist (when there is PLENTY of real valid racism even these days, unfortunately), seemed unnecessary and absurd.

Friday, February 5, 2010

The Dream

The other night I was having this really intense, interesting dream where I was searching for something. I mostly remember looking across a field of broken, glittery piles of pieces. Sort of like when the seashells all collect in places at the beach but it was small, broken bits of different colorful items. I felt confused about what I was looking for and hopeless about finding it in that field of stuff, but I kept using my foot and sometimes my hands to brush the top layer away, hoping I'd find whatever it was. I knew it seemed unlikely that I'd find anything in such a random way but I knew it was important that I look.

Then I noticed a flash of green and something pink and I bent down and found a green glass police badge and was reaching for the pink thing when I started to hear a sound over and over again. At first I was excited about the stuff I found, sure that the green glass police badge was a part of whatever I needed but it was hard to ignore the noise I kept hearing. It was like a periodic humming or something, a MMMM MMMM MMMMM MMMMM MMMMM MMMMM. Was it words? I remember thinking that I should keep studying what I had found and that I shouldn't try to listen to the noises or I'd forget what I was doing.

MUMUM. MUMUM. MUMUM. MUMUM. MUMUM. MUMUM. MUMUM. MUMUM. I slowly started realizing what I was hearing.


And that was the end of the dream. I was done searching for treasure and solving mysteries and back to wiping butts.

Family Guy Fave

I have seen this Family Guy episode at least three times and this scene makes me laugh until it hurts every time:

Just finding it for you led to a few giggling fits.

edited: Okay, non-Americans try this:


Almost a week of silence in the closet! Oh how I owe you all an apology this time! I have plenty of good excuses thanks to a series of unfortunate and unrelated events culminating in a complete technology apocalypse for me. My Blackberry died and then I could only get online on Big Kid's laptop which is virus-infected, missing the "L" key cap, and the screen is dying so it's super dim and gives me a headache.

I went almost 10 days with no Blackberry and was almost completely unconnected. At first it was awful, then it was inconvenient, and was fine. I could check my email at home (between pop-up malware, squinting at the screen) and since being online was so inconvenient, I just did my work and then got off. I checked my voicemail periodically throughout the day when I had time to deal with it. I was well on my way to being cured of all internet addiction.

But then my work replaced my Blackberry Pearl with a Blackberry Bold on Wednesday...and it has Scrabble on it. I love you all, but not more than Scrabble.

So I'm back, more or less, between Scrabble games.

You didn't miss much. Here's a recap:
1. More people wandering through backyard all weekend because the realtor told them that was fine
2. More yelling at Realtor, refusal of any future dealings with Realtor
3. Three freaking house showings
4. Looking at every house in town, finding no houses, brief hysteria
5. Found perfect house in perfect neighborhood with most amazing kitchen ever, fingers crossed.
6. little kid is convinced my absolutely amazing, sweet, kind, fun and awesome supervisor (not ass kissing there either, you all would love her) viciously scratches and bites me, despite me telecommuting and her being on maternity leave for the last two months.
7. little kid can write the letters "H" and "O" and although I taught him "Oh", he now writes "Ho" all over everything.
8. little kid is obsessed with poison dart frogs and claims to have gotten a job that pays him in pets instead of money.

That's all that I can remember right now. It wasn't an awesome or funny week, you're probably lucky you didn't have to deal with me. I also got some really bizarre spam this week--I seem to attract emo-related spam lately? Geez, am I that miserable? I swear I'm not! Maybe I'll save them and do a spam entry soon.

Anyway, I'm back.