World of Trouble

What's Bugging You Today, Trouble?

2009-02-06T13:41:00.004-07:00

Are you a sports fan? Do you ever go to live sporting events, or watch the game with friends at a sportsbar?

When you are in a crowded, boisterous arena or crowded, boisterous sportsbar, do you get upset when people yell, cheer or celebrate with a round of shots?

Some Long Island chicks got bounced from MSG during a Knicks game for being loud and obnoxious. The men who complained about them to security were also rewarded with a beer spilled over their heads. Then the dim-wit twats posted an OMG! and expletive-heavy blog on their experience. So what? Well, that was my first response, too.

However, it's "news" on sports blogs and (predicatably)receiving disgusting comments, focused on the women being "stupid" "ugly", etc. and inferring overall that women aren't allowed to be idiot sports fans.

Have I ever been an obnoxious, drunken fan? Of course, who hasn't--at one time in their life or just last week? Anyone going to Madison Square Garden when the Knicks are playing the Lakers (and getting massacred by same)can't reasonably expect a quiet evening of basketball watching and golf claps. Anyone who goes to a football stadium and gets annoyed by the face-painted fools should really consider either a skybox or watching from home. Those jackasses have an equal right to enjoy the game as you do, wimpy.

Not that I defend these girls, they are really stupid. But the sexism is even stupider. Change it to three bigmouth Guidos from Staten Island and it ain't worth a mention anywhere.

Unless the blowhard in question is directly addressing you, STFU. If you do take it upon yourself to try to teach them your version of stadium manners in the middle of a playoff game, you deserve a beer over your head. Mind your own damn business!

Save your shushing for the symphony, morons. Even if you could pass some prissy laws of conduct and get yourself a Pussy Section at a sports venue that is quiet and respectful of your personal space and allows you to enjoy the game at a level of excitement that suits your Easy-Listening style, I will personally find you and pour a beer over your head.

So there.

Hilarious, Smelly Exercise

2009-02-05T13:02:00.003-07:00

When I bought the Prenatal Yoga DVD at Target I had high hopes of getting limber and strong during my pregnancy and maybe getting a jump on losing the weight after hatching my egg in August. Sure, I could take classes with other preggy women. My excuses for not doing so include the expense involved and my propensity for being overly competitive and sometimes hostile in group exercise classes. A $17 disc I can follow at home seemed an ideal solution. Besides, it starred Shiva Rea, who I think is the wife of sexy yoga guy Rodney Yee.

She's tall, thin, blonde and incredibly fit. Shiva also has a soothing, ethereal voice and a demeanor so peaceful and reassuring that it becomes impossible to resent her in any way. I will probably find a way.

I no longer have a yoga mat, the expensive one was pooped on by a dog that wasn't supposed to even be in my house, much less pooping on my yoga mat. The other was put to use during a snow storm by my darling husband, who found it a perfect thing to put under the tires for added traction. Ahem.

Neither do I have a yoga brick, a yoga strap or a yoga blanket. Instead I rely on my decent balance and flexibility, left over from a lifetime of dance and Pilates and Yoga and friggin' Jazzercise. I was overweight before I got pregnant, but I am still pretty bendy.

A few things I failed to consider. During your pregnancy you will certainly notice that your sense of smell is intensified, to the point you can smell donuts from a mile away. Or, every smelly thing embedded in your carpet when you are in Downward Dog and, especially, Child's pose. Every morsel of popcorn dropped on the floor and missed by the vacuum in the last three months shifted the focus of my vinyasa breathing and nearly made me hurl.

About the balance and grace of which I boast? The funny thing about being in the Second Trimester of pregnancy is your burgeoning bump, which on me sits directly in front of my hips and solidly smooshes my internal organs. Lean the wrong way in any direction and the bump slides, crushing my liver, kidney, stomach or bladder's will to live. Also, smooth and even breathing--a hallmark of yoga practice--is more like gulping, heaving, sighing and panting.

Here's a picture: Me in my living room, attempting a Table position. Besides the terrible noises issuing from my nose and mouth, the cat trying to capture the cute ribbon tie on my yoga pants, and my beet-red face; I am wobbling on the smelly carpet on all fours, one shaky arm pointed forward and the opposite side leg held up in back. The cat is under my belly, swatting at my pants. My belly and supersized boobs are trying to make a break for the floor, I am sweating too much and the phone is ringing.

Shiva Rea is reminding me to "focus on the now...be in the present" and I'm finding reason to hate her. The cat stabs one perfectly formed fish hook of a claw in my fleshy, exposed belly and, after I peeled myself off the ceiling, I stand up without inhaling first and hurl the remote control at the TV.

Shiva Rea reminds me that the growing life inside me appreciates my attention to my body's needs for stretching and strength. I'm so glad.

No doubt the growing life inside me also appreciates the Crunch Berries I had for breakfast and my bizarre craving for Coca-Cola.

It's all good, right? I'm taking care of myself, eating (mostly) right (see aforementioned Crunch Berries and Coca Cola) and getting sunshine, lots of water and gentle exercise.

Perhaps I'll give Shiva Rea another chance. I doubt the second try could be worse.

Why is Elizabeth Hasselbeck?

2009-02-03T10:55:00.002-07:00

Yesterday on the TV show "The View", which I rarely watch and only was tuned into because I neglected to turn the channel from the night before and was otherwise occupied with laundry, I listened to the rantings of the yentas approvingly. Their outrage on this day was focused,appropriately enough,on Rush Limbaugh and comments the porcine radio host made about President Obama.

Then a little blonde harpie chirped in with the most nonsensical support for Limbaugh I've ever heard. I stopped folding underwear and took a closer look. This woman's sentences got shriller by the word, I noticed, and her empty little head looked close to imploding when her co-hosts interrupted. She looked for all the world like a spitting mad, spoiled two-year old child who isn't getting her way.

Barbara Walters is a distinguished and respected journalist. Whoppi Goldberg is a famous comedienne and actress. Joy Behar is an author and comedian. Sherri Shepard is an actress and comedian. Elizabeth Hasselbeck was an amateur contestant on a reality TV show? She's married to a professional football player? Why is she on this show?

I'll tell you why. Like her hero, Sarah Palin, Elizabeth Hasselbeck represents everything wrong in America that we are trying to change. Both women are reasonably attractive, proudly anti-intellectual, narcissistic fools who hide their lack of education, talent, relevant professional experience, and goodwill behind the labels "Christianity", "Real America", and "Values". In trying to emulate the men they admire, such as Limbaugh or any GOP bullshitter, by spouting racist, ignorant nonsense for attention and money, Hasselbeck and Palin got their wish.

They are frauds. Let us continue to expose, shame and remove all frauds from positions of authority and power. Electing Obama was an excellent start. No more Bush Administration fraud to destroy our country from within. Exposing and prosecuting Rod Blagodovich was a smart move for the State of Illinois and shaming the Wall Street criminals is better late than never, I suppose. California, you have a long way to go: Proposition 8 is shameful and fraudulent leglislation.

Values are indeed due for a comeback. Values such as humility and charity, specificially. Enough with providing fame and fortune to irresponsible and attention-seeking frauds: no more reality TV shows that promote reprehensible human beings, whether "surviving" for millions or strutting sluts or ludicrous "dating" shows. By all means keep showing real-life, healthy families and talent shows and documentaries of real places and real people who succeed in life by their hard work, talent, and intelligence.

Faith is important, but it's more important to us as Americans that one faith does not claim itself the "only, true, right" faith. Not everyone in America--or indeed, the World--who worships and lives their life according to God's will is Christian and it would be wise for Christians to recognize and remember this. Our Constitution clearly provides us the freedom to practice our religion as individuals and assures any one religion from becoming mandate.

Keep your religious beliefs to yourself. Never proselytize. Do not demand any state or federal entity acquiesce to your religious practices. Enjoy your faith in the privacy of your home and within the religious community to which you belong.

Fraud abounds. Stop allowing and encouraging it, please.

Eight is Enough!

2009-02-02T14:31:00.002-07:00

So, this 33-year old "perpetual student" and former fertility clinic worker, a single mom of six living with her overburdened parents in Southern California, had eight frozen embryos implanted into her infertile womb. All those babies were born relatively healthy, although premature and likely to have liftime health issues.

Quite the quandry and the firestorm set off by this story is shocking in its ferocity.

Questions:

*Which mental illness(es) is this woman clearly suffering from?
*Is she being paid as a breed cow and if so, by whom and why?
*Has she done this in a calculated bid to become a reality TV star and celebrity?
*What moral/ethical issues were trampled to pulp in the process of bringing these children into the world?
*If we say reproductive choice should be legal and sacred, how does this woman's decisions become open to public moralizing and judgment?
*How much of blame and responsibility rests with the medical professionals who agreed to the procedure and treated her for infertility when she already had six children (including one special-needs child) under eight-years old at home?
*Is it time for the U.S. to adopt and legalize fetal implantation limits?
*How much government intervention in human reproduction is right and fair?

Well, Hello!

2009-02-02T14:08:00.004-07:00

My, my, it's been awhile, hasn't it? My decision to privatize this blog was mostly due to really ignorant emails I received from people clearly not fans of my blatherings. That and the potential for anyone, anywhere to access this blog (and therefore delve into the innerworkings of my mind and other personal details)and link to it and mock me and so on. It is supremely annoying.

Hopefully those nutters have moved on to shinier objects and will leave us, you and me, alone.

So, I'm back, hey!

What's new:

Month four of my fifth pregnancy, the first since I started treatment for bipolar disorder. I'm completely off my psych meds (which is AWESOME) and under the care of my psychiatrist, my OB/GYN, and my internist who all have their eyes peeled for problems. Problems? What problems? The pregnancy is going very well and I feel incredible now that I'm not constantly dealing with Lithium side effects. As tempting as it is to think I can continue this free ride, I know it is neither healthy nor realistic.

Especially since I'm having insomnia. Insomnia is bad for anybody when it lasts more than a few days but for bipolar people it is exceptionally likely to trigger either depression or hypomania (mania without psychosis). It's been three weeks now of 3-4 hours of sleep per night (I find napping impossible) and I'm worried. OB/GYN says insomnia is typical at this stage of pregnancy but PsyDoc is concerned and is ready to call in a prescription at a moment's notice.

I am lucky to have family, friends and doctors who are supportive and caring. Too many bipolars have to deal with ignorance and hostility in addition to their already-heavy load of suffering. The few times I've encountered that bullshit I've put a quick end to that relationship--including dumping my family doc of 15 years because she kept insisting my physical problems (hives, back pain, IBS) were obviously (magically) creations of my psychological disorder and I should stop wasting her time:

Saw an endocrinologist for the chronic hives problem. He diagnosed Hashimoto's Thyroiditis and prescribed a higher dose of my thyroid meds and Sudafed as needed. Problem solved!

Saw a chiropractor for my ongoing back pain problems, for which I'd already been unsuccessfully treated with physical therapy and pain drugs, and in one adjustment straightened out my twisted pelvis. Problem Solved!

Saw several gastroenterologists for the IBS issues and had a colonoscopy. Clear, clean, healthy. Went off Lithium and IBS issues were instantly gone. Problem Solved!

...yes, I clearly made up those symptoms to irritate you, Dr. Assclown. Oh, and thanks SO much for pulling the nurse aside when I was in the hospital recently for a a medical emergency and telling her I was a "psych" patient. The nurse was incredulous and told me right away what you said, stupid.

Have I made my point clear? Yes, I think so. No one should ever put up with bad treatment from medical professionals. Not "psych" patients, not anyone.

And anyway, I'm happy you're reading and hoping those other jerks aren't.

Interesting Times

2008-10-12T12:26:00.003-06:00

Superfly hubby and I were supposed to spend the entire month of October traveling. Two exciting Las Vegas auto shows and a much-anticipated-yet-delayed Hawaiian honeymoon.

Instead, we are at home, going all frugal on yo ass. Trips canceled (saving about $4k) and Operation Financial Recovery in full effect.

Coupon clipping, walking everywhere, cleaning the house instead of watching TV or fooling around on the computer. Spending time at the library and more hours reading the books we check out.

Instead of going out to eat because we are friggin' lazy we're planning menus for the week and learning to cook new things. Supey is aces at homemade pizza!

We're actually utilizing our free, state-of-the-art gym here at our apartment complex and he lost 5 lbs. or so, within days. Amazing. I hate him.

But really, it is amazing. Shuffling off complacency produces a wildly exciting feeling of freedom and power and instead of being depressed, resentful, angry, whatever, over the state of things, we put our resourcefulness to work and we're both feeling pretty positive about our ability to weather the coming financial doom.

Things that Help:

1. We do not have any savings, investments, or 401(k).

Sadly, these are the hardest-hit accounts, with no relief in sight. Where do you think Wall St. will bail water from?

2. I have a guaranteed income every month from SSDI that — so long as McCain and Himmler are not elected — is as secure as it can get. I also receive health insurance and free prescriptions.

3. Lived most of my life in poverty; I know from frugal.

How to produce a dinner for five from nothing is my specialty.

4. We have little debt.

Debt does nothing good. Live within your means, people. Lose the credit cards and go with one debit card per household. Convert that mortgage or sell the damn thing. Downsizing is all the rage!

How are YOU coping with the Great Depression, Part Deux?

A Curious Circle

2008-09-15T16:40:00.003-06:00

In November of 1999 I had three things on my mind: my pregnancy, the national election, and the Millennium Bug. My baby, you see, was due in early January of 2000 and everyone around me was all hopped-up about doom. Doom if George W. Bush won the Presidency and worse doom when the world's computers fragged-out on December 31 at midnight.

I watched in horror as the national election became a joke, the GOP stealing, lying and cheating in broad daylight. The disgust I felt in the ensuing weeks as canards about hanging chads and the electoral college were palmed off as "facts" and this yutz, this last-choice of the already-repellent Bush family became our cheerfully retarded President and made the U.S. the laughingstock of the Universe.

Nothing happened on January 1, 2000, other than a sale on free-standing generators. My son was born on 1/17/00 and received fun gifts for being a Millennium Baby.

Eight years later, the retard is finally on his way out. But here we are again with the doom. The GOP propped up another set of cheerful retards for ignorant people to get behind. Palin's chortling about "Hockey Mom!" is as terrifying as can be, given her history of being actively evil in public office. But some women, wanting a woman in the White House (no matter how evil) at all costs, or simply identifying with Palin on superficial (not to mention manufactured) qualities, are crying "sexism" when anyone (rightfully) criticizes Palin's lack of experience, insight, or political know-how. You can almost see Cheney's hand coming out of the back of Palin's conservative blouse.

McCain himself is not a bad choice for President. But McCain is not totally on board with the GOP fiends, and Palin will be on board for anything her overlords say. So let's pretend they are elected. McCain karks it soon enough, making this lipsticked pig our President. New Supreme Court justices are appointed. Goodbye Roe v. Wade, hello prayer in school and creationism taught alongside evolution. Hello offshore and national park drilling, goodbye pristine environment and endangered species! I could go on about what a terrible vote that would be, but let's move on.

I hope to be pregnant by November, which will mean another long and dyspeptic Tuesday night. Not as frightened about the world this child will be born into as I was eight years ago, though. I guess we can thank the GOP for numbing us to the unimaginable. "Really, a war in Afghanistan and Iraq for oil? That never ends?"

As for the other doom thing: Wall St. crashing, banks folding, people homeless and jobless, dogs and cats living together, etc.

We cashed out our 401(k)s long ago and have no other investments and no debt or credit whatsoever. I receive Disability from Social Security and Superfly hubby does his own thing for himself. If SSDI ran out and jobs dried up, we have the skills to get food and shelter and will manage just fine. For us, it is justice served to see, for example, the Walton family (of Wal-Mart evil) crying about their billions and re-stocking their doomsday shelter.

I have always hated the rich and powerful, it's part of my anarchist/Communist DNA. Even if I became wealthy beyond my wildest dreams (and that isn't something I dream about) I would hate other rich people and plot against them.

In November of 2008 I will have three things on my mind: my pregnancy, the national election, and the 2nd Great Depression.

I look forward to the ignorant drive-by comments this post may get, from bloated Republican men who clearly learned nothing in the last eight years of GOP criminal acts, and also think their opinion means more than nothing to me.

A Baby Story

2008-09-11T16:34:00.003-06:00

Superfly hubby and I are about to embark on an experience unlike anything either of us have lived.

Well, I've been pregnant before but never while on (much needed) medication.

So, with the help of my psychiatrist (Dr. G), my OB/GYN (Dr. R.), and a dizzying array of blood tests and doctor appointments, we are going to try to have a baby.

Surely there are moms out there who have it tougher, say, moms with cancer or moms with physical impairments. I will do whatever my doctors tell me, try not to vex my sweet husband, and leave it up to Mother Nature whether or not I get to have a fifth beautiful, healthy child.

People I actually care about voice their concern for my age and mental health, or wondering why I would want to bring yet another Trouble baby into the world. Because I do care about these people, I don't tell them to go fuck themselves.

The Stakes: I must be off Lithium for the first trimester, no exceptions. I am 40 years old and in good physical condition. No one knows what to expect when I'm expecting, as an unmedicated Bipolar person (for a few months, anyway). Risks aplenty, for everyone involved.

The Yield: A beautiful, healthy child. A chronicle of a pregnancy many people around us think is unwise and dangerous for me, that I hope will be helpful to other bipolar moms.

Not a Baby Story you'll see on TLC, for sure!

Election 2008

2008-09-05T15:19:00.002-06:00

Let me reveal to you the truth, without the distractions of blaming media bias, rooting out scandal and spreading lies, or grandstanding rhetoric. Governor Palin is a pretty pony, a media lightning rod, a big "fuck you" to feminists and Hillary Clinton fans, and a humongous phony. McCain's relevancy and power to motivate and/or lead has long past. Obama and Biden are an odd couple, but hardly puppets of a greater evil.

The actual choice for voters in this pivotal election, is simple:

Four more years of the Dick Cheney Show or positive change in government, economy, environment, education, and foreign policy.

Want more war, a worse economy, devastation of our natural parks for the gain of a handful of American oil & gas billionaires? By all means, feel confident in your vote for Dick Cheney.

But just so you know, no one has forgotten or forgiven you for voting Bush into office in the first place. How about you do the right thing this time, hm?

Blog Reader Appreciation Day

2008-08-26T10:30:00.002-06:00

Hi! How have you been?

You may have noticed — and a hearty thanks to those who wrote to inquire about it — that this blog was blocked for some time. The decision was based on several emails I received, ignorant and unbelievably cruel screeds.

My feelings were not hurt by those emails because people whom I don't know and don't care about cannot hurt my feelings. They did succeed in shocking me, enough to decide that such people had no right to read my personal blog. So, if their object was to silence me, they won.

But it was a temporary and Pyrrhic victory, you slimy miscreants. I'm back, I'm happy and I'm ready to overshare again.

You there, reading this and wondering what the Hell I'm on about, I *heart* you! Thank you for reading this goofy, often hostile blog and occasionally weighing in with your comments. Thank you for asking whither World of Trouble?

WoT is back and fired up about the DNC. Stay tuned!

Being Bipolar

2008-07-19T20:06:00.002-06:00

I was diagnosed a long time ago, back in the early '90s. My boyfriend at the time and I were in for couple's counseling and (probably because raving bonkers) the psychologist asked to see me alone. Now, when we are in our '20s, I believe we are least receptive to criticism of any kind, even imagined. So I did nothing.

Having children made it more important to get help. The post-partum period is very dangerous for women with mental illness; it tends to exponentially exacerbate depression, bipolar disorder, schizophrenia, and personality disorders. I had three children in five years and suffered each time, silently. Pride and embarrassment at work there.

After my divorce I began rapid-cycling: moving from mania to depression in a short time, sometimes within the same day. When depressed I stayed in bed and prayed for death. When manic I destroyed relationships, lost jobs, and squandered money. Still I resisted treatment.

It wasn't until I entered into an abusive relationship that things changed. I knew what he was doing was wrong, but was in too much a fog to resist. He broke through the restraining order, picked my comatose body out of my bed and took me back to his house, where I was a prisoner for several months. It was during this time that he dragged me to the County Clerk's office and we got married, although I don't remember it. When I started violently hallucinating he had no choice but to take me to the hospital. I quickly responded to Lithium treatment and on release got an Annulment and got the fuck out of Dodge.

That there are easier routes to treatment in this world does not escape me, believe.

Back at home in PA, I continued to adjust to Lithium (WEIGHT GAIN! BRAIN GONE NUMB!)and went to therapy, yoga, and all the other things recommended to me. I filed for and received Disability status based on my mental illness.

I don't feel disabled, truly. But I recognize how the disorder manifests in my brain, what it means for me to be bipolar.

Hostility is my main challenge. I'm prone to conspiracy thinking and obsession. Lots of obsessive-compulsive behavior and oppositional attitudes. Lithium has done wonders in providing balance in my mind in all these areas. I am profoundly grateful.

So what does that have to do with being able to work? Why should I get Disability?

I've been fired from almost all of the dozens of jobs I've held. Usually I would fixate on someone, become hostile and obsessed with them. Or would calmly tell the boss exactly what was wrong with them and what they were trying to do. Also, I showed up generally when I felt like it and picked fights on a regular basis.

The truth is, you can only get away with these behaviors if you are the boss.

So I work on a freelance basis, from home, where I am the boss.

Still taking Lithium and the much-ballyhooed side effects are no longer an issue for me. I go to therapy and my psychiatrist tells me things like I am one of the lucky few who respond beautifully to Lithium, or that I am one of the highest-functioning Bipolar I patients he's seen. Which I will go ahead and take as compliments.

I don't wear a "Hi! I'm Bipolar!" sticker, or propose that my life is typical of Bipolar people. Everyone is affected individually, it seems. I do what's right for me and I do most of the things my doctors tell me to do.

I hate taking pills: two in the morning and one at night. But I never want to go back to that person cowering in a mental hospital bed. I exercise and eat well. My mind is clearer now than I ever remember, and my relationships are repaired and credit rating restored. My personality makes this possible; I know plenty of Bipolar people who struggle every single day because of theirs.

There are no defining traits of Bipolar Disorder. There is a diagnostic tool which parses behavior and past issues common to Bipolar sufferers, but it is no means an end-all, be-all for rooting us out of a crowd. It is not a personality disorder, as some believe. The area of the brain affected is the same as MS, almost more of a neurological disorder than a mental one — but the "symptoms", if you will, are all about bad judgments and decision-making problems.

I don't feel any shame about being Bipolar, I didn't choose it and I'm doing my best to live with it. There are so many writers, bloggers and activists out there fighting stigma and pushing for better treatments for the mentally ill, I don't feel qualified to throw my hat into their ring.

I'm Trouble, and the reason I got that nickname is probably because I'm Bipolar.

Hate List

2008-07-19T19:07:00.002-06:00

Well, hate is a strong word. How about: I am displeased with the following list of people's very existence. Better? Of course my indefensible reasons accompany.

Geo. W. Bush, Dick Cheney, Bill O'Reilly for obvious reasons. This gruesome threesome, working within the Republican/Conservative Xtian/Fox News axis of evil, are responsible for the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq; 9/11; Oil & Gas shakedown; banking and mortgage crises and the fatal deterioration of news reporting and journalism in general. I don't care how "fatigued" you feel about Bush bad news. Time for a reality check, people who still admire el lame duck and his evil cronies — YOU, personally, were hoodwinked, fooled, and turned upside to discharge the change in your pocket.

Fameballs. Or, that's what Gawker calls them, anyway. They are people who want to be famous, without regard to any contribution they provide in exchange. As a society we ought to be ashamed of ourselves for rewarding these useless, needy narcissists with their drug. We are enablers of the worst sort. Not listing names, I don't want to add to the problem. Suffice to say that if someone lacks demonstrable talent, i.e. musicality, dazzling artistry, or important wordsmithing, they do not warrant incessant media coverage and photo ops. Being someone famous' child almost always means you are a useless, spoiled brat. Sleeping with someone famous is a terrible way to get attention, stupid. Especially if you are a prostitute. Appearing in a bit part in a B movie, or a starring role in a pornography video (amateur or professional) does not mean you should be photographed endlessly, wearing a dizzying array of unsuitable and revolting outfits (all the better to 'build your brand', eh?) to earn internet mockery (=internet fame) and higher search engine rankings.

It's all despicable and I can't hardly wait for the backlash. Me and my black Sharpie do a lot of creative photo editing in the magazines I read. Mature, I know. Duh! One of these fameballs is so noxious, I can't resist a focused and meaningful curse: Die, Julia A. Baugher. Die shamefully. If you aren't ready to die then at least marry some millionaire and move to Connecticut, never to be heard from again.

Poverty. Mine and others. Which means that I despise rich people twice as much. I hate seeing families consider ditching their upside down mortgages, and Foreclosure signs dotting my neighborhood. I hate that no one so far is stepping forward to help the poor. Economic Recovery checks my ass. The Feds are in a hurry to help millionaires and billionaires in finance and banking hang on and the President wants to help out domestic O&G with offshore and national park drilling — a windfall for those millionaires, but no help whatsoever to the people forced to choose between gas and food. Apparently, nothing was learned from the first Depression.

That's all the vitriol I've got for today. Feel free to join in!

Desperate Times, Desperate Measures

2008-07-14T17:27:00.003-06:00

Our President, audacious criminal savant that he is, is on TV talking about how offshore oil drilling will put food on poor people's tables and allow kids to go to school. It's also, he claims, a matter of national security.

Is that a fact?

Seems to me (and to plenty of people who know more about it)offshore drilling — and the bill's unmentioned additional opening of Alaskan wilderness, national and state parks for drilling — is a last-ditch effort to assure O&G speculators and profiteers future domestic earnings.

As BBC put it: "Even if offshore drilling begins tomorrow it will show whatever limited benefits to the average American in several generations. A matter of Too Little, Too Late."

Please take a moment to check in with your local Congressman and see how he/she intends to vote on the subject.

Dear Recruiters

2008-07-11T20:50:00.002-06:00

Listen, I appreciate that you contact me with "exciting job opportunities" that I am "perfect for". I've worked as a recruiter and I know how things work, believe me.

But from now on, do not contact me with your bullshit. I know I am experienced and talented in my career field. My resume does indeed kick ass. My interviews are spectacular and my references glow.

I also know a fishing expedition when I smell one and I am truly sick of them. Don't lie to me! Go ahead, tell me they've already decided to hire so-and-so's friend from college, but have to go through the motions of fair hiring.

This is the third time in one month that a recruiter called, begging. The third time I spoke with various poobahs, who oohed and aahed at my experience and skills and laughed at my jokes. This is the third time I got a "we just loved you but have decided to go with another candidate" email. Another, "It's not you, it's us."

Yeah, oh Hell Yes I'm bitter. But it truly is their loss and I will just move on.

From now on, however, all recruiters will be treated with the same urgency and respect garnered by bill collectors and telemarketers.

That's your fair warning.

Hopped up on Goofballs

2008-07-08T07:30:00.007-06:00

Goofball #1: The Endless Dental Problems. Another filling yesterday, and the dentist joked that I was running out of teeth to drill and fill.

I've always had bad teeth: first dental surgery at age 10 when skin from the roof of my mouth was grafted onto my quickly receding gum line. Metal fillings, composite fillings, braces for two years, impacted wisdom teeth removed. All before I was 21. At this point, I am seriously thinking dentures, or wooden teeth a la George Washington.

Plus side: I have amazing dental insurance. No, really: 100% coverage in most cases.

Goofball #2: The Stressful Summer. Superfly fiance and I are both looking for work, we have the troublets all summer and we are trying to plan a Labor Day weekend wedding. Other issues continually crop up to annoy and/or cause panic.

Plus side: We are having a lot of fun with the kids, spending plenty of QT together and our families are selflessly helpful and kind.

Goofball #3: Politics. As a registered Independent, my voting choices this year are pretty darn challenging. Neither Presidential candidate has shown so far to be adept at foreign policy or national economics and the local politicos are a sorry lot.

Are we not weary of political rhetoric and corruption? Haven't we been beaten down and trampled by real estate and energy speculation and racketeering? We are bankrupt, barely hanging on to jobs and homes. We are sick of war and cynical of warmongering. It's during times like these that anarchy and revolution fester in the minds of a population.

Which of the candidates, the mild-mannered Senator with liberal views and his race working for and against him, or the loose cannon Senator who was a veteran and POW, a moderate in a sea of arch-conservatives, who nevertheless is an alienating crazy person in public appearances, can lead us through disaster and doom back to prosperity and balance?

Plus side: No Bush family members or outright cronies are running for major office this year. Go get 'em, Bugliosi!

The best remedy for goofballs is resting with your feet up on your porch and enjoying the beautiful sunsets while sipping an ice-cold beverage. Repeat as needed.

A Word or Two on Gas Prices

2008-06-22T02:16:00.003-06:00

That a torch-wielding mob of angry Americans are not currently marching on the Bush and Cheney families and their ilk leaves me confused.

Surely everyone knows by now that gas prices in America are inflated at the will of the oil brokers? That those same oil prices are artificially inflated right now, when our economy is already shattered, in order to secure the maximum amount of profits to those oil brokers before a probably-unfriendly administration takes office and the gig is up.

Who do you suppose benefits most from offshore drilling?

If you want to understand something, look to the people profiting by it.

The Bush family will hide in plain sight and deny. Cheney's reign of terror is soon over and he can safely retire to Dubai in wealth. The hundreds of other oil brokers, profiteers and pirates are redoubling their efforts to continue bilking you.

Efforts by some to promote offshore, Alaskan and natural parkland drilling have nothing to do with reducing our dependence on foreign oil. Our homeland sheiks just want their piece of the pie. You can bet your ass they won't be selling it back to us any cheaper than OPEC.

Do I have any suggestions for improving the situation? Sure, I do. Don't buy a new car, ever. Buy a used car with awesome gas mileage, find a local whiz-bang mechanic who can put in an electric or fuel-cell engine kit (not as hard to find as people would have you think) and modify your car however you want to suit your driving needs. They have a spray for "new car smell", you know.

Fuck the Toyota Prius — it is a piece of crap. Maybe Prius 2020, but this generation is really a huge waste of money. Flex-fuel is a step in the right direction but still massively oil-dependent. Electric technology is fantastic, but buying an actual electric car is damn political. Fuel-cell is the future here now — if you like in Brasil or Japan. Actually, fuel-cell buses and commercial vehicles are already puttering around certain parts of America, you just don't hear about that in-between luxury car ads and Toby Keith's "Anything But Pick-Up Trucks is Un-American" commercials.

Meanwhile, here you are: suffering. Filling up the tank often means taking money from somewhere else. But, hey, whiny baby, those vacation homes in Dubai don't come for free. Tell you what: from now on, research the background of your elected officials: if it stinks of oil, run them out of town on a rail.

The Bush Administration, Part Deux, will go down in history as one of the most criminal. Calls for impeachment came about 7 years too late. Whomever is elected in November has an unspeakable mess to clean.

Your To-Do List:

Consider selling your current gas-guzzler, or putting it in storage as a collector car. If you absolutely need a car, buy something with high gas mileage that is Used.
Carpool. For reals this time. Don't believe car commercials.

Use alternative transportation if you can. Bikes, mopeds, public transportation and feets will get you around, get you in shape and save you BIG money. Plus, let's face it, taking the bus will give you something to talk about at Happy Hour. You meet interesting people in the world, once you stop driving your car 1/2 mile to the grocery store.

Consider making your world smaller, i.e. moving closer to work, schools, shopping, etc.

Beware of oil people, they are deeply evil pickpockets. Don't elect oil people to public office if you value your money and natural parks.

Yo Mama So Fat.. (from bangitout.com)

2008-06-12T16:52:00.003-06:00

* she fell in love — and broke it
* she has to put on her belt with a boomerang
* I have to take a train, a plane, and 2 buses to get on her good side
* a picture of her fell off the wall
* her tailor takes her measurements in light years
* her picture takes two frames
* her favorite blouse is a tent
* her driver's license says "Picture continued on other side."
* when she goes to a restaurant, she even orders the "Thank You, Come Again."
* even her shadow has stretch marks
* when she gets on the scale it says "To be continued."
* her blood type is rocky-road
* her blood type is Ragu
* one day when she got in a fight and the person fighting her got lost in her
* she could sell shade
* she DJs for the ice cream truck
* she eats cereal out of a satellite dish
* she has to keep pesos in one pocket and yen in the other
* she has to iron her pants on the driveway
* after she got off the carousel, the horse limped for a week
* when she ran away they had to use all four sides of the milk carton
* when the police showed her a picture of her feet, she couldn't identify them
* when the cashier at KFC asked what size bucket she wanted she said,"The one on the roof"
* she sweats Crisco
* she uses bacon for Band-aids
* when she goes to the dry cleaners and hands in her underwear they say "sorry no parachutes accepted"
* that if she weighed 5 more pounds she could get group insurance
* when she went to the Rose Parade everyone thought she was a float
* when she wears heels, they're flats by the afternoon
* when she went to get a water bed, they put a blanket across the great lakes
* when she wears a yellow raincoat, people run after her and call "Taxi!"
* when she wears a yellow raincoat, kids line up behind her thinking she's the school bus
* when she wears a red dress kids yell "Hey Kool-Aid Man."
* when she was diagnosed with the flesh eating disease, the doctor gave her 7 years to live
* when she was born, she gave the hospital stretch marks
* she cut her leg and gravy dripped out
* she can lay down or stand up and her height doesn't change
* one day she was cleaning out her rolls and a car fell out
* NASA orbits satellites around her
* on a scale of 1 to 10, she's a 747
* I've got to tell two snaps just to cover her fat ass
* I saw her in New York, and when I told my friend in LA, he said he'd seen her too
* I saw a picture of her in a magazine on page 4, 5, 6, 7, and 8
* I ran around her twice and got lost
* she got hit by a truck and asked "Who threw that rock?"
* she goes to a restaurant, looks at the menu, and says "Okay."
* she fell in the Grand Canyon and got stuck
* she fell off a boat and the captain yelled "Land Ho!"
* I gotta take 3 steps back just to see all of her
* her belly button doesn't have lint, it has sweaters
* her belly jiggle is the first ever perpetual motion machine
* her belt size is equator
* even God couldn't raise her spirits
* even Richard Simmons laughs at her
* every time she wears high heels, she strikes oil
* her car is made of spandex
* her cereal bowl came with a lifeguard
* her college graduation picture was an aerial
* all of her clothes have to be custom made by a contractor
* her skates went flat
* she has to use sleeping bags for tube socks
* she jumped for joy and got stuck
* she jumped up in the air and got stuck
* she looks like she's smuggling a Volkswagen
* she looks like the Stay-Puff marshmallow man on steroids
* she made weight watchers go blind
* she makes sumo wrestlers look anorexic
* she pulls up a chair to an all-u-can-eat buffet
* she puts mayonnaise on aspirin
* she puts on her lipstick with a paint-roller
* she don't know whether she's walking or rolling
* at the zoo, the elephants started throwing her peanuts
* when she turns around, people throw her a welcome back party
* when she goes swimming she gives the pool stretch marks
* when she walks across the living room, the radio skips
* when she went to the beach Greenpeace tried to haul her back into the ocean
* you can pinch an inch on her forehead
* when she travels, she's gotta make two trips
* when she takes a shower, her feet don't get wet
* when she walks in front of the T.V., you miss 5 minutes of your show
* when she wears corduroy pants, the ridges don't show
* you can't even see her legs, it just looks like she's gliding across the floor
* when she steps on a scale, it says "One at a time, please."
* when she saw a yellow bus going down the road she yelled "Hey! Stop that Twinkie!"
* when she played hide-n-go-seek, she hid behind a water tower
* when she runs she makes the CD player skip — at the radio station
* when she ordered a "My Size Meal" at McDonald's they gave her the key to the store
* when she hauls ass, she has friends come help
* when she hauls ass, she has to make two trips
* when she ordered a "My Size Meal" at McDonald's they gave her a dinosaur
* when she goes to the circus she sees the big top and asks "Where can I try that on?"
* when she goes to the beach, little kids yell "Free Willy, Free Willy!"
* when she goes to a restaurant, she doesn't get a menu, she gets an estimate
* when she gets in an elevator, it has to go down

Scam-a-lam-a-ding-dong

2008-06-11T11:19:00.003-06:00

Did you know that the wedding industry is one ginorvast scam? Yes, children: anyone who puts "bridal" or "wedding" in their business name or tag line is ready, willing and able to do whatever it takes to separate you from your shekels.

A few facts:

There are somewhere around 2.5 million weddings every year in the United States.

The average budget for a wedding is estimated to be $20,000.

$40 - 70 billion is spent on weddings every year in the U.S.

On average, couples spend $3,800 for their honeymoon.

The average household income of a newly married couple is $55,000/annually.

You may or may not know Superfly and I are getting married this summer. We won't be spending $20,000. I am only a Bridezilla when some wedding-related business owner tries to rip me off. And they all do, all the time.

We've been very lucky to find vendors we adore, who are honest and talented at what they do. Except when it came to alterations on my dress.

I wouldn't be caught dead in a traditional bridal salon any more than I would buy a car from a pawn shop. My gown is Vera Wang, bitches. You see, there's a whole side industry of married ladies who did buy their gown at Kleinfelds, selling those couture gowns online. Certainly she didn't recoup much of her expense, but she got it out of her house and I get a gorgeous designer dress for peanuts.

Problem: alterations. Most idiot salons will not alter gowns not purchased at their store and many tailor/seamstress shops are hesitant to take on wedding gowns (and, presumably, the robo-bitches holding them).

Anyway, the gown + cleaning + alterations + accessories = $1,000

Retail price for the gown alone? $5,200

And that, dear readers, is how you STICK IT to an industry that shamelessly, gleefully robs us, our friends and relatives, and everyone else, of every ill-gotten dime.

Sex and the City

2008-05-13T11:40:00.003-06:00

When I say I've never watched a single episode of "Sex and the City", I mean not one second of any show, any year, any rerun. When women I know and like tell me they "secretly" watch or love SATC, I am inconsolable, my heart sinks.

You know who probably adores SATC? Who brays to her terrifying girlfriends about "BLAHniks" and "Cozmos"? Sandy Whatsherface.

Sandy and I worked together at a major investment bank, on the Mergers and Acquisitions floor, in midtown Manhattan. I was the hot, young broker's assistant and she was the 300-year old broker's assistant. Where I usually looked like I walked off MTV's The Grind, Sandy looked like she walked off the set of Golden Girls, even though she was probably in her '30s.

Sandy had her band of Staten Island groupies, who toiled in the file room or at the switchboard. They would eat up all Sandy's gossip and participate in her high school antics, like looking over their low cubicles over at me and my friend, Jennifer, a timid Long Island girl, and whispering and cackling. In the cafeteria they would gather with their Diet Cokes to read aloud Candace Bushnell's column from the New York Observer.

Because I was young, arrogant, I was sure I could write circles around some Observer hack who probably had to do unspeakable things to get that gig. From what I unwillingly overheard in the cafeteria, this Candace Bushnell was just an idiotic, narcissistic slut who got what she deserved.

My boyfriend at the time worked for Murdoch himself, a friend of the family. As a result, we went to some swanky events. Lo, I was introduced to people who were newspaper headlines. I saw La Bushnell at a party in the Rainbow Room and had all my prejudices confirmed.

Back at the salt mines, I made a beeline over to Sandy and gave her my most obnoxious smile. "Sandy," I purred, "You just won't believe who I met this weekend — your hero, Candace Bushnell!" She scowled and said, "You're lying." I just ha-ha'd and told her that she, Sandy, was classier than icky Candace Bushnell.

She looked incredulously at her gaggle of Diet Coke goons. "I can't believe you would say that, you are such a little bitch. How dare you!"

Apparently, stupid people don't appreciate having their idols run down. Who knew?

What happened next is, of course, the Sandys won. I was called into the HR department to discuss my attitude and offered a demotion. Candace Bushnell was actually taken very seriously and weirdly adored by the Gays. She is now very rich, indeed, and her odious offspring, SATC, is bound for "Classic" TV show anointment.

Here's my review of SATC: The Movie, without me ever seeing it or knowing the characters and their stupid story lines: It's an idiotic, narcissistic, totally gay waste of time about some ugly old sluts.

Sandy is probably having an SATC Party with her creepy girlfriends and dressing up to go to the movies in Staten Island. She found some Manolo Blahnik shoes at Century 21, maybe, to class-up her usual ill-fitting and unfashionable outfit.

Good for her. I never had the chance to get to know Sandy deeply, so pardon my conjecture. It's not her fault that Candace Bushnell wrote a revolting column in a forgettable newspaper. Sandy herself is not responsible for the success of the subsequent revolting TV show, or the movie. In truth, Sandys are the victims in this scenario.

What is SATC trying to sell us? Whatever it is, I ain't buying.

Happy Mother's Day

2008-05-08T09:56:00.000-06:00

We Are Adorably Engaged, no?

2008-04-24T14:39:00.003-06:00

Back from a fun-filled Engagement Party and Passover trip to the East Coast. Wonderful to see family and friends and former co-workers. Outstanding to be back at home, in my own bed. I think we overstayed by a day or two — one week is a good limit for sleeping at other people's homes.

You may have heard about this Pope fella visiting DC and New York. Not being Catholic, it made barely a blip in my attention sphere. However, my father said to me, "Are you going to be saving the Pope again?" And, in wholly separate cell phone conversation, my sister said to me, "You should dust off and update that Pope story you wrote."

In 1993 or so, I wrote a bunch of short stories. I believed them to be extraordinarily clever and meaningful, so I sent the whole shebang off to my family members and close friends. And a couple of publishing agents, who never responded, but they were obviously overwhelmed with unsolicited manuscripts and simply didn't see or read them. Obviously.

Anyway, one of those stories involved a bus-riding temporary secretary who accidentally saves the life of the Pope. It was during the previous Pope's visit to Denver that prompted me to use the Pontiff as a character in my story. The lead character in the story borrowed a lot of basic data from me but remains a fictional character. No amount of this type of explanation convinces my father that the character is anyone but me.

I guess that both remembered my stupid short story after 15 years should be a source of pride. Perhaps a re-write, update, or Part Deux of "The Pope and the Temp" is in order, I don't know. What I do know is that re-reading stuff I wrote 15 years ago fills me with a sharp and pungent sense of shame.

The only thing worse than that short story from 1993 is the contrived and cliche-clogged action movie screenplay from the same uselessly productive year. Argh.

The best part of being engaged is not necessarily the gifts (although they are welcome and drooled-over): it's actually the excuse of wedding planning that distracts you from everything else in your life and causes people to treat you sweetly and kindly everywhere we go.

Oh, and here's a buried lede for you: I'm teaching a class on web editing in May!

I plan to use the whole wedding thing to bail me out when they get bored or irate during my presentations.

Dem Bones

2008-04-08T17:56:00.002-06:00

I am under the care of a chiropractor. Did you just scoff? Scoff away to your heart's content. I am aware of the controversy surrounding the medical profession, having seen the episode of the Simpsons dealing with the topic. Oh, and some anecdotal blahbeddy-blah about chiro foul-ups that paralyzed or killed people which sounded a lot like those lipstick-on-the-mirror-AIDS-message urban legends. WHAT-evs.

Regular readers of this blog know that I've complained about my back pain for the entire three years of this web diary thingy's existence. Physical therapy? 12 weeks worth. X-rays and consultation with an orthopedic specialist? Yes, and the co-pay was outrageous. Pain relievers and anti-inflammatory meds? Check. Yoga, Pilates, and gentle strength-training? Forever.

Yet the pain raged on. My long time physician and the three physical therapists all recommended I see a chiropractor. Like you, I scoffed. If they are so good, why aren't they recognized by the Academy of Medical Poobahs? Oh, they are? Ok then, why doesn't my insurance cover it. What do you mean it does? Hmm.

It's my second day of seeing Dr. Brad. It took him all of 30 seconds to find and correct the source of my pain. I'm not kidding, people. My back pain is GONE. I'll see him a handful more times and then as needed. That's it. No drugs, no stupid, useless exercises, no surgery. Just some twisting, cracking and popping, none of which hurts but all of which gives me a start and makes me chirp and coo unexpectedly.

Probably not for everyone. But what a chiropractor has done for me in 48 hours, versus 2+ years of traditional time-wasting, has my body loose and my mind ecstatic.

HOORAY for quackery! Long live non-traditional medicine! I'll have more of that Kool-Aid, thank you! Whee!

April Fool's Day

2008-04-01T14:58:00.003-06:00

Gawker wants you to think Conde Nast bought Jezebel.com. They are probably apoplectic with glee at the ha-ha phony posts ("Must Haves for Spring!") that are wreaking havoc on for-some-reason clueless commenters.

I've heard of slow news days but this is ridiculous.

I don't know anyone, personally, who pulls AFD pranks because I've successfully weeded them out over the years. Chacun a son gout, bien sur, but I cannot tolerate that behavior. Want to "Punk" your friends? Are you a "Jackass"? Stay away from me, pal, I have absolutely no sense of humor about that stupid shit. I promise to go out of my way to ruin your prank. And maim you in the process. Oh,yeah, it's like that.

Have you seen this show, "The Real Wedding Crashers"? The bride and groom arrange to prank their wedding guests, hard. Have your relationships with your family, friends and fiance deteriorated to a dark, smelly place where you have to torture them to get a laugh?

I should grow a sense of humor? Really? I laugh at a lot of things. Things that are actually funny.

As far as I am concerned, it's April 1. Tomorrow there will be some hurt feelings to soothe for the "merry" pranksters of this world. P.S. You AREN'T FUCKING FUNNY.

Birthday #40

2008-03-24T22:58:00.003-06:00

It wasn't as bad or as hard as I thought it would be, turning 40. What helped tremendously were the well wishes of my friends and family all day long.

Though I searched my face entirely too close to the zoom mirror I found no wrinkles and the persistent gray hairs are easily drowned in dye. People are always surprised to learn how old I am — not in the polite bartender way, more in the get-out-your-drivers-license-and-prove-it way, which is more pleasing than it really needs to be.

I sure don't "feel" 40. I feel like a wiser and more experienced version of myself at 16.

We had an engagement photo shoot today which was an almost intolerable amount of fun. I shall post the adorableness when it becomes available.

My lovely fiance and my best friend took me to dinner at the fancy pants restaurant where Trouble Jr. slaves over a hot stove (she was not in attendance, being busy in Hawaii) and we had a seriously gorgeous dinner.

In other words, I had a happy birthday indeed, thank you.

Next Stop: NYC

2008-03-18T15:40:00.002-06:00

Our wagon will be hitching its way Eastward real soon, folks. Love to see you, obvs, and we're having a little party to celebrate our engagement.

So what I'm saying is get in touch and provide contact info and such. We'll be in NYC, PA and MD during our stay, FYI.

Please to send your email, mail, or phone info to: worldoftrouble@fastmail.us