If I get started on this rant, it might never end. I want to see women in power in Washington. I would like to see it become commonplace while I can still walk myself into the voting booth. How-FREAKING-ever, should we put women in office just to say we did?

I'm sure someone in the McCain camp, perhaps Senator John McCain himself, thought they needed to fight the "history" angle that has given Barack Obama some extra media coverage. Certainly they didn't think Hillary Clinton supporters would vote for a woman who opposes abortion rights and who advocates teaching creationism in schools. Some women might do that, but not in numbers so large they could swing and election. Certainly they don't think she's the most qualified republican to fill this post. If she is, the republican party needs even more work than we thought.

I hope my first impression of Sarah Palin is wrong. I hope she knocks everyone's socks off with her knowledge and leadership skills. It would certainly help improve the level of political discourse, and I'm always in favor of that. She might turn out to be the most brilliant woman who ever lived, but I'm still not voting for John McCain, all due respect to his service to our country.

OK, so I did start the rant...just a little. I could go on and on and on, but I have something else that's pissing me off and I still need to clean my house before I go to bed.

I love my husband. He's a good man. His Twitter obsession, however, is going to push me over the edge. What is this synthesized twirpy sound? It's annoying as hell, that's what it is. It's like a spike in my brain. Every time one of the fine folks my husband "follows" on Twitter decides to inform the masses they had to empty their bladder, that damn thing drives the spike deeper in my brain.

Please let the novelty of this wear off really soon so I don't wake up in a cold sweat with "tweets" ringing in my ears. For the love of all that's holy.

Labels: Presidential election, Twitter

I'm about to fall asleep sitting up right now, but I had to share this story before I went to bed. It's going to be a crazy week with lots of family in town for My Little Sunshine's 4th birthday. That's crazy enough in itself, but that's not what I'm so fired up about.

I took the boy with me earlier today to run some errands and go pick up lunch. He had been pretty well-behaved, but he was ready to go home by the time we got to the sub shop. I had given him a super ball to pacify him for just a few more minutes. That's all I needed. A few more minutes. If you've ever had to drag a kid around town, you know what I mean.

When we got to the sub shop, it was packed. Luckily, I had called in our order. The problem was there was very little space between the pickup counter and the tables. I had to ask my boy to put his ball in his pocket because it kept getting loose (hard to imagine how that happened, right?).

It was about this time, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a woman shaking her head. I was pretty certain she was looking at us. My first thought was, "Come on, woman. He's a four-year-old boy. Give us a break." After I got my son settled a little more, I glanced over at this woman again. She was still staring at us. Only now, she was pointing and shaking her head. So, of course, I stared back. I was only a few feet away from her. She was at a table with what appeared to be three generations of her family. They were playing a game of Operator, and it was about me! The woman was telling everyone in her family to look at my shirt. "Tsk, tsk," they all said, shaking their heads.

I have been a little frazzled the past few days. I have a lot on my plate right now. I couldn't even remember what I was wearing. I hoped at that moment I was actually wearing a shirt. I looked down and discovered that I was, in fact, wearing a one, just not the kind of shirt I should have been wearing around those parts.

It was Sunday, and I ran face-first into the politically conservative church crowd. These people were looking at me like I was Satan's spawn. They were talking about me like I couldn't hear them. They were utterly disgusted by the sight of me. My shirt may as well have said, "I Beat My Child." Instead, it simply said, "Obama Mama."


Had I not had my son with me, I would have gone up to the table and asked the woman if she would like me to write down how she could get herself one of these fine Obama Mama t-shirts. I would have warned her that the sizes run kind of small and they may not have one big enough to fit over her fupper. I would have reminded her that God doesn't like mean, gossipy, holier-than-thou bitches. In fact, ma'am, he would prefer that you keep your trap shut if you don't have anything nice to say. Oh, and did I mention that this is a democracy, and if you don't like my choice of candidates, DON'T VOTE FOR HIM.

Now, I'll admit that I bought the shirt so that people would read it. I would be lying if I said I didn't expect to get some attention from wearing an Obama Mama t-shirt in GOP country. I didn't expect to change any minds with my political statement, but I also didn't expect to be so rudely mocked in front of my child. God Bless America.

If I had it to do all over again, I would have paid my kid in M&Ms to go up to the Mean One and say, "Yo Mama!" He totally would have done it.

Labels: Barack Obama, Politics, Presidential election

A certain song has been on rotation on one of my favorite XM stations lately. The song takes me back to some really fun years, and I sing and smile the whole way through it. It got me wondering...what the hell ever happened to the Nelson twins?

OK. Laugh. Go ahead. I really don't care.


I wanted to embed the "(Can't Live Without Your) Love and Affection" video here, just in case any of you fine folks don't remember the Nelson twins rocking 1990. However, YouTube has disabled the embed function by request. By request of whom I don't know. I'm assuming the Nelson twins. Maybe their old record label. Either way, you'll have to click through if you want to see it.

My first real boyfriend, who happens to share a first name with my last boyfriend (and now husband), used to sing this song to me on the phone. We were about to head to high school, and he had not yet gotten his driver's license. The dude was haaawt but quite a deviation from the crowd I normally hung out with. While my other friends played Risk, chess and soccer, Long Haired Boyfriend played quarters, hookie and hairband music.

My friends were not kind about my choice in boys. Mortified is not even the word. I was the first from the Popular Smart Kids crowd to look outside the circle for companionship. It was social suicide, and I couldn't have cared less. I was not a follower. I was offended at my friends' refusal to accept my boyfriend, and they were offended that I was hanging out with someone who was neither popular nor on the college track. This was the beginning of the end of my life in High School Cliqueville.

Long Haired Boyfriend was the sweetest boy I had ever met, but the cards were stacked against him from the get-go. His parents were divorced, and he bounced back and forth from his mom's house to his grandparents' house depending on his mother's sobriety level. Several times, I saw her half-dressed, drunk and hitting on high school boys. I also witnessed several loud and vulgar parking lot arguments involving guys she picked up in a bar or some innocent neighbor who happened to look at her wrong after a full day of drinking. She was also one of the nicest people I had ever met, but alcohol turned her into a vicious beast who could not be controlled. LHB was often horribly embarassed by her behavior, but he always defended her and always took care of her. He was more of a parent to her than she ever was to him.

LHB was my first love. Even though he wasn't headed to college like the rest of my friends, he had great potential. He had an amazing voice. Enter my slight, short-lived Nelson obsession. LHB was incredibly talented, and in the right hands, that talent could have taken him far beyond Shit Hole, Mississippi. I don't think he ever landed in the right hands.

One day, I decided that love and Nelson weren't enough. Even though I adored LHB, I decided in my cold-hearted high school way that he was not smart enough for me. I was embarassed that while I sat in college prep classes, he daydreamed through remedial classes. I dumped him in a very mean way that I regretted even as I was doing it. I moved on to an older boy. A smarter boy. One who made a 36 on his ACT while tripping on acid. Lord only knows where that one ended up, but this story isn't about him.

Later that year, LHB's mom married a rich man and moved to a neighboring town. The man bought LHB a car and sent him to a private school. I'm not sure what his home life was like after that. I doubt the money made his mom change. I saw LHB a few times before I went off to college, and he seemed to be doing well. I even went to his high school graduation. We never got back together, even though I wondered what might have been until I fell in love again.

I hadn't heard anything about LHB for years after I had gone off to college, gotten married and had a baby. I still had fond memories of LHB and wished him the best. I knew that I had made the right choices in life and had ended up with the right man. LHB was my first love, though, and I was always curious about what had happened to him.

One day my mom called me and answered that lingering question. LHB had gone waaay down the wrong path. He had apparently gotten hooked on drugs, which was not surprising at all given his mother's history. Worse yet, he apparently tried to rob a pharmacy to feed his habit. That ended badly. Word on the street is that he is now in prison. The poor boy never had a chance.

It makes me so sad to think of what his life has become. He had such a kind heart. Such a fragile soul. One that would likely not survive behind bars. I hope that he can find some joy somewhere, although I imagine he'll spend the rest of his life chasing away the demons that have haunted his family for a long time.

When I remember him now, I want to remember him like he was in 1990. I want to remember sitting on my bed talking on my double-sided Swatch phone, listening to him belt out Nelson songs better than the Nelsons. I'll try not to wonder where LHB is, but I will wonder instead whatever happened to the Nelson twins.

Ahhh. The internet. Wikipedia tells me the Nelson twins are still rocking. Even though they aren't big stars in the U.S. anymore, Japan apparently loves them. And so does the Royal Caribbean Cruise line. Apparently, I was on the wrong ship earlier this year. Damn the luck!

Nelson pic courtesy quizilla.com

Labels: High school, Love, Nelson

I have about ten projects going at once right now as I get ready for my big boy's birthday, so there's no time to express deep outrage (for your pleasure, E) about the world's injustices.

Instead, here's a shout-out to smart girls in bars everywhere. I'm just sorry it's a commercial. It's way too good to be selling anything. At least it's leather, right?

On Monday, my little brother called me to wish me a happy birthday inform me of his disappointment that I had become a "socialist." My parents had told him about my proud purchase of an OBAMA MAMA T-shirt. He was mortified. I only chuckled as he launched into a tyrade about how uninformed and "blindly ignorant" I am. I chose not to spend one minute of my birthday having a political argument with my brother who will never, ever under any circumstances budge on anything. Since there's a snowball's chance in hell that I will vote for John McCain, it was a really pointless conversation--especially since he nearly choked on the happy birthday part because he was so mad that I am an Obama supporter. Whatev.

I have heard about the John McCain ad that references Britney Spears and Paris Hilton. I had not, however, heard about the response ad until this morning. People, this is funny stuff. If you don't laugh, you don't have a soul.

Labels: Presidential election

I passed my 33rd birthday mostly by consuming at least 3,333 calories. I can't remember the last time I ate this much. I'm about to collapse in a food coma. Here's a rundown of what lead to my demise:

1. Chick-Fil-A chicken biscuit
2. Starbucks mocha
3. Mexican for lunch
4. Mini-cupcake for snack
5. Fabulous homecooked meal including halibut and sake brown sugar apricots
6. Birthday cake and Ben and Jerry's ice cream containing mint and cookies
7. 11pm bedtime snack of my all-time favorite Ben and Jerry's ice cream, Half Baked.

Good thing I got a bike for my birthday. I think I put back on five of the twenty-or-so pounds I've lost during Project Apple Bottom.

Tomorrow, I get that bad boy on the road and get back on the program. Until then, I can feel the fat grams attaching themselves to my cantaloupe bottom. Wah-wah-waaaahhh.

Labels: Birthday, Project Apple Bottom